Books Books Books

Right, enough politics and anti-Americanism for now, though i fear there may be plenty more in the future! I have decided, with a little prompting, to write a few reviews of the books I have read this year, which are listed at the bottom of this page. It was pointed out that although jolly nice of me to share the titles of the books, it would perhaps be better to also say whether I had enjoyed them. Fair enough thought I, but at the same time I can’t help feeling a little uneasy about it. I’m a great believer in making up your own mind about something, particularly where art is concerned, and I don’t think it is really my place to pass judgement. However, it was my mother who asked, and she is a fairly formidable woman, particularly after a glass or two of wine, so I thought I had better just get on with it really.


Before we begin though I should point out that the reviews that will appear over the coming weeks and months are unlikely to be the kind you read in the Sunday papers; although prone to the occasional bout of self indulgent use of flowery prose myself, I can’t bear the pretentious nature of so called critics who write in the press. I don’t just mean literary critics, film, restaurant, music, it’s all the same. So, not for the first time, I aim to be different.

Also, the reviews will be in no particular order, although if it helps the list at the bottom is, with the title at the top being the most recent.

I shall begin with The Righteous Men, by Sam Bourne.

In a word, rubbish. Ha, this is easier than I thought.
Basically the story of a New York journalist (they seem to be the staple protagonist among crime writers, is there really so little news to report in the Big Apple?) who’s wife, or fiancé or something, is kidnapped. Unfortunately for our intrepid reporter he was away at the time, “investigating” a mysterious murder in some far flung corner of the USA. Amazingly, the mysterious murder and the kidnapping of his wife are connected. Imagine the likelihood of that! So, needless to say, our reporter begins to investigate harder, digging for the truth that can save his, yawn, wife. Now, this may not come as a surprise, but given the success of Dan Brown in recent years, Mr Bourne (Dan Brown / Sam Bourne…subtle) bases his story around religion, namely Judaism. Which is not, as I once thought, the religion of Judo black belts.
I read this book in a hotel room in Manchester earlier this year, it was raining outside (for a change) and I decided to stay in and read. In hindsight, I should have braved the weather.

Like I said, this is just my opinion. I daresay if you are planning a little spot of lying on a beach somewhere hot for a week or two this summer, this book may be right up your alley. Otherwise, avoid it.
By the way Sam Bourne is the nom de plume of a journalist. Oh, how original.


Next up, The Pilo Family Circus, by Will Elliott.

It is fairly easy to label The Righteous Men as your typical beach holiday book. A thriller by numbers offering for the masses. Nothing wrong with that by the way, and I’m sure old Mr Bourne is raking it in. This book, on the other hand, is a touch more difficult to put in a particular genre. Part macabre mystery, part social satire, part circus story, part noir fiction. Hmmmmm. I have to admit I bought this book because, and it pains me to say it, I liked the cover. I know I know, how very shallow of me. That’s like buying a Picasso because you like the frame. Not that I could afford a Picasso. Or even a decent looking frame for that matter. Anyway, I bought it, started reading it, and soon began to wonder if maybe in the future judging a book by its cover may not be such a great idea. However, the more I read the more I wanted to read. It’s the story of a guy called Jamie who is working some dead-end job in Sydney, or Melbourne I can’t remember, and one night he is walking home and he stumbles across three psychotic clowns. Well, he thinks nothing of it till he gets a little note left on his pillow inviting him to audition to join the circus. I say invite, but it’s more a threat than anything. And shortly afterwards his house is more or less destroyed by the clowns. You see this is no ordinary circus; it’s some kind of parallel world circus for lost souls, where the magic is very real. And ever so slightly dangerous, particularly for the visitors.
To say anymore would give too much away, and I really don’t want to have to explain myself to Gonko….



Seen as I am on something of a role, how about another review for luck?
Dermaphoria by Craig Clevenger. This is his second book, the other being The Contortionist’s Handbook, which I have also read.
In terms of genre I suppose this would be lumped in the noir fiction category, although that really doesn’t do it any justice. It’s hardly Chandler. Clevenger’s use of description is utterly mesmerising, he just seems to have this ability to suck you in to his story and play around with your senses somehow. It is not the kind of book you can sit and read in one session, the story is too fragmented (deliberately) and the style too jolting, but it is a brilliant book. It tells the story of a guy who awakes from a drug induced coma with little recollection of who he is, or how he got there. The police help him with the basics, but they are more interested in the bits he can’t remember. The content of the chapters flits between the present and the past he can’t remember, until at some stage the two blend to form the whole story. He seems to have a thing for people who lack identity; The Contortionists Handbook is about a guy who constantly changes his identity to stay off the social register. Both books are highly original, and definitely worth a read in my opinion. Not bad eh, two reviews for the bargain price of one there.

Fear not dear reader(s) more will follow shortly!