L-Space- The Wooden-Shelf Thing

The Wooden-Shelf Thing

I've been putting this off for too long; another look at what's on my ominous to-read shelf. I previously did this with The Glass Cabinet and The Darkened Wardrobe (I have to have stupid names for these things for some reason). A couple of these books have been on there for a long while now...

Bukowski, Charles- Hot Water Music & The Pleasures of the Damned- Poems, 1951-1993
Though I've finished all of Charles Bukowski's novels, there are still a few other volumes of short stories and magazine articles to read, including the story collection Hot Water Music, which I have in a neat minimal paperback from Ecco Press. There's also the matter of Bukowski's poetry. I'm not normally one for poetry, but it would be a crime to read through the author's bibliography without it, and the large collection I have seems a good introduction to it.

Burgess, Anthony- A Clockwork Orange
An unknown number of years before I began this blog, I read an Anthony Burgess novel named 1985, but it just didn't click with me. As a result I think it put a subconcious block in my head against Burgess, so I've voided him ever since- but I still really wanted to get around to reading A Clockwork Orange someday, and now I've finally got him.

Maugham, W. Somerset- The Explorer, The Narrow Corner & Of Human Bondage
Three more entrants from Maugham's extensive bibliography, including his most famous piece. The other two are much smaller, but no less intriguing books in neat little Penguin paperbacks.

Dawkins, Richard- River Out of Eden
Barrow, John D.- The Book of Universes
Pinker, Steven- How the Mind Works
Three books queued up to scratch my occasional popular science itch, recently neglected in favour of a trip through some classsic gothic horror.

Koestler, Arthur- Darkness at Noon
Zamyatin, Yevgeny- The Dragon and Other Stories
Fairly random off the shelf buys, in great little Penguin paperback editions, bought because they just seemed like interesting Eastern European pieces of intellectualism.

MacDonald, John D.- The Deep Blue Goodbye
Thompson, Jim- The Getaway
As I mentioned during my review of Georges Simenon's The Blue Room, I have two other examples from Orion Press' Crime Masterworks series, and these are they. Again, I ignorantly don't really know anything about them, except I'm very excited to read them.

Auster, Paul- The Brooklyn Follies & Winter Journal
My life will never be completed until I've read and reviewed everything by Paul Auster. I read The Brooklyn Follies as a library book a long while ago pre-blog and now need to read my own copy, while Winter Journal is one of two recent pieces of non-fiction from Auster.

Castaneda, Carlos- The Eagle's Gift & A Separate Reality
Peake, Mervyne- Gormenghast
Examples from two cult-classic series that I can't actually read goddamnit because I didn't realise these weren't the first volumes of the series when I bought them. On the back-burner.

Wyndham, John- Stowaway To Mars & The Kraken Wakes
Asimov, Isaac- Foundation, Foundation and Empire & Second Foundation
Roberts, Keith- Pavane
My current slice of to-read sci-fi. I found the Wyndham books randomly second-hand, and having read and enjoyed Day of the Triffids couldn't resist going back to him. As for Asimov, despite him being one of the most famous science fiction writers of all time, I've only read one short story collection from him. The Foundation series was his magnum opus, so if that doesn't click for me then no Asimov novel will. Pavane, meanwhile, is a book included on Orion Press' Sci-Fi Masterworks label.

Amis, Kingley- Lucky Jim
Vidal, Gore- Messiah
Faulkner, William- The Sound and the Fury
Buchan, John- The Thirty-Nine Steps
Four random genre classics I picked up by author reputation and because I'm a literary snob. Faulkner seems the most interesting, though also potentially off-putting if I don't like the ambition style. The Thirty-Nine Steps, meanwhile, I have in an amazing 60's pulp-style paperback that I will continue to love the design of even if I don't like the book. Gore Vidal's book was here the last time I did this, but a little research makes me optimistic.

Capote, Truman- The Complete Stories
Thompson, Hunter S.- The Rum Diary
London, Jack- The Call of the Wild, White Fang, and Other Stories
Three classic US authors whom I've already begun following on this blog and am destined to continue until I inevitably get bored of this thing. I've been meaning to read The Rum Diary for a long time, but never ran across a charity bookshop copy, so had to actually buy one at full price from Amazon. That annoyed me.

Gatiss, Mark- The Vesuvias Club/ The Devil in Amber
This was on the last list I did too, I just can't bring myself to start it. The problem is even though I respect Mark Gattis' TV work in general (well, Sherlock anyway) I'm just severely paranoid that a modern piece of spy fiction genre fiction by a very modern TV comedy/children's sci-fi actor could possibly be any good. I think Douglas Adams warped my standards a long time ago, to be honest. I'll start it soon, but if it doesn't hit quickly it's getting abandoned.

Gide, Andre- The Immoralist
Houellebecq, Michel- Atomised
More (presumably) existential French literature; one a novella from 1902, the other a novel from 1998. Should be interesting, if nothing else.

Steinbeck, John- Of Mice and Men
I haven't read this book for about thirteen years, and it's one of the most important in terms of my own literary development, so I was very happy to find a copy recently.

Rubin, Jay- Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words
This book was on the last list too, but that's just because I've been saving it is the last piece of Murakami-related writing available to me at the moment.

Pratchett, Terry & Kidby, Paul- The Pratchett Portfolio
Pratchett, Terry & Baxter, Stephen- The Long War
Pratchett, Terry, Stewart, Ian & Cohen, Jack- The Science of the Discworld IV- Judgement Day
Because, of course, I can never get enough Terry Pratchett books. The Pratchett Portfolio is a very small volume of art that I'll look at fairly soon. The Long War is the sequel to The Long Earth, which I very much enjoyed and shall likely continue to do so. Science of the Discworld IV is from a spin-off series I've not properly explored, but will have to in order to cover the whole Discworld series eventually (the year 3010, I'm predicting).

And last and probably least...

Martin, George R.R.- A Song of Ice and Fire- A Dance with Dragons 2: After the Feast
The only book to remain on every single one of these lists, meaning it's been waiting on the pile for almost two years. Every day I flirt with giving the entire Song of Ice and Fire series to Oxfam Bookshop, but I never actually get around to it. Still, in all likelihood, I'll probably never read this, the final volume available yet, because George R.R. Martin writes like a severely concussed Tolkien and I'm just not interested in that. The Dan Brown of fantasy, no matter how brilliant the detached TV show genuinely is.

L-Space- Can I Play the Piano Any More?

 

Just a quick, lazy post to draw attention to a great article on the BBC News website entitled The French Spy who wrote The Planet of the Apes, taking a fascinating look at the life and works of Planet of the Apes author Pierre Boulle. When I reviewed that sci-fi book almost one year ago now (where does the time go?) I was massively impressed by what I found to be a fantastic mix of sci-fi and classic Conan Doyle-esque adventure fiction. It was not a surprise, then, to find out through the BBC article that Boulle was a self-professed anglophile who loved all things literary and English. It was also fun to discover that his literary heroes were Joseph Conrad and W. Somerset Maugham, two men very highly regarded for their immaculate English prose, written of course in their second language.

I must get a hold of some more Boulle novels. In the meantime I have a review of Charles Bukowski's Factotum coming up sometime in the next forty to fifty years.

L-Space- Struggling with Borges

My book reading goes in line with my obsessive compulsiveness in certain ways. This blog alone is proof,, my attempt to catalogue each book I read with a short review. To some writers that amount of productivity is easy to achieve, but for me sometimes it just feels really, really hard. As a result over the past few years there have been more than a couple of novels and non-fiction books that I just didn't bother reviewing, for various reasons. One of the main ones is the nagging feeling in the back of my head that, with some of them, there's really not much to achieve. This happens a lot with older classics (most recently Marlowe's Faustus and Goethe's Faust) where I feel like even trying to place a critical eye on something that's been renowned, revered, and already picked apart by so many people already is a redundant, maybe even narcissistic thing to do.

After reading and reviewing Terry Pratchett's Raising Steam I fancied breezing through a shorter book, if anything just to try and make my to-read pile a little lighter (37 to go now I think), and so I made my third and final attempt to connect with an author whom I, in the past, have really wanted to like. He's both famous enough and esoteric enough (to me, anyway) to seem cool and reputable, as the most popular author in South American history. Like most of my books I first encountered Jose Luis Borges fairly randomly a few years ago by picking out a random title of his off the shelf of a charity shop, hoping to add him to the growing list of authors I enjoy. Ultimately though this recent third effort is likely to be my last with the author for a while. Three times I've tried to crack him, and three times I've failed badly enough to the point where I haven't bothered to review them. Hopefully these mini versions will make me feel a bit better about it.

The first Jose Luis Borges book I read was his Book of Imaginary Beings (1969 expanded edition), which on the surface of it seemed like a whimsical exercise in fantasy writing that appealed through its simplicity as well as Borges' name, I fancied it as a good entry point and having recently very much enjoyed David Eagleman's Sum- Tales from the Afterlife as a similarly-shaped collection of micro-stories. The book is simply an alphabetical trawl through 120 different mythical creatures of lore, each one assigned a generally brief paragraph dedicated to describing it, and it's as simple as that. It was, in hindsight, kind of an odd book to experience Borges for the first time with because its quirky, fleeting nature left me feeling like I'd not gotten much of an impression of Borges' writing talent overall, instead merely experiencing him writing in an atypical genre-specific style. Though I did enjoy it as a quick read I was looking forward to reading something more substantial and expressive from Borges, though ironically in the end concluded that I enjoyed it most of all of them.

The second attempt at Borges seemed more promising, the short story collection A Universal History of Infamy (originally 1935, my revised edition 1954), in which Borges writes fictional stories about real historical criminals. The stories are very short and this is a very brief collection, but they are much longer than the entries in Book of Imaginary Beings, thus giving me the chance to get a better feel of Borges' style. Unfortunately it just did capture me; from a technical standpoint he's an immaculate writer, able to portray each scenario with an expansive vocabulary, but perversely I found there to be something a little off about it all. As though he's so confident with his narrative style, descriptive and emotive that the narration offsets the characters in the stories. Though the subject matter seemed right up my alley the style and the brevity of each story pushed me away and I just couldn't connect. It's frustrating because I really did want to like this book. Maybe one day I'll pick it up again.

I finished the final Borges from my to-read pile only a few days ago, hoping that this time I'd finally get it, but it never really happened. Doctor Brodie's Report (1970)  was the most traditional collection of short stories that I read and some ways the most interesting. Famously written at the age of 70 after a gap in short story writing that lasted 20 years, this collection showed me more of Borges' voice than the prior two, thanks to its regular style of storytelling. Though I knew of Borges primarily for being such a well regarded South American literary export, I hadn't felt his cultural influences much until I read this. Unfortunately I found little I could relate to amongst these tales of Catholics in Argentina, and though I sort of enjoyed the distinctive Latin feeling (or at least my impression of it), it only worked to a certain extent. I think I was a little turned away by the religious undertones to be honest, which is hardly something to criticise the author for but isn't my cup of tea.

Ultimately I left my first looks at Borges feeling disappointed, but not completely disheartened. I do feel there's something there that's not clicking with me where I can't seem to enjoy his prose style despite knowing that it's good, if that makes any sense. There's so much stuff left to read that I doubt I'll find myself re-reading any of these any time soon, but I could still be tempted to pick up any other random Borges title that comes my way. Until then I'll be heading north of the border with my reading habits, starting with another novel by king of the low lives Chuck Bukowski.

L-Space- A Colourless Preview

Although people catagorise reading fiction in the same vain of popular culture as films, TV, video games etc., for this writer one of the key differences that makes the former uniquely stand out is that I find it to be an almost exclusively past-based past-time. What I mean by that is that there's very little market beyond absolute hardcore fans of individual authors for upcoming books in the same vein as other mediums. A great deal of this is likely down to the fact that it's quite difficult to come up with exciting advertisements for novels, compared to the glory of film trailers, game adverts (though most of those usually have a 'not game footage' disclaimer at the bottom of the screen which makes me not want to buy it out of spite) or even for albums, since the overall appeal of a good book generally just isn't something that can be described in a short blast without lacking. There are exceptions, of course, usually resulting in massive sales for something like The Da Vinci Code, but these are few and far between.

I didn't queue at midnight for this...

This isn't something that's ever bothered me, because I think that one great feature about becoming a literature fanatic is the beautifully ever-growing realisation that there are far more unread genuine classics out there just waiting to be found than you ever might have expected. For every author you already enjoy there are three others with a similar style you might enjoy just as much. For every genre you become a fan of there are at least five other sub-genres spinning out of it waiting to offer you a brilliant new perspective on the same themes. Even if changes in the English language mean you don't particularly enjoy reading older work (and to be honest I've been getting lazier and lazier in that regard the further I move away from my past academic life) there's still an uncountable amount of amazing books from the last one hundred years out there.

But in some ways it is a bit of a shame that I very rarely get excited about new books coming out, because there's a lot to be said for the sense of anticipation arising from expectation. In the past I used to get this feeling at least once a year when Terry Pratchett announced a new Discworld book, so that when I finally grew up (a bit) and got a job I made sure I bought a new hardback copy as soon as possible. For a little while I used to do the same with new novels by Michael Crichton, until my fan love for him brought on by modern science thriller classics (by the standards of the genre) like Jurassic Park and Sphere was eroded through increasingly dull new books. As regards to Pratchett, the sheer number and apparent limitlessness of his productivity meant that the allure of a new Discworld book lost its shine over the years.

Sadly boring cover.

But what was supposed to be a short intro has gotten way out of control, so time to get to the point of this post; in five months I'm finally going to be able to get my hands on a book that I've been waiting for for about two years now- or three if you count the time elapsed since the release of 1Q84 (clumsily reviewed in its two parts here and here). A new book by the best author in the world, Mr. Haruki Murakami is almost here. Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage was first announced by the author in February 2013 and arrived on Japanese shelves only two months laster. Since then I've been scouring various sources for the announcement of the inevitable English translation (I would learn Japanese but I can barely speak English), and in that time it seems to have been translated into every damned language except English, which has been really annoying me.

Regular Murakami translator Phillip Gabriel is once again translating, and I know that the reason for the wait is simply the difficulty in performing the task to the quality that fans expect. In fact a gap of a year and a half is actually the shortest time yet for a Murakami translation (Norwegian Wood had a thirteen year gap), presumably thanks to the increased interest in his work shown by the midnight openings for the 1Q84 release, so I probably shouldn't complain. And anyway, at the start of this column I was somewhat bemoaning the lack of enjoyable anticipation in the book world compared to more up-to-date media, so I really definitely shouldn't complain. Thankfully the cycle should begin again after because I'm fairly sure I read recently that Murakami's next project is already in motion, a new collection of short stories that have already appeared in various places, so that shouldn't take too long to come to fruition. The anticipation cycle continues.

 

... But I did queue at midnight for this.

L-Space- Louis Theroux in LA

After posting some brief thoughts on Orwell and I yesterday, I wasn't intending on writing another post quite so soon, but almost immediately ran into another interesting, albeit far more modern, article that took my attention thanks to its author. Louis Theroux has long been a cult favourite of mine and many others; son of iconic travel writer Paul Theroux (and brother to screenwriter Justin), Louis made his name with the BBC in the mid-90's through a series of investigative documentaries entitled Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends. In each show the mild-mannered, amiable and very likable Louis threw himself into a particular sub-culture, usually in the US, and tried to understand what made the strange people he met click. As his popularity grew he began to make increasingly serious shows about more dangerous social issues from across the world; including introducing much of the non-US world to the cult of the Phelps family at the Westborough Baptist Church, in Louis' most famous work. In 2005 he released as yet his only book The Call of the Weird: Travels in American Subcultures, which I own but unfortunately didn't enjoy as much as his TV work.

Louis Theroux & Friend

The article that I read was written by Louis (I have to always call him by his first name because he's so nice, so nice that my Grandmother named her dog after him) and published on the BBC News website as a preview of his upcoming three-part series of documentaries (the first is airing tomorrow night on BBC2 in Britain). It's entitled Louis Theroux: Moving to Los Angeles and exists as a personal take on the making of these shows (themselves named Louis Theroux's LA Stories), where he writes about the effect of temporarily moving his immediate family to Los Angeles at the time. He refrains from detailing too much of the shows' contents and instead talks about the concepts behind them, all the while assembling his own overall impressions of life in such an apparently strange city, which is really what made the article stand out for me.

One of the main appeals to Theroux's persona is his completely convincing presentation of himself as a such a likable English chap in the face of such oddities as porn stars or pro-wrestlers or genuinely disturbing extremists; and it's also his greatest strength in terms of encouraging his interviewees to open up to him. When you consider his life and career as a whole Louis is probably stretching the truth somewhat with his disbelief at the strangeness of LA (in comparison to his time in Johannesburg, for example), but as a fellow Englander it was easy to understand his point of view. I've never visited LA and I probably never will, but it's existence as the global capital of entertainment production has ensured that I've encountered more fictional versions of it than I can remember (off the top of my head, video game LA Noire and superior Buffy spin-off Angel seem most prominent to me).

Serious Face.

Most of this fiction is likely heavily fake, but the concept of so many different versions of this place, twisted this way and that based on the whims of writers and directors, resonates heavily with the unbelievable aspect of the real city. The philosophy of life imitating art is something I strongly believe in throughout everyday life and human behavior, and so the idea of a city that is largely based around fictional versions of itself is fascinating. It's also a little scary, when briefly thinking about how out of control the human race is in regards to its consumption of various forms of entertainment (especially now that 'reality' TV is clearly anything but and just accentuates the issue). Authors like Paul Auster, who I'm currently beguiled by more than ever thanks to Oracle Night, seem to recognise the surreal nature of our reality and presents fiction that challenges our perceptions of it, which is brilliant in a way but also digs further into the massive, unending black hole of transubstantial reality, where, as the classic scientific idiom goes, it becomes impossible to analyse something without effecting it.

I'm going to wrap this up now because I didn't really intend to start rambling on for so long and I've got no intention of trying to write some sort of lengthy essay on such a hard-to-define subject. Also I'm getting away from the original point of the post, which was to link to a very enjoyable and well-written article by a respected journalist. I'm very much looking forward to the three upcoming documentaries, and they''ll almost certainly turn up in the next installment of Not Books, which I've been occasionally working on and discovering that, for someone who writes a book blog, I watch entirely too much television.

L-Space- Confessions of an English Literature Reviewer

I have the day off work, so a lazy morning of watching awful morning television shows while lounging about on the sofa eventually turned into a short trawl through Wikipedia links. Wikipedia is my go-to place in times of boredom, and I've set the random article function as my homepage (which more often than not results in a short article about a village in Eastern Europe for some reason). Through reading an article on litotes (and trying to work out how to pronounce it) I was quickly led to an article about George Orwell's Politics and the English Language (1946) (here, originally published in Horizon magazine), an essay I'd never read before. I found the full essay (here, possibly even legally) and it's fairly short and succinct; a well-written rant against the way that a few factors had been leading to the decline of the English Language.

Orwell's main cause of discontent was the manipulation of the language's various faculties in political writings in order to disguise the nature and/or hypocrisy of its actual meaning, and of the writer or political party behind it. As a natural-born cynic regarding the topic I can't really say much about the political aspect, only that almost seventy years later such techniques are undoubtedly ubiquitous in particular segments of modern society, the most obvious of which is advertising (and we all know advertising rules the world). Orwell wrote the comedy novel Keep the Aspidistra Flying on the subject of advertising, which one day might get re-read and reviewed here.

 

My most necessary rule.

Orwell goes further in his essay by addressing the application of political dialogue in literary criticism, which is, to be honest, what made me thoughtful enough to write this short post. His point is that a lot of literary criticism relies upon the reviewer creating a kind of false sense of immaculate articulation through tossing in to their reviews as many longer words as possible, regardless of their actual effect or even meaning. It's not difficult to recognise Orwell's point (and some of the examples quoted in the essay are ridiculous), and now I'm constantly set to worry that I regularly do the same thing in my reviews; sacrificing accurate reviewing for the sake of flowery prose, thus making the whole exercise a waste of time. Muddying the waters, so to speak.

I think everyone who's ever written a few articles on absolutely anything must be guilty of this to a small extent at least, and it's not something that a writer should overly worry about if it doesn't occur to them that it's something that they're prominently doing already. Personally I am worried, so this short post is an attempt to follow Orwell's rules while talking about them (very meta, I think). I started this blog to hone my non-fiction writing skills precisely thanks to the quality of prose displayed by my favourite authors like Orwell, and almost two years on I think the project is progressing decently, but not perfectly. Ah well, onwards and upwards and all that. At present I'm currently reading Truman Capote's In Cold Blood (albeit slowly) so that will be on the review schedule, as will the next Discworld book and possibly, possibly the continuation of the Comics Snobbery series. But maybe not.

L-Space- The Darkened Wardrobe

L-Space- The Darkened Wardrobe

Way back in March of this year I created a post entitled The Glass Cabinet, which listed each book on my unread pile. I find it hard not to buy books, especially because I very much enjoy going in to certain charity bookshops and looking for interesting, cheap stuff. My favourite being the many Oxfam Bookshops you get across Britain (and possibly further, I don't know), since they always have the widest selection and have greater standards for second hand books than most. They cost a little more than other shops, but it's worth it, especially for the constant stream of well-kept classics and modern classics that I can't resist buying.

Anyway, the last time I did this it was called The Glass Cabinet because I kept my unread pile in a nice glass cabinet which lit up and had lots of classy glass shelves. Since then I moved house, and sadly don't have said cabinet anymore. Instead, I have the less fancy, but much moodier and mysterious darkened wardrobe, so that's what it's called. Also, I'm probably moving house again in about a week, so six months down the line I'll do this with a different name. Finally, a fair few of these books were on the last list, but some of the books on the last one got dumped because I changed my mind about reading them, or started and quickly gave up in disgust. Cormac McCarthy fans, you may fall out with me when you hear that I dumped the entire Border Trilogy, because I am not a fan. And now, we shall begin;

Terry Pratchett- Dodger, Discworld- Raising Steam & The Long Earth (with Stephen Baxter)

Dodger was on the last list, I'll get around to that at some point, but I wasn't a fan of Pratchett's last non-Discworld novel, Nation, so I'm not excited. Raising Steam, meanwhile, as the latest Discworld book, is something I'm very much looking forward to. The Long Earth is a curious one, as it was written in conjunction with science fiction author Stephen Baxter as the start of a long series, and is based on a short story included in Pratchett's collection of fiction miscellany in A Blink of the Screen.

Haruki Murakami- Dance, Dance, Dance

Aside from Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973, which are Murakami's first two novels and have yet to be reprinted in English (meaning the few older copies available on ebay and the like are extortionately priced, so I'm patiently hoping for a reprint)  Dance, Dance, Dance is the final Murakami book available to me. I'm putting it off like Desmond Hulme did with A Tale of Two Cities in Lost. Thankfully though, Murakami's latest book should be translated into English next year.

Jay Rubin- Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words

Longtime Haruki Murakami translator Jay Rubin writes a book of literary analysis on the work of the Japanese author. There's almost no way I'm not going to enjoy this.

Anthony Storr- The Dynamics of Creation
J.A.C. Brown- Techniques of Persuasion

Both are Pelican non fiction paperbacks that were in the cabinet, and both are essentially about writing techniques, literary theory, that sort of thing. I'm hoping they're good, but both could easily be dumped after a few unsatisfying pages.

W. Somerset Maugham- Cake and Ale & The Magician

Another two books that've been on the pile for six months, but I've just started reading The Magician and I'm very excited about it, having learned more about the character of Oliver Haddo and the real life acquaintanceship of W. Somerset Maugham and Alistair Crowley.

Sam Kean- The Disappearing SpoonAlex Boese- Elephants on Acid and other Bizarre Experiments 

John D. Barrow- The Book of Universes

My interest in casual science books shows no sign of waning, with The Book of Universes added to this list of stuff that will hopefully make me feel like I've learned something, even if I can't exactly tell you what. Also in this vein...

Richard Dawkins- The Ancestor's Tale: A Pilgrimage to the Dawn of Life

Steven Pinker- How the Mind Works

... two books by two masters of the pop. science genre. The Ancestor's Tale is, as is obvious with Dawkins, about evolution and is worryingly long. Pinker, meanwhile, wrote The Language Instinct, and How the Mind Works looks like an equally interesting look at the human psyche.

Russel Hoban- Amaryllis Night and Day

As I wrote last time, I have no memory of buying this book, nor can I quite figure out why I did. It is very short though, so maybe I'll pick it up soon just to figure out what the hell is going on.

George R. R. Martin- A Dance with Dragons- Book 2- After the Feast

I will definitely read this at some point, but I've also been considering donating my Song of Ice and Fire books to someone else before I move house. It's not that I totally hate them, it's just that I don't like them enough to justify them visually dominating my book collection with their flashy thick spines. Unfortunately the only person I've found who wants them is my fiance, who I'm moving in with, so that probably doesn't help.

Hunter S. Thompson- Hell's Angels & Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degredation in the 80's

I've wanted to read Hell's Angels for years and years but never got around to it. Generation of Swine is a collection of articles in the same manner as The Great Shark Hunt: Strange Tales from a Strange Time. One day I will have read every Thompson book. Probably in sixty years or so.

Carlos Castaneda- The Eagle's Gift & A Separate Reality

Initially bought on impulse ages ago, further research shows me that I really need to read a copy of The Teachings of Don Juan before I read these later books in the series.

Toby Young- The Sound of No Hands Clapping

The sequel to the moderately entertaining memoirs How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. I don't expect it to blow me away, but it should be fun enough.

 
Euripedes- Madea and Other Plays
 Jean-Dominique Bauby- The Diving-Bell & The Butterfly
R.K. Narayan- The Guide

Gore Vidal- The Messiah

Various random world classics I've picked up here and there, none I'm dying to read right now but nonetheless I should get something positive out of all of them.

Johan Goethe- Faust

Horace Walpole- The Castle of Otranto and The Mysterious Mother

I reread Marlow's Dr. Faustus recently, but I'm leaving a gap before starting Goethe's version of the tale. Sticking with gothic fiction, The Castle of Otranto is something I read at university as an example of the first ever Gothic horror fiction, and it's completely mental. The edition I bought contained the play The Mysterious Mother and I'm hoping that it's just as mad.

Phillip Pullman- Grimm Fairy Tales

Though I didn't enjoy Pullman's retelling of the new testament, this retelling of the brothers' Grimm promises to be much, much better. 

Charles Bukowski- Ham on Rye & Woman

As with Hunter S. Thompson, I want to complete Bukowski's entire bibliography one day, hopefully before Skynet takes over the world.

Michael Bollen- Earth Inc.

Mark Gatiss- The Vesuvius Club/The Devil in Anger

Two fairly random comedy novels by British authors that I picked up because they look like fun. I can't remember the last time I found a satirical British author that I really enjoyed, so hopefully one of these authors will remind of the likes of Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams, not much to ask there. Gatiss seemingly has the better pedigree, but Bollen's Earth Inc. has a wonderful-looking dystopian advertising future tone going for it.

Jack Kerouac- On the Road

Ken Kessey- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Truman Capote- In Cold Blood

Edward Abbey- The Monkey Wrench Gang

Jay McInerney- Bright Lights, Big City

I'm really pleased with my line-up of 20th century US classics, a genre that I enjoy ninety nine times out of a hundred. I read On the Road years ago and promptly forgot most of it, while In Cold Blood is my second Capote after the absolutely brilliant Breakfast at Tiffany's. The other three are American classics that I'm very much looking forward to reading. 

Jon Ronson- The Men Who Stare At Goats

Stephen Fry- Moab is My Washpot

Two more bits of non-fiction picked up on reputation. The Men Who Stare At Goats should be quick, amusing reading, while Fry's autobiography is something I've meant to pick up for some time. Supposedly both brilliantly witty and despairingly depressing.

George Orwell- Homage to Catalonia

Oscar Wilde- Complete Shorter Fiction

Having completed Orwell's novel bibliography (does that phrase make sense? Ah well...) with Burmese Days, I still want to reread Homage to Catalonia because I feel I didn't give it a fair chance the first time around; reading it too quickly with not enough attention paid. Oscar Wilde, meanwhile, I actually find hit or miss, but I'm a literary snob and he's probably the king of the literary snob's bookshelf fillers.

Jose Luis Borges- Doctor Brodie's Report

Ryu Murakami- Piercing

Mikhail Bulgakov- The Master and Margarita

Some wordwide literature here. Borges is someone I want to explore further, Ryu Murakami is a guy who I read one good book by five years ago and forgot about for some reason, and Bulgakov is my latest attempt to get into Russian literature, having failed to enjoy Dostoyevsky on first try.
 

Paul Auster- Moon Palace & The Book of Illusions

My second favourite contemporary author behind Haruki Murakami, I've been saving the work of Paul Auster over the years but I'm getting closer and closer to the end of his bibliography. 

Neil Gaiman- The Absolute Sandman Vol. 4 & Signal To Noise

Last but not least, my unread comics. 

Oh my god, this list is ridiculously long. I really need to get a move on reading this crap, and not adding to it. In the meantime, I really should write the next Discworld review after this, and I've got about three or four more Comics Snobbery columns to write. Also I want to do an L-Space column on the three or four books I read over the past year and didn't write full reviews for. Anyway, to the publish button!

Comics Snobbery I

 Comics Snobbery I

 In the near two year history of this humblest of humble blogs I've successfully managed to resist the constant temptation to write about the comic books I've been reading (or 'graphic novels', if you're insecure), based on the entirely accurate logic that I can barely write two individual book reviews per month anyway. This has been hard since I've been a big reader of comic books since I first noticed the growing collection of the local library when I was about ten years old (and for years before that I read The Beano and The Dandy every week, back when they only cost 40 pence), and since the arrival of the Internet in its current form made it easy to follow the industry on a 24/7 basis.

Still though, it's only been over the last couple of years that my physical collection of comics- a slight misnomer since, unless I'm forgetting, 100% of my collection is comprised of hard and paperback collections or original graphic novels- has really grown. I borrowed a lot of complete series of classic contemporary comics when I was younger, and my heart's desire to revisit and own them won out over my brain's desire to protect my wallet.

In this ever-growing blog post I just want to talk about the comics series that I've only partially collected, but before I do that I must explain; I'm a self-confessed comics snob. That is, I only put down my money on widely well-regarded series with critically acclaimed superstar authors. I don't buy comics on a whim and I don't give chances to authors of whom I feel aren't up to presenting comics as real literature (I'm not overly worried about artists). My reasoning is pretty simple though; I've only got a certain amount of money to spend and only so much free time to read, and my comics reading time is integrated into my novel reading time. And I'm a snob. Let's crack on;

Judge Dredd- The Complete Case Files (2000AD)

Cover art by Cliff Morrison

I'm ten volumes deep in to this absolutely massive complete collection of Judge Dredd stories; the only bullying fascist lawman of the future I ever loved. For those who don't know of him, Judge Dredd first appeared back in 1977 in the second issue of the British science fiction anthology strip 2000AD and perseveres to this day as the country's number one character, popular enough to star in the half-decent 2012 Hollywood movie Dredd. Created and consistently written by John Wagner, Judge Dredd as a character and concept is an immensely curious blend of influences, born of a depressed British society swamped by a deluge of US popular culture, creating this mean, stone-jawed militant policeman who, early on in the strip especially, appalls almost as much as he appeals. The overt fascist, right wing politics of Dredd are cranked-up tongue-in-cheek portrayals of a world too big and too dangerous to be organised by diplomacy. 

Mega City One is the home of Dredd, an immense metropolis stretching down almost the entire east coast of the US and home to millions upon millions of potential criminals. The only thing that can keep things civil is the power of the judge system, where each highly trained judge patrols the city and acts as policeman, judge, jury and executioner rolled into one. Dredd is the most capable and the most feared of all the judges, and he's always at the front line when Mega City One needs protecting. The 10 volumes I've read (though there are 21 available so far) chronicle Dredd's mission to protect the city against all manner of apocalyptic threats, while dealing with crime on the street that you could barely imagine if John Wagner hadn't done it for you.

The earlier volumes mostly contain the more traditional, often straight-faced sci-fi stories written in multiple parts, such as The Cursed Earth Saga, The Judge Child, and The Apocalypse War. They're exciting, classic, and full of admittedly zany British comics humour influenced by the more traditional comics of the time. There's also a strong sense of pastiche as Dredd fulfills a traditional bad ass, never give up, never compromise hero role despite pretty much being a bastard. The later volumes change the tone of the stories somewhat, shortening the long form stories into typically one or two part strips. There's an increased focus on comedy, more satirical and blacker than ever before. It would take a far better deconstructionist than I to properly analyse the development of Dredd in relation to John Wagner's views of society (which, by the time of the contents of Volume 10, was deep into Conservative political territory), but there's no doubt Wagner's authorship improves over the years.

With so many more volumes to read, I'm not entirely sure if I'll make it to the end, simply because I've already been suffering from Dredd fatigue. I'll almost certainly be buying volume 12 though, as it marks Judge Dredd's first foray into colour; a very welcome addition by this point, as the heavy black inks only offer limited detail and add a massive dose of extra repetitiveness. The other nine volumes (so far) may have to wait. Still, despite my complaints of over exposure I can only say that, individually, each volume is of great value; they're massive, and fairly cheap by typical standards. They're also very consistent in quality, though the fact remains that there's a fairly specific niche aspect to the satirical elements that, thirty years on specifically, might not be particularly obvious to non-Brit readers without reference points. 

That's enough comics talk for now. Especially since I originally planned on doing this all in one post, and completely failed. More comics talk soon, probably around 2052 or so.

L-Space 4- The Mega-Powers Explode

Like everyone surely is, I have the tendency to display some rather obsessive-compulsive behavior if you catch me at the right time. It's kind of sat on the boundary of eccentricity, looking over the edge into the abyss of possible madness, possibly developed through a lifelong exposure to modern culture as it rushes past at an incredible rate. For me, I've latched onto obsessiveness through order in regards to the excessive amount of it I consume through movies, music, books, comics, and (my biggest, nerdiest obsession) pro-wrestling. I love that stuff.

For years now I've kept really basic lists of books, movies and TV shows I've read and seen, and my iTunes music collection has been meticulously ordered. I have these completely unrealistic expectations that I'll be able to eventually get around to watching all the classic films I've never seen, and I'll hear every classic band I ever felt intrigued by. It's worse with literature though because I know I'll never feel satisfied until I've read everything I ever wanted to and everything I've never heard of that I might love. It's impossible because I probably won't live for another million years.

It's really very annoying when I come across a book that I really want to read for various reasons, but just can't get into it. I don't really have a problem quickly giving up on your everyday garden-variety book, but when it's a recognised classic it turns me in to a bit of a book emo. In case your wondering, the book that inspired this quick rant was Letters from the Underworld by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Admittedly it's not one of the great Russian's most well-known works, but instead is a small novella.

 

I've never read any Russian literature before. It had been a conscious decision to stay away from the genre because I felt sure that my first taste would lead me on to more and more, and I'd be picking up that many more books to add to the pile. So it felt like a personal moment of sorts when I started reading, chosen simply because of its short length making consumption quicker. The problem was I couldn't find the right mood to read it, meandering through the first few pages without really latching onto it.

I had to abandon it because I knew that otherwise it would sit in limbo forever. In the meantime I binged on graphic novels- completing The Complete Judge Dredd Files Vol. 10, The Walking Dead Book 1, The Boys Vol 7 and Alan Moore's Nemo- Heart of Ice- to my great pleasure. I'm massively tempted to write about them at greater length, but then I'm getting dangerously close to six paragraphs as it is, and I'm lazy. I might do a series review of Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series (to which the aforementioned Nemo is the latest release) at some point, but the weight of the Discworld series is going to take up my non-random thoughts, non-latest reads posts.

Which reminds me, I should probably go write a Lords and Ladies review. After that it'll probably be back to Chuck Bukowski again.

L-Space- The Glass Cabinet

My review of Small Gods is tumbling out of control, as previously unknown stores of real effort have been accessed by my brain for some reason, so it's going to take me a little while. In the meantime, I've been buying books again because I can't help it. I just have so much nerdy fun hunting for these things in small little shops that I gave up on trying to limit it a while ago. So, in the spirit of vague organisation, the contents of the glass cabinet in my room are...

Haruki Murakami- After Dark, Dance Dance Dance & Underground- The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche

I've been a fan of Murakami for years now but since I tend to have little focus on what I'm going to read next, it's taken me a long time to get near the end of his bibliography. These are the final three of his widely available novels, though there are a couple more early ones from different publishers available online too.

Cormac McCarthy- The Border Trilogy- All the Pretty Horses, Cities of the Plain & The Crossing

While I've not given up on really enjoying Cormac McCarthy, I have come to realise that, despite how much I liked The Road, he's never going to become a favourite author. His famous Border Trilogy is the most well-known of his work that I haven't read, and I picked the three books up very cheaply a while ago. The problem is if the first book ends up being like Blood Meridian then I'm just going to give up on it completely and give them all back to the charity shop, especially since there's so much else I have to read.

Sam Kean- The Disappearing Spoon
Alex Boese- Elephants on Acid and other Bizarre Experiments
Bertrand Russel- ABC of Relativity

I'm enjoying more and more non-fiction recently, and I've always wanted to know a little more about science, though only if the book entertains me enough because I'm fickle. I've also wanted to read a bit of Bertrand Russel for a while, and that happened to be the first book of his I saw.

George Orwell-  Burmese Days & Homage to Catalonia

I've read Homage to Catalonia before, but that was a while ago and at the time I didn't get anything out of it. I love Orwell and so I feel the need to rectify that by reading it again. Burmese Days, meanwhile is his first novel, and the only one left for me to read for the first time.

Phillip Reeve- Mortal Engines

I think some young adult fiction can be brilliant, and I haven't read any in a while. This was recommended to me and I'm pretty hyped for it.

Chris Ayres- War Reporting for Cowards
Jon Ronson- The Men Who Stared at Goats

Back on the non-fiction trail, on more of a military track. I've really got no interest in that sort of thing for the sake of it, but these seemed like interesting books on their own merit.

Simon Garfield- The Wrestling

I've read this before too, back in the legendary Aberystwyth Town Library. It was great, and I'm a big pro-wrestling nerd, so once I saw it again I snatched it up.

Charles Bukowski- Women & Notes of a Dirty Old Man

I've only read one Bukowski novel, Post Office, but it's one of those times where you read an author's work for the first time and you just know you're going to love everything he's ever done.

Jack Kerouac- On the Road

Read this years and years ago, didn't quite get it. The new film came out last year and I wanted to reread it before I watched it. So far I've done neither.

Alex Garland- The Beach

During my first year at University (the year where your final mark doesn't count towards the degree) I had questions come up on this book during an exam, and I hadn't read it. Passed by one mark. Should be interesting.

Terry Pratchett- Dodger

I didn't particularly enjoy Nation, Pratchett's previous, recent non-Discworld book, so I don't have my hopes up too high for this. But perhaps I shouldn't doubt Sir Terry.

Truman Capote- Breakfast at Tiffany's & In Cold Blood
Herbert Selby Jr.- Last Exit to Brooklyn

Both authors who I'm very keen to start reading for the first time.

Paul Auster- Moon Palace

As I did with Murakami, I've been going slowly with Auster despite him being one of my favourite authors. I don't know anything about this book except that he wrote it, and therefore I want to read it.

W. Somerset Maugham- Cake and Ale & The Magician
Oscar Wilde- Complete Shorter Fiction

Grouped together because they're both very well respected classic English authors, and I'm slowly going through their work. I'm intruiged by The Magician and the character of Oliver Haddo, particularly thanks to Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series.

George R.R. Martin- A Song of Ice and Fire 05- A Dance with Dragons 01- Dreams and Dust

I've been holding off on this for a while now, simply because it's so damn long it's going to take an age to get through.

David Nicholls- Starter for Ten

I like the premise but I have no experience of the author and he's of the type I'm usually suspisious of because I'm a hipster.

Jorge Luis Borges- A Universal History of Infamy & Dr. Brodie's Report

Collected short stories from a very famous author who I have very limited experience of. These two very short collections should be a good introduction.

Carlos Castaneda- The Eagle's Gift & A Seperate Reality

All I know is that they sounded really interesting and that episode of The Simpsons where Homer trips out for twenty minutes is kind of an homage.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky- Letters from the Underground
Euripedes- Madea and Other Plays
Jean-Dominique Bauby- The Diving-Bell & The Butterfly
R.K. Narayan- The Guide

A few world classics that I'll probably enjoy to varying extents, but I always enjoy finding out and forming an opinion.

Kobo Abe- The Face of Another

I first read a Kobo Abe book (The Woman in the Dunes) about seven years ago. I loved it, and decided that I really wanted to read more. This is how long it takes me to do anything. Seriously though, Japanese literature is something I want to explore a lot more,

Russel Hoban- Amaryllis Night and Day

I literally have no memory of buying this, nor can I exactly work out why. Actually, it's probably all the review quotes on the cover.

Gore Vidal- Messiah

Because he died recently and this looked interesting.

Pierre Boulle- Planet of the Apes

Classic French science fiction from the 1960's that also happens to be Planet of the Apes? How could I not buy this?

Phillip Pullman- The Good Man Jesus and the Soundrel Christ

The man who wrote the His Dark Materials trilogy will forever have my undying respect, and if he wants to re-write the story of Jesus Christ then by God I'll read it.

Anthony Storr- The Dynamics of Creation
J.A.C. Briwn- Techniques of Persuasion

These two are both Pelican paperback non-fiction, as part of a series identifiable by their bright blue back covers. I've read a few in the past and some can be fascinating, it's kind of a gamble since I have no idea who the authors are. These are both analytical philosophy, or so they look. If they're crap, I'll give up on them quickly.

Christopher Marlow- Faustus
Goethe- Faust

Published in one very nice-looking classic hardback edition, I wanted to read Faustus again because it was the very first thing I studied at University. Goethe's equally famous version will be interesting.

Judge Dredd- The Complete Case Files Vol. 10
The Boys- Vol. 7
The Walking Dead- Book 1
Nemo- Heart of Ice

That's my current graphic novel to-read collection. I've been reading the former two at a slow pace for a year or so now, but I couldn't resist waiting to finish The Boys before starting The Walking Dead, especially after the third season of the TV show reignited my interest. Nemo, meanwhile, is the newest installment in Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series.

I think that's it all covered. I'm more intimidated now than anything else.

L-Space 3- Season of the Witch

What's that, another week gone? I'm getting old. I had sat down to write another review in the perpetual Discworld series, but when I realised the next book to write about was the eleventh, Small Gods, I very quickly gave up. I love that book, it's easily my favourite Discworld book of them all- although in the Terry Pratchett bibliography top spot it constantly fights with the fantastic Good Omens, co-authored by Neil Gaiman- so I don't want to do it an injustice with my usual improvised ramblings. So instead I'm going go with my usual improvised ramblings and do an L-Space thing, which is an unimaginative title that I'm lazily sticking with.

On the book front I finished Absolute Sandman Volume 3 and it was brilliant, as is the whole series. I also started and finished the gothic horror classic (that I'd never previously heard of) The Devil's Elixirs by E.T.A. Hoffman. Published all the way back in 1815, it appealed to me as part of a genre I explored (or, more honestly, was forced to study) back in my student days, and it's on the full review pile now. Continuing the horror theme on into more contemporary settings, I've just started Richard Matheson's seminal fifties vampire novella I Am Legend, which I'm reading many years after I saw the Will Smith film. I liked the film, mostly, and I'm enjoying the book so far.

I'm always fascinated by book-to-film adaptations, and there's no shortage of them. The most notable of late (to me, anyway) was the Ang Lee-directed $120 million budget adaptation of Yann Martel's Life of Pi. If you don't want to read my full review, I basically said that I loved the book as a smart and spiritual piece of contemporary fiction, but I wouldn't put too much hope in the cinematic adaptation, which I would see as soon as it came out at the cinema. I didn't do that, because I'm full of lies and deception (alright then, laziness). Actually I rarely go to the cinema nowerdays, with the rare exceptions of going to see comic book franchise films, because it's really expensive and I'm the reincarnation of Ebeneezer Scrooge.

Thankfully though, Life of Pi on the big screen was a world away in quality from some of the more awful book-to-film adaptations I've been interested in, such as the deeply personal insult that was The Golden Compass or the treatment of Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Essentially what's delivered here is a very faithful treatment, both literally and thematically, making the film safe from the most condescending reviewer objection of them all; deviating from the plot of the book. Personally I'm happy to keep and open mind about that sort of thing, since it's sometimes a necessary result of the nature of adaptation. The Lord of the Rings films had plenty of positive changes, I feel, such as the removal of the ridiculous Tom Bombaldi character, while The Golden Compass, the adaptation of the first of Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials, felt totally gutted by its changes. But then again, the total subjectivity of the topic is summed up by the fact that I love His Dark Materials and I didn't particularly like the Lord of the Rings books.

But all of this is a roundabout way of saying I had no reason to unreasonably dislike Life of Pi, and I really enjoyed it. I'm no movie reviewer with technical terms and stuff so I'm not going to waffle on about why it was good because I don't really know. The special effects were sparkly and the Pi was well represented as both intelligent and emotional and as a quirky idiot in the way I saw him as in the book. Richard Parker the tiger looks amazingly believable at all times as co-star too, menacing and elegant in equal measure. Basically I enjoyed this film so much that I knew I needed to seek out another film about a young Indian boy fighting for his life against a Bengal tiger...

My favourite Disney movie from childhood, it's been a while since I'd seen The Jungle Book, but it quickly reasserted its status. I couldn't resist mentioning it on my blog because it is technically a literary adaptation, but obviously it's so far removed from the original tone of Rudyard Kipling's novel that it's not worth analysing as an adaptation. It is, though, the coolest movie I've ever seen. The famous King Louis scene and song is amazing. I know most people generally prefer either the really old Disney films or the late 80's-mid-90's renaissance, but those from this era appeal to me most because they're so (for lack of a better word) cool. I couldn't resist watching Robin Hood almost straight after. I'm planning on going on a Disney binge over the next year or so, so this probably won't be the last you hear of me rambling on about kids films for a while.

Until then I'm going to cut this short because I started writing it about a week ago and I still haven't finished it. But now I have.

L-Space 2- Back in the Habit

Worst cover ever?

Hello everybody (all three of you), and apologies for going on an unintended sabbatical from my book reviewing blog. I haven't lost interest in the project, it's just that I've had a much busier month than I expected. As well as working full-time across six days February was also the month of birthdays and valentines; with my girlfriend's birthday being the day before Valentine's Day. Oh yeah, and we got engaged. So I've been distracted....

I don't think I can scramble my thoughts coherently enough right now, on my lunch hour from work (-edit- not any more), to write one of the three proper reviews I've got lined up, so I'm just going to ramble on about some thoughts for a bit until I get bored. Let's start with this; I'm currently reading a 'cool' textbook sort of thing called Introducing Postmodernism (by Richard Appignanesi & Chris Garratt, from Icon Books ltd.), which is all about deconstructing the messy 'genre' of postmodern art, literature and language. I'm not going to do a full review of that because it's just not that interesting to write about, but I will say here that the authors and artists involved do a decent job of trying to simplify and explain the slippery subject for a fairly new audience. I'm kind of okay with postmodernism thanks to some past academic study and quite a few books, but I learned a lot here. Recommended if it's something you're researching, although I haven't finished yet.

Another thing I've just finished reading that I find way more interesting and I'm still not going to review is the Absolute Sandman Volume 3, which is an over-sized, deluxe, extra-filled hard slipcase collection of Neil Gaiman's 90's Gothic comic book masterpiece. I made the decision not to review comic books when I started this blog simply to make it easier to keep up (although it is very tempting), but if this was going to be a full review then it'd be full of superlatives. I absolutely love The Sandman, and these self-indulgent editions are the perfect way to enjoy them. DC Comics Absolute editions are always very, very nice, but also rather expensive and so I would only recommend buying one if you're already sure you love the comic. I've got three others, Absolute Sandman Volumes 1 & 2, and Absolute V for Vendetta. In the meantime, I'm currently collecting two other series as well, Garth Ennis' brutal comedy The Boys, and The Complete Judge Dredd Files. The latter is ongoing, and I'm ready to start volume 10 of more satirical bad-ass sci-fi. I'll probably write more about comics in the future in some form.

For the Discworld fans out there, not only have I got reviews of whatever the next one in ther series is (I should probably already know which one that is... hang on... it's Small Gods, which, spoiler alert, is my favourite one), I also just read Terry Pratchett's A Blink of the Screen- Collected Short Fiction, so that's on the reviewing list. Finally, not long ago I re-watched each of the Sky1 Discworld adaptations (Hogfather, The Colour of Magic, & Going Postal). If you haven't seen them, then they're three hours long but split into two parts each, and they're all very faithful adaptations. The Hogfather was released first about five years ago as a Christmas treat, and it's a pretty good piece of work, but not great. It's hampered by some poor performances and a kind of stylistic uncertainty.

The Colour of Magic is a slight misnomer, as it's actually an adaptation of both that and The Light Fantastic. Starring UK TV favourite David Jason (who also played the much smaller part of Alberto Malich in Hogfather) as Rincewind, this was a big improvement on Hogfather, mostly because the performances are so much better. The budget still looks a little small (probably a lot smaller than it actually was) in comparison with Hollywood movies, and that's not helped by the sheer scope of the story. When you've got a script with translucent battling dragons, indescribable demon creatures from another dimension, and a 100-foot tall angry mountain troll you know you're in trouble.

Going Postal is amazing, from beginning to end. Telling a much calmer, smaller-scale story centered almost entirely in Ankh-Morpork clearly allowed the creators far more freedom and license to really stylize the look of the city; it looks fantastic, a kind of Victorian steampunk London crossed with every other random influence Terry Pratchett ever felt and included in his books. The performances are all excellent, and the story is funny and interesting, although it didn't need three hours to tell.

That's about it. My pile of books to read still grows faster than I can tackle it. I haven't bought a book in about a week though, so I think I'm doing pretty well. Until next time...

Trapped in L-Space...

Today I feel like writing stuff, but I couldn't be arsed with the concentrated attention (well, attempted) required for a proper book review, so instead here's what you might call a normal blog post, where I'm going to ramble on in a self-absorbed manner until I run out of steam. It's like an adventure, and we're all in it together. Anyway, I managed to catch up a little on my list of things to review, though there's always the danger of quickly adding to it by getting absorbed in a new book. It actually makes it easier to keep this blog updated when I'm labouring through something that I don't particularly enjoy but feel like I have to finish. I had that with A Feast for Crows and then John Updike's Marry Me, which is a pretty small book but took me ages. Here's a preview of my eventual review (it's third in the queue right now); I didn't like it. Right now I'm reading Haruki Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart, which won't take long to devour because I'm addicted to Murakami's writing; and running dangerously low on unread material.

The real problem is the to-read pile, which is more literally a to-read cabinet. I'm wary of looking over and counting the actual number because it's out of control now. Sometimes I do look at it, and each time I spot something I don't remember buying. It's giving me the nagging feeling that I've opened up a hole into L-Space. I think there's about forty paperbacks sat in the cabinet, plus four I haven't bothered putting in, plus Judge Dredd: The Complete Case Files Vol. 10, plus my yet-to-be-delivered copy of The Absolute Sandman Vol. 3, which was kind of a Christmas present to myself, because I'm generous like that.

The thing is, as I've mentioned many times in my blog, I can't resist a second-hand book shop. While I occasionally get tempted by Amazon, almost every time I'm in town I check out one of the two shops I like, and usually they've got something for around £2.50 that I like the idea of reading at some point in the far future, so the pile keeps growing. Plus, the thing with charity book shops is that if you don't grab it when you see it then it won't be back in stock when it's gone.  There's even a few things that I've grown less fond of the idea of reading, like Cormac McCarthy's complete Border Trilogy. If I don't like the first one, they're all getting kicked out of the pile. Just not literally because it is actually a glass cabinet.

But as overgrown as it is, I do love having this ever-expanding personal library to pick from, and it's going to give me plenty of material for this blog, as long as I don't let the laziness slip in. I've got a review of Douglas Coupland's Generation X to do next, and I'm always tempted to get back to the Discworld, especially with the next installment being a Granny Weatherwax episode in Witches Abroad. Ah well, back to the real world...