Thursday 25 February 2010

#14 A Certain Chemistry, by Mil Millington (Hodder and Stoughton)

One of the funniest newspaper columns I've ever read was called Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, and was written by Mil Millington. It really was very good. I told someone else I was reading a book by Mil Millington, and their response was 'the one who did the column about the Things My Girlriend and I Have Argued About? That was brilliant'.

The pedigree (which prompted a book of the same name) is therefore pretty good, but A Certain Chemistry, while certainly enjoyable, doesn't quite hit the same heights.

The premise is interesting: a (male) ghostwriter starts to work with a famous (female) soap star, falls for her and then has to cope with the fall-out. But there is also some strange occasional narration, from God no less, explaining why relationships begin, blossom and fail is all down to chemistry (hence the title).

There are some very funny lines, mostly when the male and female characters interact with one another, and writing about relationships is clearly Millington's strength. This might even have been enough to sustain a novel, but instead we're also given God's wry omnipresent overview, which I ultimately found a bit tiresome.

Ignoring that small issue, though, there is much to enjoy - even if I found myself wondering how his wife/girlfriend is...

So, rating time:

#14 A Certain Chemistry, by Mil Millington (Hodder and Stoughton) - 7/10

Next up: Ghost, by Robert Harris (Hutchinson)

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  • Farewell Dick Francis

    I suppose late is better than never, and I’d like to quickly acknowledge the passing of author Dick Francis, who passed away on February 14th, aged 89.

    It wasn’t so many days earlier that I completed his latest book, Even Money as part of this here 100 books in a year challenge, and although I wasn’t particularly complimentary towards it, I wouldn’t want that to detract from how much I’ve enjoyed his work over the years.

    Reading his obituaries, Francis sold 60 million books worldwide, his novels were published into 20 languages and he won numerous awards, including a Crime Writer's Association lifetime achievement award. Add in his CBE for services to literature in 2000, his former life as a champion jockey and a Second World War pilot, and you can’t really argue with his achievements over his lifetime.

    Francis, of course, was the jockey on Devon Loch in the 1956 Grand National when the Queen Mother’s horse suddenly fell near the finish line. But that mysterious incident hardly compares with the riddles his lead characters - always men - have solved in the horse racing world over the years.

    Everyone will have their favourites. Mine are probably those featuring one-handed former-jockey-turned-private-investigator Sid Halley (Odd Against and Whip Hand more than Come to Grief, which was written some years later). I also remember enjoying Proof (the wine one), The Edge (the train murder mystery one) and Twice Shy (the computer one, although it seems very out of date now).

    Apparently, another novel has been written, again with son Felix, and will be published in the autumn. Unlike other recent offerings, I hope it does him justice.

    Sunday 14 February 2010

    #13 No Country for Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy (Picador)

    Yes, I've seen the film. And regardless of its best picture Oscar in 2007, the book is better.

    Cormac McCarthy is regularly described as one of the Great Living American Novelists, and with lots of publicity currently about another of his books which has been made into a film, The Road, I thought it was time to tackle an earlier work, albeit only dating back to 2005.

    I wish I hadn’t seen the film - which was certainly a fine piece of work (even though I am no fan of the Coen brothers, who were the directors) - first, though. It was hard to get my recollections of the visual experience out of my head as I read, especially as - from what I remember - the film doesn't really bring much of anything new to the table.

    The tale is a good one, charting how a ex-Vietnam vet finds a suitcase full of money at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong, and is then forced to try to evade the efforts of a particularly diligent and memorable hitman keen to recover what he has taken.

    As a film, it works as an effective thriller, but despite the presence of a world-weary Tommy Lee Jones in the role of a sheriff investigating events, it wasn't until I read the book that the broader theme, referred to in the title (from a poem by Yeats), properly came across. For while it's a compelling tale, there is a definite and important message about the changing nature of society and consequences of progress.

    I must also mention the punctuation. After completing the book, I looked up McCarthy and apparently he's well known for his sparing use of punctuation, and quotation marks in particular. I must admit that this is anathema to me (and this is someone who had read Lynne Truss' Eats, Shoots and Leaves: the Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation), but I was surprised by how quickly I adapted and it was certainly a novel experience. Which neatly sums up the point of this entire enterprise…

    So, rating time:

    #13 No Country for Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy (Picador) - 7/10

    Next up: A Certain Chemistry, by Mil Millington (Hodder and Stoughton)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #12 Man in the Dark, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited)

    I’m always keen to receive recommendations, and I must admit I have never heard of Paul Auster until he was mentioned to me as an author I might like. And I did. Very much.

    The shortest – and most interesting – book I’ve read so far this year, Man in the Dark is the story of an aging journalist and insomniac who reflects on his life and the lives of his daughter and grand-daughter, all of whom have suffered some tragic loss.

    So far, so simple. Yet into this Auster and his journalist introduce a degree of existentialism by, during his frequent sleepless nights, creating a world in which a number of American states have ceded from the US government and are fighting a civil war which can apparently only be ended by an assassination of the person at the root of the entire conflict – himself (in the other world).

    The beauty of the book lies in how the two worlds interact and how the journalist analyses his motives and his contradictory actions in light of his life, achievements and family. It’s a tale of America at war with itself - with the war against Iraq never too far away given the impact it’s had on his own kin - and sweeping ideas are investigated and given room to breathe even as the writing remains simple and easy to read.

    Less than 200 pages, the most impressive thing about Man in the Dark is its effortless way is making the reader consider such grand themes with such conciseness and without distracting from an absorbing story. I shall be reading more Auster.

    So, rating time:

    #12 Man in the Dark, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited) - 8/10

    Next up: No Country for Old Men, by Cormac McCarthy (Picador)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #11 Hard Revolution, by George Pelecanos (Orion)

    If we start with the basic assumption that The Wire is the greatest television show of all time (and as anyone who has ever watched the programme will testify, that’s a statement beyond contradiction), then it’s no surprise that I had to read something by George Pelecanos.

    Pelacanos, you see, is one of the writers – and, subsequently, producers - on the afore-mentioned Greatest Show of All Time (™) and given the writing is one of the reasons for The Wire’s exalted status, it doesn’t take Johnny Ball to put two and two together and realise his books might be worth a look-see.

    Hard Revolution tells the tale of a rookie black police officer in Washington in the 1960s; how he came to be a policeman, how his job affects his relationships with all those around him and, finally, how he deals with the assassination of Martin Luther King and the subsequent riots that erupt around him.

    This being Pelacanos, it’s unsurprising that a number of crimes are being plotted or carried out at once, that a number of characters are morally ambiguous, and that minor decisions by one character tend to have major ramifications for someone else.

    It’s a gripping book, first propelling the reader into a culture or era which with they might be unfamiliar, making it comfortable and understandable, and then contriving a series of circumstances that make the book feel as if it is spinning out of control in parallel with events for the lead character as the riots ensue. I enjoyed it very much.

    So, rating time:

    #11 Hard Revolution, by George Pelecanos (Orion) - 8/10

    Next up: Man in the Dark, by Paul Auster (Faber and Faber Limited)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Saturday 13 February 2010

    #10 Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin (Corgi Books)

    Good, but not great. What? You want more? I promised you pithy, and now you're complaining that a particular review isn't wordy enough? Sheesh.

    Righto. I'd been looking forward to reading Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin - by all accounts a classic generation-defining book which stemmed from weekly fictional articles first serialised in the San Francisco Chronicle. I'm not sure why I haven't picked it up before, but when I started this challenge, it was one of the books I was most looking forward to reading.

    Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Because while there is no question it's an absorbing tale - a thorough examination of a time, a city, a lifestyle and much more - I wasn't as captivated as I thought I would be.

    You have to admire the way the characters interlink with one another, and how the story dips in and out of their lives, but the story itself doesn't fascinate. It could be argued that that's the point; that the lives of few people are inherently fascinating, so it's merely echoing real life, but that's getting a bit deep and meaningful for a supposedly short review.

    Another problem is that when people praise Tales of the City, one of its most praiseworthy attributes is its topicality, with the weekly nature of the serial allowing Maupin to incorporate and reference current news events. Without immersing myself in 1970s San Francisco (and I've got 100 books to read this year, remember), this is difficult to fully appreciate.

    The final point to address is the book's sexuality; characters are, to put in frankly, having it away - every which way - left, right and centre. Thirty years after the book was written, this doesn't seem as shocking as I'm sure it was to many at the time, though, and again the overriding feeling is one of disengagement rather than incredulity or wonderment.

    All that said, I enjoyed it, and will be reading more in the series. Given its focus on homosexuality, and that the series is hyped as a chronicle of an age and community that suffered the horrors of Aids, I’m interested to see how it is depicted by Maupin.

    So, rating time:

    #10 Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin (Corgi Books) - 7/10

    Next up: Hard Revolution, by George Pelecanos (Orion)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Friday 5 February 2010

    Same difference

    With two of the first five books I've read this year by the same author, Charlie Brooker, and compilations of his newspaper articles at that, I'm conscious that I could do with introducing a bit of diversity into this enterprise - and I'm not talking about the currently ubiqitous Britain's Got Talent-winning street dancers whose talents don't yet, as far as I'm aware, stretch to literature (although I guarantee it's only a matter of time).

    I'm not feeling too guilty; I'd more or less read Brooker's first book before I'd decided to embark on this, some will argue, ill-considered 100-book challenge, and the short columns are ideal for when I have only a brief amount of reading time. There is nothing worse than picking up a book, and then having to put it down just as you're getting into it.

    It's also a matter of convenience. Having not given things much thought before embarking on the challenge, I am fully aware that over the course of this year, I will have to have 100 books in my possession at some point, and I don't intend to pay for them all (if any).

    Obviously, I intend to borrow recommended books from friends and I also intend to visit a library for what must be the first time in around 15 years. I'll no doubt return to this subject at a later date.

    There is obviously a balance to be struck; not every book can be new (or old, in terms of the classics), challenging or thought-provoking, although the more the better. I intend to read a wide range of authors; if this task is about anything it's about broadening my literary horizons and finding new authors I like - and which to avoid.

    But equally, I'm sure there there will come a time, perhaps when I've once again failed to finish Life of Pi, when I seek the comfort of a familar face.

    Thursday 4 February 2010

    #9 Arctic Drift, by Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler (Penguin Group)

    One’s to do with horse-racing, and the other’s to do with maritime-based events – but both Even Money and Arctic Drift generate very similar reviews. I enjoyed books by both authors in my younger days, both authors have sold millions, both authors are now assisted by their sons and both novels are nowhere near as good as they should be, or as I remember previous books of their ilk.

    It’s hard to criticise the good intentions of the plot of Arctic Drift – a thriller based on the need to avert global warming, a discovery of a rare mineral crucial to a solution and the requirement for some action man-type heroics by the leading man, a certain Dirk Pitt, a blend of James Bond and Poseiden, but even more handsome.

    The problem is that I’ve read it all before. Sometimes, such familiarity is a blessing, a comforting dressing gown you can shrug on and in which you can instantly relax. At other times, it’s like an irritable scarf, which seems to be getting ever tighter, restricting your movement and stifling your growth.

    Cussler regularly inserts himself in his novels, by calling a character by his own name, who usually comes to the aid of Pitt in a time of need to defy death. Apparently, on the first occasion he did this, it was meant as a joke and he expected it to be edited out, but it was left in and grows more annoying by the book.

    The novel itself is one-paced, obvious (anything that happens or is discovered will turn out to be crucial 100 pages later) and any twists and turns are telegraphed well in advance. But if you like megalomaniacal villains, larger than life heroes with a generous helping of historically accurate shipwrecks, this is certainly for you.

    In some ways, the story behind the book is more interesting. The agency to which Pitt belongs in the book, the National Underwater and Marine Agency, was actually founded by Cussler and has made a number of important discoveries, and I suppose if the books help fund such an organisation, who am I to moan?

    So, rating time:

    #9 Arctic Drift, by Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler (Penguin Group) - 5/10

    Next up: Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin (Corgi Books)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #8 Tunnel Vision, by Keith Lowe (Simon & Schuster)

    I had a bit of difficulty getting into Tunnel Vision, but - and I actually paused midway through to give this some thought - I don't think it was necessarily the fault of the book.

    Over the last few years, there has been a proliferation of what could be dubbed 'bet books', where the author embarks on some barmy challenge and then charts the weird and wacky events en route. From playing the Moldovans at tennis to finding people with the same name as yourself, it's become its own genre - not that that's always a bad thing. There's been some fine and funny writing in such novels and, given the nature of my own book challenge, it's hardly as if I'm well placed to be too critical...

    Anyway, Tunnel Vision is the tale of a man's attempt to travel round the entire London underground network the day before his wedding, solving various challenges en route and, of course, realising along the way that none of it is worth the risk of losing the one he loves.

    Most importantly, it's a work of fiction - and this proved to be the route of my problem, because it took me about two chapters to realise. In hindsight, it's fairly obvious, and I'm not sure what that says about me and the speed of my uptake. But having given it some thought, it must be to the author's credit, because there is no question his aim is to mimic this genre.

    The book's greatest success and moments come in this early stage, with the onset of the challenge coupled with some really interesting historical and random information about the Tube itself.

    Unfortunately, while the pace hots up towards midnight and the end of the bet draws ever nearer, it doesn't sustain that interest and is too often quirky, rather than funny. I also found the lead character's fiancée, with whom you are supposed to sympathise, completely dislikeable.

    So, rating time:

    #8 Tunnel Vision, by Keith Lowe (Simon & Schuster) - 6/10

    Next up: Arctic Drift, by Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • Wednesday 3 February 2010

    #7 Even Money, by Dick Francis and Felix Francis (Penguin Group)

    It’s interesting how your tastes in literature change and develop over the years, although I appreciate this is an obvious statement. As a kid, I devoured the Hardy Boys books, for example, and, a bit later, horse-racing thrillers by Dick Francis.

    Or were they by Francis, a former jockey and the man on board the Queen Mother’s nag, Devon Loch, when it notoriously and mysteriously fell for no reason when winning the 1956 Grand National by a street? Not completely, said an unauthorised biography a few years ago, which suggested that while Francis came up with the plots and characters, his wife Mary was an uncredited co-writer and took care of most of the editing.

    Sadly, she died in 2000, and Francis’ latest offering, Even Money – written with his son Felix, who has managed to bag a credit for his efforts – doesn’t live up to earlier classics, such as Odds Against, Whip Hand and Twice Shy.

    But were they so good in the first place? Reading Even Money, the tale of a bookmaker who discovers his previously dead father is in fact alive (although not for long) and mixed up in illegally swapping the identity of horses, I was struck by its simplistic nature.

    This can be a good thing. The books is far from challenging, so I raced through it – just what you need when you’re trying to read 100 books in a year…

    But while the plot is mildly interesting, and the characters OK (indeed, one has depression, which provided a nice link to the book I had just finished, All in the Mind), I started to get annoyed by the inclusion of things which seemed to be there just because they were topical, rather than as an integral part of the novel.

    To take one example: at one stage, the bookmaker’s assistant goes to a party, which ends up being trashed by uninvited guests who have learned of its existence via the Facebook social networking site. Fair enough, but the reader is not actually at the party, merely hears about it from the assistant, who takes great pains to explain how such an event happens. Great, you think, they’re spending so much time on this it must be pivotal to the plot. Alas, it’s never referred to again.

    Maybe my memory is playing tricks on me, but I can’t help thinking that Francis’ previous work was better, more thrilling and more tightly put together. Maybe I’ll go back and read a couple to find out…

    So, rating time:

    #7 Even Money, by Dick Francis and Felix Francis (Penguin Group) - 5/10

    Next up: Tunnel Vision, by Keith Lowe (Simon & Schuster)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating
  • #6 All in the Mind, by Alistair Campbell (Arrow)

    I’ve got a bit of catching up to do on the review front. Although it might not seem like it, I’m actually bang on schedule for the completion of 100 books in a year, and number nine was finished late last night.

    So why have you only reviewed five so far, I hear everyone (well, perhaps one person) demand (well, enquire quizzically)? Not enough time is the answer, and amid a busy week last week, I decided to prioritise reading rather than keeping up to date on these pages.

    So let’s dive into All in the Mind, by former Daily Mirror journalist, ex-New Labour head of communications and all-round spin doctoring guru Alistair Campbell. Which isn’t bad at all.

    I’m not quite sure why that sentence reads as if it comes as somewhat of a surprise. Obviously, Campbell is a talented wordsmith – to the extent that some would probably argue we wouldn’t have gone to war in Iraq without him… (woah, bit of politics, as Ben Elton would say).

    But All in the Mind, a story of a psychotherapist with depression, and how he interacts with his clients and the world in general, was surprisingly enjoyable, and has an ending that was sufficient to draw tears (although I will happily admit that I am a serial crier, so that might not be too telling).

    Critically, Campbell has battled depression himself, which, as with other meditations on the nature of depression carried out by the likes of Stephen Fry, gives him a great grasp of what is involved, and the trauma involved – to those with depression and their families - really comes through to the reader.

    So, rating time:

    #6 All in the Mind, by Alistair Campbell (Arrow) - 7/10

    Next up: Even Money, by Dick Francis and Felix Francis (Penguin Group)

  • Click here for the full list of books so far, and their rating