TMINE

Holiday book reading awards

I’m back. I think. Let me check.

Yes, I’m back, returned from the birthplace of Zeus and frequent haunt of Noel Edmonds. Gone from 37ºC down to 17ºC in one fell swoop with only a mild tan as compensation. Curses.

As you might expect, I got through plenty of books on my sun lounger and I thought I’d give out a few awards to them.

The “worst book written since we evolved from slime molds” award: Run, by Jeff Abbott
“Why don’t I try one of those holiday reading books? That’ll be fun,” I says to myself as I trawl through Waterstone’s in my lunch break. “Ooh, ‘The Bourne Identity for the 21st century’. That should be good.” Oh, how mistaken can one man be? Don’t get me wrong – it has a cracking plot. Absolutely ludicrous black ops/secret organisations/man caught up in the middle of it all rubbish, but it does get through the requisite thrills and spills in its allotted span. It’s just that yes, up and down the country, there are slime mold writing groups that can come up with better dialogue and better written paragraphs than Jeff Abbott can. Physically painful to read at times, it’s also bound so cheaply that a clump of pages fell out before I’d even got to the end of the book.

The “Really? He’s still writing them?” award: Making Money, by Terry Pratchett
Not having read any Pratchetts in about 15 years, I thought I’d tune in to see what they were like these days. Turns out, the joke count’s about the same, but the number of pages in each book appears to have tripled in the last 25 years so oddly less satisfying. Some interesting ideas, but ‘Adora Belle’ could do with a few more dimensions. I suspect this was a sequel of sorts, too. Not bad though.

The Whimsical Alan Bennett novella award: The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett
Really rather lovely book about what would happen if the Queen suddenly became an obsessive reader. As much a comedy as a treatise on the power of the written word to change people.

The Socrates award for corrupting the nation’s children: Gods Behaving Badly, by Marie Phillips
After being enjoyed by all, our paperback copy got placed on the reading exchange pile for others to enjoy. Whereupon it was picked up by a 13 year old girl. We tried to stop her and warn her that it wasn’t for innocent kiddies, but… How do you take your hemlock, Marie?

The Déjà Vu award: Angry White Pyjamas, by Robert Twigger
Not that I’ve ever been to Japan to train in aikido with the Japanese riot police, but I spent the whole book thinking “Christ. This is all a bit familiar.” It turns out that martial arts instructors and students are pretty much the same all over the world – ie full of characters, some of them quite nutty. Great fun though, particularly if you’re a martial artist of any variety. Just sort of peters out at the end, though.

The ridiculously overwritten but still interesting award: The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver
Lovely wife and I both agreed that while this Sliding Doors style plot was very interesting – there are two chapter twos, etc, to investigate what would happen depending on a particular choice – the whole book should have been half the length, except Lionel Shriver’s verbal diarrhoea took over and made it slightly tedious to read. Ended up having to explain what “ersatz”, “geodesic”, “fungible” and “obsequious” mean to poor lovely wife whose sun lounger came without a dictionary for some reason. Plus, show don’t tell, Lionel. It really is so important.

David Byrne and Brian Eno – back together again

After 30 years, Brian Eno and David Byrne have got together again to collaborate on a new album Everything That Happens Will Happen Today. Through the mighty miracle of the Internet (and assuming I’ve not screwed up too badly), you should be able to listen to the whole thing using the player below. Enjoy!

In case you want to go mobile, you can also buy it from their web site to play back on your MP3 player – there’s an MP3 you can download for free, too. Enjoy that, too.

Monday’s suddenly cold and wet post-holiday news

Film

Theatre

British TV

US TV

Holiday time

It’s that time of year again: Rob’s vacation. Yes, I’m off to sunny climes for a fortnight and will be coming back on the 18th. Until then, no blogging of course, since I won’t have so much as an iPod with me.

The Daily News will resume on the 18th, assuming there is any news, but since everyone else is off on their hols during August and I’m going to be busy, too, I’ll be on reduced blogging output until the end of September.

If you’re going away, have a nice time; if you’re not, guard the place and help any lost souls who wander here.

Bye for now!

Review: Doctor Who – The Death Collectors

The Death Collectors

Casting’s a funny old game, isn’t it? You can ruin a production with it, or make it a triumph. You can make thousands flock to it, or send them running for the hills.

Take The Death Collectors for instance. It’s been sitting on my metaphorical shelf for the best path of a month now, glowering at me sinisterly. I say sinisterly purely because it’s a Sylvester McCoy story and I find them about as appealing as an emergency tracheotomy performed with a Pizza Hut knife and coke straw. This one doesn’t even have Hex (or, shudder, Ace) to make it slightly more appealing.

Oh, but what’s this? Katherine Parkinson is the guest star? The sort of red-headed one with the nice voice off The IT Crowd?

Ah. Now, I really think you should have made more of that Big Finish. Maybe written it in giant letters across the cover and relegated Sylvester McCoy to the small print perhaps?

Pass me my iPod…

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