Me And My Big Mouth

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.

Lost In Translation: Deux

MOTC loved the last Camille album Le Fil.  She played it to death in the kitchen (her natural habitat) most of last year.  And it was a corker.  Clearly Camille is a bit mad, but wonderfully so.

So we were very excited about her superbly titled new album Music Hole.  But, we must confess, we are initially underwhelmed.  You see, this new collection of songs is almost entirely in English.  A wise commercial move, perhaps, but it seems to have rendered them a more poppy edge.   One of the tracks could have come from the Lion King soundtrack.  She is still a bit mad, but the madness has become a little silly.  In English I don't think she works as well, but I am speaking as someone whose grasp of French is limited.  French speakers may have always felt this way about her.

   

Lost In Translation: Un

Bela, who blogs at the mighty fine Slap Of The Day, raised an interesting point regarding translations in her comment to this recent post.  Her complaint was that translators do not get sufficient credit outside of perhaps a mention on the book itself (if that wasn't what you were getting at Bela, I apologise but shall plod ahead regardless).

Specifically, she has blogged about recent catalogues from Gallic Books and Bloomsbury, both of which feature books in translation, which do not mention or credit the translators.

A very good point, I am pretty sure you will agree.  But does it really matter to readers?

I am undecided.  On the one hand, as someone who reads a great deal of fiction in translation, there are some translators that I seek out as a mark of quality.  Murakami fans all know that if Jay Rubin agrees to translating one of his books you are pretty much guaranteed a goodie.  He only translates the books he really loves.  I am a big fan of German translator Anthea Bell, having met her on a TV show once where she captivated me with an explanation of how many German translators mis-represent the word 'constellation'.  She also translated the superb Robber Hotzenplotz series and one of my all-time favourite books, The Satanic Mill by Otfried Preussler.  Also, as a collector of different translations of the Odyssey and Iliad, I have very strong views on the various editions of those works.

But, on the other hand, I generally don't give a tinker's toss who has translated much of the general fiction I read.  I subscribe to the theory that, like a good movie score, I shouldn't really notice the translator while enjoying the book in English.  That doesn't mean they shouldn't get credit, of course, I just don't tend to look.

I'd love to know if any visitors to this blog have particular translators they look out for, or try to avoid.

A related post to follow later.

(Oh, and please forgive the image I have selected.  For some reason that is the only one that springs to mind when the phrase 'lost in translation' comes up.  Can't think why).

A Quick Flick: The Gone-Away World

In some sort of post-apocalyptic future, which I haven't quite got a handle on yet, there is a bloody great pipeline circling the globe.  It appears to be an essential part of existence in this new world order but the bugger has only gone and burst into flames, hasn't it?

Our narrator and his pal Gonzo (presumably not that Gonzo) are the chaps who have to put it out.  That's the basic set up of this epic, ambitious, sort-of-fantasy novel with a difference.  I've had a good nose through the opening chapters and it is certainly intriguing but I suspect it is one I will need to really concentrate on so I will wait till my Currently Reading pile (see sidebar on the top left) goes down a bit.

The The Gone-Away World is published in June so copies will probably start appearing in shops later this month.

A Quick Flick: The Sun King Rises

Murder, intrigue and religious conspiracy in the court of Louis XIV.  I am only a few chapters in but am already hooked.  A fine blend of historical fact and fiction.  I suspect fans of Kate Mosse's Labyrinth would enjoy this but I shall report back in full once I've finished it.

The Sun King Rises by Yves Jego & Denis Lepee is out there now if you want to have a peek.

Overtaken By A Dog

There was a short story collection from the US that I was dipping into very gradually.  It was The Collected Stories Of Amy Hempel and was unavailable over here.  I had heard great things about her so I ordered it online. 

Hempel writes short short stories, often only a paragraph or two long. I have been savouring them slowly lest I rush through and devour them all at once. 

I try to give plenty of space on this blog to story collections as I think they are criminally under-read (or should that be under-bought?) in this country.  They do seem to fare so much better in the States.  Hempel writes wonderful stories, and I am a sucker for really short ones, so this book has been a true delight.  Think Anne Tyler rewritten by Richard Brautigan.  If that doesn't make your brain hurt too much then I reckon you might like these.

Of course, it turns out that I have taken so long to read my US edition that it has now been published over here.  The UK version is from Quercus and has a different title - The Dog Of The Marriage: Collected Stories - and cover.  It is only out in hardback in the UK at the moment and you'd have to be a real fan to stump up £16.99 but certainly one to watch out for in paperback and it would be nice to think the retailers will give it some nice 3 for 2 or BOGOF space when it appears in that format, whenever that might be.

Personally, I can't decide which cover I prefer.  I find myself leaning towards the US one but then the colour of the UK version looks rather striking on the bookshelf.  The content is identical, of course, so it ultimately makes no difference at all, except that it would be foolish to keep both of them.  I think I will hold on to the blue one.

Or perhaps not.

Through The Archives

I tend to assume that once a blog post is a couple of days old no one will read it again (and with some of my posts I do hope that is the case).  Certainly comments rarely appear on posts once a week is up.  So it was a pleasant surprise to see that someone had clicked through from here the other day to buy Memoirs Of A Woman Doctor by Nawal El-Saadawi, presumably after reading the interview she gave on this site.

The Typepad reports suggest that the old interviews still get some traffic.  And I am pleased to report that we have a couple of really good one lined up in the coming weeks.  Watch this space.

Some News, At Last

Things appear to be reaching a conclusion with regards The Friday Project and Harper Collins as you can see from this trade press report which is based on an official press release. 

Opinions have been varied and vocal about the ongoing situation, and you can understand why.  Reaction to this news is also certain to be mixed.  Many people have been affected by the situation and they have every right to make their feelings felt, if they choose to.  Most haven't actually, or have done so privately.

I usually get a bunch of comments, many anonymous, whenever the subject is mentioned here (and often when it isn't).  I never delete or censor anything anyone posts on the blog, I think everyone is entitled to say what they want.  I personally believe comment or criticism carries more weight when a person puts their name to it, so if you do want to leave a comment it would be good if you would say who you are.

Of course the Bookseller piece allows you to comment as well, and you'd get a much bigger audience there, so perhaps that is the place to go.

Anyway, I said I'd pipe up when I had news and this certainly counts as that.

Bin Lady

She's put her recycling boxes outside my house again.  It is raining far too hard to go out there and knock on her door but I can guarantee you they will have shifted to her doorstep by the time she gets up in the morning.

Grand Theft Auto IV?

The biggest computer game ever?

Really?

It's not a patch on this.

Pack Mansions is home to a MarioKart Wii tournament every weekend.  I am the reigning champion but will surely be dethroned by the youngsters soon.  We welcome all-comers.

A Quick Flick: The Ossians

The Ossians are a young indie band on the verge of the big time.  Unfortunately their lead singer has a drink problem, a drug problem, and is up to his tits in debt with his dealer.  The only way to pay it back is to agree to carrying out a few 'deliveries' during the band's upcoming tour.  A recipe for disaster, surely?

Doug Jonhstone has got the tone of this just right and has filled the story with sufficient references to Teles, Firebirds and Twin Reverbs to satisfy the most hardened muso.  Although in doing so he has succeeded in making me feel very old and out of touch.  One for the young hipsters and old rockers, of which I am neither, but it was nice to hang out with them for a few chapters.

My Stairs Are Famous In L.A.

MOTC got a bit excited last night when we discovered that our kitchen stairs have been featured on US design website Apartment Therapy.  Harvey the carpenter will be very pleased.

Newcomers to the blog probably missed my exciting bookshelf posts which can be found here, here, here and also here.

If you like a bit of bookshelf porn then I would highly recommend a trip over to the Bookshelf blog.  It does exactly what it says on the tin.

The Future Of Retail

I have long had an idea for a shop I'd like to open.  Actually, it is two shops.  Allow me to explain.

Years ago I recall seeing a short news piece on the television about an American man who had self-published a book.  It was an autobiographical work, as I remember it, possibly about the author's fishing exploits (but perhaps I am confusing him with JR Hartley).  Anyway, he opened up a shop in his home town in which he just sold his book and nothing else.  Shelves and shelves of the same title.  He would sit in the shop and sell copies of his book to passers by.  I think it became something of a tourist attraction.

Neat story.  But it gets better.

A few years later he wrote a follow up.  So what did he do?  He opened up a brand new shop, right next door to his first one, to sell only his second literary effort.  Two shops, each selling just one item.  Genius.

If anyone has a more accurate memory of this successful retail chain then I'd love to hear from you.

There is also a great short movie from the director of A Very Long Engagement and Delicatessen called Things I Like, Things I Don't Like.  It is a simple voiceover listing things on both sides of the argument with accompanying visual imagery.  Funny film.

My idea combines the two concepts.

I would open a small shop called Things I Love.  It would stock only things that I really like a lot.  Books, CDs, t-shirts, pictures, trinkets, bits & bobs, DVDs, stuff in general.  I'd bake cakes and biscuits and all manner of unrelated things which are only connected by the fact that I like them.

Next door I would open a shop called Things I Hate which is precisely the same concept, but in reverse.  Martin Amis novels, Celine Dion CDs, anything involving Cilla Black, Marmite, peanut butter and so on.

I mentioned the idea a couple of weeks ago to The Woman Who Talked Too Much and we got rather carried away with it.  We debated whether Things I Hate would need to be staffed by people I didn't like very much.  Perhaps there would be a table in between the two shops containing items that I am undecided upon.  Customers could vote on which shop certain items should go in.  It kept us amused for some time.

Now obviously this would not be a hugely successful business venture, but I am no stranger to those, so perhaps I should hold fire on this until I will the lottery and need to find something to pass the time and spend my fortune on.  I could see it becoming a Windsor tourist attraction though.  Lots of Japanese schoolgirls posing outside to have their photos taken.  Reason alone to go with it if you ask me.

The Kid Has Got A Point

Alien Invasion

In the past few days this blog has been inundated with visitors from the Space Captain Smith website.  It seems that my sneak peak review last month was the first review the book had received and new fans are checking it out.  I was quite positive about it, as I recall.  Well now I have read the whole thing and can report back in more detail.

It is a very silly book.  But it is also very funny.  I suspect it is going to be the first in an extremely popular series.  Publishers are always looking for the 'next' Douglas Adams, someone who can combine great wit, wisdom and imagination with a cracking plot, and Toby Frost definitely does that.  He won't mind me suggesting that he has a long way to go before he can hope to get near to emulating Adams, but this is a pretty good start.

Space Captain Smith is effectively Flashman in space.  A rip-roaring tale of derring-do which doesn't take itself remotely seriously but, like all great spoofs, conforms to the rules of the genre and is affectionate in its piss-taking.  Isambard Smith is sent on a mission to pick up an important passenger and is given a rickety old ship and a crew of one simulant to do the job.  He augments the staff with his alien mate Suruk (always up for some beheading, young Suruk) and blasts off, oblivious to the fact that he is a mere space pawn in a larger galactic game.  Plenty of twists, turns and nob gags on the way with a novel that should appeal to geeks, aficionados and lovers of adventure tales alike.  I defy anyone not to laugh out loud several times.

Myrmidon, the publisher, has once again done a great job with the cover and has managed to get the book promoted in Waterstone's and Smiths Travel, I believe, so it should be pretty easy to find.  Independent bookshops have been good supporters of their books to date as well so it is a good bet that your local will have it in stock.

Literature can be a bit too stuffy at times, it is great to find something that is well-written but also rather silly.  We could all do with reading something like this.

A Song For Sunday

Great song.  Great intro.

Farewell Humph

A beautiful sunny day today but not an entirely happy one.

Humphrey Lyttelton 1921-2008

Spookily, I had a dream last night that Graeme Garden had died and I remember being quite upset in the dream that this would mean the end of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue.  I was a bit freaked out when I heard the news on the radio this morning.  My psychic antennae are clearly not in full working order.