Stepping into the Spotlight

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So, I finished Molly Weir’s Stepping into the Spotlight and Walking into the Lyons Den and wanted to start the sixth book, but suddenly realised I’ve somehow messed up and I haven’t got the sixth book after all – it’s called One Small Footprint – and that Spinning like a Peerie – which is the next one I have – is actually the seventh book. It’s not as if I couldn’t skip a book – there’s no plot-lines to give away, after all, but I think I prefer to wait until One Small Footprint (duly ordered from ABE) arrives. When reading about someone’s life and career it’s nice to get things in the proper order, after all.

Well, back to Stepping into the Spotlight and Walking into the Lyons Den… All I really wanted to say was they’re every bit as delightful as the initial trilogy, and I’m still impressed at how interesting Weir makes reading about radio shows I’ve never heard of before and other acting accomplishments of an actor I hadn’t even heard of before I happened upon Shoes were for Sunday.

As the Crow Flies

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There is a bit of an Archer reread going on. At least I’ve just finished As the Crow Flies for, I think, the fourth time, and I think I will probably start on First Among Equals pretty soon. As the Crow Flies is possibly my favourite Archer book. It’s the poor boy done good motif, of course, as Charlie Trumper makes his way from working at his grandfather’s barrow in the Whitechapel market to retiring as chairman of «the biggest barrow in the world», a Harrods-like department store in Chelsea as the reader shouts «Good for you!». However, it’s also Archer’s customary ability to make the wheelings and dealings of business’ and politics’ tactics seem fascinating.

I might have mentioned before the complete suspension of disbelief that goes with loving to reread books. It is this quality which makes it possible to find Pride & Prejudice exciting at the 20th rereading («Will they really get it together this time, too?»), and it’s an ability I’d be loath to lose. However, in some cases it’s more of a curse, as with As the Crow Flies where, no matter how well I remember the details, there is one death in the novel which is equally devastating at every reading. In fact, it gets worse once you know it’s coming, as you feel there ought to be some way for you to prevent it – a timely phone call to one of the main characters, for example.

Consider yourself warned. Don’t let it stop you reading the book, however, as it really is very good.

A Fête Worse than Death – Iain Aitch

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How disappointing. I love travel books, and I love travel books about the UK above all, which is why I was looking forward to reading A Fête Worse than Death by Iain Aitch, however, the book was a bit of a disappointment. I’m hard pressed to put my finger on exactly why Aitch’s writing is not engaging. He includes liberal amounts of anecdotes, enough dialogue to please me and visits precisely the sort of events whose description I’d be likely to find interesting. He even travels the way I would, by public transport or by convincing people to give him lifts. And still I continually found my attention drifting. A pity, really.

Sons of Fortune

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There ought to be an internet site where you can list the authors you are interested in and be notified whenever they publish a new book. Too often I find there is a new book out by one of my favourite authors and that it has actually been out for quite a while and no one has bothered to tell me. I know I could pay greater attention to the press or visit bookshops more often, but I would really prefer not to as I spend enough money on books as it is (and as we all know, it is physically impossible to walk out of a bookshop without having purchased any books – and were I to read more reviews I would be tempted to visit bookshops more).

So we need an internet service. I offer this as an idea to anyone who is looking for a concept for a new site. I’d do it myself, but can’t be bothered. I’d rather just get on with reading the books.

In the meantime, I am grateful to Donna for listing Jeffrey Archer’s Sons of Fortune on her currently reading list, as it alerted me to the existence of the novel. Naturally, I rushed to the bookshop to secure a copy immediately.

It is good. It’s not Archer’s best, but it gripped me pretty much immediately and held my attention until the last page (I would have preferred not to have to put it down, unfortunately that could not be avoided). It ends with a trick, as is habitual with Archer – I’d tell you what it was, but that would be a major spoiler.

Trilogy of Scottish Childhood

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In which the tenements of Glasgow come to life.

Molly Weir’s Trilogy of Scottish Childhood has been my main read since Christmas – there seems to be very little time for reading these days (blame Martin). I picked up my paperback copy in Dufftown in September, it contains three volumes – however, they only seem to be available separately now – Shoes were for Sunday, Best Foot Forward and One Toe on the Ladder.

Weir writes engagingly about her childhood in the Glasgow tenements, and paints a vivid picture of a way of life based on making every penny go as far as possible. I had a most difficult time getting through the chapters on food, not because they were in any way boring but because I kept getting hungy (I mean, there’s a limit to how much you can read about fish and chips before going in search of a pub that serves them). It was also fascinating reading about Weir’s progress towards fame on the stage, despite never (knowingly) having seen her.

On searching for the amazon links for this entry, I discovered that there are actually three more installments of Weir’s autobiography. They are now duly ordered (though through abebooks).

Harriet the Spy – Louise Fitzhugh

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In which we go spying.

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The second book borrowed from Theresa was Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh. I really don’t have a lot to say about this one either. I enjoyed it is praise enough. One thing I wasn’t quite happy with was that the child psychologist seemed to make a point – worth noting, I thought – of how Harriet was less able to concentrate on what was actually happening around her when she was taking notes all the time, and I felt that that point was never really taken up again. But that was really all I had to complain about, and it wasn’t very important at that.

Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White

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In which we revert to childhood, briefly.

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Theresa forced (ok, so I didn’t exactly protest loudly, I think my response to «You really must borrow..» was «Yes, please!») a couple of American classics on me the last time I visited and I’ve just finished two. The first was Charlotte’s Web, which was sweet and touching and that’s pretty much all I have to say about it.

Books read 2003

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Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boy – Carlos Eire

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In which we are enchanted in a soberly fashion.

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Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boy had to wait, half-read, on the shelf while I made my way through Hobb and Fforde. This was an unwarranted slight on my part, and I apologise. Eire describes his childhood in Cuba in vivid detail and on occasion you almost feel the sun on your face as you watch him and his brother blow up lizards. From his father – who thinks he is the reincarnation of a French king – to the tiny figure of Castro as he addresses the people, the book invokes a magical – though by no means problem-free – childhood turned upside down because of a revolution.