Following a little note from a USophile (or is that USophile as a name?) making a public thanks for those works of liberal progressiveness produced by the United States of America, it seemed apt to record here that Cloud and I spent much of the long weekend period (Thursday to Sunday) indulging in The West Wing Season 5 on DVD. Thought-provoking stuff, even without Aaron Sorkin over-seeing the proceedings. Complex characters - not always likeable; flawed opinions; intentions versus political realities versus the effects on individual lives. All tackled deftly. Do we do anything remotely similar over in the UK? We can sometimes get comedic satire right, but this combination of drama, comedy, thriller-narratives AND politics...? I don't think we do. House of Cards? I loved A Very British Coup --- and it was certainly in the same league for quality of writing --- but to have that combination of approaches?
On another note regarding cultural works, I am also living up to my promise to start re-reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman books, which remain as intellectually challenging and visually stimulating as ever. Have just finished re-reading Dream Country, which, as stand-alone stories, probably offers newcomers an easy road in. Then again, it doesn't allow readers to be swept into the Sandman story - Morpheus, Oneiros, Dream - or that of The Endless as a 'family'. And that seems a great shame. Start where you like, but if you have an interest in history, myth, the telling of stories, religion, dreams, or just already like narratives told with images (as well as words), then do get hold of The Sandman. It's worth the investment.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query sandman. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query sandman. Sort by date Show all posts
Monday, May 09, 2005
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Quote of the day: 30 September 04 from Sandman
"-What power would hell have if those imprisoned here would not be able to dream of heaven?"
Dream to Lucifer and the citizens of Hell, in Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman.
The series of books by Neil Gaiman entitled Sandman are amongst the most intelligent and literary in the genre of "graphic novels". The book, The Quotable Sandman, ably demonstrates this and I have no problem in recommending these texts to anyone seriously interested in philosophical contemplations of life, the universe and mythology.
Dream to Lucifer and the citizens of Hell, in Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman.
The series of books by Neil Gaiman entitled Sandman are amongst the most intelligent and literary in the genre of "graphic novels". The book, The Quotable Sandman, ably demonstrates this and I have no problem in recommending these texts to anyone seriously interested in philosophical contemplations of life, the universe and mythology.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Play review: The Tempest RSC touring production
A key benefit of having a friend who works in the theatre business is that it is very handy for getting word of and to see great shows. Mucho ta!
Four of us went to see the current RSC touring production of The Tempest at Nottingham's Theatre Royal (rest of this week and then at Sheffield - go see it if you can get a ticket!)
This version of The Tempest produced in association with South Africa's Baxter Theatre Centre is a visual spectacle and is also aurally incredible. Puppets, music, masks, singing: it was a sensual treat.
I confess that it is not a play that I know well - Bloody Peter Greenaway's Prospero's Books didn't help warm me to the text, although the elegant ending to Neil Gaiman's Sandman books* thankfully did. But this production certainly made me want to read the play proper.
Sher as Prospero is brilliant - as you would expect an actor of his calibre to be - but his equivalent John Kani as Caliban (and perhaps even more so Kani's son Atandwa as Ariel) were astonishing. A sumptuous feast full of verve and delight, real magic and spectacle. A complete privilege to experience.
* I've done my annual re-read of The Sandman this weekend -- and it felt rather apt to end on 'The Tempest', issue 75 at the end of the finale volume 'The Wake' just as we went to see this RSC production. Neil Gaiman and all your compadres: I salute your brilliance.
Four of us went to see the current RSC touring production of The Tempest at Nottingham's Theatre Royal (rest of this week and then at Sheffield - go see it if you can get a ticket!)
This version of The Tempest produced in association with South Africa's Baxter Theatre Centre is a visual spectacle and is also aurally incredible. Puppets, music, masks, singing: it was a sensual treat.
I confess that it is not a play that I know well - Bloody Peter Greenaway's Prospero's Books didn't help warm me to the text, although the elegant ending to Neil Gaiman's Sandman books* thankfully did. But this production certainly made me want to read the play proper.
Sher as Prospero is brilliant - as you would expect an actor of his calibre to be - but his equivalent John Kani as Caliban (and perhaps even more so Kani's son Atandwa as Ariel) were astonishing. A sumptuous feast full of verve and delight, real magic and spectacle. A complete privilege to experience.
* I've done my annual re-read of The Sandman this weekend -- and it felt rather apt to end on 'The Tempest', issue 75 at the end of the finale volume 'The Wake' just as we went to see this RSC production. Neil Gaiman and all your compadres: I salute your brilliance.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Funny eh?
I was just looking back at a previous book-related meme I responded to in April 2005, where I muttered I was due for another re-read of the Sandman books.
Guess what I was just finishing reading when I went to London recently?
Yep, I was on "The Wake" - the final of the Sandman books as I was just finishing the series again.
Guess what I was just finishing reading when I went to London recently?
Yep, I was on "The Wake" - the final of the Sandman books as I was just finishing the series again.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Book/CD review: The Adventures of Luther Arkwright by Bryan Talbot
I first picked up Bryan Talbot's acclaimed graphic novel* of The Adventures of Luther Arkwright several years ago, having long been aware of its mythical and significant status amongst comics* writers and artists. It is, to put it mildly, a rather odd text: it certainly benefits from re-reading, largely because its complex weaving narrative can be described as rich, dense or, to detractors, unintelligible. It is visually stunning for sure: just absorbing the images can take days of 'reading'. To take in the communicated storyline(s) as well means paying close attention to what is taking place across the pages. (It just isn't possible to talk of Arkwright using panels in the conventional sense of many graphic novels).
All of that could suggest I am less entranced by this particular work than some of my other favoured texts in this genre/media: my love for Gaiman's work, especially The Sandman series, is well established; Ennis and Dillon's Preacher swept me off my feet and made me care especially deeply for the flawed non-heroic Cassidy; From Hell bought to life a compellingly rich (and well-referenced) version of the the Jack the Ripper killings and their context; Speigelman's Maus showed that a serious story could be told in this media (a view that more recently Satrapi's Persepolis reinforced); and so it goes.
But whilst I would acknowledge that I perhaps 'love' some of those other narratives more, Talbot's Arkwright nevertheless remains one of the most wonderfully thrilling and delightfully infuriating texts in the medium. I cannot help but be drawn to it, not just because it is so admired, but because it is so powerful, so enthralling, and so well controlled by its creator. Yes, it is to some extent a product of its time - hell, it was produced long before the concept of graphic novels as we know them were really thought of. But it's futurism, its parallel world narrative, still stands up. Whilst other texts can be relished or swept through at a speed as the reader sees fit, and undoubtedly each can be regularly returned to for repeat visits in order to add fine layers of visual or prose understanding, Arkwright needs - benefits - from more thorough attention at each visit. It has a structure, for sure, but it isn't simple and the early 'chapters' especially made this reader feel like (on first visit) someone was throwing in mental 'oh DO keep up' signs into the narrative grass. But it pays rich rewards for such efforts as you switch between multiverses with a sweeping whoosh sound ringing in your ears, tracking Luther and his telepath companion, Rose Wylde.
So that's the book format version: how the hell do you manage to convey that in an audio dramatised version?
The answer is, from my perspective, very well indeed. I resisted for some time the lure of buying the Big Finish dramatisation of Talbot's seemingly untranslatable narrative, even though it had caught my eye during a trawl of various internet sites including Amazon. Somehow, it all works: the soundscape is fabulous (befitting the work of Big Finish generally) and though a few characterisations were not quite how I heard them in my head, the major roles are wonderfully conveyed. Yes, yes, I know it's David Tennant in the lead as Arkwright (that wasn't, I admit, a discouragement to purchase), but it's a fine performance from him throughout (even if a thousand fan-fics would relish this solely for the chance to finally hear 'him' say "I love you Rose"). Interestingly, I think Paul Darrow (ah, those years of me and my mum relishing his performances as Avon) was absolutely perfect for the malignant incarnation of Cromwell and actually just the person I was hoping for in the role. But best of all it somehow conveys all of the mystery, all of the convoluted and yet controlled chaos of Talbot's storyline with its parallels, its technology, its politics and intrigue.
I listened to parts one and two yesterday and finished listening to part three today. Its three hours long in total and I can't imagine how they could have done it quicker or comprehend the imagination it must have taken to keep track of its narrative. A hearty well done to all involved.
In other words, both are highly recommended (if not for the faint-hearted).
* You'll have spotted that I have used the terms somewhat interchangeably here. Personally, I just think of such works as this, Sandman, and Preacher etc as fine writing with pictures, though it is a genre or medium that lends itself to conveying ideas in varied if particular manners. It is also an approach whose nuances, speed and agility of story-telling can rarely be captured in other forms - such as traditional prose narrative or film - even though several try to translate such texts to alternative media.
All of that could suggest I am less entranced by this particular work than some of my other favoured texts in this genre/media: my love for Gaiman's work, especially The Sandman series, is well established; Ennis and Dillon's Preacher swept me off my feet and made me care especially deeply for the flawed non-heroic Cassidy; From Hell bought to life a compellingly rich (and well-referenced) version of the the Jack the Ripper killings and their context; Speigelman's Maus showed that a serious story could be told in this media (a view that more recently Satrapi's Persepolis reinforced); and so it goes.
But whilst I would acknowledge that I perhaps 'love' some of those other narratives more, Talbot's Arkwright nevertheless remains one of the most wonderfully thrilling and delightfully infuriating texts in the medium. I cannot help but be drawn to it, not just because it is so admired, but because it is so powerful, so enthralling, and so well controlled by its creator. Yes, it is to some extent a product of its time - hell, it was produced long before the concept of graphic novels as we know them were really thought of. But it's futurism, its parallel world narrative, still stands up. Whilst other texts can be relished or swept through at a speed as the reader sees fit, and undoubtedly each can be regularly returned to for repeat visits in order to add fine layers of visual or prose understanding, Arkwright needs - benefits - from more thorough attention at each visit. It has a structure, for sure, but it isn't simple and the early 'chapters' especially made this reader feel like (on first visit) someone was throwing in mental 'oh DO keep up' signs into the narrative grass. But it pays rich rewards for such efforts as you switch between multiverses with a sweeping whoosh sound ringing in your ears, tracking Luther and his telepath companion, Rose Wylde.
So that's the book format version: how the hell do you manage to convey that in an audio dramatised version?
The answer is, from my perspective, very well indeed. I resisted for some time the lure of buying the Big Finish dramatisation of Talbot's seemingly untranslatable narrative, even though it had caught my eye during a trawl of various internet sites including Amazon. Somehow, it all works: the soundscape is fabulous (befitting the work of Big Finish generally) and though a few characterisations were not quite how I heard them in my head, the major roles are wonderfully conveyed. Yes, yes, I know it's David Tennant in the lead as Arkwright (that wasn't, I admit, a discouragement to purchase), but it's a fine performance from him throughout (even if a thousand fan-fics would relish this solely for the chance to finally hear 'him' say "I love you Rose"). Interestingly, I think Paul Darrow (ah, those years of me and my mum relishing his performances as Avon) was absolutely perfect for the malignant incarnation of Cromwell and actually just the person I was hoping for in the role. But best of all it somehow conveys all of the mystery, all of the convoluted and yet controlled chaos of Talbot's storyline with its parallels, its technology, its politics and intrigue.
I listened to parts one and two yesterday and finished listening to part three today. Its three hours long in total and I can't imagine how they could have done it quicker or comprehend the imagination it must have taken to keep track of its narrative. A hearty well done to all involved.
In other words, both are highly recommended (if not for the faint-hearted).
* You'll have spotted that I have used the terms somewhat interchangeably here. Personally, I just think of such works as this, Sandman, and Preacher etc as fine writing with pictures, though it is a genre or medium that lends itself to conveying ideas in varied if particular manners. It is also an approach whose nuances, speed and agility of story-telling can rarely be captured in other forms - such as traditional prose narrative or film - even though several try to translate such texts to alternative media.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Genre meme - belated and shaming
Via lovely EineKleineRob whom I have been shamefully neglecting on my blog visits. In defence he's on a long list of 'I feel guilty' blogs I keep meaning to read each day. So he is in extensive company.
Anyway: this is a list of genre fiction that has been doing the rounds and I thought I would respond to it (as you all know I like a list)
* - read it
Bold - would re-read.
Italics - started / read once
Plain - didn't bother / haven't yet got a round tuit
1. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien - seriously, I've never even bothered. LOVED seeing the films in a single day on a big screen though.
2. *The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien - I was 10.
3. The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien - thought about it. Changed my mind.
4. *Foundation series, Isaac Asimov
5. *Robot series, Isaac Asimov - hey, I can read classic SF
6. Dune, Frank Herbert - life is short
7. Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert Heinlein - I know, I really should have
8. *The Earthsea series, Ursula le Guin - vividly remembered from childhood, I now have a copy in a single volume that I keep meaning to re-read
9. *Neuromancer, William Gibson - didn't really get on with it
10. *Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury - will re-read
11. *The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham - oh yes! Why no Midwich Cuckoos?
12. A Book of the New Sun series, Gene Wolfe
13. Discworld series, Terry Pratchett - (whistles casually, hoping no-one will notice)
14. *Sandman series, Neil Gaiman - am due my annual/bi-annual rereading. LOVE 'EM.
15. *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams - brilliant, but the radio was what bought it to life
16. *Dragonriders of Pern series, Anne McCaffrey - should go back to this as I'm pretty certain I enjoyed what I read.
17. *Interview with the Vampire series, Anne Rice - tried, just couldn't be arsed.
18. The Shining, Stephen King - nope, but freaked by flims and TV, I have generally avoided most SK writing.
19. *The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula le Guin - A while back. Must re-read.
20. The Chronicles of Amber, Roger Zelazny - for shame...
21. 2001: A Space Odyssey, Arthur C. Clarke - loathed the film with passion. Wouldn't feel able to read the book with interest.
22. Rendezvous with Rama, Arthur C. Clarke
23. Ringworld, Larry Niven.
24. Elric of Melnibone series, Michael Moorcock
25. The Dying Earth series, Jack Vance
26. Lyonesse series, Jack Vance
27. The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Unbeliever, Stephen Donaldson.
28. A Song of Ice and Fire series, George R.R. Martin
29. The Worm Ourobouros, E.R. Eddison
30. Conan series, Robert E. Howard
31. Lankhmar series, Fritz Leiber
32. *Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick. - preferred the film, but could see the point of the (very different) novel that inspired it.
33. *The Time Machine, H.G. Wells
34. *The Invisible Man, H.G. Wells
35. *The War of the Worlds, H.G. Wells - I had a period of borrowing classic SF from the library way back and read several times over.
36. Eon, Greg Bear
37. Book of the First Law series, Joe Abercrombie - on my 'to read' list
38. *Miss Marple stories, Agatha Christie - lost track of how many I read...
39. *Hercule Poirot stories, Agatha Christie - ditto...
40. *Lord Peter Wimsey stories, Dorothy L. Sayers - much preferred to AC
41. *The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett - brilliant
42. *The Thirty-Nine Steps, John Buchan - delightful
43. *Sherlock Holmes stories, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - Often re-read these (just missing one volume from the same edition of the books by Penguin)
44. Cthulhu Mythos, H.P. Lovecraft. - sorry...
45. Inspector Wexford stories, Ruth Rendell - tv only I'm afraid
46. *Adam Dalgliesh stories, P.D. James - read several
47. *Philip Marlowe stories, Raymond Chandler - classics of the genre
48. The Godfather, Mario Puzo - friend Helen swears by the book, but I really only know the film version
49. The Day of the Jackal, Frederick Forsyth - adore the film, never bothered with the book
50. The Fourth Protocol, Frederick Forsyth
51. Smiley series, John le Carre
52. Gentleman Bastard series, Scott Lynch
53. The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Steven Erikson
54. *Watchmen series, Alan Moore - read the initial release
55. *Maus, Art Spiegelman - one of the best ever graphic novels
56. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Alan Miller
57. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi - its on the shelf of 'stuff to read'
58. *Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling.
59. Chrestomanci series, Diana Wynne-Jones
60. Ryhope Wood series, Robert Holdstock
61. Wilt series, Tom Sharpe.
62. Riftwar Cycle, Raymond E. Feist
63. Temeraire series, Naomi Novik .
64. *Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis. - charming writing (though it loses something in the perspective of atheistic adulthood)
65. *His Dark Materials series, Phillip Pullman - wonderful and intelligent writing, and also *SOB!* mucho tears
66. Dragonlance series, Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
67. Twilight saga, Stephanie Meyer - wouldn't spit on them to put out a fire.
68. The Night's Dawn trilogy, Peter F. Hamilton
69. *Artemis Fowl series, Eoin Colfer. - Neil has read some of these to me, which has been lovely, but I have read all for myself. Very good fun and Holly rocks!
70. Honor Harrington series, David Weber
71. Hannibal Lecter series, Thomas Harris
72. The Dark Tower series, Stephen King
73. It, Stephen King
74. The Rats series, James Herbert
75. Dirk Gently series, Douglas Adams
76. Jeeves and Wooster stories, P.G. Wodehouse - please do not hate me
77. *The da Vinci Code, Dan Brown - hokum with knobs on. Dreadful prose. Still a page-turner though!
78. The Culture Series, Iain M. Banks
79. The Duncton series, William Horwood
80. The Illuminatus! trilogy, Robert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson
81. The Aberystwyth series, Malcom Pryce. - on the long list of things to read
82. Morse stories, Colin Dexter
83. Navajo Tribal Police stories, Tony Hillerman
84. *The Ipcress File, Len Deighton - many years ago
85. Enigma, Robert Harris
86. Fatherland, Robert Harris
87. The Constant Gardener, John le Carre
88. *The House of Cards trilogy, Michael Dobbs - read in the wake of the TV series, but highly enjoyable froth
89. *The Dark is Rising saga, Susan Cooper - hell yes! Grew up on these
90. Psychotechnic League and Polesotechnic League series, Poul Anderson
91. Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
92. Star Wars: Thrawn trilogy, Timothy Zahn
93. Ender's Game series, Orson Scott Card
94. *Gormenghast series, Meryvn Peake - read the whole lot, but got very bored on the finale
95. Miles Vorkosigan saga, Lois McMaster Bujold
96. *The Once and Future King, T.H. White -definitely a favourite for Arthurian fans
97. Fighting Fantasy books, Ian Livingston & Steve Jackson .
98. The Stainless Steel Rat series, Harry Harrison .
99. The Lensman series, E.E. 'Doc' Smith
100. *The Cadfael stories, Ellis Peters - read several a good number of years ago (inspired by Jacobi)
It strikes me there are a lot of recommended series here, perhaps saying a lot about the nature of genre fiction: revisiting narratives with a twist, creating large worlds with many different aspects generating volumes within the series, even repetition dare I say... Moreover, in many instances these series are made up of a substantial number of volumes or are even ongoing series with no particular 'end in sight'. Keeping up with this list would be hard going for anyone, even before the realisation that 'genre' as a defining term for fiction is incredibly broad. Horror, SF, crime, fantasy... definitions are fraught and several genres seem a little absent here.
Mostly, I'm a bit disappointed that Jasper Fforde doesn't get a look in, and that there are no Laurence Block novels, or Chris Brookmyres. Gaiman is only represented by the Sandman novels, and that overall it's lighter on graphic novels than I might expect a modern list to be. For example, The Preacher series of graphic novels would work very well the straddle the gap in representing Westerns on the list.
Nevertheless, it remains an interesting list with lots to provoke my reading tastes and remind me of things I have been intending to read for some time (I've hovered on picking up the Temeraire series, and the Abercrombie books on several occasions). More to add to the reading pile!
Anyway: this is a list of genre fiction that has been doing the rounds and I thought I would respond to it (as you all know I like a list)
* - read it
Bold - would re-read.
Italics - started / read once
Plain - didn't bother / haven't yet got a round tuit
1. The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien - seriously, I've never even bothered. LOVED seeing the films in a single day on a big screen though.
2. *The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien - I was 10.
3. The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien - thought about it. Changed my mind.
4. *Foundation series, Isaac Asimov
5. *Robot series, Isaac Asimov - hey, I can read classic SF
6. Dune, Frank Herbert - life is short
7. Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert Heinlein - I know, I really should have
8. *The Earthsea series, Ursula le Guin - vividly remembered from childhood, I now have a copy in a single volume that I keep meaning to re-read
9. *Neuromancer, William Gibson - didn't really get on with it
10. *Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury - will re-read
11. *The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham - oh yes! Why no Midwich Cuckoos?
12. A Book of the New Sun series, Gene Wolfe
13. Discworld series, Terry Pratchett - (whistles casually, hoping no-one will notice)
14. *Sandman series, Neil Gaiman - am due my annual/bi-annual rereading. LOVE 'EM.
15. *The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams - brilliant, but the radio was what bought it to life
16. *Dragonriders of Pern series, Anne McCaffrey - should go back to this as I'm pretty certain I enjoyed what I read.
17. *Interview with the Vampire series, Anne Rice - tried, just couldn't be arsed.
18. The Shining, Stephen King - nope, but freaked by flims and TV, I have generally avoided most SK writing.
19. *The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula le Guin - A while back. Must re-read.
20. The Chronicles of Amber, Roger Zelazny - for shame...
21. 2001: A Space Odyssey, Arthur C. Clarke - loathed the film with passion. Wouldn't feel able to read the book with interest.
22. Rendezvous with Rama, Arthur C. Clarke
23. Ringworld, Larry Niven.
24. Elric of Melnibone series, Michael Moorcock
25. The Dying Earth series, Jack Vance
26. Lyonesse series, Jack Vance
27. The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Unbeliever, Stephen Donaldson.
28. A Song of Ice and Fire series, George R.R. Martin
29. The Worm Ourobouros, E.R. Eddison
30. Conan series, Robert E. Howard
31. Lankhmar series, Fritz Leiber
32. *Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick. - preferred the film, but could see the point of the (very different) novel that inspired it.
33. *The Time Machine, H.G. Wells
34. *The Invisible Man, H.G. Wells
35. *The War of the Worlds, H.G. Wells - I had a period of borrowing classic SF from the library way back and read several times over.
36. Eon, Greg Bear
37. Book of the First Law series, Joe Abercrombie - on my 'to read' list
38. *Miss Marple stories, Agatha Christie - lost track of how many I read...
39. *Hercule Poirot stories, Agatha Christie - ditto...
40. *Lord Peter Wimsey stories, Dorothy L. Sayers - much preferred to AC
41. *The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett - brilliant
42. *The Thirty-Nine Steps, John Buchan - delightful
43. *Sherlock Holmes stories, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - Often re-read these (just missing one volume from the same edition of the books by Penguin)
44. Cthulhu Mythos, H.P. Lovecraft. - sorry...
45. Inspector Wexford stories, Ruth Rendell - tv only I'm afraid
46. *Adam Dalgliesh stories, P.D. James - read several
47. *Philip Marlowe stories, Raymond Chandler - classics of the genre
48. The Godfather, Mario Puzo - friend Helen swears by the book, but I really only know the film version
49. The Day of the Jackal, Frederick Forsyth - adore the film, never bothered with the book
50. The Fourth Protocol, Frederick Forsyth
51. Smiley series, John le Carre
52. Gentleman Bastard series, Scott Lynch
53. The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Steven Erikson
54. *Watchmen series, Alan Moore - read the initial release
55. *Maus, Art Spiegelman - one of the best ever graphic novels
56. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Alan Miller
57. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi - its on the shelf of 'stuff to read'
58. *Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling.
59. Chrestomanci series, Diana Wynne-Jones
60. Ryhope Wood series, Robert Holdstock
61. Wilt series, Tom Sharpe.
62. Riftwar Cycle, Raymond E. Feist
63. Temeraire series, Naomi Novik .
64. *Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis. - charming writing (though it loses something in the perspective of atheistic adulthood)
65. *His Dark Materials series, Phillip Pullman - wonderful and intelligent writing, and also *SOB!* mucho tears
66. Dragonlance series, Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
67. Twilight saga, Stephanie Meyer - wouldn't spit on them to put out a fire.
68. The Night's Dawn trilogy, Peter F. Hamilton
69. *Artemis Fowl series, Eoin Colfer. - Neil has read some of these to me, which has been lovely, but I have read all for myself. Very good fun and Holly rocks!
70. Honor Harrington series, David Weber
71. Hannibal Lecter series, Thomas Harris
72. The Dark Tower series, Stephen King
73. It, Stephen King
74. The Rats series, James Herbert
75. Dirk Gently series, Douglas Adams
76. Jeeves and Wooster stories, P.G. Wodehouse - please do not hate me
77. *The da Vinci Code, Dan Brown - hokum with knobs on. Dreadful prose. Still a page-turner though!
78. The Culture Series, Iain M. Banks
79. The Duncton series, William Horwood
80. The Illuminatus! trilogy, Robert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson
81. The Aberystwyth series, Malcom Pryce. - on the long list of things to read
82. Morse stories, Colin Dexter
83. Navajo Tribal Police stories, Tony Hillerman
84. *The Ipcress File, Len Deighton - many years ago
85. Enigma, Robert Harris
86. Fatherland, Robert Harris
87. The Constant Gardener, John le Carre
88. *The House of Cards trilogy, Michael Dobbs - read in the wake of the TV series, but highly enjoyable froth
89. *The Dark is Rising saga, Susan Cooper - hell yes! Grew up on these
90. Psychotechnic League and Polesotechnic League series, Poul Anderson
91. Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
92. Star Wars: Thrawn trilogy, Timothy Zahn
93. Ender's Game series, Orson Scott Card
94. *Gormenghast series, Meryvn Peake - read the whole lot, but got very bored on the finale
95. Miles Vorkosigan saga, Lois McMaster Bujold
96. *The Once and Future King, T.H. White -definitely a favourite for Arthurian fans
97. Fighting Fantasy books, Ian Livingston & Steve Jackson .
98. The Stainless Steel Rat series, Harry Harrison .
99. The Lensman series, E.E. 'Doc' Smith
100. *The Cadfael stories, Ellis Peters - read several a good number of years ago (inspired by Jacobi)
It strikes me there are a lot of recommended series here, perhaps saying a lot about the nature of genre fiction: revisiting narratives with a twist, creating large worlds with many different aspects generating volumes within the series, even repetition dare I say... Moreover, in many instances these series are made up of a substantial number of volumes or are even ongoing series with no particular 'end in sight'. Keeping up with this list would be hard going for anyone, even before the realisation that 'genre' as a defining term for fiction is incredibly broad. Horror, SF, crime, fantasy... definitions are fraught and several genres seem a little absent here.
Mostly, I'm a bit disappointed that Jasper Fforde doesn't get a look in, and that there are no Laurence Block novels, or Chris Brookmyres. Gaiman is only represented by the Sandman novels, and that overall it's lighter on graphic novels than I might expect a modern list to be. For example, The Preacher series of graphic novels would work very well the straddle the gap in representing Westerns on the list.
Nevertheless, it remains an interesting list with lots to provoke my reading tastes and remind me of things I have been intending to read for some time (I've hovered on picking up the Temeraire series, and the Abercrombie books on several occasions). More to add to the reading pile!
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Doctor's Wife: or 'thank you Neil Gaiman for being just brilliant' - Doctor Who episode review Season 6.4
After a twisty alien-filled, timey-wimey, stetson-wearing, River Song shooting, death-orientated opening pair of episodes (complete with Canton's shout-out to RTD era sexuality), last week's Pirate adveneture seemed to please pretty much no-one...
....apart from me (who sat rapt during the whole thing, even though I now acknowledge the Black Spot was as slight a feather boa).
ANYWAY: this week was the week many were dreading as much as desiring. Neil Gaiman was writing Doctor Who.
To say that this was significant is to understate things a bit: a long-term Gaiman fan (I'm due my annual re-read of all 10 volumes of The Sandman pretty soon) this was super exciting. He's a brilliant writer with a clear sense of character and setting to suit almost any type of writing.
The issue in the run-up to this would be could I avoid the spoilers?
Well it turned out to be surprisingly easy: despite buying Doctor Who Magazine each month I just quickly flicked over the pages that referred to this episode, I stuck my fingers in my ears when the 'Next Time' trailer came up at the end of the pirates episode, and I just didn't go on any DW websites I knew would be spoilery.
(I treated myself to reading the 'preview' and interview with Gaiman from DWM this morning and fair rolled at how they tied themselves in knots to avoid spoilering anything).
So ---- be warned: spoilers if you haven't seen it yet, and if not, find it. Watch it. Again, and again, and again. And the full-length Confidential if you can which is a masterclass in 'kisses to the past'.
Neil Gaiman, Suranne Jones and Matt Smith
The Doctor's Wife
In truth, we've all known who the Doctor's true love is for many years (clue: contrary to many fans' belief, it is NOT Rose Tyler). Who does he care most for? What living thing, what truly vibrating thing, has the most heart and soul, whose injury hurts him most?
Of course it's his TARDIS.
So the genius of this episode is that it takes that simple and oh-so-true idea and gives it flesh. Awh. Brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it.
I've sometimes been a little wary of Suranne Jones: she can be a bit 'mumbly' in her diction but here, given screds of gabbling, of (slightly techno-)babble, she manages really well. Her interaction with the Doctor is as one may expect a being to be once given a different physical form: and the ability to speak.
The moment when she wheezes that TARDIS sound and convinces the Doctor of her identity is pure delight.
In other aspects of the story, the 18th-century-esque Uncle and Auntie are straight from the visualisations of Gaiman narratives. And the House is suitably creepy as vocalised by Michael Sheen [that's Michael Sheen, this year's big star Hamlet].
Makes me shudder thinking about its brilliance.
As mentioned, the Confidential was a wonderful collection of 'kisses to the past' - just as I had been thinking how little the Confidentials had recently been using the series history to contextualise their stories. All those little clips! (and yes, it WAS nice to see David Tennant in full TARDIS-love mode).
What I also loved was the readings Gaiman did from his screenplay. Really highlighting the quality and depth of writing.
Oh I'm getting random now but...
Genius!
....apart from me (who sat rapt during the whole thing, even though I now acknowledge the Black Spot was as slight a feather boa).
ANYWAY: this week was the week many were dreading as much as desiring. Neil Gaiman was writing Doctor Who.
To say that this was significant is to understate things a bit: a long-term Gaiman fan (I'm due my annual re-read of all 10 volumes of The Sandman pretty soon) this was super exciting. He's a brilliant writer with a clear sense of character and setting to suit almost any type of writing.
The issue in the run-up to this would be could I avoid the spoilers?
Well it turned out to be surprisingly easy: despite buying Doctor Who Magazine each month I just quickly flicked over the pages that referred to this episode, I stuck my fingers in my ears when the 'Next Time' trailer came up at the end of the pirates episode, and I just didn't go on any DW websites I knew would be spoilery.
(I treated myself to reading the 'preview' and interview with Gaiman from DWM this morning and fair rolled at how they tied themselves in knots to avoid spoilering anything).
So ---- be warned: spoilers if you haven't seen it yet, and if not, find it. Watch it. Again, and again, and again. And the full-length Confidential if you can which is a masterclass in 'kisses to the past'.
Neil Gaiman, Suranne Jones and Matt SmithThe Doctor's Wife
In truth, we've all known who the Doctor's true love is for many years (clue: contrary to many fans' belief, it is NOT Rose Tyler). Who does he care most for? What living thing, what truly vibrating thing, has the most heart and soul, whose injury hurts him most?
Of course it's his TARDIS.
So the genius of this episode is that it takes that simple and oh-so-true idea and gives it flesh. Awh. Brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it.
I've sometimes been a little wary of Suranne Jones: she can be a bit 'mumbly' in her diction but here, given screds of gabbling, of (slightly techno-)babble, she manages really well. Her interaction with the Doctor is as one may expect a being to be once given a different physical form: and the ability to speak.
The moment when she wheezes that TARDIS sound and convinces the Doctor of her identity is pure delight.
In other aspects of the story, the 18th-century-esque Uncle and Auntie are straight from the visualisations of Gaiman narratives. And the House is suitably creepy as vocalised by Michael Sheen [that's Michael Sheen, this year's big star Hamlet].
Makes me shudder thinking about its brilliance.
As mentioned, the Confidential was a wonderful collection of 'kisses to the past' - just as I had been thinking how little the Confidentials had recently been using the series history to contextualise their stories. All those little clips! (and yes, it WAS nice to see David Tennant in full TARDIS-love mode).
What I also loved was the readings Gaiman did from his screenplay. Really highlighting the quality and depth of writing.
Oh I'm getting random now but...
Genius!
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Theatre Review: Royal Gala Performance of Macbeth, Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford Saturday 30 April 2011
The Scottish Play: a dark tale about the ursurping of Kings; about blood feuds between families; about the murder of husbands, wives, families and servants; about bloody deeds and bloody thoughts; of the instability of countries and belief.
Perfect then as a follow-up to THAT event on Friday 29 April 2011, especially with HRH Prince of Wales in the audience as the President of the Royal Shakespeare Company. Michael Boyd's efforts to josh at the end of the play didn't feel THAT convincing...
The play itself is a rather curious production, but fascinating to see: Jonathan Slinger is great as the titular king, tortured by doubts at various points, trying but not entirely believing in the prophecies that grant him power. The transformation of the witches is weird on many levels, but I rather liked this envisaging of them as it made an unnerving contrast to regular interpretations of the Weird Sisters (hey: I read the Sandman novels and they make play with variations of these characters). Certainly, the creepy-factor is upped and then some to change the witches in this way, though I'm still a bit too freshly believing in the magisterial version of Macbeth with Patrick Stewart to be totally convinced. (Indeed, in that respect what WAS really nice was to see the reappearance of the excellent Scott Handy as Ross: brilliant performance.) There are many good performances in this production, not least from Steve Toussaint who had been so good in the Nottingham Twelfth Night production we saw last year. (Which I shamefully do not seem to have reviewed).
The music, as ever in RSC productions, was wonderful: all hail our three cello players with Craig Armstrong's music. Haunting and brittle in turn. The sets also are wonderfully conceived - not least the additional entrance available at the back of the stage at balcony level. And the use of the broken/complete stained glass windows was magical.
Definitely worth seeing, though perhaps unlikely to win plaudits as a best ever Macbeth.
Notes:
Plenty of nobs in the audience, and we probably could have blagged our way up to the do afterwards had we been so inclined. (or not - security felt v discrete). We never actually saw HRH - we were in the circle, facing the stage, but he was clearly seated underneath us due to the turning of heads in that direction at various moments. There was even some efforts being made at surreptitious photo taking by excited attendees. Rather amusing to watch from above.
Prince meets children
Reviews will spoiler particular casting decisions but it depends if you're attending.
Guardian Review
Telegraph Review
Stage Review
Perfect then as a follow-up to THAT event on Friday 29 April 2011, especially with HRH Prince of Wales in the audience as the President of the Royal Shakespeare Company. Michael Boyd's efforts to josh at the end of the play didn't feel THAT convincing...
The play itself is a rather curious production, but fascinating to see: Jonathan Slinger is great as the titular king, tortured by doubts at various points, trying but not entirely believing in the prophecies that grant him power. The transformation of the witches is weird on many levels, but I rather liked this envisaging of them as it made an unnerving contrast to regular interpretations of the Weird Sisters (hey: I read the Sandman novels and they make play with variations of these characters). Certainly, the creepy-factor is upped and then some to change the witches in this way, though I'm still a bit too freshly believing in the magisterial version of Macbeth with Patrick Stewart to be totally convinced. (Indeed, in that respect what WAS really nice was to see the reappearance of the excellent Scott Handy as Ross: brilliant performance.) There are many good performances in this production, not least from Steve Toussaint who had been so good in the Nottingham Twelfth Night production we saw last year. (Which I shamefully do not seem to have reviewed).
The music, as ever in RSC productions, was wonderful: all hail our three cello players with Craig Armstrong's music. Haunting and brittle in turn. The sets also are wonderfully conceived - not least the additional entrance available at the back of the stage at balcony level. And the use of the broken/complete stained glass windows was magical.
Definitely worth seeing, though perhaps unlikely to win plaudits as a best ever Macbeth.
Notes:
Plenty of nobs in the audience, and we probably could have blagged our way up to the do afterwards had we been so inclined. (or not - security felt v discrete). We never actually saw HRH - we were in the circle, facing the stage, but he was clearly seated underneath us due to the turning of heads in that direction at various moments. There was even some efforts being made at surreptitious photo taking by excited attendees. Rather amusing to watch from above.
Prince meets children
Reviews will spoiler particular casting decisions but it depends if you're attending.
Guardian Review
Telegraph Review
Stage Review
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Book lists - pre-25 and 'adult'
Norm has done two lists of books - which really intrigued me. Could I do similar? A list of influential books that shaped me/that I loved from before 25, and books read 'as an adult'...? Flaw one would be not yet really being very good at this 'adult' lark. Flaw two would be this 'shaping' thing. Important to me may have to be the definition instead.
And... well one of my downsides is that up til my mid-twenties (the cut-off for the first list) I really had pretty awful taste in reading. I read what my mum read - tons of crappy romantic fiction a la Danielle Steel et al, the occasional 'risky' "Flowers in the Attic" type of things, and tons of pretty forgettable fantasy/science fiction. Remember that I didn't go to University as a full-time student until I was nearly 26, and I was already 23 when I met Neil (nearly 24 in fact).
So there aren't a lot of books before 25 years old that I remember much about, let alone feel they shaped me. So why try to do the list?
Well, I love lists, so I'm going to stretch things back a little to take in anything read before 25 years old that feels significant. So nah, nah, nah, as these are all titles I returned to in my teenage years and after.
List one
I'm quite pleased to see how many women authors there are here.
List two
Hmm. that's an odd pair of lists. They're all books that I have read and read again or can recall vividly. So am going with these even if my lists probably go against the grain of the original list sentiment.
And... well one of my downsides is that up til my mid-twenties (the cut-off for the first list) I really had pretty awful taste in reading. I read what my mum read - tons of crappy romantic fiction a la Danielle Steel et al, the occasional 'risky' "Flowers in the Attic" type of things, and tons of pretty forgettable fantasy/science fiction. Remember that I didn't go to University as a full-time student until I was nearly 26, and I was already 23 when I met Neil (nearly 24 in fact).
So there aren't a lot of books before 25 years old that I remember much about, let alone feel they shaped me. So why try to do the list?
Well, I love lists, so I'm going to stretch things back a little to take in anything read before 25 years old that feels significant. So nah, nah, nah, as these are all titles I returned to in my teenage years and after.
List one
- Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
- Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
- The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
- The Dark is Rising - Susan Cooper
- The Collected Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
- A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L'Engle
- The Women's Room - Marilyn French
- The Phantom Tollbooth - Norman Juster
- 1984 - George Orwell
- The Collected Dorothy Parker
- Gaudy Night - Dorothy L. Sayers
- Frost in May - Antonia White
I'm quite pleased to see how many women authors there are here.
List two
- The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony - Roberto Calasso
- The Bloody Chamber - Angela Carter
- House of Leaves - Mark Z Danielewski
- The Sandman - Neil Gaiman
- South Riding - Winifred Holtby
- The Cheese Monkeys - Chip Kidd
- Les Liaisons Dangereuses - Choderlos de Laclos
- Company of Liars - Karen Maitland
- Beloved - Toni Morrison
- His Dark Materials - Phillip Pullman
- Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
Hmm. that's an odd pair of lists. They're all books that I have read and read again or can recall vividly. So am going with these even if my lists probably go against the grain of the original list sentiment.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Book meme response
I haven't thought about this too much really, not least because I was out last night (see another post):
1. One book that changed my life - The Open University degree prospectus (because it led me to go to Summer School 16 years ago [ scroll to question 5])Any takers for this meme?
2. One book that I have read more than once - Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves (though I could equally say The Sandman...)
3. One book I would want on a deserted island - I'd probably go for a book of Buffy Scripts just because it would also provide me with visual entertainment as well as I watch the programmes in my mind's eye. But certainly some kind of script book.
4. One book that made me laugh - blimey, this question was much harder than I expected. Clearly I am a miserable reader who likes to cry, be driven to tension, and horrified/mystified because there is a real dearth of funny books in my collection! There are some usual suspects that have made me laugh - Al Franken being one - but a lot of things that have made me laugh have had a strain of black humour in them. I certainly laughed when reading The Dying of Delight by the lovely Clare, but I also cried to that as well. And I'm taking it that unintentional laughter doesn't count, right? Otherwise it would probably go to The Da Vinci Code...
5. One book that made me cry - still gotta go with His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
6. One book I wish I'd written - the definitive study on Peggy Guggenheim (though some may say I might yet do that...)
7. One book I wish had never been written - plenty I wish had never been read, but written? Certainly there has been as much that has been misinterpreted and mis-used as has been written out of hatred. I would think the most unforgivable book would have to be vile, nasty, and virulently anti-semitic 'The Protocols of the Elders of Zion'.
8. One book I am currently reading - Pop Fiction (yes, I am revising the Chick Flicks essay)
9. One book I have been meaning to read - Julian Barnes "Arthur and George" (still haven't got around to it; though it does prompt me to ask for my videotape back from HLW...)
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Weekend Review
It's been a big weekend with much travelling and much activity. The upshot of which is that I am determined that despite all the hundreds of things I have to do / am obliged to do over the summer, I really want to get back to London again.
Anyway, Friday kicked off with being lovely and hot and Cloudy Neil drove us over to Walsall. Of course, in the heat, I realised part way through the journey there was a danger of smelling cooked flesh (me, burning in the blazing sun through the car window!) so I had to lather on the suncream quick: but otherwise it was a relatively good and quick journey considering it was Friday. Our ultimate destination was, actually, a piss-up in a brewery: Highgate Brewery in fact, which was great and we had a tour. We were there for a grand occasion of a birthday party and the beers were followed by a curry. There were about 30 there: it was your average kinda do - a couple of MPs, high ranking university professors who work as industrial advisors, political activists... you know the kind of thing...!!!
Anyway, it was utterly fab, the drink flowed all night, the speech by the birthday boy Nick was brilliant (recalling the 'Teddy Bears Pick Nick') and we all staggered back to the hotel at 1am(ish).
Saturday morning and it was time to head back to Nottingham to pick up an afternoon train to the smoke for another occasion: this time to see off a couple of friends who are off to Australia. Yes, yes, we DO think it's something we said since just about everyone we know is migrating to the opposite end of the planet and you just can't get much further away whilst still on earth in habitable lands.
We were ready in loads of time and had a lovely trainride down to London and St Pancras Station. Wow, it is looking good these days... I wish I had took some pictures of it! (Maybe next time!)
We wandered past Mornington Crescent up to Camden and the Sandman pub (well, that's how I think of it...)
A jolly good time, with yet more extensive alcohol, was had by all there. Funnily, having had two of the teddy bears (plus Nick) at the Friday night do, we also had two teddy bears (minus Nick) on Saturday... well, Neil was the central bear and another of the three bears was there on each occasion. Shame we couldn't have had a reunion. There are though it seems no surviving images of the three with or without Nick. I'm not sure whether that is good or bad. I only know I could not make it up that this would be part of my Neil's back history. Or that for years afterwards one of the canteen staff from Wolves Poly would always say when she saw Neil 'you were one of them bears weren't you?!'
After falling back to the hotel in London, we started Sunday with pursuit of breakfast. We passed this (thank you Dave Gorman! I didn't have the nerve to photograph it!) and ended up having a very nice breakie amidst preparations for the Soho Pride day. Fabulous! Balloons over heads in Balans. Wonderful! Okay, so we were there because our favourite haunt Brunos is closed on Sundays, but it was still nice to find a nice place for Sunday brunch. After that we started the long walk. We took in a stroll here, and a walk through here, before ending up here. We then wandered over to here where I booked us tickets to one of these.
We then went here and here before realising we had walked a ridiculous distance and we needed to get a tube back. We then decided to go to Covent Garden to eat, in pursuit of a nice restaurant we had visited last year. Hmm.... our sense of direction sent us in completely the wrong direction for quite some time, but eventually we found Cafe Pasta on Monmouth Street. Lovely food, and a nice atmosphere. We strolled to the South Bank to admire the Eye at night and then walked back up Whitehall and back to the hotel.
We took in some culture on day three (after all the alcohol!) and went to see the magnificent exhibition on at the National Gallery - Rebels and Martyrs. Very good, if male-centric, but very well selected and hung with some real obscure gems alongside the more familiar works. A treat: go and see it! We then dropped by the NPG and I had to go and see the Beatles on the Balcony exhibition. Cracking little show, even if I knew most of the images from my years of Beatles' obsessiveness.
After bookshop wandering, we headed for an (as-ever) delicious meal at Pizza Paradiso in Store Street. Lovely risotto and a panna cotta to end all panna cotta. We then took the tube up to South Kensington and went to have some more culture (see separate review). Brilliant stuff. A real thrill! Then we trooped back by tube to central London and wandered the South Bank - sadly nothing on with the 'Watch this space' activities. Almost wish we could be there next weekend for this but we're scheduled to be at the cricket in Derby.
By today we'd realised we had walked miles. But even so, it was back to Bar Brunos for another slap-up breakfast in one of the few places you can guarantee to hear a Cockney accent nowadays in central London. Then we did a bit more of the NPG (including the always-interesting BP Portrait Award Show), some slow wandering, and a mooch back to the hotel to collect our bags. And it was all over... back to Nottingham...
And yes, I did wear stripes... (if Blogger would let me post the picture I would... it will come!)
Anyway, Friday kicked off with being lovely and hot and Cloudy Neil drove us over to Walsall. Of course, in the heat, I realised part way through the journey there was a danger of smelling cooked flesh (me, burning in the blazing sun through the car window!) so I had to lather on the suncream quick: but otherwise it was a relatively good and quick journey considering it was Friday. Our ultimate destination was, actually, a piss-up in a brewery: Highgate Brewery in fact, which was great and we had a tour. We were there for a grand occasion of a birthday party and the beers were followed by a curry. There were about 30 there: it was your average kinda do - a couple of MPs, high ranking university professors who work as industrial advisors, political activists... you know the kind of thing...!!!
Anyway, it was utterly fab, the drink flowed all night, the speech by the birthday boy Nick was brilliant (recalling the 'Teddy Bears Pick Nick') and we all staggered back to the hotel at 1am(ish).
Saturday morning and it was time to head back to Nottingham to pick up an afternoon train to the smoke for another occasion: this time to see off a couple of friends who are off to Australia. Yes, yes, we DO think it's something we said since just about everyone we know is migrating to the opposite end of the planet and you just can't get much further away whilst still on earth in habitable lands.
We were ready in loads of time and had a lovely trainride down to London and St Pancras Station. Wow, it is looking good these days... I wish I had took some pictures of it! (Maybe next time!)
We wandered past Mornington Crescent up to Camden and the Sandman pub (well, that's how I think of it...)
A jolly good time, with yet more extensive alcohol, was had by all there. Funnily, having had two of the teddy bears (plus Nick) at the Friday night do, we also had two teddy bears (minus Nick) on Saturday... well, Neil was the central bear and another of the three bears was there on each occasion. Shame we couldn't have had a reunion. There are though it seems no surviving images of the three with or without Nick. I'm not sure whether that is good or bad. I only know I could not make it up that this would be part of my Neil's back history. Or that for years afterwards one of the canteen staff from Wolves Poly would always say when she saw Neil 'you were one of them bears weren't you?!'
After falling back to the hotel in London, we started Sunday with pursuit of breakfast. We passed this (thank you Dave Gorman! I didn't have the nerve to photograph it!) and ended up having a very nice breakie amidst preparations for the Soho Pride day. Fabulous! Balloons over heads in Balans. Wonderful! Okay, so we were there because our favourite haunt Brunos is closed on Sundays, but it was still nice to find a nice place for Sunday brunch. After that we started the long walk. We took in a stroll here, and a walk through here, before ending up here. We then wandered over to here where I booked us tickets to one of these.
We then went here and here before realising we had walked a ridiculous distance and we needed to get a tube back. We then decided to go to Covent Garden to eat, in pursuit of a nice restaurant we had visited last year. Hmm.... our sense of direction sent us in completely the wrong direction for quite some time, but eventually we found Cafe Pasta on Monmouth Street. Lovely food, and a nice atmosphere. We strolled to the South Bank to admire the Eye at night and then walked back up Whitehall and back to the hotel.
We took in some culture on day three (after all the alcohol!) and went to see the magnificent exhibition on at the National Gallery - Rebels and Martyrs. Very good, if male-centric, but very well selected and hung with some real obscure gems alongside the more familiar works. A treat: go and see it! We then dropped by the NPG and I had to go and see the Beatles on the Balcony exhibition. Cracking little show, even if I knew most of the images from my years of Beatles' obsessiveness.
After bookshop wandering, we headed for an (as-ever) delicious meal at Pizza Paradiso in Store Street. Lovely risotto and a panna cotta to end all panna cotta. We then took the tube up to South Kensington and went to have some more culture (see separate review). Brilliant stuff. A real thrill! Then we trooped back by tube to central London and wandered the South Bank - sadly nothing on with the 'Watch this space' activities. Almost wish we could be there next weekend for this but we're scheduled to be at the cricket in Derby.
By today we'd realised we had walked miles. But even so, it was back to Bar Brunos for another slap-up breakfast in one of the few places you can guarantee to hear a Cockney accent nowadays in central London. Then we did a bit more of the NPG (including the always-interesting BP Portrait Award Show), some slow wandering, and a mooch back to the hotel to collect our bags. And it was all over... back to Nottingham...
And yes, I did wear stripes... (if Blogger would let me post the picture I would... it will come!)
Sunday, March 19, 2006
The Dying of Delight meme
I'm always pretty chuffed to get bought into a meme, especially when they are created by such lovely people as Clare.
Since her first novel, The Dying of Delight, has such a wonderfully evocative title, it's hardly surprising she wanted to make use of it again - and what a great use she has put it to!
Here's my meme response, with instructions for others to follow below:
The Dying of Delight meme
1. Briefly describe an aspect of your life for which 'The Dying Of Delight'* would be an apt title.
Whenever I think of the word/concept of delight, my thoughts always turn to Neil Gaiman. If there is one thing that always haunts me from the incredible work that is "The Sandman" series, it is how he encapsulates The Endless, the concepts and moments of life that are eternal. And of those, many people's favourite is Delirium: a crazy haired, multi-coloured girl who conjurs fishes and butterflies from the madness and intensity of her thoughts (check out the illustrations on The Wake website mentioned above). Delirium, who used to be Delight. What an amazing concept, to spot the hairsbreadth bewteen delirium and delight.
So to think of a moment when an amount of my Delight began to die a little also makes me think how close delight is to delirium: that breath away from insanity that pure delight can be. There have been many perverse moments when delight has been edged out by delirium on a glance, or a remark. The panic of wondering if you can escape a situation and what, if anything, you will learn from it.
Still, as Clare rightly points out, any kind of delight only truly dies when we die: nevertheless, it can fade, become confused, bewildered. And those moments have often littered my life.
It's perhaps a different kind of delight that died in this account. In my early 20s, I had a bit of a mini-breakdown and was signed off from work with "nervous exhaustion". My closest friend at the time refused to send a card to me on the grounds that I just needed to pull myself together. The wound of her willful ignorance of my despair cut deep. I had come home one day from work and getting off the bus, walking round the green in front of our council house, and down the entry.... well, it had took an age... My mum stood in the doorway just horrifed at the sight of her girl walking slower than a 90 year old with a frame. Once in, I couldn't even lift a knife and fork to eat properly. It took me weeks to feel I could go out without holding on to someone. But for me the delight was not what had died in me when the illness of depression took over; the real dying of delight came when my friend refused to acknowledge there was even anything wrong with me. I knew then that long-term the friendship was doomed. I wasn't wrong.
2. Pick another book whose title has some resonance in your life, and write a little about it.
True Confessions and New Cliches
It's the "True Confessions" bit that I always identify with, not least because I often associate that title work with a friend from University with whom I shared many, many true confessions ["I know her sober / (but I know her better pissed)"]. I don't know if it is because I am an only child, but I do find that beyond a certain point I open up quite easily. In fact, if anything the problems come when something halts me in making 'true confessions', since it is in hesitation that I lose my nerve and close up, sometimes for good as if unable to justify having let go of the moment of openness. The idea of sharing is something very powerful in me: I don't feel that I do it lightly, though others may perceive I do. But perhaps I am also drawn to finding resonance in this title because of the two concepts it brings together: these are TRUE confessions, and as one desperate to please I have also sometimes made false confessions.
Still, a powerful memory for me comes from when Cloud and I were first going out together and I was overwhelmingly impressed by the breadth of his knowledge and reading (I still am: this story aside, he is just an amazing fount of knowledge and ideas). We sat in breathy conversation about some intellectual philosophical book for hours in his room at his parents. But I was bull-shitting him and hadn't actually read the book - I may even have not heard of it prior to him mentioning it (I don't even now recall what it was: repression or what!) And then the moment came: he confessed he hadn't actually read it. And I did the same.
In our desire to impress, we'd both played at knowledge but there had come a point where we couldn't sustain it. I think I loved him even more after that, for making a true confession that showed us both up as frauds.
3. What Women Want Men to Know
Never, ever, underestimate the power of our imaginations. Conversation, words written and spoken, can be the greatest turn-on imaginable: never forget that.
Except when we just want - no, need - to be absolutely shagged into ecstacy. Then you can just shut up.
4. A little known book
Maiden Speech by Eleanor Brown
I often return to this book of poetry, and though it was a close call between this and Robert Grundin's gripping murder mystery "Book", I plumped for Brown's debut collection of poetry because it seems even more obscure and yet deserving of note.
I've mentioned Brown previously, but I'm going with her again because, hey, this particular meme said to aim for little known books in the hope of getting them some more sales or attention. This gem certainly deserved wider recognition.
It opens with the ever hilarious "Bitcheral", which has lines like "There isn't a law that a face should have features, / it's just that they generally do" - surely one of the most neatly cutting remarks anyone could make on a new partner of someone they knew (and perhaps loved); and the final verse always makes me smirk a miaow:
What makes the book so glorious is the way it can move from insightful wit on contemporary manners ("Imitations of Immortality": "O, she may well disintegrate, / as human bodies must; / yet she will not surrender / to those voracious guests / (inviolable forever) / her perfect plastic breasts") to heartfelt character pieces where Brown conjurs the spirit of women from history and mythology ("Penelope": "I know you've been with other women. / That thing you did with my hair...")
Yet it is the centre-piece of the book, her magnificent "Fifty Sonnets", to which I endlessly return. Tracking a relationship - flawed, but treasured - from its intense beginnings to its no-less-intense recollection long after, the work has to be read complete to make sense of its impact. I've struggled to identify one particular section that sums up the poem, and could have alighted on pretty much each sonnet depending on my mood. I'm especially fond of the following passage:
5. Response:
This really is a thought provoking meme!
6. Five people to tag:
Anna, Reidski, Just Jane, Conscious&Verbal, Cloud.
So, to recap (quoted from Clare):
Since her first novel, The Dying of Delight, has such a wonderfully evocative title, it's hardly surprising she wanted to make use of it again - and what a great use she has put it to!
Here's my meme response, with instructions for others to follow below:
The Dying of Delight meme
1. Briefly describe an aspect of your life for which 'The Dying Of Delight'* would be an apt title.
Whenever I think of the word/concept of delight, my thoughts always turn to Neil Gaiman. If there is one thing that always haunts me from the incredible work that is "The Sandman" series, it is how he encapsulates The Endless, the concepts and moments of life that are eternal. And of those, many people's favourite is Delirium: a crazy haired, multi-coloured girl who conjurs fishes and butterflies from the madness and intensity of her thoughts (check out the illustrations on The Wake website mentioned above). Delirium, who used to be Delight. What an amazing concept, to spot the hairsbreadth bewteen delirium and delight.
So to think of a moment when an amount of my Delight began to die a little also makes me think how close delight is to delirium: that breath away from insanity that pure delight can be. There have been many perverse moments when delight has been edged out by delirium on a glance, or a remark. The panic of wondering if you can escape a situation and what, if anything, you will learn from it.
Still, as Clare rightly points out, any kind of delight only truly dies when we die: nevertheless, it can fade, become confused, bewildered. And those moments have often littered my life.
It's perhaps a different kind of delight that died in this account. In my early 20s, I had a bit of a mini-breakdown and was signed off from work with "nervous exhaustion". My closest friend at the time refused to send a card to me on the grounds that I just needed to pull myself together. The wound of her willful ignorance of my despair cut deep. I had come home one day from work and getting off the bus, walking round the green in front of our council house, and down the entry.... well, it had took an age... My mum stood in the doorway just horrifed at the sight of her girl walking slower than a 90 year old with a frame. Once in, I couldn't even lift a knife and fork to eat properly. It took me weeks to feel I could go out without holding on to someone. But for me the delight was not what had died in me when the illness of depression took over; the real dying of delight came when my friend refused to acknowledge there was even anything wrong with me. I knew then that long-term the friendship was doomed. I wasn't wrong.
2. Pick another book whose title has some resonance in your life, and write a little about it.
True Confessions and New Cliches
It's the "True Confessions" bit that I always identify with, not least because I often associate that title work with a friend from University with whom I shared many, many true confessions ["I know her sober / (but I know her better pissed)"]. I don't know if it is because I am an only child, but I do find that beyond a certain point I open up quite easily. In fact, if anything the problems come when something halts me in making 'true confessions', since it is in hesitation that I lose my nerve and close up, sometimes for good as if unable to justify having let go of the moment of openness. The idea of sharing is something very powerful in me: I don't feel that I do it lightly, though others may perceive I do. But perhaps I am also drawn to finding resonance in this title because of the two concepts it brings together: these are TRUE confessions, and as one desperate to please I have also sometimes made false confessions.
Still, a powerful memory for me comes from when Cloud and I were first going out together and I was overwhelmingly impressed by the breadth of his knowledge and reading (I still am: this story aside, he is just an amazing fount of knowledge and ideas). We sat in breathy conversation about some intellectual philosophical book for hours in his room at his parents. But I was bull-shitting him and hadn't actually read the book - I may even have not heard of it prior to him mentioning it (I don't even now recall what it was: repression or what!) And then the moment came: he confessed he hadn't actually read it. And I did the same.
In our desire to impress, we'd both played at knowledge but there had come a point where we couldn't sustain it. I think I loved him even more after that, for making a true confession that showed us both up as frauds.
3. What Women Want Men to Know
Never, ever, underestimate the power of our imaginations. Conversation, words written and spoken, can be the greatest turn-on imaginable: never forget that.
Except when we just want - no, need - to be absolutely shagged into ecstacy. Then you can just shut up.
4. A little known book
Maiden Speech by Eleanor Brown
I often return to this book of poetry, and though it was a close call between this and Robert Grundin's gripping murder mystery "Book", I plumped for Brown's debut collection of poetry because it seems even more obscure and yet deserving of note.
I've mentioned Brown previously, but I'm going with her again because, hey, this particular meme said to aim for little known books in the hope of getting them some more sales or attention. This gem certainly deserved wider recognition.
It opens with the ever hilarious "Bitcheral", which has lines like "There isn't a law that a face should have features, / it's just that they generally do" - surely one of the most neatly cutting remarks anyone could make on a new partner of someone they knew (and perhaps loved); and the final verse always makes me smirk a miaow:
It's not that I think she is vapid and silly; / it's not that her voice makes me wince; / but - chilli con carne without any chilli / is only a plateful of minceBrilliant stuff...
What makes the book so glorious is the way it can move from insightful wit on contemporary manners ("Imitations of Immortality": "O, she may well disintegrate, / as human bodies must; / yet she will not surrender / to those voracious guests / (inviolable forever) / her perfect plastic breasts") to heartfelt character pieces where Brown conjurs the spirit of women from history and mythology ("Penelope": "I know you've been with other women. / That thing you did with my hair...")
Yet it is the centre-piece of the book, her magnificent "Fifty Sonnets", to which I endlessly return. Tracking a relationship - flawed, but treasured - from its intense beginnings to its no-less-intense recollection long after, the work has to be read complete to make sense of its impact. I've struggled to identify one particular section that sums up the poem, and could have alighted on pretty much each sonnet depending on my mood. I'm especially fond of the following passage:
When I recall you - as I often do -But overall XLII is perhaps the one that I sense most would be stung by, for so aptly describing that figure of love that people never quite get over:
between two paragraphs, against my will
(I try to keep you in parentheses,
but you will interrupt my reading as
you did my careful life, appearing through
the ruptured print to laugh at it)...
Not if you crawled from there to here, you hear?Now tell me there isn't at least one person in your lifetime who doesn't inspire similar conflicted emotions?
Not if you begged me, on your bleeding knees.
Not if you lay exhausted at my door,
and pleaded with me for a second chance.
Not if you wept (am I making this clear?)
or found a thousand different words for 'Please',
ten thousand for 'I'm sorry'; I'd ignore
you so sublimely; every new advance
would meet with such complete indifference.
Not if you promised me fidelity.
Not if you meant it. What impertinence,
then, is this voice that murmurs, 'What if he
didn't? That isn't his line of attack.
What if he simply grinned, and said, 'I'm back'?
5. Response:
This really is a thought provoking meme!
6. Five people to tag:
Anna, Reidski, Just Jane, Conscious&Verbal, Cloud.
So, to recap (quoted from Clare):
1. Briefly describe an aspect of your life for which 'The Dying Of Delight'* would be an apt title.Go forth meme-ers!
2. Pick another book whose title has some resonance in your life, and write a little about it.
3. Write one more short personal piece - one which matches the book title chosen (in part 2) by the person who tagged you.
4. Take your favourite little-known book and plug it to your readers. Authors need incomes, and word of mouth is one of the best ways to sell books.
5. Sit back and marvel at the magnificence of this meme. It was brought to you by an out-of-breath author, reduced (on account of her publisher* having expired) to trundling copies of her book across the internet on a rusty old trolley with one wheel missing, sweating and shouting "Buy me book, Gov?" Now visit www.TheDyingOfDelight.co.uk and see if you'd like a copy for yourself.
6. Tag five people with this meme.
*Diva Books, ceased trading Feb '06. RIP.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Cartoons versus Animation: Comics versus Graphic Novels
Is there a difference? Skuds thinks so, and I'm inclined to agree with him on that (though not on the issue of anything possibly being more irritating than Jimmy-ass-wipe-misogynistic-racist-not-at-all-ironic-I-want-him-off-my-TV-screen-forever-Carr).
Still, having vented that, it also got me thinking about the 'divide' or competing definitions for comics/graphic novels. As a fan of such materials, I get frustrated by both the ongoing sniffiness about "comics" not being worthwhile literate/visual products in their own right, and the pretentious categorisation some use to separate "graphic novels" as higher literary/art forms than comics. For anyone who has read such works as Gaiman's Sandman and his other works, Preacher, V for Vendetta, Watchmen, anything by Daniel Clowes, Jason Lute's Berlin, Persepholis, Cerebus, Adventures of Luther Arkwright, Bitchy Bitch, Art Spiegelman's Maus, all the classic DC and Marvel superhero material, Akira, Moore's From Hell... I'm getting breathless and I can't even begin to link to all of these... Anyway, what I'm saying is, "how the hell can you separate these categories": surely good stuff is good stuff?
Still, having vented that, it also got me thinking about the 'divide' or competing definitions for comics/graphic novels. As a fan of such materials, I get frustrated by both the ongoing sniffiness about "comics" not being worthwhile literate/visual products in their own right, and the pretentious categorisation some use to separate "graphic novels" as higher literary/art forms than comics. For anyone who has read such works as Gaiman's Sandman and his other works, Preacher, V for Vendetta, Watchmen, anything by Daniel Clowes, Jason Lute's Berlin, Persepholis, Cerebus, Adventures of Luther Arkwright, Bitchy Bitch, Art Spiegelman's Maus, all the classic DC and Marvel superhero material, Akira, Moore's From Hell... I'm getting breathless and I can't even begin to link to all of these... Anyway, what I'm saying is, "how the hell can you separate these categories": surely good stuff is good stuff?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Blake Ritson in The Romantics
Before the joyful return of slick nonsense TV (that's CSI:NY, now having fully abandoned its muted pallette of old, plus wonderful L&O:CI with Private Pyle), we caught most of the final episode of The Romantics. Constant interjections of dog-chewing-wasp-faced Peter Ackroyd aside - has he got one of those deals like Alan Yentob that demand he has to be gratuitously in almost every shot? - it was worth watching, albeit very flawed in its telling of the Romantic period.
It was watchable despite the absence of David Tennant (obviously just the one day off from Doctor Who then), not least because Cloud and I came to the same conclusion about one of the performers: namely, Blake Ritson.
Ritson played PB Shelley (scroll cast list). Watching him, I felt this strange sensation that his features were rather graphic: that is, rather like looking at a graphic novel piece of art work. I was thinking this idea through, when Cloud interrupted:
Somebody cast him...
It was watchable despite the absence of David Tennant (obviously just the one day off from Doctor Who then), not least because Cloud and I came to the same conclusion about one of the performers: namely, Blake Ritson.
Ritson played PB Shelley (scroll cast list). Watching him, I felt this strange sensation that his features were rather graphic: that is, rather like looking at a graphic novel piece of art work. I was thinking this idea through, when Cloud interrupted:
"You know, if ever they were looking for someone to play The Sandman, he'd be right for it"My God! He was right. And though it is hard to put my finger on exactly which of the many illustrated incarnations of Gaiman's character Ritson most resembles - this, from the most recent collection, although beyond the canonical 10 volumes, catches something of Ritson's inhabiting of the character - there is definitely something there. Maybe it's the hair, perhaps the straightness of his nose, the angularity of his features as they were photographed for The Romantics: but there is something in his look that reminds me of Dream.
Somebody cast him...
Thursday, April 28, 2005
The Dying of Delight: comments on Clare Sudbury's novel
I finished reading this last night and have to say I was gripped to the end. It's a very surreal thriller, but worth persevering with as the narrative swoops and swerves with a lot of vigour and pleasure.
Importantly, I felt a real sense of compassion and interest in the characters - all their foibles and quirks - but especially for the intelligent way in which the novel dealt with conceptions of normality and madness. For this alone it is worth reading.
I would also add that although the phrase "the dying of delight" presents itself from the start - it's the title! - it was only when it occured in the narrative that I was struck by a particular thought. I couldn't get out of my head the character of delirium from Neil Gaiman's Sandman novels: Delirium, who used to be Delight. The connection stuck with me through the rest of my reading and somehow really helped me understand the experiences of Edna and Silver.
When I got to the end Cloud asked what it was about and I replied sex, drugs, madness, the ecilpse and gender identity. I think he was intrigued enough to pick it up (and I will certainly encourage him to do so!) This is a very fine debut novel.
Importantly, I felt a real sense of compassion and interest in the characters - all their foibles and quirks - but especially for the intelligent way in which the novel dealt with conceptions of normality and madness. For this alone it is worth reading.
I would also add that although the phrase "the dying of delight" presents itself from the start - it's the title! - it was only when it occured in the narrative that I was struck by a particular thought. I couldn't get out of my head the character of delirium from Neil Gaiman's Sandman novels: Delirium, who used to be Delight. The connection stuck with me through the rest of my reading and somehow really helped me understand the experiences of Edna and Silver.
When I got to the end Cloud asked what it was about and I replied sex, drugs, madness, the ecilpse and gender identity. I think he was intrigued enough to pick it up (and I will certainly encourage him to do so!) This is a very fine debut novel.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Belated Book meme
Bah, humbug. The difficulty with me being away from the office, poorly or not, is that it prevents me blogging sufficiently. Which also means I get behind with all the lovely work done by my fellow bloggers.
So here, belatedly, are some thoughts on the not-so-recent-meme circulated to me from the luscious Hak Mao.
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Something meaningful I guess, with a sentiment I can identify with... not thinking too hard about this I would propose The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony by Roberto Calasso for its enigmatic style and exploration of mythology (also a great discussion of Nemesis - a past identity of mine)
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? I guess TV wouldn't count or else I would chose Dr. Daniel Nash (smile!), or in terms of fictional characterisation, Joshua Lyman. Am I seduced by the performer, performance, or the written character? Most recently as a legitimate fictional character my thoughts go to Jeremy Danvers, Alpha werewolf of the pack from Bitten and Stolen.
The last book you bought is: All those Kelley Armstrong books!
The last book you read: Fictionwise, again its already been recorded here, the Lucifer book Mansions of Silence. I tried to get book 7 but Page 45 had sold out. Sniff.
What are you currently reading? Fictionwise, not a lot at this moment but I'm due for another re-read of the Sandman novels. Neil Gaiman's ability to weave stories from such a range of sources always thrills my soul and the visual constructions always please the eye as well.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
King James Bible - because it is great poetry and will sufficiently annoy me in equal measure to keep me angry enough to survive
His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman - because I can always do with a good cry and it will go well with the above
House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski - because I still haven't read all the footnotes
The Collected Dorothy Parker - because I like a bit of bitterness
TV scripts - oh come on, they're fictional right? Am undecided whether I want the Blackadder scripts (for humour), a Buffy volume (because it will help me visualise my favourite show), or Aaron Sorkin's volumes of West Wing scripts (because he constructs such great characters).
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Cloud - because he is so much better read than I am and will impress readers more
Casyn - because she needs to blog her way out of her hard work on Jekyll and Hyde
John at Counago and Spaves (even though he probably already has received it) - because he writes such great little book reviews: see his holiday reading reviews if you don't believe me!
So here, belatedly, are some thoughts on the not-so-recent-meme circulated to me from the luscious Hak Mao.
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Something meaningful I guess, with a sentiment I can identify with... not thinking too hard about this I would propose The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony by Roberto Calasso for its enigmatic style and exploration of mythology (also a great discussion of Nemesis - a past identity of mine)
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? I guess TV wouldn't count or else I would chose Dr. Daniel Nash (smile!), or in terms of fictional characterisation, Joshua Lyman. Am I seduced by the performer, performance, or the written character? Most recently as a legitimate fictional character my thoughts go to Jeremy Danvers, Alpha werewolf of the pack from Bitten and Stolen.
The last book you bought is: All those Kelley Armstrong books!
The last book you read: Fictionwise, again its already been recorded here, the Lucifer book Mansions of Silence. I tried to get book 7 but Page 45 had sold out. Sniff.
What are you currently reading? Fictionwise, not a lot at this moment but I'm due for another re-read of the Sandman novels. Neil Gaiman's ability to weave stories from such a range of sources always thrills my soul and the visual constructions always please the eye as well.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
King James Bible - because it is great poetry and will sufficiently annoy me in equal measure to keep me angry enough to survive
His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman - because I can always do with a good cry and it will go well with the above
House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski - because I still haven't read all the footnotes
The Collected Dorothy Parker - because I like a bit of bitterness
TV scripts - oh come on, they're fictional right? Am undecided whether I want the Blackadder scripts (for humour), a Buffy volume (because it will help me visualise my favourite show), or Aaron Sorkin's volumes of West Wing scripts (because he constructs such great characters).
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Cloud - because he is so much better read than I am and will impress readers more
Casyn - because she needs to blog her way out of her hard work on Jekyll and Hyde
John at Counago and Spaves (even though he probably already has received it) - because he writes such great little book reviews: see his holiday reading reviews if you don't believe me!
Monday, March 14, 2005
Page 45: reading the Lucifer books
I know, I know John (for when you get back off your much deserved holiday)... I said I was not going to be blogging and yet here I am...
Well, whilst I have energy and time I'm blogging. It's just I needed a get-out clause for if I felt unable to... and anyway, tonight I really HAVE to do my marking... sniff... whimper...
ANYWAY!
Page 45, for those who don't know it, is the best comic and graphic novel store in the UK. They even have an award to prove it. This weekend, as well as reading the Armstrong books, I also got through vols 5 (Inferno) and 6 (Mansions of Silence) of the Lucifer series. These take the Lucifer Morningstar character from the Sandman novels and have developed an entire other storyline. Mike Carey et al have continue to do a great job of bring the characters to life. Good stuff.
Well, whilst I have energy and time I'm blogging. It's just I needed a get-out clause for if I felt unable to... and anyway, tonight I really HAVE to do my marking... sniff... whimper...
ANYWAY!
Page 45, for those who don't know it, is the best comic and graphic novel store in the UK. They even have an award to prove it. This weekend, as well as reading the Armstrong books, I also got through vols 5 (Inferno) and 6 (Mansions of Silence) of the Lucifer series. These take the Lucifer Morningstar character from the Sandman novels and have developed an entire other storyline. Mike Carey et al have continue to do a great job of bring the characters to life. Good stuff.
Monday, January 17, 2005
"She likes death...": responses to Neil Gaiman's Sandman
Overheard this weekend in the wonderful Page 45 graphic novel / comic book store was this line:
She likes Death so I'll get it for her.
Anyone else think this raises as many questions as I do? Whilst I am very familiar with the wonderful characterisation of Death that Gaiman constructs - female, goth, witty, prone to puncturing the dour balloon of Dream's approach to his role - one can't help think that a preference for death (taken more abstractly) suggests some problems.... n'est pas?
She likes Death so I'll get it for her.
Anyone else think this raises as many questions as I do? Whilst I am very familiar with the wonderful characterisation of Death that Gaiman constructs - female, goth, witty, prone to puncturing the dour balloon of Dream's approach to his role - one can't help think that a preference for death (taken more abstractly) suggests some problems.... n'est pas?
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Quote for the Day 7 Oct 04: BtVS & thinking about Death
I was thinking back over the year recently and recalling the wonderful conversation I had with a friend about their watching The Body, the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 5: 16) where Buffy finds her mother Joyce dead and the aftermath of that traumatic event.
It's a stunning episode, full of wonderful and very real moments. But one of the best is the reaction of Anya - thus far too often used as a foil for humour (being an ex-demon she struggles to comprehend human emotions and is brutally honest in her opinions). Throughout the follow-up action to the finding of Joyce, Anya has been asking lots of questions and finally Willow snaps at her.
What the scene highlights is that sometimes it takes an outsider to truly see, to ask the difficult questions in order to understand the world around us. Of course, though Joyce's life seemed horribly and unnecessarily cut short, we all get the same allowance...
It's a stunning episode, full of wonderful and very real moments. But one of the best is the reaction of Anya - thus far too often used as a foil for humour (being an ex-demon she struggles to comprehend human emotions and is brutally honest in her opinions). Throughout the follow-up action to the finding of Joyce, Anya has been asking lots of questions and finally Willow snaps at her.
ANYA: (desperate) But I don't understand!
Willow and Xander look at her in surprise.
ANYA: (crying) I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's, (sniffling) there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. (still teary) And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.
What the scene highlights is that sometimes it takes an outsider to truly see, to ask the difficult questions in order to understand the world around us. Of course, though Joyce's life seemed horribly and unnecessarily cut short, we all get the same allowance...
"You lived what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime. No more. No less."
Bernie Capax and Death, in SANDMAN #43: "Brief Lives:3" By Neil Gaiman
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Favourite (English language) Novelists: an agonised Normblog poll response
Gah, choosing 'favourite' English language novelists is tough.
For a start, there are all those writers who fall more easily into the category of short story writers: with some heartbreak this means no place for Dorothy Parker.
Next were my thoughts on how many books someone had to have written (as novels) to count: for example, I adore and regularly re-read Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves. I hardly know if he has written more novels -- checking up there is The Whalestoe Letters (an adjunct piece related to one of the House of Leaves narratives) and more recently Only Revolutions (which I haven't read). His debut is certainly a favourite novel, but does he count as a favourite novelist on the basis of a single text? What about Mark Gatiss, whose two Lucifer Box novels have proved so enjoyable? What about the likes of Robertson Davies? A Canadian author, his Cornish Trilogy on art, myth and academia brought me to friendship with the lovely Rita (soon after I had finished reading it, we were on a plane together and I couldn't help but spot she was reading the same book... a Transatlantic friendship was born). But I haven't had chance to follow up on more of his writings - could this fondly re-read trilogy of novels allow me to include him?
And what about friends, whose novel writings I have loved and enjoy re-reading? Clare Sudbery and Marie Phillips could easily claim a place on a similar 'favourite novels' list and I so love their writing styles that it seems churlish to feel so ambivalent about whether they would 'qualify'...
I have to admit that despite reading plenty of fiction by women, I was a tad mortified by the (gender) imbalance of my eventual list. Sure, plenty of favourite women authors were excluded on the grounds of them being short story or essay or memoir writers. But I can almost hear the cries of horror at their being no Edith Wharton (though I did really enjoy The Custom of the Country), no Virginia Woolf (I have to proclaim in honesty that I am not awful fond of her writing beyond her essays), and - waits in terror for the real backlash - no Jane Austen... certainly I have enjoyed some of each of their works, but favourites? My favourite Austen is Northanger Abbey and though I have liked and admired her other works I don't think I can honestly say I would choose her writings above certain others as 'favourites'.
I toyed with Charlotte Bronte (and in the end compromised by a certain inclusion on the final list in honour of Jane Eyre). I pondered on included Toni Morrison for Beloved, a work that still astonishes me on each re-reading. I considered the (over?-)prolific but facsinating Joyce Carol Oates. Though not re-read recently I also fondly recalled Marge Piercy whose works I continue to recommend. And what of Angela Carter, whose shorter works and non-fiction are my favourites of her writings (though The Passion of the New Eve is a novel I often re-read)?
Mind, in thinking of the women I excluded I also thought hard about all the male authors who I may like and admire but whose work doesn't necessarily make me 'sing', bring me to delight or make me feel anything much beyond a disengaged awe. Pynchon, Updike, DeLilo, Ellroy (though I do like selected of Ellroy's works)... none of these really 'touch' me to think of them as favourite no matter how much/little I may read of their works. As you well know, despite many attempts and even requirements (I really should have read more for my PhD), I remain disenchanted by the prose of Henry James excepting Daisy Miller an early-ish shorter work and - funnily - The Golden Bowl (his finale). Phillip Roth I admire more, but I really have to be in the mood for his writing as much as certain friends of mine rave continuously over his works (and whom I love to hear conversing about him). I feel similarly about Paul Auster (and again I will duck from the firing of friends in their rage) - I can truly admire and be enthralled, but favourite? Alisdair Gray is an acquired taste for sure and I do like his works a good deal - but would be take a place on my list?? What of the frothy, safe-on-his-writing-patch, flights of Kinky Friedman?? What of Ian Rankin? (and yes, Alex, I know that George Pelacanos hasn't got mentioned here but so far I have read too little of his works to properly comment -- though if the majesterial 'The Wire' counted as novels his contributions would surely be in with a shout...)
As the list I finally chose felt frothy enough I reluctantly dropped Eoin Colfer, despite being so addicted to the lovely Artemis Fowl works (and others by this enjoyable author). I also thought long and hard about ommitting George Orwell, despite 1984 and Animal Farm. Again, it came down to what I liked the writing for and it was chiefly the essays despite the influential power of those two key works.
After all that the final list came out as follows: it feels very arbitrary, but also a reasonable reflection of recent or continuous reads. And barring one selection, there is limited doubt that each can lay claim to the role of novelist. Tommorrow, as ever I may have changed my mind about several of my inclusions and exclusions...
In alphabetical order:
For a start, there are all those writers who fall more easily into the category of short story writers: with some heartbreak this means no place for Dorothy Parker.
Next were my thoughts on how many books someone had to have written (as novels) to count: for example, I adore and regularly re-read Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves. I hardly know if he has written more novels -- checking up there is The Whalestoe Letters (an adjunct piece related to one of the House of Leaves narratives) and more recently Only Revolutions (which I haven't read). His debut is certainly a favourite novel, but does he count as a favourite novelist on the basis of a single text? What about Mark Gatiss, whose two Lucifer Box novels have proved so enjoyable? What about the likes of Robertson Davies? A Canadian author, his Cornish Trilogy on art, myth and academia brought me to friendship with the lovely Rita (soon after I had finished reading it, we were on a plane together and I couldn't help but spot she was reading the same book... a Transatlantic friendship was born). But I haven't had chance to follow up on more of his writings - could this fondly re-read trilogy of novels allow me to include him?
And what about friends, whose novel writings I have loved and enjoy re-reading? Clare Sudbery and Marie Phillips could easily claim a place on a similar 'favourite novels' list and I so love their writing styles that it seems churlish to feel so ambivalent about whether they would 'qualify'...
I have to admit that despite reading plenty of fiction by women, I was a tad mortified by the (gender) imbalance of my eventual list. Sure, plenty of favourite women authors were excluded on the grounds of them being short story or essay or memoir writers. But I can almost hear the cries of horror at their being no Edith Wharton (though I did really enjoy The Custom of the Country), no Virginia Woolf (I have to proclaim in honesty that I am not awful fond of her writing beyond her essays), and - waits in terror for the real backlash - no Jane Austen... certainly I have enjoyed some of each of their works, but favourites? My favourite Austen is Northanger Abbey and though I have liked and admired her other works I don't think I can honestly say I would choose her writings above certain others as 'favourites'.
I toyed with Charlotte Bronte (and in the end compromised by a certain inclusion on the final list in honour of Jane Eyre). I pondered on included Toni Morrison for Beloved, a work that still astonishes me on each re-reading. I considered the (over?-)prolific but facsinating Joyce Carol Oates. Though not re-read recently I also fondly recalled Marge Piercy whose works I continue to recommend. And what of Angela Carter, whose shorter works and non-fiction are my favourites of her writings (though The Passion of the New Eve is a novel I often re-read)?
Mind, in thinking of the women I excluded I also thought hard about all the male authors who I may like and admire but whose work doesn't necessarily make me 'sing', bring me to delight or make me feel anything much beyond a disengaged awe. Pynchon, Updike, DeLilo, Ellroy (though I do like selected of Ellroy's works)... none of these really 'touch' me to think of them as favourite no matter how much/little I may read of their works. As you well know, despite many attempts and even requirements (I really should have read more for my PhD), I remain disenchanted by the prose of Henry James excepting Daisy Miller an early-ish shorter work and - funnily - The Golden Bowl (his finale). Phillip Roth I admire more, but I really have to be in the mood for his writing as much as certain friends of mine rave continuously over his works (and whom I love to hear conversing about him). I feel similarly about Paul Auster (and again I will duck from the firing of friends in their rage) - I can truly admire and be enthralled, but favourite? Alisdair Gray is an acquired taste for sure and I do like his works a good deal - but would be take a place on my list?? What of the frothy, safe-on-his-writing-patch, flights of Kinky Friedman?? What of Ian Rankin? (and yes, Alex, I know that George Pelacanos hasn't got mentioned here but so far I have read too little of his works to properly comment -- though if the majesterial 'The Wire' counted as novels his contributions would surely be in with a shout...)
As the list I finally chose felt frothy enough I reluctantly dropped Eoin Colfer, despite being so addicted to the lovely Artemis Fowl works (and others by this enjoyable author). I also thought long and hard about ommitting George Orwell, despite 1984 and Animal Farm. Again, it came down to what I liked the writing for and it was chiefly the essays despite the influential power of those two key works.
After all that the final list came out as follows: it feels very arbitrary, but also a reasonable reflection of recent or continuous reads. And barring one selection, there is limited doubt that each can lay claim to the role of novelist. Tommorrow, as ever I may have changed my mind about several of my inclusions and exclusions...
In alphabetical order:
Kelley Armstrong - though her most recent works have fallen a little from the heights hit by Bitten, her writings remain fun and great page-turners. I thoroughly enjoy her writing style and her characters.[apologies for the decrease in provided links - my tummy rumbled for food!!!]
Lawrence Block - the Matt Scudder novels are amongst my most favourite series of novels in the crime genre. Wonderful.
Christopher Brookmyre - for being just the most wickedly hilarious writer of Scottish based narratives
Charles Dickens - shockingly I think my only heavyweight author, but for his overall oeuvre and the pleasures his works have provided he had to have a place
Arthur Conan Doyle - the one I felt most ambiguous about including, but he is too much a favourite writer to exclude
Jasper Fforde - after a long promotion via friends I have recently gotten into this most enjoyable author. And The Eyre Affair seemed to make up for my excluding poor Charlotte Bronte.
Neil Gaiman - though still best known for his graphic novel opus The Sandman (10 volumes, count 'em), Gaiman is such a fine writer of the novel form that he truly warranted a place here.
Alison Lurie - it took me a long while to realise when I first started reading Lurie's works (a) how old she was and (b) when many of them were written. Some may say they are 'of their period(s)' but I have always found them enjoyable portrayals of the world into which I can slip.
Phillip Pullman - if he had only written The Dark Materials trilogy, that would be sufficient despite all my previously raised caveats for choosing. That the Sally Lockhart novels are so fine makes his work a treasure.
Dorothy L Sayers - she's probably almost totally out of fashion now, and some of her characterisations are less than comfortable for modern readers. But there is a verve to her Wimsey novels that never fails to draw me in.
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