Kategori: Authors

Tematrio

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tematrioI think it’s the first time I manage to get in an answer to Lyrans tematrio (thematic trio). Today the challenge is: «berätta om tre av dina favoritklassiker!» («tell us about three of your favourite classics»), and a challenge it is, too. How to chose?

1. I’m sorry, I can’t get past Jane Austen, and today I’m going to go for Persuasion (though I might as well chose Emma. Or Pride & Prejudice. Or Sense & Sensiblility. Or even Mansfield Park). There is something about Anne and her naval hero, her sense of duty and her competing instinct towards rebellion. And there is something about Captain Wentworth, too. How he so wants to ignore the woman who spurned him all those years ago, but how can he? It was obviously meant to be. The dreaming teenager in me loves the love story, but the adult realist in me loves it, too. I also love the intimate and realistic portrait of Anne’s dysfunctional family and the priceless descriptions of the more minor characters that Jane Austen is justly famous for. And since I’m in the middle of my favourite maritime story, whose author, by the way, was a great fan of dear Jane, there is something very appealing about the naval side of the novel. I adore the image of Anne, married, on board ship with her Captain that the film from 1995 provides. To me it’s the perfect happy ending. (Oh, and who could forget the immortal line, uttered by Anne’s useless father in the same film? «You want to marry Anne? Whatever for?»)

2. Hundre års ensomhet (or Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márques is going to be my second choice, partly because it’s one of the books I have an increasing urge to reread. As it is I don’t actually remember too much about it except thinking it exceptionally good. I mostly remember the staggering realisation on reaching the end of the book that… But, hush, that would be a spoiler.

3. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston must be a classic, yes? It’s on the 1001 books list, anyway, and old enough by now to have proven it will stand the test of time. A gem of a book, where Janie Crawford tells the story of her life, and what a life! Another one on my «needs to be reread» list.

Jack Aubrey quotes

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I never manage to say anything very sensible about the Aubrey/Maturin books except that I love them to bits. One of the very many reasons I love them is Jack Aubrey’s way with words. Or lack of way with words, more accurately. He can turn any perfectly well known idiom or proverb into something quite delightfully ridiculous.

For example:

It will not do to meddle with him. He is the kind of lamb that lies down with the lion, in wolf’s clothing.

From The Letter of Marque, page 134. And from HMS Surprise, page 157:

‘It is not what you would call handsome,’ said Jack laughing, ‘but a bird in the hand is worth any amount of beating about the bush, don’t you agree?’

And this exchange between Jack and Stephen in The Far Side of the World (Jack being the first speaker), page 106:

‘It was the strangest experience: there he was, telling me things to my face as though he were invisible, while I could see him as plain as…’
‘The ace of spades?’
‘No. Not quite that. As plain as… God damn it. As plain as the palm of my hand? A turnpike?’
‘As Salisbury Sphere? As a red herring?’
‘Perhaps so.’

And later in the same novel, at page 293:

‘That would be locking the horse after the stable door is gone, a very foolish thing to do.’

Indeed. Again at page 306:

‘Only this morning I was thinking how right they were to say it was better to be a dead horse than a live lion.’ He gazed out of the scuttle, obviously going over the words in his mind. ‘No. I mean better to flog a dead horse than a live lion.’
‘I quite agree.’ [Stephen]
‘Yet even that’s not quite right, neither. I know there is a dead horse in it somewhere; but I am afraid I’m brought by the lee this time, though I rather pride myself on proverbs, bringing them in aptly, you know, and to the point.’
‘Never distress yourself, brother; there is no mistake I am sure. It is a valuable saying, and one that admonishes us never to underestimate our enemy, for whereas flogging a dead horse is child’s play, doing the same to a lion is potentially dangerous, even though one may take a long spoon.’

Stephen is quite as bad as Jack when he tries to use nautical expressions, otherwise he spends a bit of time confusing his friend further unless he is in a particularly amiable mood (as he is in that last exchange). Though how you’d bring a long spoon to flogging a live lion, I’m not so sure…

Ah, Jasper.

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Another blog worth following is the Guardian Books Blog. Right now they’re doing major coverage of the Edinburgh book festival, and they’ve had webchats with a couple of authors (transcript available after the fact), one of which: The very, very lovely Jasper Fforde. It’s actually the first time I’ve seen a picture of Fforde, and my first reaction was «But he looks quite normal!» Incidentally, that was my first reaction when seeing Frode Øverlie for the first time at a signing at Serieteket in Oslo, too.

En smakebit på søndag #1

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fortuneWell, ok, Tuesday. As challenged by Mari at Flukten fra virkeligheten – and on bokelskere.no – here is a quote from my current read, The Fortune of War by Patrick O’Brian:

Though they liked the notion of prize-money, they could not see much sense in fighting the Americans: there were half a dozen Americans aboard at this moment, and they were practically the same as Englishmen – no airs or graces about them – and you could not say fairer than that. Fighting the French was different; they were foreigners, and somehow it came natural.

Yes, I’m at it again. So now you know what I’m reading this month or so.

Another roundup

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Not to be avoided, obviously.

The Great Western Beach by Emma Smith – charming.

The Rune Blade Trilogy by Ann Marston, consisting of The Kingmaker’s Sword, The Western King and Broken Blade. Engaging, well worth the time. My one gripe, if you can call it that, was that I’d have preferred to stay with the same protagonist throughout the trilogy. But I suppose that’s more of a «the books were too short» kind of complaint, which isn’t neccessarily a bad thing. Picked up the whole set as bookcrossing copies and have been meaning to release them, but haven’t gotten around to it yet. Must see about picking up further books from Marston.

One of our Thursdays is Missing by Jasper Fforde. A delight as usual, even more twisted than its predecessors, though I’d hardly have though that possible.

At Home by Bill Bryson. If anyone can tip me off about other authors who are as good at collecting, organising and relating anecdotes as Bill Bryson, please, please do.

That Old Cape Magic and The Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo. Both quite magical in a very everyday, humdrum sort of way, if that makes any sense. Confirms Russo, again, as one of my all-time favourite authors.

And that’s mostly what I read during the holidays. Now, what did I read between March and July I wonder? Think, think, think.

———-

Update number 1: Well, of course, I reread the whole series that will not be named. That took a couple of days.

Update number 2: The School at the Chalet by Elinor Brent-Dyer. I’ve never read any of the Chalet School books before, and found this copy by chance so thought I’d try it. It’s niceish. I’ll probably buy more from the series if I come across them second-hand, but I doubt I can be bothered to search very hard.

Update numer 3: Karin Lindell, better known as Ketchupmamman, of course. I even registered it on Bookcrossing before passing it on. Her blog is hilarious at times and thought-provoking at times, which is a good mix. The book follows along the same lines, and is highly reccommended as a present for any new parents.

Started Early, Took My Dog – Kate Atkinson

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atkinson_startedearlyHaving gotten my hands on Started Early, Took My Dog, I obviously had to start it as soon as possible.

Jackson Brodie gets himself mixed up, yet again, with a lot more old history than he had bargained for. This time missing children is the variation of the recurring theme. A far cry from archetypal crime, Atkinson is firmly rooted in tradition, but runs circles round most of her fellow crime writers.

For one thing, she produces passages such as this: «Schrödinger, whoever he was, and his cat, and anyone else that felt like it, had all clambered inside Pandora’s box and were dining on a can of worms. Jackson felt the beginnings of a headache, another one, on top of the one he already had.»

I’m already waiting for her next book.

The Tent, the Bucket and Me – Emma Kennedy

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kennedy_tentThe Tent, the Bucket and Me was an obvious buy when I found it in London a year and a half ago. For some reason it’s been languishing on a shelf since then, until it grabbed my attention when I was looking for a book to bring on the aforementioned long weekend in Dublin. It turned out to be a good and a bad choice.

Good because it is cracking. Really. Read this book, especially if you’ve ever been dragged along on a camping trip as a child.

Bad because, well, it’s cracking. It cracked me up. Repeatedly. On public transport.

Luckily, I don’t really mind laughing out loud on public transport. Lately, though, I haven’t been reading too many books that were literally laugh out loud funny. I’ve read a few that claimed to be so on the cover but weren’t. So I was a bit out of practice. Not complaning, though. Far from it.

A long weekend in Dublin

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That’s what we had last weekend. And, obviously, a few books came home with us.

From the Oxfam Bookshop:

  • No Worries – Mark McCrum (2€)
  • Great Bus Journeys of the World – Alexei Sayle and David Stafford (2€)
  • Travels with my Radio – Fi Glover (4€)
  • Just As Well I’m Leaving – Michael Booth (5€)

From Eason:

  • Started Early, Took My Dog – Kate Atkinson
  • The Brightest Star in the Sky – Marian Keyes
  • Eating Animals – Jonathan Safran Foer
  • Germania – Simon Winder

From an outdoor book market:

  • Memoir – John McGahern (4€)
  • A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole (4€)
  • The School at the Chalet – Elinor M. Brent-Dyer (4€)

From Pocketshop at Arlanda on the way back:

  • The Worst Date Ever – Jane Bussmann

Pies and Prejudice – Stuart Maconie

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maconie_piesI found Pies and Prejudice – In Search of the North by Stuart Maconie in the newly extended English language section of one of the lokal bookshops (Norli på Nordre, om noen av mine norske lesere lurer). To my surprise, and glee, they now have a proper section for non-fiction, covering two whole book cases. I celebrated by buying this book, and I am very glad I did. The Times – according to the blurb on the cover – called Maconie «The new Bill Bryson» in their review, and I think they might be on to something.

Maconie writes well, seems to know what he is talking about, and most importantly, conveys a genuine affection for his subject, even the not so pretty bits. And he shows the right sort of attitude.

From [the Henry More Centre], you can stroll through a Perspex walkway to Leeds City Art Gallery, haunt of the teenage Alan Bennett and home to the finest collection of twentieth-century British art outside London. Their online literature encourages visitors to ‘read… mingle… chat… laugh’. Personally, I’d have put ‘look at some pictures’ in there as well but I understand that museums are now so terrified of being thought elitist, so desperate to be ‘inclusive’, that they have to avoid the unspeakable truth, namely that modern art isn’t for everyone. Neither is John Coltrane or Bartók or the ghost stories of Robert Aickman or peaty Laphroaig whisky or English mustard. That’s why they are special and fabulous. Let’s not patronise the public by wet-nursing them like this.
(p. 210)

Maconie has written anothe book called Cider with Roadies. I’ll be reading it.

A Prayer for Owen Meany – John Irving

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irving_meanyThis was a pleasant surprise for me, in terms of John Irving, as I’d concluded I needed to give his novels quite a bit of time before «getting into them». Not so much with this one, it had my interest before I’d reached the 50-page mark.

With around 100 pages left I got to work Monday morning after reading on the bus (as you do), opened the lokal paper’s web edition, saw a picture of Norwegian soldiers in uniform and thought «Huh? We have troops in Vietnam?»

A novel that makes me forget which century I live in? Now that’s a good sign.

It happens occasionally, but not all that frequently. I met a Norwegian who was on an exchange programme from the Norwegian army to the Swedish army in Stockholm once and my first reaction was «But I thought we were at war?», since I was currently embroiled in the Napoleonic wars in the company of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin. This confused the poor bloke no end until one of my friends told him not to worry as my madness was of the harmless sort.

But back to Owen Meany. It’s a compelling story, where you get to know increasing amounts about the end throughout which I frequently find annoying but which Irving makes work. I realised what would happen some time before it happened, but not, I think, before the author intended.