Some numbers for 2011

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It’s all the rage, so I’m jumping on the bandwagon:

I read 74 books in 2011 – not counting children’s picture books, but counting everything else (that I can remember).

30 were written by women, 44 by men, which is around 40% women, 60% men. Had I not reread Patrick O’Brian it might have been closer to 50-50, but those twenty books were a hefty chunk.

The British, unsurprisingly, dominate. 49 books were written by Brits, and I guess they could take some credit for Bryson, Hamid and Aboulela, too, though I’m going to assign them to their origins. So: USA: 8, Norway: 7, Sweden: 3, and 1 each to Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Peru, Japan, Pakistan and Sudan. Which doesn’t add up to 74. What did I miss? Oh, Ireland.

Language-wise it’s even more skewed towards English, with an additional 11, giving a total of 61 books in English and 13 «other».

So I guess it’s a good thing I’m doing this Nordic challenge. In fact, since I started that, 5 out of 15 books have been in other languages than English.

I should still read more from other parts of the world, though. Since I have a few on the waiting list, perhaps I should make that the focus of the «off the shelves» resolution.

And genre: 45 «standard» novels, 14 child/YA novels, 2 graphic novels, 4 memoirs and 9 other non-fiction (mostly travel).

Smakebit på søndag: Adventures on the High Teas

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maconie_teasÅrets første smakebit på søndag! Jeg har nettopp begynt å lese Stuart Maconies Adventures on the High Teas, en bok jeg har store forventninger til etter å ha lest Pies & Prejudice av samme forfatter i februar.

Breakfast was a buffet, an increasingly ubiquitous but problematic start to the day for the English traveller, If you’re pennywise or greedy or maybe both it has its advantages in that you can pile your plate high with sausage, egg, hash browns, mushrooms, bacon, beans and fried bread and then brazenly go back for several more artery-hardening platefuls. However, no anguished curling bacon, no flaccid sausage congealing under a high-wattage lamp, no tomato-half slowly cooling like a dying planet can ever match the sheer heartiness of a plate brought to you table with a kindly, ‘Now these plates are very hot so be careful. Toast? White or brown?’ by a bun-haired septuagenarian or white-pinnied young waitress.

Quite.

Fler smakebiter finner du hos Flukten fra virkeligheten.

Books read 2011

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(more or less complete)

  • When God was a Rabbit – Sarah Winman (28.12)
  • The Best Christmas Pageant Ever – Barbara Robinson (27.12)
  • Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami (27.12)
  • Pride & Prejudice – Jane Austen (reread)
  • Alma Mater – Gwendolen Freeman
  • Minaret – Leila Aboulela
  • Stardust – Neil Gaiman
  • Bankstræde nr. 0 – Einar Már Guðmundsson (13.12)
  • Jentene gjør opprør – Frøydis Guldahl (reread)
  • Lille hjelper – Cesilie Holck
  • De hengte revenes skog – Aarto Paasilinna
  • Fru Björks öden och äventyr – Jonas Gardell
  • Comfort & Joy – India Knight
  • The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moshin Hamid
  • Ned til hundene – Helle Helle
  • Hårfine floker! – Tania Kjeldset
  • Bluestockings – Jane Robinson
  • Doktor Proktor og verdens Undergang. Kanskje. – Jo Nesbø
  • En kupa av kristall – Annika Hedström
  • Only Time Will Tell – Jeffrey Archer
  • Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter – Mario Vargas Llosa
  • Bak Mumme bor Moni – Gro Dahle
  • Kva tåler så lite at det knuser om du seier namnet på det? – Bjørn Sortland
  • M – Marzan og Opars juveler – Mads Eriksen
  • I Left my Tent in San Fransisco – Emma Kennedy
  • The Last Dragonslayer – Jasper Fforde
  • Blue at the Mizzen – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Hundred Days – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Yellow Admiral – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Commodore – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Wine-Dark Sea – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • Clarissa Oakes – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Nutmeg of Consolation – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Thirteen-Gun Salute – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Letter of Marque – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Reverse of the Medal – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Far Side of the World – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • Treason’s Harbour – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Ionian Mission – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Surgeon’s Mate – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Fortune of War – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • Desolation Island – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Mauritius Command – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • HMS Surprise – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • Post Captain – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • Master & Commander – Patrick O’Brian (reread)
  • The Great Western Beach – Emma Smith
  • The Rune Blade Trilogy – Ann Marston
  • One of Our Thursdays is Missing – Jasper Fforde
  • At Home – Bill Bryson
  • That Old Cape Magic – Richard Russo
  • The Bridge of Sighs – Richard Russo
  • Ketchupmamman – Karin Lindell
  • The School at the Chalet – Elinor Brent-Dyer
  • Great Bus Journeys of the World – Alexei Sayle and David Stafford
  • Travels with my Radio – Fi Glover
  • Whisky Blues – Per Erik Tell og Börje Berglund
  • The Invention of Hugo Cabret
  • The Brightest Star in the Sky – Marian Keyes
  • Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone – J. K. Rowling (reread)
  • Started Early, Took my Dog – Kate Atkinson
  • The Worst Date Ever – Jane Bussmann
  • The Tent, The Bucket and Me – Emma Kennedy
  • Pies and Prejudice – Stuart Maconie
  • A Prayer for Owen Meany – John Irving
  • The Other Hand – Chris Cleave
  • Generation A – Douglas Coupland
  • India – Torbjørn Færøvik

On this and that

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First: I’ve added a page called Books read by year and gone through the archives to try to put complete lists together. As for previous years, the lists are probably never going to be complete, but from now on I will attempt to remember to update the list once I’ve finished a book, whether I have the time and wherewithall to blog about it or not. That way the list can serve as a reminder to myself of what I might need to blog about as well. We’ll see how that goes.

I’m contemplating adding a «books I’ve started but for some reason not finished» page, which would also serve as a reminder to get around to finishing a few of them. I tend to lose track and then find books again years later with a bookmark half-way through. Quite frequently it’s not that I didn’t want to finish, but that something more exciting diverted my attention and I simply forgot to go back.

Secondly: I see a lot of bloggers stating their reading resolutions for 2012 these days. I’m not really into resolutions, but I do have a lot of books on my shelves that I bought because I really wanted to read them and then didn’t get around to, so I think a goal of trying to get through quite a few of my shelf-warmers might be a good idea – I’ll do a count at the end of the year to see how I did. In addition, I’ve got a few bookcrossing books that I’ve had in my possession for far too long, and I will try to move some of those along too. Other than that my main resolution is to be better at keeping up with the blog. Even if I don’t get around to writing long entries on everything I read, I should at least remember to update frequently enough that I don’t lose track of books completely. A sentence or two has got to be better than no mention at all, and in 2012 I will try to remember that.

Thirdly: In February this blog will be 10 years old. Aaaw. All grown up! Ahem. Well, I will celebrate by having a giveaway. There will be books up for grabs. A lot of books. I’ll get back which ones and how to enter to «win» in about a month, and I’ll do the draw on the big day, which is 20th February.

When God was a Rabbit – Sarah Winman

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winmanThis book is really horrible. I started crying about two thirds of the way through, and then I never really stopped, and the last 50 or so pages were really hard to read because of having to continually blow my nose and dry my eyes. Horrible, horrible.

So, naturally, this book is really, really good and you should read it.

The story is told by Elly and is a story of her and her brother an her best friend Jenny Penny and about Elly’s extended family. Pretty much every character is unforgettable and Winman makes me care deeply about each and every one, even the ones that aren’t entirely pleasant.

Jenny Penny wants to be adopted into Elly’s family, and though I am quite happy with the family I have, I can’t help but feel the attraction. Elly’s parents end up running a bed & breakfast i Cornwall, and I wish they were real, because I want to become a returning guest.

A new decade dawned, and my parents would eventually have guests who returned to them year after year, and who would all be a bit like us – a collage of the useful and impractical, the heady and the mundane.

It often occurred to me that normal people never stayed with us, or if they did it was certainly for no longer than the one eye-opening night.

(p. 132)

Few of the relationships in the book are straightforward, and I guess it is telling when «We raised our glasses and were about to toast the queer union» (p. 239) refers to Elly’s aunt intending to marry a man, and «queer» is both highly ironic and precisely the right word.

On the whole Winman’s choice of words is spot on, and I found myself wanting to underline turns of phrase on almost every page. Early on Elly is given a rather ridiculous-looking coat by a neighbour and her parents make her wear it out of politeness, and she observes:

although it was keeping the cold at bay, I felt it was simply because the cold stopped as it approached me and burst into laughter, rather than by any practical means.

(p. 61) And the book is simply littered with such gems.

In short, a book I can wholeheartedly reccommend. This is Sarah Winman’s debut. I, for one, am looking forward to her next book.

The Broke and the Bookish Secret Santa

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secretsanta

I signed up for The Broke and the Bookish Secret Santa without thinking twice. I mean, I love to send off mysterious packages, and who doesn’t love receiving them? What did I have to lose?

The rules were very open, the minimum being ‘a book and a goodie’, though we were told the average was probably more like two books. My recipient had one of my all-time favourites on her wishlist, so I ordered that from Amazon and asked them to send it directly (as there was no chance in h*** it would reach me in time for me to send it on before Christmas). Hopefully that got there in timely fashion, because what with one thing and another the second part got off to a late start. That contained more books (one old-but-new and a couple of bookcrossing books that I’ve been looking for a good reader for and that seem to be right up my recipient’s alley) and the goodies (no, I did not stop at one). It may not have arrived in time for Christmas, but should be there any day – I hope!

Well, I knew what I sent, but had very little idea of what I might expect to receive. However, a bursting package arrived, and look:

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I’m more than happy, I must say. Not pictured: Chocolate. Lots of it!

Two of the books were off my wishlist – The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and When God was a Rabbit, so naturally they made me happy as a clam. My secret santa had found out I have a daughter, so she also sent The Little Water-Sprite, and says it was her favourite as a child and her mother read it to her again and again, so she hopes I will do the same for my daughter. No worries, I will! So nice to have something that was someone’s favourite. The packages were decorated with the most gorgeous ribbon (which I’ll find a use for) and some ornaments, among them a wooden Janosh art rendering which I ADORE. How did you know I love Janosh? I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it on the blog(s)… Needless to say it’s gracing our tree.

Paket, paket!

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Trots att paketet fick en tur inom Arvika på vägen hem till mig nådde det hit innan julafton, men jag har inte haft möjligheten at blogga om det med bild före nu.

Kan jag bara säga att jag är jättenöjd?

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Life of Pi har jag visserligen tänkt at läsa förut, men aldrig komit åt. Nu ska jag klara det! Och Hey Dolly ser rätt interessant ut och passar utmärkt i min Nordiska utmaning. Förutan böckarna fanns et stiligt hjärta som numera hänger i julgranen och mumsig lakrits (jag har inte hunnit smaka ännu, men visst ser det mumsigt ut?).

Tack så mycket, min hämliga vän!

Jag har ingen aning vem du är, men jag ska fundera lite och klicka mig runt i dom deltagande bloggarna för att se om jag kan lista ut det.

(Julklappsbytet arrangerades av En bok om dagen, en STOR tack till dig också.)

Minaret – Leila Aboulela

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aboulela_minaret I finished Minaret towards the end of November, but have had a hard time finding something sensible to say about it.

I initially found the story fascinating, and at some point I felt I could understand how Najwa ended up going from ‘secular’ to ‘religious’. She never really belongs anywhere and once she ends up quite alone in London, it’s easy to understand how the mosque can feel welcoming in that it provides a sense of belonging and a sort of family. The novel also provides an interesting insight into islamic life in a western society from the inside.

However, Najwa is drawn to religion not just for the sense of belonging it provides, but also seems to find ‘religiosity’ (for lack of a better word), saintliness and religious devotion and submission attractive in itself. This is obviously not a unique trait, naturally I don’t think the entirety of the world’s population defining themselves as religious are just ‘in it for the community’. However, it’s an attraction I find it hard to understand, and this novel did not help me understand it any better (in fact, if anything, it left me more baffled).

Where everything that happens to Najwa underpins her need for a community, nothing – as far as I can see – explains this need for submission to a deity, to the contrary, several parts of her story would rather have me reject the idea that a god worth worshiping would sanction such things.

So, on the whole: Worth reading, but not entirely satisfactory.

A Christmas Calendar: December 24th

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Julaften! It’s Christmas eve, which means to us here in Norway it is now Christmas proper. The ‘ribbe’ is in the oven and in a couple of hours we willbe stuffing ourselves with it, and then the gift opening commences. Yes, we open our gifts on the evening of the 24th. Hopefully there is a book or two under the tree for me.

So this is the last day of my calendar this year, and I’ve found another video that I want to share. One thing we need to watch on tv on Christmas eve (in the afternoon, so would that be Christmas afternoon, then?) is a modified version of ‘Jiminy Cricket’s Christmas’. It’s aired on both NRK (Norwegian state owned tv), SVT (Swedish ditto) and TV2 (Norwegian commercial channel), and I don’t much care which I watch for the most part, but one of the shorts has to be watched on SVT. No Christmas without Ferdinand, ‘som sitter under sin korkek och luktar på blommorna’.

A Christmas Calendar: December 23rd

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This evening most of Norway (I don’t know the actual numbers, but they’re pretty large) will make sure they catch the viewing of ‘Dinner for one’ on television. We know it as ‘Grevinnen og hovmesteren’ and for some reason it’s traditionally aired on 23rd December, despite the fact that the setting is actually New Years’ Eve. But then, most other Christmas traditions make very little sense, so why should this one? Anyway, to a hefty number of Norwegians, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

A cultural marker, and one which is a great example of how we humans see what we expect to see: Most Norwegians who’ve never been asked the question before will swear on their mother’s grave (if she happens to be dead, that is) that the rug James keeps stumbling over is a polar bear. This despite the fact that they’ve watched it once a year every year their whole lives. The human brain is strange.