Clandestine In Chile

While I was waiting for a train at Kings Cross, I began looking for a bookstore. A quick google maps exercise showed me several within five minutes walk, so I was thrilled. Unfortunately google maps did not tell me that the kind of book shop you get in this area doesn’t sell books… Luckily after making my way through the bondage (seriously - book store?) I found a socialist book store. Much better, I’m sure you’ll agree. The result of this was that I bought the first book by an author whose name I recognised: Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Marquez is much more famous for ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ and ’One Hundred Years of Solitude’, his fiction. This book takes a completely different path and tells the true story of Miguel Littin, a Chilean film director who lives in exile from Chile. Deciding to make a documentary of how General Augusto Pinochet’s fascist government has affected his country, he sneaks back into the country in a disguise and begins filming.

The book is fairly entertaining, though would probably have a much bigger impact for someone more familiar with Pinochet’s reign than myself. To get the full force of the book you have to know, or assume, that the country is under a repressive, murderous regime. Although you are reminded of this throughout the book, there aren’t any scene’s to back this view up. On the contrary, whenever Littin gets close to authority figures, as happens frequently, he always escapes without too much danger. To me, the length’s he goes to in order to maintain his secret identity seem rather extreme. Of course, this could just be my own ignorance. It could easily be the case that it was necessary, and Littin does constantly feels endangered. My point is that the book lacks evidence to back up its assertions, it assumes you have a prior knowledge yourself.

The disguise does make for some of the most touching moments in the book though. Towards the end Littin makes his way home, only to discover his own mother does not recognise him. The stories of resistance can also hit home. One man, finding out that his daughter has been sentenced to death, burns himself to death in front of the church to demonstrate against this. His sacrifice gained such public support that his daughter is saved from execution.

All of this goes to show, that while this book may fail on the bigger picture, it’s the human stories that are brought to life. The author’s most famous works are the ones that focus on people, rather than events, so perhaps this is no surprise. If I ever end up in a socialist book store again (and I would much rather this happened than ending up in a bondage store again), I think some fiction from Gabriel Garcia Marquez may be just the trick.

Glamorama

About 2 years ago I read American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis’s satire on banking culture. Afterwards I really wasn’t sure if I would read another book by him. There’s no doubt he has a fantastic writing ability, but I really couldn’t decide if it was worth reading more by an author whose main achievement (to me) was that he was pushing literature to an extreme I hadn’t experienced before. For those of you who don’t know what I mean, let me explain: Graphic violence, graphic sex, and quite a lot of both at once. It was not enjoyable, it was extremely tough going at times, and it really took a lot out of me.

That I ended up reading Glamorama should come as a shock. Especially so, considering the advice I had from two friends who had read it. One said that they stopped reading halfway through because it was too much, the other advised they seriously considered stopping (although they remain a fan). As it turned out, I loved it.

The style is similar - all his novels are narrated in the first person, and the narrator is always excessively vain. The endless celebrity name dropping has been taken to an extreme, with frequent lists of them intentionally placed as a reminder of the narrators priorities. Victor Ward is obsessed with his own identity. The idea that forms the story is a gem: He is caught in a thriller but is too vain (and stupid) to either narrate the story coherently, or realise the importance of what is going on. Terrorist plots are unfolding in the background while he worries which nightclub to go to. The plot cleverly plays within the thriller structure, with the underlying satire of Wards sense of identity being teased throughout.

So why do people think it pushes things too far? I don’t feel it does. The scenes in American Psycho felt so shocking because they were narrated by a sociopath. In this book the shock value of the terrorist plot is largely filtered out by the narrators self obsession, it blurs the violence from the reader. The sex, while as graphic as ever, lacks the violence that made American Psycho so disturbing. I should note that there is material to offend the casually homophobic among you, although I have little sympathy for such people. I mention this more to describe that yet again, I found my self reading Bret Eason Ellis and thinking ‘I’ve never read anything like this before…’, except, this time it was kinda fun.

A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again

When I was embarking on my American travels earlier in the year, a friend of mine gave me a book called Infinite Jest to read with the warning that it would take over my life. They were not wrong. Infinite Jest has become one of my favourite books, and the knowledge that its author, David Foster Wallace, committed suicide while writing its follow up came as a hammer blow to me. He did, however, leave quite a few non-fiction books behind him, including the essay collection I’m reviewing now.

The essays cover a large range of subjects, from postmodern literary theory to tennis, from the films of David Lynch to a luxury Caribbean cruise (the title essay). For an enthusiast such as myself, this was heaven. David Foster Wallace’s ability to write means he can tackle any subject and make it fascinating. His detailed description of thrill rides at the Illinois state fair are illuminated by his deep fear of going on rollercoasters. Even watching others taking part leaves him feeling nauseous. He lists cheesy t-shirt slogans he sees and theorises at length on the motivation the wearer has to define themselves in this way. At all times, subjects are tackled with extreme honesty. He is intent on letting you in on his train of thought, at times willingly prepared to sacrifice your opinion of him in doing so,

Despite being non-fiction, the joys of Foster Wallace’s prose are the same. This includes my personal favourite: the footnotes. He turns the use of footnotes into an art form, giving the footnotes their own footnotes, and letting them wander on for pages at a time, overtaking and overshadowing the main text. This happens so frequently that while reading on the tube, I noticed some people pointing and laughing at me as I turned backwards and forwards between pages, trying to keep up with the footnotes. The use of language constantly made me giggle like a school girl, his viewpoint on almost any subject seems to come from a viewpoint so uniquely different to mine. Many of the essays were composed during the writing of Infinite Jest, yet the quality of the essays does not suffer. This, to me, confirms two things. First, that this guy has an unrivalled gift for writing. Second, that Ill never make it as a writer.

The cult of David Foster Wallace will continue to grow. I already found it to be considerably larger than I thought when buying this book - as evidenced by the snobby book assistant looking at me in disbelief that I was only just buying this book now. Of course talk of cults is nonsense, but for me, having discovered this essay collection, I’m just excited that there are more to follow…

The Count of Monte Cristo

Back in my teenage years I read a book by Stephen Fry called the ‘The Stars Tennis Balls’. It was an entertaining story with a protagonist named Ned. He was young, successful, in love and in the 80‘s. However as he prepared to go to university, tragedy struck. Three ‘friends’, jealous of Ned, caused him to be arrested. At this point a secret service agent sent him to a Scandinavian mental home for entirely selfish reasons. After spending 20 years trapped, Ned escaped to the 21st century world, and set about gaining his revenge…

Let’s cut to the real world, and to my birthday this year. I received The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas as a present. Within 20 pages of the book I was noticing similarities between this and Fry’s novel. A quick Wikipedia search revealed the two books to be almost entirely identical in plot! Now, Stephen Fry has admitted to taking the plot from Dumas, who himself based it on a true story, but he sure as hell didn’t admit it in my copy of the book. As such, I realised I was embarking on an epic story to which I already knew the plot.

Would Stephen Fry’s carelessness cost me the enjoyment of a classic? In short, No. I’m glad to report that good writing always shines through, and you can enjoy plot twists even if you see them coming.

Of course, there is more to it than just that. I remember being saddened by Ned’s 20 year imprisonment, his institutionalisation in the Norwegian mental home and his ruined life. With The Count of Monte Cristo there’s too much fun to be had in revenge for that to be a factor. When the time does come for the Count to face up to his period of incarceration, it’s done with a maturity and credibility that leaves the reader with a feeling of closure, not one of despair.

That does leave us with the question of which novel to recommend. Personally, I would always choose the source material. In these situations, the beauty of the original is that it has a charm which merited a re-make. The copy might well have the charm of the original, but then again it might well not. Why take the chance? In this case, while I have forgiven Stephen Fry for my mistake, you should read The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s quite simply a better book.

Scott Pilgrim

I’m not being a literary snob, I just don’t thing most comic books have grown up. Calling them ‘Graphic Novels’ does not qualify them as adult fiction. I've read several examples of comics claiming to show maturity in the industry, but aside from a few real life stories such as Maus or Persepolis, these claims are largely redundant. These examples I refer to contain Watchmen within their ranks. Watchmen does a very good job of creating a credible and atmospheric world. It is let down, however, by a flawed thesis and poor characterisation (Captain Manhattan’s personality is completely inconsistent). It therefore came as a bombshell that Scott Pilgrim, a story with constant deviations from the plot and more computer game references than you can shake a stick at could prove so brilliant and exciting!

The Scott Pilgrim books are unquestionably silly. They often make little sense and aren’t afraid to make a beautifully cheap joke. They are, however, also entirely consistent, brilliant realized, and funnier than your mum. The cast of the books are entirely believable, and the dialog is a class above anything I’d read with speech bubbles before. it’s a bit like reading the graphic novel of Spaced (its no wonder Edgar Wright chose to direct the film adaptation of this).

Scott Pilgrim is also wonderfully inventive. Brian O’Malley has no qualms about taking a detour from the plot for the characters to give you cooking instructions for vegan bolognaise (Not because they are vegan, they just like to be inclusive). Scott’s reward for winning a fight is a 1-up. Characters get introduced with fun facts. Room itineraries are presented. You get the idea.

My personal highlight of the saga is Wallace Wells, Scott Pilgrims roommate. They share a one bed apartment, so whenever Wallace brings a guy home for the night Scott gets shunted out for the night. He is witty, insightful, and regularly dissects Scott’s life with tenacity.

If you are afraid to buy into a six part saga - try the film to start you off. It has split critics in a way not seen for quite a few years, and it hasn’t been the most successful, but I’m convinced in 5 years it will be looked upon as a cult classic. This is fiction born out of 21st century culture. The 6 books follow the structure of a computer game. In fact, Scott’s life is a computer game. If you aren’t able to cope with frequent changes of narrative and pace you will struggle with this story. Some critics cant cope with this. Future critics will be able to identify with it much more unanimously. Get on board.

Altogether now: ONE TWO THREE FOUR!

The Dark Tower Part 1

Stephen King. I want to like him, I really do. He just makes it so bloody hard for himself. The first part of The Dark Tower shows why I feel this way better than any other book I’ve read by him (i.e. The Stand).

The plot of this introduction to the saga serves to introduce us to the mysterious hero known only as ‘The Gunslinger’, who is currently chasing his evil nemesis ‘The Man in Black’ (AKA Johnny Cash) across the desert. The differences between them are subtle, however you know who the good guy is because the gunslinger doesn’t dress in black. Let’s ignore his willingness to murder a whole town or betray children for a moment, we are told he is the hero and that makes it true.

I am not going to question Stephen King’s ability to write, he has an unquestionable knack for knocking out large sections of great prose. I am, however, going to question his plotting and editing skills. Despite years of enduring critics far greater than I pointing out to him that he has neither of the aforementioned virtues, he insists his lack of direction or a delete key form his strengths.

Early on in the book the gunslinger heroically shags a hooker. To prove his manly credentials, we are told that ‘Even the love making had been a silent thing, and only at the last minute had his breathing roughened, and then stopped for a minute’. Surely anyone can agree that a sentence of this calibre is best left in a Mills and Boone reject, and yet this book is full of clangers.

The Dark Tower goes on to form a seven part epic, with another part on the way (to fit between parts 3 and 4). With so much at stake you would imagine King has a plot outline, or even a JK Rowling style final chapter done and dusted to work towards. If you did imagine this, you are as foolish as I. In a note at the end of the book he admits to not really knowing where the story is going, or who half the characters the gunslinger needs to meet in the future are. His argument is that his strongest writing seems to come when he makes it up as he goes along. This is fair, but it doesn’t mean once the story is completed he cant go back and re-work it. Jack Kerouac famously wrote On The Road in a month, but he then spent years fiddling with the plot and re-working sections before its release, and the book is a classic because of that later work.

I don’t expect Stephen King to change his style, he’s too late into his career and has spent too much time ignoring people who made any suggestions to improve his writing. As a result I can't see myself returning to the series for a long time, if at all. This is a shame. There is enough in the book to merit a great story, but if the author isn’t going to put in the effort, then why should I?

The Hacienda: How Not to Run a Nightclub

Early in this book, Peter Hook estimates that for every person who went through the doors of the Hacienda during its 15 year lifetime, the owners lost £10. This should give you an idea of the scale of anecdote to expect in this, his memoirs of the Hacienda.

How they managed to keep the club going is beyond me (and Hooky). Staff regularly took home crates of beer as freebies. Bands, and later DJ’s were paid huge amounts of money for tiny gigs, and gangsters spent years trying to take over the club. There’s one instance when they book a secret gig for a band, but then keep it too secret, only to find 8 people show up. When the gangsters arrive, there’s a real sense of danger that seems to haunt the rest of the book. Attempts to scare them off end up escalating the violence, and at one point anyone going to the club would need to be aware which gangs operated in which corners, and to stay away.

What they lost in money, though, they more than made up for with partying. This book is crammed with anecdotes that had me in fits of laughter - even when reading it on the tube. There is the time when New Order turn up to a gig supporting the Pogues. They walk past the Pogues dressing room, spy a huge buffet and crates of beer, and get really excited. The joy soon turns sour when they go to their own dressing room, and find… a brown donkey. The solution is obvious: Set the donkey on the buffet and steal the booze.

The Hacienda also serves as an important cultural artefact. It helped create the DJ culure that was huge in the 90’s, and was important in popularising acid house. When ecstasy comes along, New Order are in Ibiza. Within a month they’ve trashed 11 hire cars. The experience helps to create the second summer of love in the late 80’s, and was the inspiration of much of the successful music later on.

Even if you aren’t familiar with New Order, the book does a fantastic job of focusing on the nightclub, so you don’t feel lost. The story of the band provides a backdrop to the happenings of the club, and Peter Hook’s wealth of stories makes for excellent narration.
Sadly for the kids of my generation, we’ll never get to go to the Hac. It shut down in 1997, and is now a block of upmarket apartments. This saddens me greatly, because when I was finished with the book, all I wanted to do was break out some glowsticks and throw some shapes.

Cookbook Collector

Contributed by Haley Pearson!

From time to time all discerning readers will come across a certain kind of book that, although devoid of material significance or complexity, is readable and perhaps even pleasurable. I myself often rely on what an old mentor referred to as "oatmeal" books when I need to unwind. I almost find it a form of literary meditation. Oatmeal books offer comfort predictability where other books demand self examination or the confrontation of troubling realities.

I wouldn't personally classify The Cookbook Collector as an oatmeal book, but it ticks many of the relevant boxes. It has been described in the press as a modern Jane Austen, with hidden love, hidden lust, obviously doomed relationships, a happy ending. Unsurprisingly, it lacks the complexities that force a reader to actually give a crap about who likes who and who loves who and all that soap opera stuff. Goodman tries to replace the complexity with plot complexity, altogether a failed effort. The novel reads like three novels squashed together in a vise.

The novel mainly concerns two sisters, one the high powered executive of a late-nineties tech startup about to go public, the other a winsome, wayward graduate student studying philosophy at Berkeley. Goodman tries to align their lives in terms of relationships but succeeds only in relying on the cliche of two sisters, seemingly very dissimilar, who in the end just want a man to save them.

I found especially disturbing the use of the 9/11 attacks as a plot device. Maybe I'm reacting too strongly, but somehow Goodman treats the event as background noise. The characters aren't given the chance to be mourners, but instead wind up seeming grotesquely self interested. Flabby protestations of loss and sadness lead directly to a sort of exultant release from the restrictions that had been posed by the now-deceased characters.

I'm not here only to criticize. I did find the novel engaging, and I found myself interested in the unfolding of the plot. The middle section focuses on the chance discovery of a cache of rare and valuable cookery books which are catalogued, examined, quoted, and treasured like poetry. Goodman does show herself to be extremely talented when alluding to the ineffable urges of the collector, the curator, and the researcher.

I would recommend the book as an easy read on holiday or perhaps on quiet fire lit evenings over christmas break. A food, antiques, and literature lover like myself might appreciate it as a thoughtful gift. However, don't pick it up expecting any true depth or literary tenderness. And don't take it on a plane

Why England Lose and Other Curious Football Phenomena Explained by Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski

Another post, another contributor - I'd like to welcome Andrew Stothers to the other book club! Andrew runs an excellent blog (which I've been following for years and you can find here) covering his views on life, football, formula one, maths and many other subjects. Here's his review:

Basically, this book is what happens when you let two economists loose with lots of football-related data. They use their economic and statistical skills to determine (among other things):

Why are England rubbish?
Are penalty shoot-outs unfair?
Why do fewer people commit suicide when there's a World Cup on?
What is the best footballing nation in the world, given its resources?

However, this is not just a tedious amount of number-crunching - Why England Lose doesn't go into a great deal of detail about the actual numbers or methodology involved, everything is explained clearly without resorting to confusing terminology.

It is really easy to read, and is peppered with interesting anecdotes about people involved in the game. The most interesting chapters for me were the chapter concerning why the vast majority of transfer fees are too high and the titular chapter.
For those of you who are either English or resentful that England losing is somehow a "curious football phenomenon", it should shed some light on why England always seem to underperform (and why Azerbaijan are the most overperforming team in Europe).

It is an excellent read if you're interested at all in football and have even a passing interest in numbers. It also wouldn't hurt a few football chairmen to have a look at it as well...

The Corrections

Every once in a while you come across a book that reminds why it’s worth reading in the first place. Sometimes you get ahead of the curve and get to share this joy with the world. Other times, such as this, you find out that everyone read the book ten years ago, and that the authors next novel is all that they want to talk about. Well, screw them! I’ve just read the book and I want to talk about this one.

The Corrections tells the cross generational story of a mid-western couple and their three children (Incidentally, the new book - which is so trendy right now - only features a family with two children. That’s one point to me.). It focuses on the various members of the family in the lead up to a final Christmas together, from the college professor whose life crumbles after a 4 day sex and drugs binge with a student to the chef who sleeps with her boss’s wife. And her boss. I should point out not every subplot in the book involves sex, though I will admit at times it can seem that way.

The true star of the show is the author, Jonathon Franzen. He is currently being proclaimed the saviour of modern fiction with his new book, Freedom, but it’s the Corrections that made him a star. The stories fold around each other, initially only concerning themselves with the character involved. As the book progresses, however, the themes merge, revealing the book as a story about responsibility, communication, and growth. The level of work that went into this makes it understandable that it took him so long to write a follow up.

What none of this explains, is why everyone read this before me and no-one thought to mention it. The Guardian made it perfectly clear to me that I am a literary ignoramus when talking about his new book. Rather than adopting this intellectual snobbishness, and laughing at any of my faithful blog readers who haven’t read the book, I’m going to take a different stand. I’m going to say that The Corrections is a wonderfully written book, that consistently delighted me. I’m going to say that you, too, should read it. But me saying that is pointless, isn’t it? As we both know, you, my dear readers, have already read this book, and you would much rather I had just spent the last 391 words of your time talking about Freedom.

Louis de Bernières, Latin American Trilogy

Other Book Clubbers,

This is the first post by our new contributor - Haley! Here it is:

Did you enjoy 100 Years of Solitude? How about House of the Spirits? I did!

Did you, like me, find it difficult in both cases to keep track of the shifting plots, ghosts, genetic mysteries, with endlessly similar characters, names, and animals while finding both authors very pleasing nonetheless? Well do I have the novel, or should I say trilogy, that will knock your socks off.

By Louis de Bernières, author of Captain Correlli's Mandolin, the three novel series beginning with The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts, is a wild fricassee of the most stimulating aspects of those better known stars of Latin American magical realism. The beauty of his work, at least in this trilogy, is the delicacy with which each aspect of the narrative is made inconsequential. The reader can proceed with calm serenity, knowing that all mysteries may be resolved in time. Even if they're not, the individual moments of beauty and hilarity inherent to de Bernières' unique style are satisfying on their own.

However, like his cohorts Allende and Marquez, de Bernières does not hesitate to lay bare the horrors of the South American colonial experience. The plot and characters are hung about with lighthearted asides and miraculous occurrences whilst at the centre of the story various helpless and guiltless individuals are abused and unjustly killed in horrific ways. Satisfyingly, though, de Bernières' villains meet their own justified ends, via methods so transparent and convoluted that you forget, perhaps, that those words combine to form what is traditionally referred to as an "oxymoron".

The Fortress of Solitude

There is a fantastic scene in the middle of the Fortress of Solitude, in which one character puts forward his theory that any group of people in pop culture can be cast as members of the Beatles. For instance, in Star Wars, Paul is Luke Skywalker, John is Han Solo, George is Chewbacca and Ringo is the robots. The beauty of this is not its accuracy (I’m sure the Beatles could easily be cast as any other given band, say, The Clash) but how Jonathan Lethem, the author, is really defining the relationship of the characters for you, and subconsciously setting up the latter half of the novel.

What I said really doesn’t make a lot of sense unless you know what the book is about. Let me explain: Dylan Ebdus (Paul) is the son of an avant-garde artist and a populist hippie, cast out onto the mean streets of Brooklyn for most of his childhood. It’s there he meets his close friend Mingus Rude (John Lennon), pitiable rival and sometimes friend Arthur (George) and bully Robert Woolfolk (almost definitely Yoko). Mingus is the son of a talented singer, who split with his band and has fallen into a life involving copius amounts of drugs, sometimes with his son. As the first half of the book is set in the 1970’s, the tensions of the city define their lives as much as their relationships, and you can imagine life doesn’t go terribly well.

The true star of the book, though, is the soundtrack (yes this is a book, and yes I know what I’m talking about). There are constant references to soul, funk, disco, punk and many many other tracks and genre’s, that come to define the segmentation in the city. Dylan is torn between his neighbourhood’s black music, with the white Manhattan punk and new wave sounds, all of which are engulfing the city.

Structually, the book fails. The first half has this sprawling, evolving feel to it, and when the book makes a big jump forward in time, the story hurtles towards a conclusion that feels a little forced, and doesn’t quite reach its lofty amibitions. In this respect it lives up quite well to its superhero influenced plot. Ooh! Totally forgot to mention, Dylan has a ring that gives him superpowers. This isn't as big a deal as you might think.

When the book is on form though, it sucks you in. You’ll find yourself thinking you would put up with a yoking just so you can hit CBGB’s, or go spraypaint a train after buying cans from Underburg. The atmosphere is incredible. If the characters end up being defined by their childhood, then it could be because their childhood was so much more interesting, so much more alive, than their adulthood. For that, any flaws towards the end of the novel have more resonance than could have been intended.

Welcome

Welcome to the other book club!
What, you may be entitled to ask, is this?

Well I'm hoping to create a proper online book club of sorts, starting with this blog. I'll be posting reviews of everything I read, and I have friends who plan to do the same on this blog. Hopefully we can create some discussions, some debates, and encourage people to get talking about books!

Feel free to send me any books you think I should read. A lot of my favourite books are ones that I first read through a recommendation, and I'd love to do reader requests! I can't promise to read everything thrown my way, but I'll give you a shout out if I read something you told me to.

One more note: I'm gonna stick an Amazon widget alongside each post with links to some of the books mentioned. The purpose of this is to make it easy for anyone interested to get whatever book is being talked about. In the interests of openness, it also means we get a little money from any sales. Please don't judge me too harshly for this!

So, enjoy the blog, have your say, and keep on reading!

James