Kategori: Aardwolf – one hit wonders

Robin Hood – Henry Gilbert

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robin_hoodOne of my many hangups is Robin Hood. It’s all Rosemary’s fault. Anyway, I sort of collect Robin Hood books, and although I reread The Chronicles every so often, I sometimes read one of the other versions just to complain of how it doesn’t measure up. Well, maybe that’s not actually the reason for reading, but it’s often the result, though there are exceptions (The Outlaws of Sherwood by Robin McKinley is excellent, if untraditional, for example). Anyway, back to Gilberts version, which I purchased because the paperback was so cheap and then thought «That was silly, I probably have it in hardback». However, I didn’t. So on the whole it was very wise rather than silly.

Gilbert follows the traditional story. How Robin becomes an outlaw is familiar, so is his meeting with Little John and with Friar Tuck. On the whole, I enjoyed the book, but the language almost defeated me at times. Gilberts foreword is dated 1912. His language is, well, I think he meant it to be dated to Robin’s age, that is the 13th century, but I doubt anybody ever spoke like that. And even if the dialogue is representative, does the narrator really have to follow suit?

Sometimes, though, the result is humorous rather than annoying, such as this: «being greatly angry, [King Richard] marched to [Nottingham] and sat down before the castle with a vast army» (p. 229). I mean, picture it! King Richard and a great army sitting in front of Nottingham castle like they’re at a picnic. Or when the «elegant» phrasing gets in the way of sensible numbers: «One or two of the robber leaders, however, had defied Robin, and fought with him. Three of these he had slain, while four others had yielded to him and became his men.» (p. 103) 3 + 4 = 2? Ooooh-kay.

Anyway, on the whole I recommend Sutcliff instead of Gilbert. But that’s hardly surprising.

Venezia – Kjell Ola Dahl

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veneziaJeg kom på at jeg kanskje skulle lest litt om Italia litt i siste liten før sommerferien, så så mye lesing ble det ikke, men siden vi skulle en dag til Venezia og Kjell Ola Dahls bok om byen sto i hylla fikk jeg i hvert fall skummet den på nytt.

Jeg liker denne serien med «Forfatterens guide» fra Spartacus. Vi har kjøpt alle vi har kommet over, selv om det ikke er så mange. Mulig serien ikke ble noen generell suksess? Som nevnt sist jeg leste den er Dahls bok den jeg har likt minst av de jeg har lest så langt, men en kjapp gjennomlesing før avreise var likevel ikke så dumt.

Dahls Venezia er litt mystisk og litt full av turister. Det er vel egentlig omtrent det samme inntrykket jeg sitter igjen med ette bare noen timer i byen. Jeg vil gjerne tilbake, denne gangen uten barn og med god tid, og gjerne på en tid på året da det er mindre turister (lite turister blir det vel aldri i denne byen) og bruke noen dager på bare å vandre – med kamera i hånden.

Hytteboken – Atle Nielsen

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hyttebokenMamma hadde kjøpt Hytteboken på Mammutsalget, tror jeg. Den gikk meg hus forbi på salget, men når den lå der så tilforlatelig på hyttebordet i påsken måtte jeg kikke litt, og endte med å lese den – mer eller mindre – fra perm til perm. Akkurat det er den slett ikke egentlig designet for. Hytteboken er en bok som er lagd for å småleses i litt her og litt der. Når det er sagt gikk det helt fint å lese den som jeg gjorde også.

Innholdet består av en rekke ting det kan være kjekt å ha på en hytte. Her er historien om hvordan vi endte med så mye ferie som vi kan tilbringe på hytta. Her er bilder av fine hytter, og av mennesker som går på ski og røyker (et av mine favorittoppslag). Her er quiz-spørsmål med en rekke temaer, som er vanskelige nok til å være morsomme (jeg klarte vel knapt halvparten av litteraturspørsmålene sånn på sparket, og det synes jeg er ganske passe). Her er historien om plater Atle Nielsen ikke lenger har i samlingen sin (men som han gjerne skulle hatt, altså plater han på en eller annen måte her mistet). Riktig så trivelig synes jeg det var.

Er det stor kunst? Nei. Det er det da heller ikke ment å være (tror jeg). Men det er virkelig en ganske perfekt bok å ha på hytta, for å smålese litt i her og der, eller lese fra perm til perm om man vil.

En feil har den: Den skulle selvsagt hett Hytteboka. Jeg grøsser litt hver gang jeg må skrive Hytteboken. Noen hang-ups har man jo.

Den sommeren pappa ble homo – Endre Lund Eriksen

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homo_eriksenJeg ble glad da jeg fant Den sommeren pappa ble homo på Øksendal når de hadde 70 % avslag på alle varer, for det er en bok jeg har hatt lyst til å lese. Og jeg ville virkelig like den, dessverre ble jeg litt skuffet. Ikke at den er dårlig, heller, den er bare ikke så bra som den burde ha vært.

Arvidsjaur, 13 år, er på campingferie med pappa i Nordfjordbotn, for økonomien er stram etter at mamma flyttet ut til sin litt for personlige trener. Nordfjordbotn er ikke akkurat verdens navle, men her bor i alle fall Indiane, som forsøker å bli venner med Arvid, og pappaen hennes Roger, som er litt vel homo i Arvids øyne, særlig siden Arvids pappa later til å trives så godt i Rogers selskap. Han forsøker, med Indianes hjelp, å forhindre pappaene å bli sammen, samtidig som han lengter etter mer spennende ferie, helst i selskap med kameraten Frank. Frank og Arvid har vært venner ‘alltid’, men nå har Frank kommet ettertrykkelig i puberteten, og det har nok ikke Arvid ennå, så vennskapet er i ferd med å endre seg.

Og nå kommer jeg til å avsløre deler av handlingen, så nå må du slutte å lese om det er et problem for deg…

Så hva var det som ikke funket helt? En ting var at jeg hang meg opp i at Arvid ikke er så voldsomt begeistret for Indiane til å begynne med, og til og med sier at dette ikke er en sånn historie hvor man først ikke liker hverandre for så å bli overstrømmende forelsket. For så blir de det. Ok, ikke overstrømmende forelsket, så i alle fall betraktelig mer interessert enn starten skulle tilsi. Når man først får påpekt klisjeen, for så å få klisjeen servert, så funker det ikke så bra, altså. Men det var vel en minor detail.

Egentlig tror jeg at jeg hang meg mest opp i to ting, det ene er problemer med fortellerteknikken. Boka er skrevet som en slags dagbok, og av og til funker det svært bra, men av og til blir det rett og slett usammenghengende, uten at jeg helt klarer å se at det er meningen. Det andre er at Arvids følelser ikke helt henger på greip. Og her er det jeg får problemer med å forklare hva jeg mener. For det er meningen at det skal være forvirring, så det er ikke det. Men jeg får det ikke helt til å stemme, med måten han er ukomfortabel med nakenhet (for ikke å snakke om porno) på en måte som ikke bare kan forklares med at han ikke har kommet i puberteten ennå (eller eventuelt at han har det, og derfor blir flau, det er jo også en mulig reaksjon), og heller ikke i det jeg føler er en ment undertekst, at han først og fremst er ukomfortabel med kvinnelig nakenhet.  For det går seg liksom ikke til hverken i ene eller andre retninga, og har ikke noen annen funksjon i fortellingen enn å understreke at han sliter med å finne ut av sine egne følelser – som er et viktig poeng, men dette med nakenhet går igjen såpass ofte at jeg føler det burde hatt en mer konkret, uhm, rolle? Forklaring? Også Indianes oppførsel skurrer litt innimellom, føler jeg, men siden vi får hennes utsagn og handlinger referert av Arvid er det kanskje ikke meningen vi skal få et godt grep om dem.

Så altså ikke helt full klaff. Synd, synes jeg.

The Thoughts and Happenings of Wilfred Price, Purveyor of Superior Funerals – Wendy Jones

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wilfredI’m pretty sure I got The Thoughts and Happenings of Wilfred Price, Purveyor of Superior Funerals from my friend Tone, I can see from Goodreads that she really liked it.

Me, on the other hand? Well, I’m torn.

From the Goodreads synopsis: «Wilfred Price, overcome with emotion on a sunny spring day, proposes to a girl he barely knows at a picnic. The girl, Grace, joyfully accepts and rushes to tell her family of Wilfred’s intentions. But by this time Wilfred has realised his mistake. He does not love Grace.»

Extricating himself, however, proves to be more difficult than he had expected. And so the story deepens and expands.

I didn’t not like it. I certainly read it quickly enough. I root for Wilfred, and for Grace. I care for their fate, as I care for several of the other characters. But something seemed to me to be lacking while I read it. Well, for one, one of the major plotlines is left a little too wide open for my taste. That’s one problem I have. The other is less tangible. Because while, as I said, I root for Wilfred and Grace, I somehow fail to be touched very deeply. Several of the events should have been bringing tears to my eyes, but I was left dry-eyed throughout (and that is quite a feat these days, I’m a big sop). I find it hard to pinpoint, but for some reason it felt more as if I was reading a (wordy) plot synopsis rather than an actual novel. Does that make sense?

Maybe it’s just me. Anyway, middling to good, I’d say, not brilliant.

Utterly me, Clarice Bean – Lauren Child

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clarice_beanUtterly me, Clarice Bean was near me on the shelf when I suddenly found myself with a sleeping baby on the couch and no current read within reach. I figured it would be alright to start it since it was likely to be a quick read, which it was.

I enjoy Lauren Child’s style, something I know from having sat through quite a few Charlie & Lola episodes on children’s tv. I like the whimsical element (though I admit it sometimes seems a bit forced). Clarice Bean is very similar, and Clarice could be Lola a few years down the line, though Charlie is missing, having been replaced with three siblings, no less. Another difference is that Clarice’s parents are actually present in the story. Still, they are very similar, and I keep hearing Lola’s voice in my head as I read Clarice’s story.

For all that it works pretty well. It is not, however, a children’s book for grown-ups. I will not be reading any more (except maybe aloud to the lasses), but I might definitely buy them, as I suspect they will hit the spot when the girls reach the right age (in a year or two as far as the oldest goes, I imagine 8ish to be a good age to read this).

Hundraåringen som klev ut genom fönstret och försvann – Jonas Jonasson

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jonassonSå har jeg altså endelig også lest om hundreåringen som ‘klev ut genom fönstret och försvann’. Siden boka nærmest er blitt geniforklart i enkelte kretser er jeg ganske fornøyd med at jeg klarte å lese den med relativt åpent sinn. Som regel gjør slik hype at jeg enten ikke klarer å få begynt på ei bok i det hele tatt eller at jeg tror på hypen og blir skuffet fordi boka ikke lever opp.

Hundraåringen er blitt omtalt som en ‘humrebok’, og humre gjorde jeg. Jeg lo til og med høyt minst en gang. Persongalleriet er (stort sett) sympatisk, det gjelder ikke minst Allan Karlsson – hundreåringen selv – som etter et mer enn gjennomsnittlig begivenhetsrikt liv havner  på gamlehjem i en alder av 99 og bestemmer seg for at det nå kan være nok, nå vil han dø. Men det å dø sånn uten videre er ikke så lett, så etter noen måneder, på sin egen hundreårsdag, faktisk, klatrer han altså ut vinduet og begir seg ut på et nytt eventyr.

Halvveis forsøkte jeg å sammenfatte boka for min bedre halvdel, og endte med å karakterisere den som en blanding av en Arto Paasilinna-bok og Forest Gump. Det høres kanskje litt merkelig ut, men det fungerer aldeles utmerket som underholding.

Å andra sidan låg ju Spanien i utlandet, precis som alla länder gjorde, Sverige undantaget, och efter att ha läst om utlandet i hela sitt liv vore det inte så dumt att få uppleva det på riktigt någon gång.

(Side 76) Og der ligger kanskje kjernen i min omtale av boka: Dette er lett underholdning. Visst humrer man, visst finnes det spark til øvrigheta og til A4-livet og visst kan man sikkert dra ut en og annen (om enn ganske banal) livsvisdom av det hele. Men jeg føler liksom ikke at jeg sitter igjen med noe særlig etter endt lesing.

Det er da heller ikke noe krav, så ikke la deg skremme av det. Boka anbefales absolutt som f.eks. ferielektyre, eller som et feelgood avbrekk i hverdagen om du vil.

Disgrace – J. M. Coetzee

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coetzee

(I guess it would be appropriate to start this with a trigger warning for rape.)

Disgrace was our February read in the bookcircle, which is probably just as well because I don’t think I’d ever have read it (and certainly not finished it) of my own accord.

David Lurie is an ageing professor at a university in Cape Town, teaching Communications since his orginial subject – literature – has been deemed too old-fashioned and the department shut down. He falls in lust with one of his students and has an affair of sorts with her, but is subsequently accused of harassment (rightly so, I should say). He refuses to apologise and therefore loses his job. To get away from it all he goes to visit his daughter Lucy, who lives «the simple life» in the Eastern Cape. She has help on the farm from Petrus, who is also developing the land next-door. David and his daughter do not have an easy relationship, it is clear that while he loves her, he does not approve of the way she choses to live her life. He does, however, get involved in her daily routine. That routine is broken when a gang of three attack the farm, stealing anything of value, setting fire to David and – David believes and we with him – gang-raping Lucy. After the attack, the differences between father and daughter increase, he wants her to get out of there while she wants to stay.

To start with I was pleasantly surprised. I liked David more than I had expected to, and although I did not approve of his relationship to Melanie (parts of which were dangerously close to rape), I rather liked his refusal to «issue an apology» – regardless of whether he meant it or not – in order to save the university’s face and keep his position. Most of all I liked his way with words, and up until half-way through the novel I have marked several quoteworthy passages.

His temperament is not going to change, he is too old for that. His temperament is fixed, set. The skull, followed by the temperament: the two hardest parts of the body.

After that, though… At some point «liking» David becomes impossible. As far as trying to understand his daughter, well, he says he’s trying, but he is not, really. However, I don’t really like Lucy, either. I found her somewhat, well «boring» is not quite the correct word, but certainly not terribly interesting. All honour to her for chosing the simple life and being happy with it, but for one I felt her resignation to Petrus’ encroachment had started long before the attack, and I also to a large extent disapprove of her handling of the attack just as much as her father does (though with an understanding that it would not have been my business to approve or disapprove, had this been real life, which he lacks).

And I do need someone to root for when I read, and there really isn’t anyone once I lose all respect for David. Which is one problem.

The other problem is that I really don’t understand what Coetzee wants with this book. What is he trying to say? I do realise this may say as much about me as about Disgrace, but still, it’s my blog, so I will say it: The whole thing seems somewhat pointless to me. And it leaves a sour taste, too, as I feel that Lucy – much as I fail to really like her I do not wish her harm – is sacrificed in order to make a point about David’s relationship to his daughter specifically and humanity in general. The attack is used to turn the spotlight on David’s feelings and actions, rather than as the highligth of a plotline in itself. I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t approve of rape as a literary device, especially one that just showcases the emotional angst of middle-aged white males.

Still, there is meat here, and I can sort of see why the novel is so celebrated. For me, though, it’s a thumbs down.

Katie in London – James Mayhew

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katieinlondonI keep meaning to blog more about the books we read with the lass, so while I remember:

I was tipped off about Katie in London, and I’m very glad I was. The plot is hardly revolutionary: Katie goes to London to see the sights with her little brother and her grandmother, but before they really see anything, grandma wants a rest on a bench at Trafalgar Square. Katie and her brother therefore travel around London with one of the lions instead. They see St. Pauls, the Tower, Tower Bridge, the London Eye, the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park.

Like most kids (and some adults), the lass tends to enjoy something more if she’s heard about it a lot. So reading books about a place before going there is good. The internet, and especially YouTube is good too.

From that point of view, this book fulfills its purpose beautifully. And while it is not great literature, neither is it bad in any way, it fits its audience without being (too) tedious for the grown-up who has to read aloud.

Go Tell it on the Mountain – James Baldwin

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Phew. Done. Now, perhaps I can stop humming that bl**dy song every waking hour.

Well.

Go Tell it on the Mountain was picked as this month’s read for our bookclub by the simple expedient of pointing randomly into the shelves at Krambua* which are furnished with second-hand books. Not a bad result, really, it could probably have been much, much worse (I wasn’t at that meeting, so I don’t know what else is on those shelves, but I’ll check next time).

It’s James Baldwin’s first novel, and a good read. The quotes on my copy says he knows the Harlem language, which I have no reason to doubt. It’s almost always easier to point out what I don’t like about a book than what I do, so excuse me if this is a bit lopsided, but here goes: For one thing, I had a hard time keeping apart the events happening in Harlem and the events happening in «the south». The first setting is immensly urban, the second, as far as I can tell, is supposed to be rural. The pictures in my head, though, were mostly a sort of mix-up with a bit of spagetti western clap-board towns thrown in for good measure. The latter I take full responsibility for, but I feel Baldwin has to shoulder some of the blame for not making the settings distinct enough. Though it could be argued that he was doing it on purpose to show that nothing really changes and you can take the boy out of x, but never the x out of the boy or something. That would not sit well with the blurb on my copy claiming Baldwin deals with the old generation versus the new generation and the change in values, however Balwin can’t be blamed for the blurb, and I think the blurb-writer was a bit off in any case, it seems to me the old generation and the new have a lot in common and it’s down to individuals to make change. So there is that. The second quarrel I had is that I felt the novel ended somewhat prematurely. Perhaps I just didn’t understand it, but, well, I sort of wanted a bit MORE to happen. Like some of this change, which is in the air the whole way through, but which doesn’t really materialise.

Still and all, I gave it four out of five stars on Goodreads.

And I’m ticking off all sorts of things: A new to me author makes it the first book in my Boktolva, and surely, surely it can be called a classic? Well, it’s a 1001 book, so I call it a classic. And I guess I’m a bit early for black history month, but it seems a fitting read to celebrate the second inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama (who I have great hopes for now that he doesn’t need to worry about reelection).