Me And My Big Mouth

The Best Of The Rest Of The Booker: The Public Vote

Our esteemed panel have spoken and between them come up with a list of 10 novels that should have won the Booker Prize but didn't.  It is now up to you to vote for a winner.  If you have no idea what I am going on about click here for some background.

The poll will stay open until the 9th July and the winner will be announced on the morning of the 10th.  Later that day the actual Best of the Booker is awarded and we'd hate to steal its thunder. 

500 people a day visit this site and it would be great if a decent chunk of you could vote.  It is meant to be a bit of fun and I'd love you to join in. Oh, and tell your friends, link to this post, spread the word. It would be great to get as many people participating as possible.

And the prize?  I will bake a cake for the winner.  Assuming they are still alive, of course.  And are prepared to accept a cake from me.  Lemon drizzle is my speciality but I can be flexible on that.  One of them is bound to be allergic to something.

Once you have voted feel free to comment and let us know which one you plumped for.  Or if you think we've got the shortlist completely wrong then grumble and moan, no one will mind.

more at twiigs.com...

I Am Not Alone

Jenny Geras over at the Picador blog is enjoying re-reading Charles Baxter.

A woman of fine taste, clearly.

Literary Stowaways

I mentioned yesterday that Homer Simpson is a key character in Nathaniel West's novel The Day of the Locust.

John Self commented that Chevy Chase crops up in Wuthering Heights.  I don't remember that myself.  I was too busy being bored to tears by the rest of the book.

Has anybody else noticed any literary stowaways recently?  I'd love to know of more.  Please leave a comment if you have.

I guess what we really want are accidental ones.  I am pretty sure that neither West nor Bronte were able to predict the comedy future, although the idea of Emily working on an early draft of the Fletch screenplay appeals for some reason, and their unfortunate choice of names was pure fluke.  Which make them all the more amusing.

Haruki Murakami appears as a patient in The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket but that was a deliberate placement so doesn't really count.  Although we'd still like to hear about them if you spot them.

The Best Of The Rest Of The Booker: The Judges

Tomorrow will see the shortlist announced for our prestigious Best of the Rest of the Booker Prize.  I have called upon an elite panel of experts to help pull that together.  They have until tonight to give their views but so far those involved are listed below (I will add to the list as people get back to me, they have until tonight to have their say).

Adele Geras - author of books for children, young adults and adults.
John Self - the finest book reviewer on the web.
Warwick Collins - author of Gents, The Rationalist and other overlooked works of wonder.
David Roche - former CEO of Borders UK.
Ray Robinson - novelist who made the James Tait Black Memorial Prize shortlist with his debut Electricity.
Dan Rhodes - author of Timoleon Vieta Come Home, which should have been shortlisted for the Booker Prize but wasn't.
Catheryn Kilgarriff - publisher and head of Marion Boyars.
Chris Simms - crime writer, currently on the longlist for the Theakston's prize.
Sarah Salway - novelist, poet and story writer.

Not a bad turn out at a day's notice.  Thanks go out to them all.

Each was asked to pick their ten favourite books that were shortlisted for the Booker Prize but failed to win.  These were then scored with 10 points for their #1 choice, down to 1 point for #10.  Once all of the votes are counted the final Top 10 will form the shortlist and that will appear, complete with voting buttons, tomorrow.

Doh!

Things were going quite well with this book when, about 30 pages in, I came across this line.

'It was on this trip that Faye acquired a new suitor by the name of Homer Simpson.'

At which point any hope of taking this biting Hollywood satire and bleak social commentary entirely seriously went out of the window.  Could Nathaniel West, who died in a car accident in 1940 just one day after his good friend F.Scott Fitzgerald popped his literary clogs, have had any idea that this choice of name for a key character would conjour up images of a bald, overweight, lazy, donut eating American icon 70 years later?

Of course not, but it does.

The Day Of The Locust is a famous Hollywood novel (the best of them according to JG Ballard) which was made into a movie in 1975 with Donald Sutherland playing Homer (sans donuts).  It is also short (183 pages in this dinky A-format edition from Penguin Reds).  Both factors prompted me to read it.  Although describing it as short is far more accurate than calling it a Hollywood novel.

Set in the 1930s the novel centres upon Tod Hackett, a talented young artist rapidly becoming disillusioned after coming to LA as a set designer.  But apart from a few brief scenes within the studio lot, a crowd scene at a premiere and one, admittedly brilliant, description of a cinematic re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo, the book steers clear of the movies completely, concentrating instead on a coterie of has-beens and almost-rans skirting the periphery of Tinseltown.

So Tod falls obsessively for Faye, a tragically beautiful part-time call girl who is looking to make it big in films.  She is the daughter of a vaudeville showman whose popularity waned as the movies took over.  Bring in a part-time cowboy, an angry dwarf, a cock-fighting Mexican and a smattering of socialites and whores and you have the recipe for a few cracking parties.

And that's without mentioning Homer Simpson, the bookkeeper who is one of Tod's rivals for Faye's attention.

And parties are where much of the action takes place in this book, the gaps in between filled with doubt, recrimination, arguments and guilt.  As a bleak study of a group of rather unlikeable characters Day Of The Locust performs rather well.  No one is really all that sympathetic, and as a result you don't really care about them.  In many books that would leave me far too distant and detached to enjoy the experience but West succeeds in pulling you in just close enough to maintain your interest. 

Not a classic, but an intriguing short read with a few great scenes which just about survives the unfortunate inclusion of a character called Homer.

The Best Of The Booker? Really?

The shortlist has been announced for the Best of the Booker, a prize to mark the finest novel to win the award in its 40 year history.

The six books are:

Pat Barker - The Ghost Road
Peter Carey - Oscar & Lucinda
JM Coetzee - Disgrace
JG Farrell - The Siege of Krishnapur
Nadine Gordimer - The Conservationist
Salman Rushdie - Midnight's Children

"What, no Amsterdam?" I hear you cry.  I was as shocked as you.

Clearly this shortlist, selected by a panel including Victoria Glendinning and Mariella Fostrup, is not going to please everyone.

Least of all me.  And my gripes are legion.

Why no books from this century?  An agenda there?

Are these really the six best books (within the criteria) of the past 40 years?

When will the literary world wake up to the fact that Midnight's Children is a steaming pile of pretentious tosh and stop giving it awards (it is the bookies' favourite)?

Where is Life of Pi?  Schindler's Ark?  The God of Small Things?  The Remains of the Day?  (Not my favourites, necessarily, but some of the more popular winners).

I won't go on. 

It may sound as if I am less than keen on this prize, but I do really like the idea of revisiting the golden oldies of Booker's past. I haven't read the Farrell or Gordimer and am tempted to do so now (please tell me they are better than the Rushdie) and have enjoyed getting all wound up about it (albeit in a chilled and relaxed way).  Shortlists always spark debate, and that is healthy, clean fun.

So, let's have some fun of our own.

The Best of the Booker will be decided by public vote.  You can cast yours here.  I opted for Oscar & Lucinda as that is the one I enjoyed most of those I've read and is the only one I am likely to re-read in years to come.  It is by no means my favourite Booker winner - that would be The Remains of the Day, closely followed by Life of Pi - but is the pick of the bunch.

In that democratic spirit, Me And My Big Mouth will host its own Booker vote.  I was sorely tempted to set one up to pick the worst Booker winner of the past 40 years but a) that would be somewhat negative and b) Amsterdam would win by a country mile.

No.  Instead I am going to set up an online poll to pick the best book that didn't win the Booker Prize.  The Best of the Rest of the Booker.  The criteria are pretty simple: any shortlisted book that failed to win is eligible. 

That gives us about 200 titles to choose from so to make it easier I have enlisted the help of a fantastic panel of judges to come up with our own shortlist.  More news on that tomorrow.  In the meantime, do vote on the Best of the Booker if you get a chance.  I am quite keen on it despite my moaning.

Quote Me Happy

I have just got back from a delightful soirée at Foyles in London.  It was the launch of an exhibition called Secrets and Shadows which featured 12 artists and one writer.  The writer in question was the fabulous Sebastian Beaumont, author of Thirteen, who waxes lyrical about the exhibition and his book at the Guardian blog.

It was the first time I had met Sebastian, having spent much of last year raving about his book.  I must have gone on about it so much they have put a quote from me on the cover.

That should at least ensure that my mum buys a copy, so that is one incremental sale.

The exhibition runs all week and is really rather good.  I was eyeing up one particularly interesting image of an attractive girl when I realised that the model was standing next to me.  She didn't give me a second glance.  No surprise there.

Quote Unquote

Blimey.

Not sure visitors to their site will get the in-jokes but who cares about that?

It's Oh So Quiet

We waved Ethan off yesterday as he set out on a school trip to the Isle of Wight.  The whole of his year are going and for many of these 9 year olds this will be their longest spell away from home.  There were lots of tears from kids in the sports hall, but none from Ethan who was pretty chilled about the whole thing.  They get a fry up every morning and a three course meal every night.  I bet he couldn't wait to get away.

His absence does rather stall proceedings on our book at bedtime which is Howl's Moving Castle (you can always keep an eye on the bedtime story by checking out the sidebar about half way down on the right) but I must confess to being somewhat relieved.  The book is perfectly fine but is a real bugger to read out loud.  Lots of oddly constructed sentences for muggins here to stumble over.

But we can't leave Martha without a story, can we?  So I am reading her a book that we should be able to finish by the time Ethan returns on Friday.  It is this dog-eared old volume.

But wait, what is this inside?

Awarded to my mum 52 years ago.  Well done her.  I remember reading it as a child and Martha loved it last night.  Barbara Euphan Todd is most famous for creating Worzel Gummidge but I prefer Mr Blossom's Shop, a collection of tales about a very unusual grocer's shop which sells some remarkable items.  So far we have had a Sally Lunn bun turn in to an old lady, a giant scone fly away with a bothersome neighbour on top of it, never to be seen again and a curious packet of seeds which grew into a dozen governesses.

Delightfully old fashioned with a marvelous wicked streak.

The Glorious Stereo Reading Experiment: First Impressions

I am about to embark upon the possibly pointless experiment of reading two books on the Glorious Revolution at the same time so I thought I should take a closer look at them before I start.

Both books are available in paperback but my copies are hardback so I am not going to taking them with me on the train or sticking them in my back pocket.  These will be armchair and garden reading only.

Anyway, here are the contenders for the prize of BEST BOOK ON THE GLORIOUS REVOLUTION IN MY HOUSE.  Let's take a closer look.

The Covers

   

Glorious has gone for the celeb angle by chucking a couple of kings on the front.  If I am not mistaken we have James II on the left and William III on the right.  Both are sporting fine Brian May wigs.  It is the OK or Heat magazine of the two.  Bodes well for gossip, sex and cellulite.  7/10.

Last, on the other hand, appears to have plumped for a more general, historic, moment in history assemblage with boats and hoards.  Very TLS or BBC History magazine.  Serious, but will it prove a bit dull?  6/10.

The Stats

Glorious is 371 pages long with 1 set of colour plates.  There are 9 chapters of 30 or so pages each.  6/10.

Last is a bit longer at 449 pages but with shorter chapters, 45 in all, and two colour plate sections.  7/10.

The Author Photos

Edward Vallance, author of Glorious, is on the left.  He looks like an ex-skinhead in a Ben Sherman shirt.  He exudes a quiet coolness with perhaps a slight undertone of violence (if provoked).  He probably owns a few records by The Fall.  What on earth is he doing writing history books?  And it is me or is there just a hint of Matthew McFadyen about him?  7/10.

Patrick Dillon, on the other hand, could have been a chess grandmaster if he put his mind to it and probably plays the piano.  Clearly someone who can be trusted on matters 17th century.  7/10.

Educated thug versus geek.  Ed would beat Pat in a fight, but has he written a better book?

The Findings

Glorious is the shorter and the author looks like he can handle himself but Last has brief, punchy chapters which should make for an easier read.  Hard to pick between them at the moment and it is a dead heat with 20 points each before I have read a word.

I will report back once I have made a start on both.

A Song For Sunday

We have got over our Camille disappointment by discovering the wonderful Soha.  Heavy rotation in the kitchen on these sunny days.

Postcards From China

A Thousand Years Of Good Prayers by Yiyun Li has awards coming out of its non-existent ears.  It won the Guardian First Book Award (previous winners include White Teeth, Everything Is Illuminated and Stuart, A Life Backwards) as well as the Frank O'Connor International Short Story Award (which went to Haruki Murakami last year, as I recall).  That is quite an impressive roll call, and I am only picking out the ones mentioned on the cover, there are others.

So, high expectations then.  A collection of stories from a young Chinese exile written in English.  Very much my bag.

So why didn't I love it?  I enjoyed it.  I dipped in once every couple of days to tackle a new story.  None of them were bad.  Some were very good.  Just not as good as I was expecting, I guess.

Most of the stories concern family relationships, the bonds between generations.  Some of them look at the strains placed on a family when one or more members are outside of China, in this case the USA, something Li seems well placed to explore.  And she does approach these themes with a lightness of touch.  She is a subtle writer, perhaps too subtle for me.

I wanted more.  A bit more edge perhaps.  A bit more plot.  These were more character studies or family portraits.  Snapshots of lives, rendered well, but failing to engage me.

That being said, I did particularly like one story, the last in the book and the title story of the collection.  In it, an old man travels to America to visit his daughter who has recently divorced.  He enjoys strolling around the neighbourhood and conversing with the people he meets.  One of these is an elderly Iranian lady.  Both of them have limited English so end up talking in their native languages, neither understanding the other, but somehow getting the gist.  I liked that idea, and the story's clever twist towards the end, the only one that really offers something like that in this collection.

Interestingly, I found myself completely engaged and impressed by the additional material at the back of the book.  This is one of those Harper Perennial paperbacks with a P.S. section at the back.  In this case a profile of the author from The Scotsman and a non-fiction piece about growing up in China and public executions from the author.  Both are stark, edgy and compelling.  Something I cannot really say I found in most of the stories that went before.

Don't get me wrong, this is a good collection of stories, the awards alone tell you that.  I just didn't respond to them the way other seem to have.  I'd be tempted to side with them on this one if I were you.

The Glorious Stereo Reading Experiment

You will have realised that I was quite taken with Quicksilver by Neal Stephenson and that I have been inspired to read a bunch of books linked to the 17th century storyline.

One subject I desperately need to read up on is the so-called Glorious Revolution of 1688.  I knew absolutely nothing about it before reading Stephenson's novel.  I have an O Level in History, grade B as I recall, and not once in my primary or secondary school education was it mentioned.  Not a word.

Fortunately, during my years of stockpiling interesting non-fiction when it was sent my way I find myself in possession of not one, but two books on the subject.

The first is The Last Revolution: 1688 And The Creation Of The Modern World by Patrick Dillon.  The other is by Edward Vallance and goes by the name of The Glorious Revolution: 1688 - Britain's Fight For Liberty.

But which one should I read?

I have decided, partly as amusing blog experiment and partly because I can, to read both books at the same time.  Not at exactly the same time, you understand, that would be insane, but to relay between the two in instalments.  I think it could be fascinating to see how two different writers tackle the same subject.  I realise people do this all the time when researching stuff, but I haven't so this is my chance.

Updates on the experiment will appear here.

Finally

This book took me over a year to read.  I enjoyed every bloody minute of it.

Early on in the marathon armchair experience which has been Quicksilver I realised that this was a very special novel.  I guess if I had knuckled under and made an effort then I could have polished it off in a week or so - it is 926 pages of small print - but I wanted to spend more time with it than that.  So it became my occasional book.  Something I would pick up once every couple of weeks for a brief dip.

Of course, when you spend so long with one volume it does become part of the fabric of your life, part of the furniture.  My family have grown used to finding it lying in the garden, sitting on the staircase, or discarded by the side of the bed.  It was like a small, rectangular, lazy family pet.  I think they will miss it.

Neal Stephenson's novel is, at its very core, quite simple.  You follow three characters through the last third of the 17th century as they play their respective parts in history.  While journeying with them you meet, brush past and walk slap bang into a huge array of historical figures and events.  Quicksilver interlaces fact and fiction seamlessly.

Daniel Waterhouse is a roommate of Isaac Newton at Cambridge and becomes, like him, a member of the Royal Society.  As a puritan with a notoriously outspoken father he has to walk a fine political and religious line if he is to avoid the Tower.  Through him we see the world of 17th century science and also the goings in the court of three different English kings.

Jack Shaftoe is a vagabond and mercenary wending his way through war-torn Europe.  He rescues a young woman from a Turkish harem during the Battle of Vienna and with a combination of his brawn and her brain they look to make their fortune across the continent.

Eliza, the rescued woman, is a genius at business and soon becomes a sought after courtier and spy.  Through her we watch the scandal and intrigue of Louis' France and William's Holland.

The book, and its characters, takes us to some of the most famous events in history.  The Great Fire of London, the Plague, the aforementioned brouhaha in Vienna, the Monmouth rebellion and others, culminating in the Glorious Revolution.  It is epic in scope and ambition.  It is a huge and impressive achievement.  Some have criticised it for being overly long and rambling but, for me, Stephenson has recreated the 17th century his characters inhabit by immersing the narrative in every aspect of the 17th century.  The text lives and breathes the times.  It really is a marvel.

The tragedy of Quicksilver is that it remains only a moderate seller with a small audience in the UK, albeit quite a passionate one.  The blame for that lies firmly with categorisation.  This remarkable work of historical fiction will, more than likely, only be found in your local bookstore's Science Fiction & Fantasy section, if they stock it at all.

This is not a work of fantasy.  It is historical fiction.  While reading it I was often reminded of Crimson Petal & The White by Michel Faber (it shares the same sharp wit) and the non-fiction work of Peter Ackroyd, particularly his London books.  Certainly if Ackroyd had written this book it would be required reading by a whole bunch of people who never go anywhere near the Sci-Fi shelves.

The good news for me is that there are another two volumes, and nearly 2,000 pages to go, as Stephenson followed this up with The Confusion and The System Of The World to complete his Baroque Cycle.

Quicksilver has also sparked off a whole range of other reading projects for me.  The remarkable character of Isaac Newton in the book is one of its highlights, I now want to know more, much more, about him.  The Royal Society is fascinating and I am going to seek out some books on that subject.  I also desperately need to read up on the Glorious Revolution, about which I know absolutely nothing.  Any novel that sets you on a non-fiction reading spree is one worthy of note.

Don't be scared by Quicksilver, it is as thick as a brick but is one of the most rewarding reading experiences I can remember.

Underneath That Prickly Exterior

I started this book in the knowledge that it had sold over a million copies in its native France. That is a merde-load of books by anyone's standard.

For the first third I was seriously wondering what all the fuss was about.  Nice premise, but no big deal.  Perhaps there is something uniquely French in its appeal.  Like Johnny Hallyday.  Or horse meat.  After all, it outsold the hyped-to-death Les Bienveillantes and spent longer in the bestseller charts than The Da Vinci Code so the French certainly liked it.

During the middle section I was beginning to warm to it.  The book was working its charm.  It was pretty good after all.  Not a classic, mind, but not bad.

By the end I had fallen madly in love with it, the way I have, in turn, with Emanuelle Beart, Vanessa Paradis, Audrey Tatou and Soko.  It is bloody marvelous.  And yes, there was a tear in my eye as I turned the final pages.

Renee is the live-in concierge in a well-to-do Paris apartment block.  She works hard to conform to the stereotype of her profession.  She is short,ugly, has bad breath and a gruff manner. She has a fat and lazy cat, is always brewing up some unidentified cabbage broth concoction on the stove and is only acknowledged by the residents when some important package is arriving.  She is of no particular consequence.

Except to the reader, of course.  We discover that she is really a sparky, witty and erudite lover of the arts.  A reader of philosophy and great literature.  All things that she doggedly keeps hidden from the residents, fearful of appearing anything other than your typical grumpy concierge.

But when a new resident moves in to the building, Renee's charade is in danger of being exposed.  Add to that an edgy subplot featuring a 13-year-old girl living in the apartment block who has decided to commit suicide and you have a story that picks you up and carries you along with it.

The Elegance Of The Hedgehog is as sparky, witty and engaging as the central character it plays host to.  It is full of quotable lines (courtesy of translator Alison Anderson - there you go Bela!) and, whilst I doubt it will sell a million over here, it bloody well deserves to.  It is published in September but if you have any way of getting hold of an advance proof then I would urge you to do just that.

Kiss Me Cate

I have developed an unhealthy attraction to this picture of Cate Blanchett taken from the forthcoming Indiana Jones movie in which she plays Soviet agent Irina Spalko.

Can't think why.

A Quick Flick: Lonely Werewolf Girl

There are werewolves amongst us.  Scottish werewolves.  The MacRinnalch clan to be precise.  The royal family of lupine transformers, and quite a dysfunctional family they are too.  Kalix is a young runaway, addicted to drugs and in hiding after trying to kill her father, the Thane.  Thrix, her sister and sixty years her senior, is a fashion designer with a supernatural clientèle.  They form the core of this tale of werewolf war.

When I was first courting MOTC I remember her having a number of Martin Millar books in her collection.  Those editions fetch high prices with collectors now.  This welcome return from last year is available from the usual places but also from the author's own site.

Cake Or Art?

We spent a delightful morning at the Barn Galleries just outside Henley.  This picturesque farmhouse plays host to a diverse collection of sculpture, ceramics and paintings for the month of May.  The kids loved wandering around the grounds, avoiding sausage dogs and hens, discovering various metal, stone and wooden creations.  If you are at a loose end and within the general area then it comes highly recommended by the Packs.

It also has a very reasonably priced tea shop (not that I paid!) with homemade cakes and is run, at least at weekends, by three boys of about 10 years old who gave the best service I have ever had at an eatery.  Worth the trip for that alone.

Ethan thought that many of the sculptures reminded him of Studio Ghibli creations.  I particularly liked the paintings of Janet Shrimpton, the wall ceramics of Diane Griffin and June Kingsbury's ceramic work was somewhat reminiscent of MOTC.

Martha loved Catriona Platts-Manoury's ceramic block sculptures.

Daddy's Song For Sunday

Here you go my love.  I think you'll like it.

Martha's Song For Sunday

Daddy is letting me post my favourite song on here.  We watched Brandi Carlile on Later With Jools Holland and daddy downloaded the album for me.  I love it.

Daddy says she reminds him of Maria McKee.  Especially when she rocks out.  I don't know who Maria McKee is but he is going to play me some of her music later.

Numbers

On Thursday Me And My Big Mouth had its first 1,000 visitor day.  1,190 people came along to read stuff to be precise.  Generally this blog gets 5-600 visitors per day.  At weekends that drops to about half that number.

Usually a peak such as that is down to a link appearing somewhere else.  Reuters occasionally syndicates my posts and that can drive all manner of people this way.  The trade press can have a similar effect but quite a few people in the trade pop by regularly anyway, although they rarely comment but we know they are watching.

On Thursday, however, there weren't any obvious external links driving people this way and the pages people landed on were pretty varied.  Perhaps just a fluke then.

The blog is rapidly approaching is 200,000th visitor.  That is mildly exciting.  A quarter of a million sounds better, and that might not be far off.  Of course, that is peanuts compared to the sort of traffic proper sites get, but it is nice to know so many people have popped by.

You are all very welcome.  Yes, even you.