Ha Ha Ha

I have recently read three very funny but wildly different books: Wigs On The Green (Nancy Mitford), Sexually, I'm More Of A Switzerland (David Rose) and When God Was A Rabbit (Sarah Winman).

Wigs On The Green has been out of print for decades and has only just become available again in the last few months. It is a pre-World War II satire on Nazis and fascism and political fervour, so it isn't hard to imagine a few raw nerves being touched. I found it curious; in some ways it is even fluffier than Mitford's other novels, yet the underlying sentiment is far more serious than this lightness might suggest. It is definitely worth doing some background reading on it first, at least the introduction which in my edition is written by Charlotte Mosley. I really like the idea of deadly serious messages being delivered in seemingly flippant ways, and by making certain characters and ideas appear utterly ridiculous, Mitford does this splendidly. The book's biggest flaw is that it's too short.

I've been reading the other two books simultaneously, because Sexually... is a collection of personal ads from the London Review of Books and therefore something to be dipped into. I'd really like to read a section of the personals in the paper itself, to get an idea of how typical these ones are. They are sometimes completely bizarre, often hilarious and at other times totally incomprehensible. Really, the best thing for mw to do is give some examples:

This advert may well be the Cadillac of all lonely hearts adverts, but its driver is the arthritic granddad with a catalogue of driving convictions. Arthritic Granddad (67) with a catalogue of driving convictions including "Driving whilst trying to turn the dang wipers off", "Driving whilst wondering if his urology appointment has come through", "Driving whilst "Hey! Isn't that where your Aunt Maude's first husband lived after the divorce came through? He's settled in Jersey now. I could never stand him - he used to do this thing with his teeth..." " Would like to meet someone who knows how to stop the oven from beeping. Box no 9729

I walk the line between indifference and, meh, whatever. If you're going to write do it quickly. The OC is on in half an hour. Woman. Thirties. Box no 5710

The finest mind in the academic world conceived this ad, but it was his secretary who took two and a half hours out of her day to collate his angst-ridden ramblings, phone the LRB and pay for it with her own money. He's basically looking for an affair with a twenty-something idiot tart who needs good grades. I'm looking for a better job, a decent pension package, and a man to 50 who's great in bed and doesn't make condescending comments about every damn book I read. Man, 57. Or his secretary, 43. Box no 1207

Casanova began his career as a librarian. I've begun mine as a museum curator, which is more or less the same thing except it involves old bones and stuff instead of books. And there is a designated picnic area in a museum whereas libraries don't like you bringing in food. And we have fun maps you can colour in as you go around. And help points for the disabled. Man, 24. Museum curator and potential Casanova. Box no 7971

To be honest, it almost makes me want to be single so I can give it a crack.

And now to When God Was A Rabbit. Funny, funny, funny! Yet also terribly sad and beautifully written. It is Winman's first novel and she really is an excellent writer with a fantastic ability to draw characters. There were several awkward moments when I laughed out loud while reading this book in public. There is a lot of sub-par writing out there, so I find it really heartening to read something of this quality.

Strike Two!

My second teen book! It was Tortall, a collection of short stories by Tamora Pierce. I just loved her stuff when I was a teenager and it was fantastic to go back to her work and realise that I still love it. Some of the stories left me wanting to know and read more which is a frustrating aspect of short stories, but also the sign of a good writer being able to hook you in on very little.

While I was reading it, and enjoying the rich imaginary worlds and nicely rounded characters, I realised that the reason I often don't like teen fiction is that it seems to me to be somewhat anaemic. Perhaps because younger readers are not expected to pick up on subtleties of character, structure or style they are often absent. It is possible that I am being unfair, given the very small sample size I am basing all this on, but I figure blogs are supposed to be all about ill-informed agro rants so I might as well go with it.

Another Big Tick area for this book goes to the strong female leads. At times it is a tiny bit too obvious (pssst: HERE IS A GIRL, DETERMINED TO DO SOMETHING NONE OF THE VILLAGERS THINK SHE IS CAPABLE OF. What will happen?), but generally, I think it's fantastic and certainly something I remember as being a large element of my enjoyment in reading the books when younger.

I think it's a real shame there aren't more books for teens of this calibre available, especially for girls, although I read a lot of adult fiction as a teen because of this situation and maybe that isn't such a bad solution. Speaking of adult fiction, I am going to stick to that for a while now.

History: It's All In The Past

In the last few weeks I have been on a huge non fiction bent. Tallboy and I have been reading A History of The World In 100 Objects (Neil MacGregor) together for several weeks now, and we reached object 100 last night. It was so informative and incredibly easily digestible. The range of objects discussed includes Japanese pottery, Mayan figurines, early scripts and examples of money. Each chapter is complete in itself, and many of them grapple (and succeed) to explain big leaps in the development of humankind; through the objects in question. It was fascinating.

Apart from this slow and steady bedtime read, I set aside much of my time last week to read a dear friend's Doctoral thesis. It was an interesting process for me; the intensely close reading that was required (in order to catch the odd typo) made it a rather challenging read. I didn't initially appreciate how much longer it would take me than something I would read purely for enjoyment. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it. The content itself was interesting, and I loved reading well constructed and beautifully flowing sentences that were written by someone I know!

I bookended my reading of the thesis with The Chocolate Wars by Deborah Cadbury. I have had my eye on this book for a while (it was released some time before Christmas) because I love chocolate, and I also love Deborah Cadbury's writing. She's able to pull the quirky, meaty wheat from the chaff of historical detail while making it all sound as though she's having a chat with you over a cup of tea.

Cadbury is indeed descended from the Cadbury chocolate makers and either because of the family ties or because they just happened to be more interesting, the Cadbury empire is at the heart of this book, with smaller amounts on the other chocolate behemoths such as Hershey, Mars and Nestle. It's hard to tell if there is a family bias at play or not. Much of the book focuses on the Quaker ideals of the Cadbury family and of other Quaker chocolate families (such as Fry and Rowntree). These companies all began by manufacturing and selling cocoa as a wholesome alternative to alcohol. Cadbury writes about "Quaker capitalism" and the charity and socially inclusive visions of the Cadburys, which lead to several grand initiatives including a garden village for the factory workers.

The book is chock (haha) full of much more than recipe development and marketing wars which is precisely what makes it such a great read. Cadbury uses the model of her forebears to gently critique capitalism today, and the premise of companies that think only of short term financial gain. I will add to my recommendation that of a cantankerous, notoriously difficult to please regular customer at our shop with exceedingly high standards for quality reading material: She reported yesterday that she is enjoying it!

Tried, But Failed

My recent reading experiences seem to be all about Not Finishing. I am OK with that. I started reading Let The Great World Spin by Colm McCann. I could tell after reading about a tenth of it that it was beautifully written and excrutiatingly sad. I decided that I had read enough to get the experience I needed from it. I don't want to sound flightly, but I just couldn't deal with another sad book, even if the payoff was a beautifully written story.

I also gave up on the first Kate Morton (The Shifting Fog) after quite a solid attempt of about 130 pages. It pleases me to know that her writing has improved with leaps and bounds in each of her books, but that doesn't mean I want to suffer through attempt number one. It irritated the hell out of me, I think because there was a LOT of first person narrative and it was bad and unconvincing and trite.

The Nancy Mitford I mentioned in my last post, Don't Tell Alfred was all I hope it would be; a confection of a book. Reading it was like drinking a beautifully fragrant cup of tea. Mitford's writing reminds me of my Grandmother which adds to my enjoyment. I don't have a single negative thing to say about this book so I'll stop now to prevent gushing of embarrassing proportions.

Crime, Punishment, and Reward

About a week ago, I finished reading The Lake of Dreams by Kim Edwards. It was a perfect January read. Even though I myself am not on holidays, everyone else seems to be and things are slower and more relaxed. I guess the phrase "holiday read" can therefore be applied. This book was about a woman in her late 20s who returns to the town of her childhood for a visit, after having lived away for her entire adult life. I loved the mood, the constant descriptions of water, and summer breezes. It also spoke to my experiences of coming "home" to something that isn't home anymore, but sort of is at the same time... and trying to figure out what is home and what is memory. The foil of finding old letters that reveal family secrets is beginning to get a bit tired for me but this wasn't too clunkily done; it was almost believable.

Although I was totally immersed in The Lake of Dreams, I found once I had finished it that it marked a further step in a long line of fiction reads, and I was more than ready for something tough and factual. So I dove right in and began reading The Case of The Pope, Geoffrey Robertson's examination of whether the Pope could be, or indeed ought to be, charged with crimes against humanity for the Catholic Church's child sex abuse scandal. I am about 10 pages from the end and it is tough going. He writes well and engagingly but the subject matter is horrific and upsetting and anger inducing. Additionally, some of the legal details are of necessity dense, but Robertson manages to keep them readable enough to persevere. As a result of reading this book my views on the Catholic Church have moved from indifference to anger. This is most definitely a book I think everyone should read. Nevertheless I am looking forward to my reward after the hard slog, which is a recently republished Nancy Mitford. Lovely, delicious, witty, fluffy delight awaits!

A Rag Tag Bunch

Despite my personal goal of posting here at least once a fortnight I notice a month has passed since my last post. Oopsie. In consequence I have a an odd mixed bag of books to blog about.

Yesterday I finished another Mary McCarthy: A Charmed Life. The book has a sense of impending sadness and desperate hopelessnesss running through it; reading it is like watching dark storm clouds gathering overhead. The way McCarthy builds this momentum is impressive. It is so gradual as to really only be noticeable in the last couple of chapters but the final paragraph is still a hell of a shock. The ending is like a mighty crack of thunder and it left me sad, shaken and pensive.

McCarthy is a fantastic writer. She is Richard Yates as a feminist with a social conscience. Several times I almost forgot what I was reading and thought it was something by Yates. I suppose it is the language they use coming from a similar geography and time period. Yet while Yates seems to write the same morose, self-pitying story in each of his novels, McCarthy's work manages to illuminate richer and more diverse characters while simultaneously developing themes (for example: double standards between the genders) worthy of further exploration.

Moving backwards through time, the penultimate book I finished was Romanno Bridge by Andrew Greig. It's a crime novel and the mystery at its heart is a tangle of half truths and rumours surrounding the Stone of Destiny that was stolen from Scotland by the English army in the 13th century. The theory that the stone placed in Westminster Abbey was a fake sets off a hunt for the true stone. There is a lot of drama, a bit of violence and a couple of car chases. An engaging story, but my main quibble would be that far too much time is spent in reference to events in a previous novel by the author. They could have been dealt with less cryptically in order to provide some back-story for the characters. It got a bit tiresome after a while and seemed irrelevant. But it was like a fly buzzing - a very minor irritation that didn't matter overall or seriously mar my enjoyment.

And finally: Backwards In High Heels; The Impossible Art Of Being Female (Tania Kindersley and Sarah Vine). It has taken me about a year to read this book. Although it becomes a bit prosey and autocratic in places, for the most part is was a comforting, calming, delicious delight. It isn't really designed to be read in a single stretch but I did read it all in order, albeit with several rather long hiati (hiatuses?) between sessions. It was funny and sweet and generally quite astute. It also has a few recipes in the back and the one I tried the other day was delicious.

Speaking of recipes, I am browsing my way very slowly through a few cookbooks while reading other stuff. The two that keep ending up in the bedroom are The Cook And The Gardener (Amanda Hesser) and The Country Cookbook (Belinda Jeffrey). These two books are a lovely, soothing type of read. They are both in the format of a year long journal about food and cooking. Interspersed with the recipes is an almost-story of the surrounding environment, changing seasons and further musings about food.

Last night I adapted Jeffrey's "Slow-Cooked Red Capsicums and Tomatoes" by adding some ling fish, preserved lemon and black olives. I've cooked one or two things from Hesser's book as well, including a great thyme, leek and goats cheese combo which has practically become my signature dish so I know that these books are useful as well as pretty. Just like me!

Milestone!

I have just read a book in a day, which always makes me feel like a superhuman over-achiever. It was a teen fiction novel by John Stephens called The Emerald Atlas, which apparently is getting rave reviews overseas but is not going to be published in Australia until next year. Reading young adult or junior fiction has been an obstacle for me for quite a while now. I know that it is something I ought to be reading, at least a little bit, but it just feels that much less exciting than other stuff. And having spent so long studying, the thought of reading as a duty or a chore is spectacularly unappealing. So... yay me!

Now on to the book itself: I enjoyed it. The basic structure seemed a bit like overused carbon paper - three siblings, missing parents, a prophecy, a magic book... sort of a Harry Potter /Lemony Snickett mashup. Once that issue has been dealt with though, it's a great story. It isn't at all heavy-handed on the "teen issue" front but it does show children being capable. So if you are aged between about 10 and 14 I suggest you give it a shot.