Review: Dream Angus by Alexander McCall Smith

This is the first book I decided to tackle in my self -set Myth Series Challenge. There were lots of reasons why I decided to read Dream Angus first. For starters, I am a big fan of Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, and enjoy his style of writing, therefore I was hoping to enjoy this book, and I wasn't disappointed. Also, I am, as my profile would indicate, 'into' dreams. Having them, pursuing them, interpreting them... and so I also had a personal interest in reading this book.

So. Dream Angus is the Celtic God of dreams, love, and youth. The traditional story is that he fell in love with a woman who came to him in his dreams. When she would not stay with him, night after night, he stopped eating and made himself ill, until his worried parents started a search for her. Eventually, they found her, but it turned out that the girl, Caer, (also the Celtic goddess of love) had a problem, in that she turned into a swan every other year, and Angus must overcome this to be with her.

In Alexander McCall Smith's retelling, he has interspersed the story of Angus with modern stories of love and dreams. My favourite quote from the book was actually in the Introduction, when McCall Smith says that "Angus... represents youth, and the intense passionate love that we might experience when we are young but which we might still try to remember as age creeps up. Age and experience might make us sombre and cautious, but there is always Angus within us - Angus the dreamer". As I love mythology in general, I really enjoyed reading a story that I had not previously known, and thought the way that it had been redeveloped was very engaging. I really enjoyed the style of the book, as it was very lightweight and easy to read: I finished it in an hour...

Rating ****

Next up: Baba Yaga Laid an Egg...



Review: Mini Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella and The Love Verb by Jane Green

I am reviewing these books together, as my local library has them filed together, under the heading 'Chick Lit'. There's been so much debate about the worth and value of this genre within the world of books, and so many people, myself included, see reading the books that fall into this category, as a guilty pleasure, rather than serious reading. I'll hold my hands up and admit that I've even been known to refer to them as 'girly rubbish books', and have an entire defensive argument ready to go along with the admission that I'm reading something that can be classed as 'chick lit'. One of my new years resolutions is to stop doing this. Some of my; absolutely favourite authors (Jane Green, Dorothy Koomson, Katie Fforde, Claudia Carroll, Jennifer Weiner, Candace Bushnell,etc, etc, etc) fall into this category, and I can therefore attest to the completely un-rubbishy nature of their work. It is however, girly, and therefore fair game for attack from the feminists, chauvanists, modernists, and pretty much anyone else who happens by.
Chick lit has been defined in lots of ways, but primarily as fiction written by women, for women, about issues which affect women; in the case of the two books I'm talking about here, these issues are, respectively, shopping, and cancer.

Mini Shopaholic, I would say, falls into the public conception of the genre as 'fluff fiction'. It is the latest in the 'Shopaholic' series, written by Sophie Kinsella, featuring shopaholic Becky Bloomwood. Kinsella, along with 'Bridget Jones' author Helen Fielding, and the ever popular (although not one of my favourites) Marian Keyes, was one of the first writers to popularise the chick lit genre, and the first book of the series, The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic, was turned into the film 'Confessions of a Shopaholic', in 2009. Briefly outlined, for those who haven't read the previous five shopaholic books, Becky is addicted to shopping, and in this most recent addition, her daughter is headed the same way. She spends frankly ridiculous amounts on things she will not ever need. Throughout the series, this has got her into vast numbers of problems. However, somehow it seems only to endear her more to the long-suffering Luke, who eventually married, in the third novel, and had a baby, in the fifth, with her. Baby, now two, is the 'Mini' (also called Minnie...) of the title. The story focuses on Becky's inability to control her child, resulting in getting banned from four Santa's grottoes, having to accept a delivery of sixteen coats that she does not want, and paying for the repair of a car stereo after aforementioned toddler has stuffed a honey sandwich into the CD player. However, as a sideline, Becky is also attempting to organise a super surprise birthday party for husband Luke (a big-shot businessman, at the time the British economy got all buggered up), and has to contend with the media, business meetings in Paris, and all kinds of hilarity in order to keep her secret.

If chick lit is about the issues faced by women, then Mini Shopaholic definately raises issues about motherhood and relationships. The humour which is so integral to the genre, is portrayed pretty much solely through the characters of Becky's parents, and their reactions (especially her mother's increasing hysteria) to the economic crisis.

I continue to read the Shopaholic books, because they are light hearted and generally fairly entertaining, as long as you're not expecting too much from them. I enjoyed this a lot less than I have the others. During this novel, I realised that the central character was selfish, compeltely spoiled, in denial, and, in the words of on eof the characters in the novel, 'insane'. This shouldn't have come as a revelation, as Kinsella has been very consistent with her characters throughout the series, and actually, Becky isn't half as bad in her latest outing as she has been on previous occassions. Having a child does seem to have impacted her in a positive way, despite her disciplinary skills being non-existent, and Kinsella has thrown in a fair few obstacles for her to overcome during the course of the novel; her addiction to shopping, organising a party, and the desire of Luke's estranged mother to have a relationship with her granddaughter, making up the crux of them.

Basically, the book was fine. It didn't challenge me, excite me, or even make me particularly happy, which is usually what I'm looking for when I visit the 'chick lit' section. However, it fulfilled the fourth criteria of the catergory, which is that it was fairly mindless. I did not need to concentrate on it at all. Overall, my opinion would be that the Shopaholic series has had its' day, and that Kinsella, (who, despite this review, is a talented, and usually fairly amusing writer) should turn her hand to something new.

Rating: ***

I always get excited about reading a Jane Green novel. I find that her writing is often very similar to that of Jodi Picoult, whose books I also enjoy a lot, although Green's are usually on the much lighter side, hence their classification as 'Chick lit'. My expectations when I pick up one of her novels, is that it will have characters who are interesting, and feel real, that it will completely absorb me, and make me feel something for the characters and storyline. The first Green novel I read was 'Bookends', unsurprisingly about books, and I fell in love with it, as it is about two women who start up an independent bookshop, with a cafea attached, and therefore combines two of my major passions of reading and food. 'The Love Verb' does the same, and got me all fired up by interspersing the story with recipes, every chapter, relating to the events of the chapter. I really love it when writers use other things to provoke the reactions of their readers, and I really find that recipes do it for me, as food tells you so much about people!

The main characters of the novel are Steffi Tollemache, a chef, and her sister, Callie. However, and this is one of the major things that I love about Jane Green's novels, the sisters are surrounded by a host of well thought - out and very three dimensional supporting characters, including Callie's husband, Reece, children Eliza and Jack, parents Honor and Walter, best friend Lila, her boyfriend, Ed, and Steffi's landlord, Mason.

Essentially, the story is about family, friendship, and how people come together to support one another during times of crisis. Callie is in remission from breast cancer, and about to celebrate four years since being given the all -clear, when tragedy strikes. Through a horrific time, Green portrays with real depth of emotion the feelings of all her characters, and far from the uplifting joy I felt on finishing 'Bookends', 'The Love Verb' had me curled up in my armchair, sobbing uncontrollably. I know, I'm a wuss, but the questions Green asks, and the depth of emotion she presents, are so real that I defy anyone to get through it without shedding a tear!

I thought that 'The Love Verb' was engrossing, very well written, and an emotional and accurate portrayal of what family means, and would (and probably will!) recommend it to anyone. In my opinion, Jane Green continues to improve with every book she publishes.

Rating: *****



I realise this has been a veeeeerrrry long post, but really limited access to the internet means I have to take advantage of posting as much as I can, whenever I can!!



Just as a by the way...

Back in the good old teenage angsty days, when I used to look to poetry for the deeper meanings of life, (I still do, to some extent, although I hope in a far less angsty way!)I came across this little gem, which I then proceeded to read to anybody and everybody who passed by me, whether or not they wanted to hear it. Here it is again, lest it should be forgotten :

The Box
Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore,
They came across a kind of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."
A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.
Don't fiddle with this deadly box,Or break the chains, or pick the locks.
And please don't ever play about with war.
The children understood. Children happen to be good
And they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locksOr break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither
'Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore.
Well, very much the same as now,
And not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did. Someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor.
A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags
And all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
Bumping into everything in store.And what was sad and most unfair
Was that it didn't really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly. And I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them every day and more, and more,
And leaves them dead, and burned, and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying.
'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all.
All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure
That we can get it back into the box,And bind the chains, and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that's the way it all appears, 'cause it's been bouncing round
for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box,
Bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled "Kindly do not touch; it's war."

Lascelles Abercrombie

V for Vendetta

I borrowed this from my little sister (who got it for Christmas) for our Graphic Novel book club, for which we had the ingenious idea that whoever chooses the book for that month, has to buy it and circulate it to all the other members, so that there's only ever one copy of a book, as they're so expensive and difficult to get second hand (although charity shops are always worth a look!). This creates a bit of a problem, though, as by the time we get around to the meeting, half the people have forgotten most of what happens in the novel, but I guess you can't win them all.
I've been a big fan of the film ever since it came out, although my sister (different sister) will only let us watch it on November 5th, and although I now live in a different county, around 2 hours drive away, I still don't feel able to break that rule...
Never having read the book, I obviousy expected it to be similar to the film, although, having read a vast number of adaptations, I have no idea why I would think this, but there we go. It isn't.
There are, of course, similarities. For example, the characters, V, Evey, Mr Finch, Mr Creedey, are all there, and major things which occur in the book are obviously taken pretty much straight from there to the screen, however major other things are left out. In the book, the film's climactic ending of the destruction of the Houses of Parliament, has already occured. However, the book does place less emphasis on Guy Fawkes than the film does, and so the detonation at its' ending does not feel out of place within the story created by Alan Moore and Dave Lloyd. In fact, on having finished the novel, I felt that the ending was probably better, although not as strong or poignant, as that of the film. Simply said, the book is much less cinematic than the film, obviously, some may say. It is set over a much longer period of time, years, rather than months, but despite this, the complexity of the storyline is not more than the film. I didn't mean to compare this to the film, as I feel very strongly, in some cases more than others, that books which have been adapted into films, deserve to be viewed in their own light, as well as in comparison to the film, which is undoubtedly more well known, but in the case of V, it is hard not to compare.
The general consensus is that they both are amazing pieces of artwork. A sad omission from the book, but a stroke of genius on behalf of the screenwriter, is V's speech from the beginning. I leave you with these words.

Voila! In view humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the “vox populi” now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin, van guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.
Verily this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it’s my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V.
- Hugo Weaving as 'V', V for Vendetta, 2006

Rating - *****

this year...

being 2011, I've decided to get serious about recording the books I read. Inspired by Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree, I'm going to use this blog to keep track of what I've read, and how I felt about it. Far too often I read something that I absolutely love, and then promptly forget what it was called, or who it was by, therefore making it difficult to find more books by the same author, or even to find similar types of novels. This year, this will stop. And that's my New Years Resolution. Let's see how it goes.

Definition

I should define myself.
I am an aspiring writer, proofreader, knitter, cook, cross-stitcher, crafting genius, book/film reviewer, coastal walker, director, screenwriter, and general all round domestic goddess (remember, I say aspiring, not actual :p). Amongst many other things. I try to teach myself things out of books. I get very very frustrated when I cannot quite make the things that I learn from books work, or when I'm not sure whether they are working in the way that I feel that they should be working. Currently, I am being defeated by purl stitch. I *think* that I'm doing it right. I appear to be doing what the people in the video's and in 'Stitch n Bitch' are doing, and what my mother in her ''oh this is how you purl' do something very fast with some needles and wave your arms around' demonstration, was doing, but at the same time, the result appears to be just more holey wool. And yes, I know that knitting is, by definition, making holes in wool with sticks, but my holes seem to much less orderly that they are meant to be, and it is annoying me.
I just want to be able to make beautiful things, for not very much money. I'd like to be able to make my home beautiful without resorting to cheap Primark/Tesco crap :s Please?

My need for a sugar thermometer..

Everybody says I don't need a sugar thermometer. I really feel that this is untrue. I am currently extremely poor, and about to move, and therefore become even poorer, as I will be working lots and lots less hours, at least to begin with. Therefore, in order to be able to feed myself, and make lovely (and really quite cheap) presents for my disgustingly large family and friendship group, a sugar thermometer really is a necessity. I would like to point out, just as a kind of 'by the way', that I will not be feeding myself solely on fudge, barley sugar etc, but it would be nice to have the option to open a sweetshop if I were to get bored :p
What is more likely, is that I will go totally insane the day I get the sugar thermometer, and make tonnes and tonnes of sweets, which will then have to be posted back to my family, as otherwise I will actually become the 20stone woman, and then after that, it will sit in a cupboard, being mostly unused for most of the year, probably until it gets to Christmas time, and I start having pangs of guilt about the sugar thermometer I told everyone I really really needed and went on and on and on about until they were so sick of me that they gave me one, just to shut me up, and which I have never used since the day that I got it.