Christmas reading
Jan. 4th, 2008 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
altarielMy Christmas reading seemed to consist chiefly of books about people going or being mad. I finally got to the end of The Golden Notebook, which seems to have taken YEARS to finish – not that I wasn’t enjoying it, just that the end never seemed to get any closer, in the manner of radioactive half-life or something. With eighty pages to go and departure from the house for Christmas imminent, I resorted to slicing the book down the spine to take the unread portion, rather than drag 500+ pages of read novel with me.
Lessing dispatched, I read Poppy Shakespeare, by Clare Allan, on loan from someone in my writing group. It explores the relationship between N., a long term patient at a mental institution and new arrival Poppy, who insists she is sane. A fast read, but very well done, particularly the form Poppy has to fill in to claim her MAD money. Extract and review.
Next up was one of my Christmas presents, Wish Her Safe at Home by Stephen Benatar, a curious and frankly disturbing first person account of a woman who inherits her aunt’s house in Bristol, moves into it from London, and promptly goes crackers. It was first published in 1982, and has just come back into print: apparently the author has been doing a great job promoting it in bookshops throughout the south-east (and in fact this is how it was sold to the friend who bought it me for Christmas). Fascinating introduction from John Carey about how he regrets not making the case for it as a Booker judge that year. Short review (which does Persephone Books a slight disservice, since they do reprint books written by men, if the subject matter matches their criteria).
When I got back home I reread Ballet Shoes, to see how much of the plot I had forgotten while watching the new TV adaptation, which turned out to be not much. I thoroughly enjoyed the adaptation – particularly Victoria Wood, Richard Griffiths, and Harriet Walter. (The Somerville romance between Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith was discussed: "Is that true?" my viewing companion asked doubtfully. "It is now," I said.) Yasmin Paige was smashing as Petrova, and Emma Watson was not disastrous cast against type as talented young actress Pauline. (Miaow!) Poor Mrs Simpson, though, sacrificed to give Marc Warren Grief and therefore Character.
Now I am reading the pile of Phryne Fisher novels that I bought with my Amazon vouchers. This current one has anarchists in it. Anarchists! I hope they turn out to be good; they’re getting a bad press in the narrative at the moment from Bert and Cec.
I have David Thomson’s The People of the Sea part-read. A collection of Gaelic folk tales about seals (or, rather, his journeys collecting them), it is far too poetic not to take my time over it rather than crashing through. I have Germs, Guns, and Steel and Collapse by Jared Diamond out of the library, but frankly I’m wondering whether life is not too short.
Lessing dispatched, I read Poppy Shakespeare, by Clare Allan, on loan from someone in my writing group. It explores the relationship between N., a long term patient at a mental institution and new arrival Poppy, who insists she is sane. A fast read, but very well done, particularly the form Poppy has to fill in to claim her MAD money. Extract and review.
Next up was one of my Christmas presents, Wish Her Safe at Home by Stephen Benatar, a curious and frankly disturbing first person account of a woman who inherits her aunt’s house in Bristol, moves into it from London, and promptly goes crackers. It was first published in 1982, and has just come back into print: apparently the author has been doing a great job promoting it in bookshops throughout the south-east (and in fact this is how it was sold to the friend who bought it me for Christmas). Fascinating introduction from John Carey about how he regrets not making the case for it as a Booker judge that year. Short review (which does Persephone Books a slight disservice, since they do reprint books written by men, if the subject matter matches their criteria).
When I got back home I reread Ballet Shoes, to see how much of the plot I had forgotten while watching the new TV adaptation, which turned out to be not much. I thoroughly enjoyed the adaptation – particularly Victoria Wood, Richard Griffiths, and Harriet Walter. (The Somerville romance between Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith was discussed: "Is that true?" my viewing companion asked doubtfully. "It is now," I said.) Yasmin Paige was smashing as Petrova, and Emma Watson was not disastrous cast against type as talented young actress Pauline. (Miaow!) Poor Mrs Simpson, though, sacrificed to give Marc Warren Grief and therefore Character.
Now I am reading the pile of Phryne Fisher novels that I bought with my Amazon vouchers. This current one has anarchists in it. Anarchists! I hope they turn out to be good; they’re getting a bad press in the narrative at the moment from Bert and Cec.
I have David Thomson’s The People of the Sea part-read. A collection of Gaelic folk tales about seals (or, rather, his journeys collecting them), it is far too poetic not to take my time over it rather than crashing through. I have Germs, Guns, and Steel and Collapse by Jared Diamond out of the library, but frankly I’m wondering whether life is not too short.
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Date: 2008-01-04 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-04 09:27 pm (UTC)