Informationoverlord

‘They know they have to dream themselves out of life and back into it, because life must always win us back’

Set in a French summer villa, the story – such that it is - unravels over a single week. The characters are a famous philandering poet, his war reporter wife and 14 year old daughter, a couple of Wife’s friends, an 80-year-old doctor neighbour and a loose cannon young lady, who is invited to stay. What follows is about love, desire, hidden pasts, hidden feelings, death and womanhood.

This was a book which left me rather cold. Levy is obviously a writer with skill and some of the prose in wonderful – for example: ‘I have never got a grip on when the past begins or where it ends, but if cities map the past with statues made from bronze forever frozen in one dignified position, as much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day’ - but I didn’t really connect with any of the characters. In part because there wasn’t any characterisation. These were projections of characters, None of them felt real, and so I didn’t care about what happened to any of them. They seemed only to exist to give Levy a space to show of her writing skills. For me, this is the worst kind of ‘literary fiction’, a book that is well written but doesn’t engage or tell a story.

I Could have also done without Tom McCarthy’s fawning introduction at the start of the book too, although this did remind me just why I found his Booker short-listed Q such a let down.

Recommendation: Do Not Shortlist

This is another book that made me laugh. This one is the story of 1930s Berlin theatrical set- designer called Egon Loeser (yes, the pun is intentional) who travels from Berlin to Paris to Los Angeles all for the love of a woman – or the chance to persuade said woman Adele Hitler (no relation) – to sleep with him.

The humour from the book is in the fact that Loeser sees himself as a great man and others as lesser and beneath him whilst all the time the reader sees him as the self absorbed, self deluded, full of petty jealousies ‘loser’ he really is. And this provides one of the dangers of a novel whose central character has either none or very few redeeming characteristics. Can you make a reader care about them enough to be engaged enough to get through to the end, especially if by the end there is no real sense of redemption even at the end (you can argue if this is the case or not with this book).

I can’t say I liked him, but I was engaged with the story which plays with history : Germany before the WW2 and the US after where the country suddenly became full of Germans, particularly scientists and writers, who had escaped or been co-opted in to working for the US government, Con-artists , soviet spies, Hollywood, Public Transport – why LA doesn’t have a public tramway, and , of course, teleportation.

Throw in a cast of recurring characters and some comedic – farce like – scenes and you have a very enjoyable novel.

Recommendation: Shortlist

Michael Frayn’s first novel in 10 years is a rollicking read that had me laughing out loud on many occasions – prompting even my girlfriend to enquire about what I was reading. It is a mistaken identity farce set on a fictitious Greek Island where Dr. Norman Wilfred is due at the Fred Toppler Foundation to give his presentation on scientometrics (science of measuring and analysing science), and Oliver Fox a womanising chancier set for a weekend away with a new conquest, find their bags mixed up and their identities mistaken. What follows is a delight.

It plays on people assumptions and how they will often base them on very little information allowing themselves to believe someone is who they say they are if that person has enough charm to do so – even if that person subsequently says they are not who people think they are. It is also a search about finding an identity, and how we can all find ourselves stuck in the identity we have made for ourselves, and are not supposed to perform only in that identity. It also takes a huge swipe at the world of academia and those whose ‘job’ seems to be taking at conferences.

It may be because of my love of the Marx Brothers that this broad farce novel works so well for me. There is a skill in taking characters along for a ride of improbable (but not completely impossible) events. Mistaken identity blends with wild coincidence, character’s believable general nature to believe someone is who they say they are, and taxi driving twins to keep you smiling throughout. Frayn’s seemingly easy prose style also belies a more subtle literary skill. It is a much better read and funnier that Howard Jacobsen’s Booker winner (granted for me, this is not difficult for a book I wouldn’t have even shortlisted)

There is the question of whether characterisation is lost in the farce, and it could certainly be said a relaxing of the later to allow a bit more of the former could have made this a definite short-list book. I loved it anyway, and would have it on my shortlist for books of 2012.

That Frayn has said this is the last novel he plans to ever write is a sad fact, but it’s a good note to go out on.

Recommendation: Shortlist

This book opens with a seven page long sentence. It is the literary equivalent of the single tracking shot in Cinema – think the opening of Robert Altman’s film adaptation of The Player (which features an eight-minute tracking shot). It is the kind of thing that gets critics crowing and fawning, and when done well can be a thing of beauty – which is the case with The Player. But it is also a gimmick: It is there to say, look at me, aren’t I clever and cool, which is fine, but it does mean that you need to back it up with other things.

As was the case with The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng, this is a book that creeps up on you and (for me at least) only really started to draw me into the underworld of Bombay and its tale of opium dens, brothels and addiction after I was half way through the Novel. The novel’s heart is Rashid’s open den, and all the narrative strands of the book lead off from and often return to this place. Those strands include Mr Lee, a Chinese soldier, son of a dissident writer and a communist zealot mother, and Dimple, a eunuch prostitute, in search of beauty, who makes pipes in the opium den.

It is also a book that spends a lot of time talking about and describing both the drug taking process and the experiences of those taking drugs. It is no surprise to learn, after reading the beautiful and evocative prose, that the author was an addict for 20 years. However, if I have a criticism of the book it is that there does seem to be too much of it, meaning its power and beauty began to lose some of its lustre for me as the novel went on. I also found some early parts of the story quite unengaging and a bit of a struggle.

This is certainly the type of book that used to have ‘Booker’ winner written all over it, and I’m sure it will be shortlisted. Would I do so …???

Recommendation: Undecided

Yesterday at the Paralympics the Uk Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne was booed by a large number of the crowd in the Olympic Stadium, when his name was announced for a medal presentation ceremony. Similarly, I spent the evening at the Aquatic centre and a significant number of people booed the prime Minister, David Cameron, when he was announced to do similar duties.

I didn’t boo the Prime Minister and I would not have booed Osborne had I been in the stadium either. This is why.

All the athletes at these games have worked hard to get here. The event should be all about them and nothing else. If they have been blessed enough to win a medal then the point where they get to come out and collect their medals should also be totally about them. For me, booing someone that is presenting them with a medal – even for a few seconds – takes part of their special moment away from them, by making it about something other than them.

Now some might argue that policies pursued by the current Coalition government have been so anti-disability that it was right to , as it were ‘call them out’ on that in public – a sort of , ‘have you no shame’ moment. It’s a valid standpoint, but again I would ask whether doing it as part of a Medal Ceremony achieves anything other than taking the focus away from those many of those people booing were no doubt claiming to defend. To illustrate my point. Can anyone reading this tell me, without looking it up, what the medal ceremony was when Osborne was booed or name any of the medal winners? There are now plenty of clips online of the event – all cutting off the moment when the athletes have one of the best moments of their lives. It has become a story about a crowd booing a government minister.

For those who are interested it was Men’s T38 400m, and the event won by Mohamed Farhat Chida of Tunisia. Wenjun Zhou of China took Silver and Union Sekailwe of South Africa the bronze. All three of whom I’m sure are totally familiar with who Mr Osborne is and care very deeply about it. Or more likely haven’t a clue who he is, don’t care, and just want to enjoy their moment. But now, and forever potentially, their moment will be associated with the crowd booing.

I’m not a fan of Mr Cameron or Mr Osborne, but there is a place for showing my approval or not with them, and that is a ballot box. Do you seriously think being booed at a sports event is suddenly going to cause a major re-think of a policy? These moments belong to the athletes and I find I have as little in common with those who cannot see that as I do with the likes of Cameron and Osborne themselves.

If ever there was a book calling out for a 3-6 part adaptation on BBC 2, The YIPS by Nicola Barker is it.

And this may be its biggest problem – at least as a novel, because whilst its dialogue heavy (which I like) structure accompanied by non dialogue that often has a ring of stage direction to it, is good for visualising many of the scenes, it is perhaps not what is needed in a novel, and one that is being touted by the judges as a potential Booker winner.

It is in essence a broad farce which at first seems to be all about a golfer whose lost his mojo –got the yips, but is actually a book that mixes philosophy, feminism, religion, mysticism and sport into a multi-character interweaving, interconnecting storyline. I must confess after a shaky start I did find myself drawn to the collection of misfits and eccentrics she has created, including Jen, a bullshiting barmaid, Gene, the ex-palmist cancer survivor, Valentine the agoraphobic tattoo artist. Indeed, it is interesting the it is the second book on the long list – after The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng – that is concerned with art and skin and the combination of those things in the art of tattooing as a central theme.

Trying to deliver a farce over close to 550 pages (which is not quite the monster her 2007 booker shortlisted Darkmans was) is a hard ask and a lot of it doesn’t work – or at least fails because it would need to be delivered with better comic timing, but I would be lying if I didn’t say I enjoyed it: I did laugh – a couple of times out loud – and I fell in love with a couple of the wacky characters, as I’m sure others will too when an adaptation (I really am confident there will be one) hits the small screen in the not too distant future.

Recommendation: Do not shortlist

It’s funny when you reach the half way point in a book, film, album and you have a ’shrugged shoulders’ feeling about the whole thing, only for that to transform by the end into love. Such a thing happened to me reading Tan Twan Eng’s second novel. It’s the story of a retired Judge in Malaysia (Malaya) and her relationship with , the enigmatic former gardener to the Emperor of Japan. Of course, it is much more than that, it is a treatise on memory, with gardening, tattooing, war and several other things thrown in to help explore that theme. And explore it Tan does. It is a beautiful book. Beautifully crafted, thoughtful, moving, and with characters you care about. Having initially had my doubts about the book, I finished it with a desire to read it again.

‘Memory is like patches of sunlight in an overcast valley, shifting with the clouds. Now and then the light will fall on a particular point in time, illuminating it for a moment before the wind seals up the gap, and the world is in shadows again’

Recommendation: Short-List

Another Top 15, this time of the best ‘pop’, ‘ginger’ ‘carbonated soft drinks’ of the past and now. In the past most of these would have been the full fat versions – and indeed some existed before there was an option - but these days I’d usually plug for the diet versions if I was going to drink any, although I only probably drink about 6 cans of soft drinks a year these days (not counting tonic in Gin and the odd blast of Red Bull in Vodka of course)

Irn Bru
Tizer
Vimto
Cresta Cream Soda
R Whites Lemonade
Corona Cherryade
Dandelion & Burdock
Fentimans Curiosity Cola
Fentimans Victorian Lemonade
Diet Coke
Orangina
Appletize
Lilt
Old Jamaica Ginger Beer
Schweeps Bitter Lemon

We all love them, but what are the best ones. I reach into the past (there was a time when I considered Brannigans Roast Beef & Mustard to be the finest crisps ever made – I had a packet recently and they were not as I remembered.) and embrace the now with my list of personal favourites –in no particular order …

Walkers – Cheese & Onion
Hula Hoops – BBQ Beef
Frazzles – Bacon
Wheat Crunchies – Crispy Bacon
Discos – Salt & Vinegar
Monster Munch – Pickled Onion
Doritos – Tangy Cheese
ChipSticks – Salt & Vinegar
Wotsits - Cheese
Skips – Prawn Cocktail
Tyrrells - Sea Salt & Cider Vinegar
French Fries – Salt & Vinegar
Quavers - Cheese
Kettle Chips – Sea Salt and Black Pepper
Nik Naks – Nice ‘n’ Spicy

The first question: Is this a novel or a short-story collection? The second question: Does it matter ?

The idea of a city forming the heart of a collection of tales is one that has most famously been done by Italo Calvino in Invisible Cities , and James Joyce in Dubliners (arguably his best work). It is an idea Sam Thompson takes up in his debut work, with ten stories connected to a fictitious city and how a differing collection of characters, quite possibly across a number of years, experience the city, and of how a dark cloud in the guise of a flaneur with a story to share pervades each experience.

It plays with genre and pastiche – no more so than with its Chandleresque “Gallathea”, and Holmesian “The Significant City of Lazarus Glass” chapters and shows the kind of flashes of brilliance that critics lap up. There is definitely some great writing in this book (I would be interested in a full novel from Thompson) and a number of the stories are engaging up to a point: Communion Town and The Good Slaughter in particular , but too often it feels like a writing exercise – look at me I can do dystopia SF, Crime pastiche etc. For me the overall effect of the book is not one of a ‘whole’ city, but of disparate parts lacking a central heart. It’s short stories connected by little more than a vague theme, something also done by Daniel Handler in his far more playful book, Adverbs. But more than anything it left me wanting to re-read Charles Pallser’s Betrayals which make a much better job of doing what Thompson is trying to do here.

To answer my initial questions: This is a short story collection, and yes it does matter if it was been shortlisted for a prize for best Novel – but it seems this is allowed and counted as a ‘novel’ if your stories are connected in some way.

Recommendation: Do not shortlist