Category: Books Page 5 of 8

I Often Feel It’s Important To Be Able To Express Opinions On Books I Haven’t Read, Especially Those Which I Deliberately Haven’t Read

Over at her always-fun blog, Marie Phillips has been talking about the imminent release of The Mistress by Martine McCutcheon, and what it may say about the publishing industry.

I think she makes some very valid points, and having read the first chapter which is available here, I was oddly put in mind of American Psycho‘s incessant name-checking. And faintly appalled to see the ‘having them look in the mirror to justify describing the protagonist’ trick making its appearance in the sixth paragraph, but that’s probably just me being jaded and cynical; the book’s aimed at a very specific market, and I’m not that market. So be it, there are enough books on my ‘to be read’ shelves already.

But before I shrug my shoulders and move on, two things which came to mind:

Point the first: in the first eight paragraphs of Chapter One, there are two references to Grazia magazine. This strikes me as odd, given that Martine McCutcheon is a columnist for Reveal magazine.

Point the second: the book details given at the foot of this page state that the book will measure 197mm x 130mm, and be comprised of 336 pages, and yet weigh 0 kg. The very definition of a “light read”, I guess.

My immediate suspicion was that this book may well have been ghost-written (though I could be wrong), and the notion of a ghost-written book by a celebrity reminds me of the novel with Naomi Campbell’s name on the cover, Swan (there seems to be a substantial body of evidence to suggest I shouldn’t refer to the novel with as ‘belonging to’ Ms Campbell).

At the time of its publication, I seem to recall reading an amusing – and very probably apocryphal – tale about a journalist pressing her about the authorship of the book; after a while, Ms Campbell was tiring of being hassled in this way.

“Look,” she allegedly said, “have you read my book?”
“No,” the journalist reportedly answered. “Have you?”

Probably Best Not To Leave It Until Christmas Eve, Mind

Just a quick money-saving book-related tip I wanted to pass on to you good people: if you buy items totalling over £25 from Borders Online, you can save £5 off that total – and, even better, get 5% of your total spend donated to Oxfam – by typing the code loveoxfam into the ‘promotional code’ box. This offer runs until 24 December 2009.

I have to admit that I don’t use their online service very often (though I frequently find myself losing hours in their shops), but a fiver off and money to Oxfam appeals to my miserly and philanthropic tendencies at the same time, so I thought I’d share.

Feel free to tell your friends (and enemies, and people who are emotionally neutral towards you).

Everything That Has An Ending Has A Beginning

I’ve been thinking about opening lines to books a bit recently, not least because The Body Orchard, the next book I want to write, has been stewing in my head for a while, and I’m ready to start writing it.

It’s a truth universally accepted that most articles about Jane Austen will start with a paraphrase of the opening line of Emma, though I must admit I’ve always found the sentiments of the sentence (which I’m far from inclined to accept) tend to put me off a bit.

I recall being told at school that the start of The Catcher In The Rye was noted for its length and flippant tone, and I could kind of see why, but then a decade or so I found an ‘uncut’ version of the book, which included a whole new section at the end of that well-regarded sentence, which was a bit off-putting.

I’ve always been fond of the beginning of Kafka’s The Trial, with its almost casual reference to the fact that the soon-to-be persecuted protagonist is innocent, and now I think about it the start of Metamorphosis is pretty classy too, and is certainly bolstered by the fact that (if memory serves) the story doesn’t go on to explain exactly why Gregor has turned into an insect. The opening sentence draws you in with the ‘what the hell..?’ factor, and then it’s too late, they’re knocking at the door and you’re in the story.

Isn’t there a story by Poe or Defoe (or maybe it was Cotton Eye Joe?) which has a line on the first page to the effect that if you read a page of it, you’ll soon forget the fact it’s meant to be a tale which the narrator is telling you? “Read one page, and I will be forgot” or something like that. Classy if you can pull it off, but I’m not so sure I could be that confident, and besides I’m such a rampant egomaniac I want everyone reading my stuff to be remembering my name, fame, I’m gonna live for ever.

More than anything else, though, I found myself thinking that one of the best opening lines I’ve ever read is the first line of the first chapter of the first book of Stephen King’s Dark Tower series:

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

I think that’s very effective writing – sets up who, where and what’s going on, and of course raises a lot of questions in the reader’s mind. A good way to rope you in (which is probably very wise indeed, as Mr K intends to keep your attention for seven books before the tale is told).

So, it’s very probably with this line very much in mind that, last night, I wrote the following:

The dying man coughed, sending a spray of blood onto the living room carpet.

Sure, the content’s not very pleasant, and I’m sure that it’ll get changed more than once in the rewrite… but it’s a start.

Buy, Buy! Love You! Bye!

One of those strangely busy (and busily strange) days, but I just wanted to alert you to the fact that, as of today, m’chum Steve is the proud father of a bouncing (if you throw it) baby paperback:

I’ve written about how much I enjoyed the hardback edition, and now you can buy it in a new, lighter-to-pick-up form (though I still maintain that the title should be in joined-up writing by way of consistency of theme). And it’s cheaper, too.

Go on, buy one. Make him happy. Or rich. Or both.

Apropos Of The Latter Link, If Anyone Could Recommend Me A Good E-Reader That Supports PDFs And Has A Black Case, I’d Be Grateful

I notice that the new Jeffrey Archer paperback features a re-telling of the life story of mountaineer George Mallory.

As you probably know, Mallory and his climbing partner Andrew Irvine may have been the first people to summit Mount Everest; on June 8 1924, Mallory and Irvine were climbing Everest and were seen from afar, as black specks just below the summit ridge, by another member of their party.

And then they were never seen again, though Mallory’s body was found about a decade ago. There’s never been any completely conclusive evidence to eastblish whether or not Mallory and Irvine made it to the top and died on the way down, or died en route.

Anyway, though I’ve never read an Archer book, the fact that his last book was a re-telling of The Count of Monte Cristo (one of my favourite novels) and his latest one is about another subject close to my heart inevitably makes me conclude that Archer’s deliberately trying to get my attention and make me read his books. And as a contrary type, I shan’t be duped so easily into parting with my cash (especially not to the funds of a convicted perjurer).

Instead, if you want to read about this subject, I’d recommend you either read The Ghosts Of Everest by Hemmleb, Johnson and Simonson for a very solid recounting of the search for the bodies and belongings of Mallory and Irvine; or – as pictured above – for a more fictional angle on it, have a look at The Summit of the Gods by Yumemakura Baku and Jiro Taniguchi.

It’s the first volume of a Japanese comic story based around a chap who thinks he may have found Mallory’s camera (and the camera did exist and has never been recovered), with some lovely art. I’ll freely admit that I’m only halfway through reading it myself at present, but it’s a very good read, with several storylines running at once – including, of course, flashbacks to the 1924 expedition.

What’s that you say? You want evidence of the loveliness of the art? Well, all right, you demanding tyke, have a look at this five-page preview here. And as it’s a Japanese comic, don’t forget you have to read from right to left.

.ti naem I ,ylsuoires, oN

King Of All I Survey, King Of All Surveys

I don’t know about you, but I really dislike it when I’m on a website and a pop-up asks me if I’d be willing to take a survey.

If it’s a site I like and visit often, then the pop-up is just an annoying obstacle, stopping me from getting to the bit I want to see, and if it’s a site I’ve never looked at before, then it often puts me off to the extent that I may just stop looking at the site. And maybe it’s me being mercenary here, but I prefer it when a survey tries to lure me in with the promise of being entered in a draw for a voucher or iPod or something – don’t people get paid for working in market research? Pass the rewards on to your helpers, I say.

So, despite being very quick to criticise, I’m not much of a survey-completer. And when I do fill one out, I don’t always remember it.

Which is why, when I received a book through the post yesterday from The Screenwriter’s Store, I thought there’d been some kind of mistake. I hadn’t ordered a book from them (well, not recently, anyway).

But on cracking the box open, I found a copy of Archetypes For Writers by Jennifer Van Bergen, accompanied by a letter from MovieScope magazine thanking me for taking part in their recent survey. Reading this letter, I remembered completing the survey, and was slightly surprised that I’d received a thank-me, as many of my comments had been pretty harsh. Then again, they probably need to know what people don’t like as much as the things they’re keen on, I guess.

Still, it’s always nice to get a surprise in the post, and as anyone who writes knows, there’s no better way to justify avoiding actually getting on with some writing than to have a new book about writing to read.

After all, this book might be the one containing the key insight which makes it all so much easier…

Genre-Bending… Until The Terminology Shatters?

I delighted, way back in 2007, at the suggestion that the perceived distinction between literary fiction and genre fiction might be on the wane.

I think things are still on the move in this regard – more swiftly in TV than books, perhaps, but maybe that’s because the blow has been softened by the wildly successful Doctor Who revival often being referred to as a ‘genre show’ as opposed to ‘a science fiction show’. Anyway, whilst the progress in the realm of books may be slower, it seems that there is still progress, as argued in a very interesting piece in the Wall Street Journal by Lev Grossman which you can read here.

And yes, I’m well aware that in the above, I’m equating (or conflating) ‘the erosion of the barriers between literary and genre fiction’ and ‘progress’, and seeing them as one and the same. This is because I think the divide is an artificial one, rather arbitrarily telling you which subjects are intellectually nourishing and which ones are bad for your brain, and hence I see the removal of this perceived distinction as a step forward.

Speaking – As I Was Yesterday – Of Book Covers…

… I saw this one today:

I have no idea what the book’s about, but I think that is one hell of a cover.

Really well designed and drawn, and just the sort of thing to make me pick up a book completely speculatively.

I Swear On The Cover Of The 1980s Reissue Of The Bible, I’m Not Making This First Bit Up

Back in the olden days, when I worked for Sherratt & Hughes (a bookshop chain long since gobbled up by Waterstones), we received a delivery of the latest edition of The Bible.

And when I say “latest edition”, I don’t mean it had a new foreword by the author and previously unseen material, but rather it was a trendy modern repackaging, with silvery lettering and skyscrapers on it like the opening of Dynasty (actually, that’s appropriate when you think about all the begetting in the first book). Strangely enough, I can’t seem to find a picture of it online, but you’ll take my word for it, won’t you? Thanks.

The reason I was thinking about this is because Wuthering Heights has recently been reissued in a form that’s deliberately meant to lure in fans of the Twilight books and films, as you can see:

Obviously, I’m not the intended audience for this re-issue, but I don’t really have any great objection to this packaging (mind you, I do think it’s a bit blatant to use the tagline from Coppola’s film version of Dracula, but I suppose it’s only old farts like me who are expected to remember this, not fans of Robert Pattinson). I’m not entirely convinced that readers of Twilight will necessarily enjoy Bronte’s book that much, but it might work for some people, and I suspect the hope is that they’ll have bought it by then and that’s another sale.

But in a way, lasting works or characters are often re-packaged and re-purposed in line with the prevailing mood of the times; take a look at the way that, say, books by Ian Fleming or Charles Dickens have changed over the years (often in line with some related TV or film adaptation). Even Shakespeare’s plays get a frequent re-packaging, and as alluded to above, some vastly older volumes have had some profoundly groovy and hip covers. And – as is the case with Wuthering Heights – there are usually other, less zeitgeisty, editions available.

I’d guess that a lot of the fans of Twilight are fans of stuff like Harry Potter who have grown up (as opposed, of course, to grown-up fans of Harry Potter) and are now looking for something in a similar vein (…) though perhaps with a bit more repressed passion. That’s my suspicion for the popularity of the Twilight stuff, anyway – I’m not lured in even out of is-it-good-or-bad curiosity, as I’m not particularly interested in vampires per se (for example, as much as I enjoyed Buffy, the presence of the v-word in the title was actually rather misleading, given all the other Monsters Of The Week).

And in fact, given the current mood of a large amount of the audience, I’m not in the least surprised to see that Oscar Wilde’s only novel, in its latest screen incarnation, is being advertised thus:

Crafty. And given his own tendency for not-always-entirely-accurate self-promotion, I rather suspect Mr Wilde would have approved.

I’ll Be Honest With You: Sometimes I Put Similar-Looking Books Down Next To Each Other…

… in the hope that the excitement contained in one might rub off on the other.

I’ll leave it to you to decide which is the exciting one.

Page 5 of 8

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