How does this happen?

Already, already it is mid-November. How has it been a month since my last entry?

A quick update on what I've been reading recently, to be followed by some choice top tips about the how to behave in a bookshop:

I've just started a book entitled Calories and Counting. It's a history of dieting from the Greeks onwards, and so far, it is amazing. It'll be on the recommends table at work in January (when it is to be published). Profile Books are a super lovely publishing company too, so I'm glad to support them in whatever little way I can. I'm due to write a review of a novel called Q: a love story for Harper Collins too. I really must crack on with that - the novel is good - I never knew that Freud had spent his early career studying eel genitalia - but not wonderful. Not as wonderful as The Tiny Wife, which is a very short work by Andrew Kaufmann, which I finished at the start of the month. I also re-read Lolita and was once again amazed, simply amazed.

Here are some bookshopp etiquette tips in case today if a bookshopping day for you:

1. Customers: it's fine if you buy all your books from Amazon, but don't expect there to be any bookshops in ten year's time. And that's fine, if that's how you want it. But browsing in a bookshop only goes so far, and certainly not far enough to pay the rent. As found out the owner of The Travel Bookshop, a beautiful indy in Notting Hill.

2. Just because I work in a shop, I am not stupid. Have you read Ulysses? Five times over? We can have a brain off if the answer's 'yes', but otherwise, for now, accept that I do have a brain and I buck the 'retail = stupid' stereotype.

3. People who come in and buy the 'Life in the UK' book: I don't actually make the decision. You are all lovely, as a general rule, and I'd let you all stay, but it's not up to me, sadly.

4. Please do not let your kid/grandma vomit/shit in the bookshop. It feels excessive to state that this is not acceptable.

5. Do not assume that because I work surrounded by books that I must have necessarily read them all. Why would I read a David Nicholls book? Why would I read Sophie Kinsella? Why would you assume that my cultural opinions are in some way lacking for not having done so?

6. Please do not get pissy with me when I tell you that the book you want is out of print. I do not print the books.

....there'll be more to follow. There are always new breaches of behaviour occurring, and I'll notify you as and when they do.

Posh Bingo

On Tuesday night, Julian Barnes was awarded the 2011 Booker Prize for his novel A Sense of an Ending.


On Monday night, I went to see five of the shortlisted authors (there were actually six on the list but Barnes wasn't there) read from their works, talk about them, and then take questions from the floor (I do like that expression, as though one can 'take' a question as one takes tea or the newspapers). The event was hosted by Tom Sutcliffe, who is a journalist for, not least, the Guardian. The talk was at the Institute of Engineering and Technology, which I mention in particular because it is a fantastic venue. No microphone runners here! All the armrests have little flaps on them: lift them up and hey presto, a microphone. Wonderful. Only at the IET. Also of note is the fact the I met the publisher for the Granta title, The Sisters Brothers on the way in. He complimented me on my choice of bag (a Granta one, naturally) but unfortunately we didn't have time to chat and I didn't have a chance to ask him for a job later. If you're reading this: I was wearing the pretty green-with-sparkles-on cardigan, and I'm pretty sure you spotted me taking notes.

Carol Brich's Jamarach's Menagerie sounded fine, but there was no spark to it; she reminded me a lot of Jill Dawson reading Lucky Bunny a month ago ('The Book Stops Here' post, September). Patrick de Witt (The Sisters Brothers) was sexy and nonchalant and deadpan and aloof and I liked him, and the book, greatly.  Esi Edugyan was fine, but hardly remarkable; the same was true of Stephen Kelman (though his novel is, I think, a far greater one than hers). Finally, A D Miller was excellent. Thanks to him, I now know the meaning of 'snowdrop' in Russia: the term is used to describe a dead body that is buried under the snow and is found when the snow thaws. Only from a former foreign correspondent.

So the author bit was all fine, and then came the questions from the floor - hardly the best questions ever, but they were fine ('Have you read each other's books?' is hardly the cutting edge of culture). Thus ensued discussions of 'voice', first person/third person narrative, use of slang, authenticity, 'readability', cultural acculturation and mortality. This final part of the evening was by far the most exciting. And how long does it take to write a Booker-shortlisted novel? On average, two and a half years. Best get cracking.


My little piece above has been less than passionate. To be honest, the shortlisted titles were all so odd that I haven't really engaged with the prize at all this year. I found a first edition of the Julian Barnes at work an intend to buy it tomorrow. A fiscal relationship with the prize is probably the most sophisticated response I can manage. Well, thank fuck it's over for another year.

On Comments

Hello Readership

I feel that's a reasonable address. Why? Because I KNOW that people are reading this. I know that because blogspot has a clever little stats thingy, meaning I can see how many people are looking at this, when they are, and where they are too (as in 'where they are looking at the blog' not just 'where they are'. It's not that creepy.). Hell, I even know what browser most of you are using. I know, for example, that at four o'clock this afternoon, 8 people looked at this, the majority of whom were using Firefox.

It would be really helpful if you would leave comments. You may do so anonymously if you wish - but any sort of feedback would be good. If you want to slag things off, that's also helpful, criticism being the mother of improvement, but like any floozy, I'm highly receptive to compliments.

Thank you

xx

A dreaded sunny day...

(Hurrah to everyone who recognises that subject line.)

It's been two long weeks since I've updated, but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about books and, indeed, reading them. I finished Barbara Ewing's The Circus of Ghosts recently (having been given a free copy by the publishers - thanks). I'd really recommend it. I think it's the follow-on novel of a previous title, but I only realised this when I was flicking through the list of Ewing's other titles. Anyway, if it is a sequel of sorts, it's not lacking at all. Except that the plot is a bit distracted at times, but I think that's more to do with Ewing that its sequentiality. Sometimes I wasn't sure if this was a Dickensian reconstruction of London life (which it does extremely well), a mock-up of hectic New York tenements (also done very well), a fictionalisation of mid-Victorian science (again.....), or a love story (stories, would be more accurate). Even if Ewing never quite decided what her novel was meant to be, it was enjoyable nonetheless. For a book to require zero effort is normally bad thing for me, but Ewing's book was an unexpected delight. One for the mums, I think.

I finished that Murakami proof, and my review is forthcoming. See, it's such an excellent novel that I really want my review to do it justice. I'm a bit of a slow thinker and writer, so it'll take me a bit of time to draft something that I think does it justice. Also, it doesn't come out until October 18th, so it's not like there's any rush on that.

I'm now reading Antal Szerb's Journey by Moonlight, from which I am expecting excellent things. As I understand it, if he had been an Anglophone writer (actually born Hungarian) he would easily be recognisable within the Anglophone canon. Because of his outsider status, he's taken a bit long to make his mark. Thus far, just 53 pages in, I can utterly see that he's far more gifted with words than most Anglophones are. With thanks to the Pushkin Press for publishing this!

For the future, I am hoping to do the following: write something about Auden (I got chatting to someone about him recently, and that reminded me how much more there is to him that just 'Stop all the clocks'); I'm hoping to read some Saramago, as, for professional reasons, I'll be going to an event about him; Lolita and Catch 22 will both be re-read, for Frances Wilson's book group at Somerset House (entitled 'How to become ridiculously well read in one year').

Sorry there are no pictures this time, but a boring list can only ever be that, illustration or no.

Keep reading, kids

x

The Book Stops Here #1

Last week I went to an evening called 'The Book Stops Here' .

I have been meaning to go to this night for months, since about February. But due to a series of jobs that involved dastardly night shifts, I could never make it. I finally made my way to TBSH last Monday, and it was a lovely 'celebration of finishing MA' night out. The premise is this: three of four writers are introduced by the (lovely) hostess; she praises them, and then hilariously cuts them down by reading out Amazon reviews (though of course these  reviews are generally indicative of the societal aptitude of the person writing them, rather than the literary talents of the writer in question). The writer then reads an extract, we all clap, we all buy expensive drinks, and repeat!

Tom Rachman was first on the bill. He was a lovely bloke: warm, affable, and told amusing anecdotes about his time as a journalist. We've sold a silly number of his book The Imperfectionists, but I've of course not actually read it. It was a delight to hear. 'World's oldest liar dies aged 126': Rachman has a real sense of character, a dry style, and his personability was really well reflected in his delivery. He did at times run a little too dry, though, but maybe it picks up over the course of the novel as a whole. Verdict: I won't buy it, but I'll get it from the library. (In honour of Emma's decision to read an awful Amazon review, I have decided to add the least flattering Google Image result available):

(Of course this is not unflattering in any way. I didn't investigate the link between Tom Rachman and mid-90s Brad, but I'm sure it's a salacious one.)

Then there was a break to squeeze past all the trendy people and go to the loo, and the privilege of paying four quid for a (small) cider. Oh, Soho, what are you doing to me?

Next up was Jill Dawson, reading from Lucky Bunny. This was a low point in the evening; I found her voice quite mesmerising, which sort of sent me to sleep at times. The extract she read wasn't great - people sitting around a table talking about clothes has to be pretty bloody good to be captivating - but I could identify certain themes and topics that I imagine would be quite fun on another reading: scandal, social aspiration, backstabbing and so on (has Soho actually changed at all since the '50s?). The cover of the book is absolutely lovely, and to be fair, Dawson does conjure up something quite glamourous and delicious about the whole thing. But on a windy Monday on a side street in Soho: no. Verdict: First, Middle, and Last Chapters only.

NB: This is not the real Jill Dawson. It's not me, either.

OH MY GOD, AND THEN THERE WAS ALI SMITH.

(Look, look, look will you, at that mischievous smile!)

Forgive the uncharacteristic syntax. Ali Smith is one of my favourite contemporary writers, and I was so incredibly excited to see how her prose (edgy, frentic, staccato) might fare in performace. She read an extract from her most recent novel, There But For The. She's just a wonderful, wonderful public speaker. She absolutely works her rhythms until they seem almost autonomous - her prose almost goes on without her. But not quite - irreverant and fun and sexy as her style is, you always feel safe with her; her experimental style never trips over itself, never clumsily falls down, never makes you think she's anything less than a brilliant, instinctive, yet utterly craft-driven writer. I should have done some fan-girling when we were finished, but due to some exciting work-related things, I'll probably meet her in another context quite soon. Thus I decided to stay professional.


It was a great night all in all - I'll definitely be back there next month. The venue itself was perfect (maybe only 100 capacity) and everybody had a seat. The website is: http://bookstopshere.wordpress.com/.

Book Crossing

Book Crossing is something you may already have heard of; it's the sort of thing that occasionally makes it into the bookish pages of broadsheets and lifestyle columns. If not though, the premis is thus: each book has a BookCrossing ID; when you've read the book, leave it in a public place for someone else to find; they can then log the book on the site, with their review attached; and you watch a beautiful literary journey unfold. Pretty neat and kooky, right?

So, there I was in a book exchange (I have no idea why it's called this, given that you pay for the books) in Notting Hill, and I found a book by one of my favourite writers: Ever After, by Graham Swift. (I've started the book, and I'm pretty busy right now and can't give it my full attention, due to essay crises, but suffice to say it's about a disaffected academic who recently tried to kill himself, and is battling between love and intelligence - it's right up my street!)

Anyway, flicking through the book I found that it had a BookCrossing ID: 651-3540751. Here is its history:

Oddly, I used to live just five minutes away from that very phone box (though not in 2005). I have no idea why the book is categorised under 'teens'. The site is pretty ugly, but they can work on that.

More to the point, the lack of Crossings makes me wonder, more than most books I buy second hand, about the journey the book has had.  Did the person who 'released' (what an odd verb to apply) have a particular person in mind, who they thought might pick it up? Has it been sitting in the Notting Hill bookshop since early 2006? (Certainly, the book was reduced from £3 to £2 to £1 to 50p, so that's a possibility!) Who gave it to the bookshop? Surely that it utterly against the ethos of the site  - and, as soon as I read the description - I felt complicit in a system that keeps knowledge and beauty (the difficult relationship between both is something that all Swift's novels contain) away from people, rather than encouraging them to read. If I saw a book left on a bus, I'd definitely read it - and take it home to continue reading - but would I ever give the book back to the public who gave it to me? I don't think so. I love owning books - who doesn't? - but the idea of not sharing the book also offends my sense of the importance of sharing books. Unfortunately, I think this situation is self-perpetuating - of course people are most likely to keep the books they enjoy the most, thus encouraging more shit to be shared, rather than more life-changing stuff.

I've not yet finished the book. What will I do when I do? I'd like to think I'll send it back into the wider world, so that someone else can enjoy. As a snippet from the New York Times says on the site, 'if you love your books, let them go': but is this too hard, as in the real life relationships that they parody, to do? From a cursory scan of the site, it seems to be very popular in mainland Europe. Maybe the continentals are more lovely than us?

EDIT: I wrote this a few weeks ago - some time in mid-August. I finished the book pretty quickly. I enjoyed it; as such, I won't be 'releasing' it back, because I want to own it. Anyway, isn't that what libraries are for? I don't feel bad about keeping the book. Bookcrossing is far too idealistic; the organisers have failed to acknowledge the weaknesses of their intended audience.

You should definitely read Ever After, but just not my copy.

Dear Joyce

Hello! It's been a while. I missed you (and I hope you missed me too).

My Joyce project has been handed in, but that doesn't mean it's over - I think there's much more material (geddit? cos it was aboot fashun, ken?!) in it still. But it is handed in, meaning that I've now time for an internship at a literary organisation, while doing the bookshop thing for a few days a week. Though, as ever, I am on the lookout for a better job (I pro-rata'd up my salary the other day and it's really not much at all. Boo.)

I've had so many thoughts of things to write about, but just not the time, so that will of course be amended soon. I got a proof copy of the new Murakami novel the other day (pub: 18th October) so that's my priority.

Anyway, over and out! xx