Holiday reading

Mirthful

Superquick catch-up post. I will try to say something more about some of these eventually, but for now, this is what I’ve been reading this summer…:

Fever Pitch – Nick Hornby
JPod – Douglas Coupland
Sudden Wealth – Robert Llewellyn
Peat Smoke and Fire – Andrew Jefford
A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian – Marina Lewycka
A Piano in the Pyrenees – Tony Hawks
One Hit Wonderland – Tony Hawks
Assassin trilogy + Liveship Trader trilogy – Robin Hobb
Her Mother’s Daughter – Marilyn French (Bookcrossing book)
Inkspell – Cornelia Funke (Bookcrossing book)
Love Over Scotland – Alexander McCall Smith

Dragonsong, Dragonsinger and Dragondrums

Mirthful

Anne McCaffrey was a pleasant aquaintance to make. Dragonsong, Dragonsinger and Dragondrums may not be big, heavy tomes, but the story has strength enough to stick with you and certainly made me want to read more. I found the «trilogy» a bit construed, though, the third book, though obviously related to the first two, does not quite belong. No matter, though, when it is all so enjoyable.

Time flies

Mirthful

Since early May I’ve read a lot of books and been dumb as an oyster about most of them. To give myself a chance to catch up I will therefore throw them all in this catch-up post and start afresh with the current read once I’ve finished that.

Having felt for a long time that I really ought to read some of the Moomin books, I read Pappan och havet, which is perhaps one of the darkest and least «children’s literature» of Tove Jansson’s great series. I then read three books in the Dot-series by Inge Møller that I picked up in a jumble sale – hardly great literature and not even the best of their genre, but not an unpleasant way to spend an afternoon.

I then got through Follestad and Ffforde, before embarking on P. D. James’ latest, The Lighthouse, which, fortunately, was every bit as good as one could have hoped. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time was next, a fascinating book, though overhyped, and also not at all what I expected (though I don’t know what I expected, to be honest, I just had no idea what the book was about owing to the fact that all I’ve ever done before is look at the front of the cover).

Next I picked Roald Dahl’s My Uncle Oswald off the shelf – I’d bought it a while back mainly because, well, it’s a Dahl and it also happened to be a first edition in good shape. This was quite entertaining, though I suspect the subject matter would enrage some people, but I wasn’t quite satisfied with the conclusion.

I bought The Wicked Winter by Kate Sedley at my doctor’s office (there’s a Lions’ Club book sale shelf there) and was entertained. It was pretty good as these things go – the main character, who is also the narrator, is sympathetic and the mystery had a nice twist at the end which I certainly didn’t foresee. However, not a likely candidate for a reread, it’s too… well, I suppose «simple» will have to do for a descriptive word – It’s too simple for that. Well enough written, though. So I stuck a bookcrossing label in it and left it in Britain somewhere. I hope somebody else will pick it up and enjoy it as much as I did.

I borrowed Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor from my father, who’s a fan, and enjoyed it to a certain extent, but it was not the sort of book I really wanted to read just now – I’ve been on the search for strong main characters and a make-you-turn-the-page-quickly central plot, and whatever Lake Wobegon‘s merits, those are not among them. So I turned to another rearead instead, The Fourth Estate by Jeffrey Archer. Not the best choice, unfortunately, as neither of the two arch rivals really manage to engange my sympathy in sufficient degree to make me care much about «who wins». Still, Archer is always good entertainment.

Next was Hver sin verden by Marianne Fredriksson, which was almost good. Fredriksson ruined the book for me by making basic mistakes regarding Scandinavian/nordic history (assuming an Icelander with the surname Anarson must be a decedant of earlier Anarsons was the most glaring one) and by formatting the text very strangely. Instead of sticking to the standard paragraph indicator (indented first line) there was also a blank line between paragraph-lengths blocks of text. Mostly this was just a waste of paper and though it seemed unecessary, it could be taken to indicate a «break» in the narrative – replacing the line «Some time later» for example. However, it sometimes happened in the middle of dialogues or otherwise coherent episodes, and felt just as wrong as putting a full stop in the middle of a sentence. I came very close to throwing the book across the room a couple of times, but managed to restrain myself.

The Eyre Affair, Lost in a Good Book, The Well of Lost Plots and Something Rotten

Mirthful

When in doubt, reread. Which is what I’ve been doing. The awfulness of De fire og han som gjør galt verre meant I really needed to read something with more than a smattering of intelligence. So I did.

De fire og han som gjør galt verre: begynnelsen – Hans Frederik Follestad

Mirthful

De fire og han som gjør galt verre: begynnelsen av Hans Frederik Follestad var en fryktelig irriterende bok. Det som kanskje er mest irriterende er at den var akkurat engasjerende nok til at jeg tror jeg blir nødt til å lese resten av trilogien.

Og hva var det så som gjorde den så irriterende? Jo, for eksempel: Navn som høres ut som de stammer fra en vits jeg husker jeg synes var fryktelig morsom på barneskolen, den med «Hva heter den kinesiske kulturministeren?» «Syng Pen Sang» «Hva heter den kinesiske forsvarsministeren?» «Treng Mer Peng» osv. Våre helter (kremt, kremt) heter nemlig Bambo Fohrtwo, Hutte Meg Tu, Pepper Bihf og Salt Efhan, og han som gjør galt verre heter Jesper Schtadig. Som sagt. Morsomt på barneskolen, ikke fullt så underholdende nå.

Også irriterende, sitat fra bokens egenomtale:

Romanen byr på spenning og masse humor, og den er enestående i sitt slag av to årsaker: For det første er denne fantasy-romanens handling lagt til nåtid, for det andre er bokens helter svært utradisjonelle.

Den kan vel neppe Follestad lastes for, men personen som skrev det har lest fint lite Fantasy. Nåtid? Been there, done that. Helter som er svært motvillige, slett ikke spesiellt heltemodige eller beundringsverdige på det jevne og kastes inn i en verden de ikke har kontroll over og ikke helt forstår? Høres det vagt kjent ut for noen andre enn meg?

Men kanskje mest irriterende var to av romanens hoved-bi-personer, om man kan si det på den måten, den tyske Hellheimer som har latterlig mye penger og den russiske eks-militære major Aleksej. Begge snakker med aksent av verste ‘Allo, ‘allo natur. Tyskeren er en ting, han ble hovedsakelig bare litt slitsom å lese etterhvert – delvis fordi jeg ikke egentlig kan noe særlig tysk og derfor måtte konsentrere meg om å forstå noe særlig av det han sa. Russerens aksent, derimot, består for det meste av at han erstatter gramatiske endinger på norsk med «os» i annehvert ord og slenger på en «os» her og der hvor forfatteren ellers finner det for godt (ja, han sier faktisk «Jaos!» i stedet for ja ved minst ett tilfelle). Her er et lite eksempel på en rimelig typisk ordveksling dem to i mellom:

«Ah, men ich habe en til, Liebling, die grosse Überraschung av dem alle. Ich tror du kommer til å like den spesiellt godt, Line. (…) Men tilbake til zu Alfa 1 og 2, die sind meine private Soldaten, og uten å skryte; viel besser enn majorens menn. Ja, ich vil så langt gehen som å kalle dem eine vore den besten Soldaten in der Welt.»
«Hva?» utbrøt major Aleksej, og snudde seg bak mot Hellheimer med en oppgitt mine. (…) «Mine guttos ekstremt bra soldatos. Brododnja! Kallos minos guttos andre klassos soldatos!»

Og dette fortsetter altså side opp og side ned. Sukk og stønn.

Infantilt? Jepp.

Til pass for meg når jeg leser bøker beregnet på barn/ungdom, sier du? Tja, jeg trodde forsåvidt selv at De fire og han som gjør galt verre var en ungdomsbok – jeg fant den da også i ungdomsavdelingen på Trondheim folkebibliotek – de hyllene jeg ville frekventert rundt 13-14-årsalderen. Etter et første kapittel hovedsakelig bestående av vold og seksuelle hentydninger mer eller mindre skjult i underteksten begynte jeg derimot å lure – og bak på boka står det faktisk at hvis man liker Ringenes Herre og Harry Potter så kan dette være en bra bok for «voksne og ungdom over 16 år».

Jadda.

Frelseren

Mirthful

Endelig ble det mulig å få fatt i Frelseren til en nogenlunde ok pris, så endelig fikk jeg lest den. Fort gikk det også. Boka var veldig bra, men jeg kom jo selvsagt på hvorfor jeg ikke kan lese så mange realistiske krim-bøker på rad. Det er nemlig slik at i «snill krim» – Agata Christie for eksempel – er det som regel slik at de som blir drept «fortjener» det (i den grad det er mulig, selvsagt) og dersom morderen er sympatisk så løser det seg liksom ganske bra til slutt. Sånn er det ikke i virkeligheten, selvsagt. I virkeligheten er det til stadighet folk som blir drept som ikke har gjort noe som helst for å fortjene en vrikket fot en gang. Sånn er det gjerne også i realistisk krim – det er noe av det som gjør den realistisk. Og sånn er det i Nesbø, og jeg liker det virkelig ikke når «feil» mennesker dør. Ikke at jeg synes at han skulle begynne å skrive «snille» krimbøker, da ville ikke bøkene være på langt nær så gode, men jeg må altså prøve å huske at jeg ikke skal lese flere slike bøker på rad, for det har jeg ikke godt av.

Men en om gangen er helt fint, og Frelseren levde opp til forventningene. Kan anbefales på det varmeste – men begynn i andre enden dersom du ikke har lest noe Nesbø før.

Blue Shoes and Happiness

Mirthful

Oh joy, oh frabulous joy! A new No. 1 book! Amazingly enough I found it in one of the local bookshops before I even knew it was going to be out, and even more amazingly it was priced so reasonably that I didn’t have to wrestle with my conscience (who might otherwise have held the opinion that one could wait until end-June when we go to the land of hops and glory, i.e. the UK). Blue Shoes and Happiness continues in the same rather brilliant vein as the previous books, and only makes you wish it were longer.

Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator

Mirthful

Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator was also picked out of a box because the husband hadn’t read it. Well, now he has. And I’ve reread it. It’s pretty much as enjoyable now as it was way back when. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a strange book, but I think Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator is just that little bit stranger.

At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig: Travels Through Paraguay – John Gimlette

Mirthful

At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig: Travels Through Paraguay was an interesting read, in that it seems to deal pretty thoroughly with the recent history of Paraguay, a country I knew next to nothing about prior to reading this book. I am somewhat puzzled as to the title, as I never caught the reference, but it’s catchy – if not snappy – and so I suppose that’s reason enough to use it. This is not a travel book in the normal sense. True, John Gimlette travels around Paraguay, but nine tenths of the book is history of some sort. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but not quite what I expected. Still, an interesting read.

Inkheart – Cornelia Funke

Mirthful

Another bookcrossing goodie arrived in my mailbox this week, and caused another pause in the book I’m supposed to be reading. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke is pretty much just what a good book ought to be, it draws you in and keeps you interested enough to make putting it down difficult (towards the end, well nigh impossible). And, of course, it’s an adventure involving books and reading. Could it get any better?

(The book’s bookcrossing journal)