I've read it, I swear...

Okay, so I've admitted a few times on this blog that I occasionally recommend books to customers in the shop without ever having read so much as the back cover. But generally, in conversation with people whose opinions I actually care about, I am truthful about things I've read. The same cannot be said of the general British populace apparently. A survey as part of World Book Day yielded the following list of the top ten books people lie about having read:

1. 1984 - George Orwell
2. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
3. Ulysses - James Joyce
4. The Bible
5. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
6. A Brief History of Time - Stephen Hawking
7. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
8. In Remembrance of Things Past - Marcel Proust
9. Dreams of My Father - Barack Obama
10. The Selfish Gene - Richard Dawkins

Huh. Why the hell would anyone lie about having read Proust? Seriously. People are only going to believe you've read Proust if you're the kind of person who would actually read Proust and who wouldn't lie if they hadn't.

It's such a weird list - 1984, I can kind of understand (come on people, it's not that long...), Midnight's Children ditto. Ulysses? No one has read Ulysses. No one. I wouldn't believe someone if they said they had. Richard Dawkins? Really? I wonder if he should be honoured to have made the list? I think it's kind of funny that Dreams of My Father made the list...I am surprised it is not higher up - it seems every second book club is doing this at the moment because 'you've just got to have read it'. Whatever. I realise I'm just rambling on, feeling superior to people who lie while I've read a grand total of one of the books on the list. (1984. I read one sentence of Ulysses (all 30 pages of it) and threw in the towel). So instead of rambling on further about these and not really getting anywhere, let's have a look at what the people are really reading :

Harry Potter, Mills and Boons, Sophie Kinsella and Jeffrey Archer.
(Well one of our commenters will be happy to confirm that...)
(Not that I am saying ANYTHING disparaging about any of these books. (except Jeffrey Archer). I am a Harry Potter nerd. And have been known to dabble in a little light Mills and Boon reading (only when ill and fuzzy headed...))

I am rocking the brackets today. Your thoughts?

Author Love: DBC Pierre

Picture this scene, if you will:

A dinner party.

Pork chops are being served by waiters dressed as Etonians.

We are in an old country house.

Elbow's Grounds for Divorce filters from the tasteful sound system.

Earhart and I sit, surrounded by the most distinctively voiced, disturbing and/or angry authors we could think of. Cormac sits at one end, silent and still apart from the occasional twitch of his nose. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, surveying the crowd. J.D. sits to my left, complaining about the chops and shamelessly listening in on everyone else's conversations. Ian holds court, retelling the story of his long-lost half-brother, so enigmatic that no one notices as he palms his steak knife and requests another from the waiter. Martin is also unimpressed with the chops; he pushes his plate away and tops up his wine goblet from a leather hip flask, adding a pinch of seasoning from a twist of paper. Margaret, to Earhart's right, charms her whilst keeping an ear on the ticking in her handbag. Anthony is demonstrating the correct way to strangle a gerbil and Hunter listens intently, sure he can see an actual gerbil writhing in pain. Bret and Chuck play a lackadaisical game of Snap, ignoring everyone else and taking in turns to stab each other with compasses whenever a point is scored.

At this hypothetical dinner party which I SERIOUSLY hope to attend one day, DBC Pierre sits, almost unnoticed, in the midst of the madness. He doesn't have a notebook on his lap but he is recording it all, filing away the lunacy, the self-involvement, the genius, to use at a later date.

Make no doubt about it, he belongs at the party, can take his rightful place at the table and does so with no trace of hem or haw. But he remains distanced, able to catalogue his own caricatured behaviour alongside that of the others, so socially pulsed and sharp witted with a scary intelligence to rope it all together that the dinner party could soon turn into another socially-ravaging hilarious romp of a read.

You COULD say I think DBC Pierre is quite, quite good at what he does. This would probably be reasonably accurate.

Vernon God Little and Ludmila's Broken English are unwavering in their brilliance, scornful satire and heartbreaking moments of pain. If the latter is slightly lacking the power of the first I hold no grudges, reading it without the expectations of the first I would have still been blown-away. I realised merely referencing DBC Pierre in my earlier post wasn't enough, he needed a segment on his own (even if said segment is a bit too gonzo-esque to be classified as sensible reviewing).

I mean, when the voices of his characters resonate more soundly than Holden Caulfield's, you know he's a ten.

Rating: 10/10.

World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War (Max Brooks)

Ahaha, OH YES.

This was awesome. Brooks originally released a tongue-in-cheek manual called The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead, which outlined detailed strategies for civilians in the event of a zombie uprising. This is his follow-up novel, which uses the strategies outlined in The Survival Guide as a foundation for the ensuing action.

Confession: I haven't actually read The Survival Guide. But I have already ordered it from my bookshop now that I have finished WWZ. The novel is actually incredibly serious and references the current terrorism issues the world is facing, using these as basis for a zombie war. The book is divided into a series of interviews between the author and survivors of the conflict. Taking place a decade after the war, we are drawn into the horror of the political, social and economic outcomes of the uprising. I found myself clucking my tongue and murmuring of course throughout the tales of government ineptitude, feeling glad that were such a conflict to actually occur, at least now we have Obama rather than the ranch man. Obama would be ALL OVER a zombie war.

If you're a fan of zombies only for the blood and gore you'll be disappointed; Brooks is far more eager to highlight corporate corruption and social blindness than the way rotting flesh drips from zombie bones. Otherwise, go pick up a copy of this, taking care to capitalise on the moment of purchase by moaning slightly and fixing the sales assistant with an unfocused glare.

Rating: 8/10.

Words of Love

And so it died an abrupt, premature, yet appropriate death

We're discontinuing the "Book You May Have Missed" segment. Earhart was the first to voice her woes on this front, with April fast approaching it was her turn to do the segment and she was stressing as to what title to choose. We had a confabulation and decided that it is a bit of a redundant segment, as we have trouble choosing a book we think you may have missed as we assume everyone reads as much as we do. Alternatively, a book you may have missed even if you are an avid reader is a problem as we probably missed it as well and thus wouldn't think to post on it.

Sigh.

OK, that worrisome topic dealt with I am now in search of something else to stress about.

March Classic: Three Men in a Boat

Sorry sorry sorry - both on the lack of posts front (I now have Internet in my new place so am connected to world again!) and the fact that this March Classic post is practically an April classic. The reason for the delay is that about a month ago I had sudden inspiration as to what should be my March classic, and promptly forgot all about it. All month there has been this thought in the back of my mind that I couldn't choose anything else because I had the perfect classic all picked out, if only I could remember what it was. Finally, last night I looked on my own bookshelves (what an innovative idea!) and there it was: Three Men in a Boat.

Possibly the funniest book known to man, Three Men in a Boat was written in 1889 (so it's a REAL, more than 100 years old classic!) and details a boating trip up the Thames, undertaken by three men (to say nothing of the dog....) The narrator and his two friends have got to be three of the most ridiculous characters in fiction. We can tell this three sentences in, when J. is talking about the various maladies he is suffering...'It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most virulent form'. J. says this without a trace of irony let me assure you.

The trip up the Thames is an educational one for the reader, as J. offers his observations on camping, cheese, women, sea trips, as well as a running commentary on the trip and experience thereof. I cannot think of any other book which is as funny today as it was over 100 years ago (although according to my friend Wiki, it was initially seen as a book for the 'Arrys and 'Arriets, evidently it was not something read by the upper classes...). I'm going to leave you with this musing over an Irish Stew:

"I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I remember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great interest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and thoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his contribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a genuine desire to assist, I cannot say."

In case you are wondering, Montmorency is in fact, a dog.

9/10

The Understudy (David Nicholls)

"Funniest book of the year" MY ASS Marie Claire.

I know, I know, I shouldn't take book recommendations from a women's magazine but honestly, I thought that comment at least indicated this would be a diverting, light-hearted read.

The Understudy was the singularly most depressing novel I have read in my entire life. Admittedly, this may be a slight exaggeration. But this was not good depressing. Good depressing is a novel you can seriously wallow in. It reduces you to frantic tears and staring at yourself in the mirror, tugging your hair and imagining yourself playing the part of the heroine in the film. This was cringy, pathetic, snivelling and pseudo-realistic depressing... not enjoyable AT ALL.

Stephen C. McQueen (no relation) is a struggling actor. His ex-wife and young daughter think he's a loser, his agent can't remember his name and he is currently playing the part of "Ghostly Figure" in a West End hit, which requires he be on stage for fifteen seconds of the entire production. David Nicholls is good with the one-liners, but they're relentless and a pathetic band aid for the failure that Stephen's life is.

The problem with the humour is that nothing funny actually happens in the novel, just amusing descriptions of seriously depressing events. Thus, although you want to throw yourself off a bridge after reading this, you will be compelled to do it in an ironic fashion, with a jaunty parting line to the mocking crowd. Unfortunately, there will be a protruding ledge which will hamper your death fall and instead leave you crippled for life. The wheelchair you will be compelled to use will be bought for you by your best friend with the inappropriate sense of humour and thus will be equipped with flashing multi-coloured lights, a siren and streamers on the handles. As a get-well present, someone will buy you this book to cheer you up and start the whole tragic cycle all over again.

Rating: 3/10.