Mostly Surprisingly Good, Actually!

And another thing...... The long awaited sixth volume of the Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy trilogy, written not by Douglas Adams (obviously, yet still, after all this time to get used to it, bitingly sadly) but by Eoin Colfer of 'books I haven't read' fame, is that rare thing - a book which totally exceeds all expectations. Ok, my expectations were low - I wasn't wild about the previous two books in the trilogy (apart from the Rain God, I bloody loved him) and I didn't really like where the narrative had ended up. Let's be honest - I much prefered the radio stuff with the Lintillas and the wise old bird who sounded like Sergeant Wilson and the shoe event horizon. And since that didn't make it into the books I was pre disposed to be annoyed with them.

So, to recap - geeky fan girl but with a chip on her shoulder about something silly, and therefore low low expectations. The 'books I haven't read' thing was hardly a selling point, either. I do totally realise it says something about me and nothing whatsoever about anyone else.

Recent experience (see the blog post about Unseen Academicals) was also not providing good omens. Perhaps some series aren't too good to end. Perhaps Dr Who genuinely is the only thing that could and should go on forever.

Lowered expectations are clearly a Good Thing when it comes to book enjoyment. 'And another thing......' wasn't fabulous. It was no 'Life, the universe and everything.....'. There were no Paul McCartney running gags and no cricket allusions. There was no real baddy. There were no lines as memorable as all the ones we used to quote at school. No vogon poetry. No digital watches. Not a lot happened. There was no Marvin, Ford was reduced to a cypher and Agrajag didn't die at all.

And yet, and yet.......I really enjoyed it. I did. It felt comfortable, and it felt credible. I laughed out loud while reading it. I might actually start saying 'appease the cheese'. Possibly. I love Thor. And the shoe event horizon got an oblique mention. So- there's hope yet. There will surely be a sequel, and that is clearly an episode begging to be woven into the book narrative.

But, I'm sorry, Marvin absolutely has to return. Destroy Earth as many times as you want - but the android must live. Without him Arthur and his motley rag tag of friends, acquaintences and daughter are all just too damn cheerful!


-- Posted from my iPhone

Time No Longer.......

Tom's Midnight Garden was one of the first books which gripped my attention, slapped my brain around a bit and refused to ever ever let go.

I have very vivid memories of the first time I read it. I was in Mr Stevenson's class, in the second year juniors (what we call year 4 these days). I selected it as my book, from the library shelves, and sat down to do my ten minutes of reading. I didn't get up again for the rest of the day (I may have got up to visit the loo, I suppose. I definitely skipped lunch). Luckily for me, Mr Stevenson was a good teacher. He obviously realised there was no point in dragging me back to my desk.

I loved that book so much. From the vantage point of today it's obvious why - it hits the wibbly wobbly timey wimey target dead centre, with some force. I suppose that is one of the reasons I loved it - but not the main reason, I think.

I really identified with Tom. So lonely, so isolated, so desperate for a friend. I felt a bit like that, in the second year. Sadly, I couldn't cross the timelines and I never heard a grandfather clock striking 13.......such an evocative image, though. This was before The Deadly Assassin was broadcast, so I had no particular associations with grandfather clocks, but the imagery still resonated with me.

At heart it's a straightforward tale of time travel - Tom, a young boy staying with slightly reluctant (he assumes) and boring relatives because of qurantine, in a dingy flat, longs for a garden to play in and a friend to play with. Hey presto, a mysterious clock with the biblibal phrase Time No Longer inscribed on its face strikes 13 instead of 12 one night. When he investigates, Tom steps back in time 80 years or so, to the time when the building in which he is staying was a big house with a big garden.......inhabited by, among other people, a small girl, lonely, bullied, unwanted by her relatives and longing desperately for a friend to play with........Nobody but Hattie can see Tom. But who is real, and who is the ghost? And will time let them be or is it playing tricks on them.....

TMG is a beautiful little tale of loneliness, longing, friendship .......and the damage that time can inflict on relationships. Abandonment and loss are just as central to the book as anything else - but ultimately, friendship and love can transcend even time. I always cry when I reach the end of the book, and Tom and Hattie are reunited. I like a good cry, obviously - but it's a lovely moment.

Since I first read TMG I have re-read it many many times, seen the TV and film versions, and the stage adaptation - all of which I would recommend. But the book is, for me, the best iteration of the story. Every time I re-read it, for me also there is Time No Longer, and I'm a small girl again discovering how addictive and compulsive books can be - and reminding myself that there's more to wibbly wobbly than a blue box with dodgy windows.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Disappointed................

No, not the wonderful Electronic song of the same name - the way I felt after reading Unseen Academicals, the latest Discworld book from Terry Pratchett. It just didn't do it for me in the way most of the other books in the series have done(bar the witchy ones, until they joined up with the main narrative).

Vetinarii had some nice moments - but that was all they were - moments. Rincewind got a walk on part but really, why did TP bother? I think we are all over Rincewind now, and his absence isn't a running sore of sadness for those of us who loved him - but to bring him back to essentially a two minute cameo in which he is no more than a cipher - what was the point of that? Vimes got a name check, and Angua got one scene - again, frankly why did TP bother?

If this book proved anything (other than that TP doesn't really understand footy at all. It's come and have a go if you think you're hard enough. Not the other thing) it proved that the Wizards can't drive a Discworld story any more. Ridcully, Stibbons, the Librarian - as things stand, they have gone as far as they can go. If TP wants a book just about them, then fine, I'm sure it will be great - but to have them as the backdrop for yet more new characters....nah. That seam is all mined out. Whereas the Watch, I think, is still full of potential. Such a shame it was basically ignored for this outing. Especially as that sidelined Vetinarii. Vimes (and Moist, for that matter) are worthy ........contenders for Vetinarii. Ridcully, funny though he used to be, just isn't. Even though he can, one supposes, do magic.

It's such a shame. I've been a fan since the beginning. Well - since The Colour of Money was published in paperback, anyway. So, well more than twenty years. And I'm loyal, me. But......I was really looking forward to this book. And now, if I'm honest, I regret reading it. I regret bumping other books down the waiting list to make way for it. Because I don't think it was worth the effort.

Sometime, sometime soon, I'll remind myself why I love the Discworld. But today is definitely not that day. Today I'm ......disappointed.

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever...

There are some songs that, the minute you hear them, you know you will love them all your life. And you know that your life will be better, forever, because you have heard them.



Now, me, I know from gloomy. Anyone who knows me knows that, if nothing else, about me. And sure, I love me some gloomy songs. But the songs that win a permanent place on the soundtrack of my life are always the joyful ones. The ones that make my heart sing. The ones that get me dancing round a grotty Berlin hotel room the minute I power them up on Last.fm or youtube or my ipod. The ones that make my soul explode with happiness, despite my prevailing mood. The ones that make the sun come out on even the blackest day. The ones that remind me why music is the only thing that can transcend any gloom, even my Olympic standard efforts. The ones which put a smile on my face anytime, anyplace, whenever I play them in my mind.

I'll be honest - this isn't an exclusive group here. My 'happy tunes' playlist has over 150 entries at the latest count. I don't care, I'm not ashamed. That moment when everything goes 'whoosh', the diminished chords kick in and the world is a happier, more hopeful place, will always be better than any drug for me.

This version of The Waters of March, by Akiko and Corinne Drewery is a perfect example. A world with this song in is a Good World.

The Elephant in the Room

Me? I'm saying nothing........



















-- Posted from my iPhone

The one where Sharpe sticks rigidly to a winning formula. And, you know, wins. Again.

Sharpe is clearly a Jaggaroth. Or similar. Finally, I've worked out what's going on. But let's hope the centuries that divide him aren't undone for a while yet. It's all being too much fun to come to an end.



According to the coming soon (but not yet!) board in my local Waterstones on Saturday, Bernard Cornwell's The Burning Land was expected to be available for sale on 1 October. Luckily for me, nobody told Amazon so I had already received my copy by then.

Yippee! As I've mentioned in previous blog posts- I'm a bit of a fan of Bernard Cornwell's books (even before I made my Jagaroth recognition breakthrough). Primarily because he sticks to a formula, and it's a formula that, with one caveat, I like. And I love Sharpe. Which is lucky, because he's always there, starring in every book, whatever name he's going under this time. If in fact he's not a jagaroth then there's something very odd going on.

This latest episode in the Alfred The Great themed saga (The Lords of the North series) presses all the right buttons. Two big battles - one at the start, one at the end. A new Big Bad - this time a Danish woman, Skald. A very very bad baddy. We know this because the first time we meet her she has just had someone skinned. Ouch. The Obadiah character, Father Asser, (strangely in the background in this series) does his usual bit of baddy manipulating. Sharpe (Uhtred of Bebbanburg) continues to nurse his feelings of righteous injustice while being a military marvel. Oh if only he had a rifle. But the shield wall will do. And at least swords have names. Rifles don't. Sharpe/Uhtred loses yet another wife. This is sad. To lose one wife/lover is unfortunate. To lose one almost every book.........careless. Or heartless on the part of Cornwell. The thing is - those deaths don't bother me any more. The tactic has been way, way overused. I invest precisely nothing in Sharpe/Uhtred's latest shag since I know she will be around for one book at most. That's the bit of the formula that I think has stopped working.

Other than that though - this latest book is, like all the others before it, what book reviewers call a rattling good read. Fast paced, engrossing, lots of highpoints and punch the air moments, a very good baddy, excellent supporting cast (the version of the chosen men we have in these books is very good - there's even a Harper analogue). My favouite supporting character, Ragnar, seems marked for death in the next book though. Which will be very sad, if my suspicions ate correct.

At the end of the book we have the familiar and reassuring Uhtred will campaign again. A nod to the notes at the end of the real Sharpe books. Or a clue to the true nature of our spaghetti headed hero?

The thing is - if this isn't all a convoluted romp through time and space.........much as I love the Alfred books, I want Sharpe. Proper Sharpe. With, you know, rifles. And green jackets. And Harper. And it very much looks as though that's what Cornwell really wants to be writing. I just wish he would, again.

-- Posted from my iPhone

Oobee doo............

I wanna be like you........



Actually, I don't just want to be like the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet (ALSQ) I actually want to actually be the actual them. Oh yes.

Even though they are all men of a certain age.

Their technique is fearsome. Their artistry is formidable. Their bravery and innovation is groundbreaking. I'm not a recorder player because of the ALSQ - I'm a recorder player because of the fickle (fast) finger of fate (and isn't it wonderful, sometimes, how that works out?). But the ALSQ have given me another reason to want to be a better player, and another reason to be glad of the opportunities I get to play now. And a reason to continue to aspire to be better.



And they do have a seriously cool name, also.