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.
Sunday 31 October 2010
Friday 29 October 2010
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
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
Wednesday 27 October 2010
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...
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...
Sunday 24 October 2010
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.
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.
Thursday 21 October 2010
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".
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".
Sunday 17 October 2010
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.
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
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
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