What are you reading?

[kalowski]

Having just finished the excellent Moonglow by Michael Chabon, I'm now finally reading Sweet Tooth by Jeff Lemire.

[Artie Fufkin]

Having just finished the excellent Moonglow by Michael Chabon, I'm now finally reading Sweet Tooth by Jeff Lemire.

Awwww, man! Absolutely LOVED this. It's a blast.

[kalowski]

Awwww, man! Absolutely LOVED this. It's a blast.

Read it in a day. It's amazing. Best bit of Lemire I've ever read, even better than Essex County.

[Artie Fufkin]

Read it in a day. It's amazing. Best bit of Lemire I've ever read, even better than Essex County.

Not read Essex County.
Yet.

[kalowski]

Not read Essex County.
Yet.

I highly recommend it.

[Sex Festival Organizer]

Speaking of Jeff Lemire, any of you read Sentient? A short (6 issues) and sweet (well, not really) story about a spaceship, a sentient AI and... Don't want to spoil anything, but I liked it quite a lot.

Maybe I *will* pick up the last issues of Gideon Falls after all, seeing as it's now concluded, having gone off it after the fifth trade paperback. And I see it's being turned into a TV series now, which might be interesting.

[kalowski]

Speaking of Jeff Lemire, any of you read Sentient? A short (6 issues) and sweet (well, not really) story about a spaceship, a sentient AI and... Don't want to spoil anything, but I liked it quite a lot.

Maybe I *will* pick up the last issues of Gideon Falls after all, seeing as it's now concluded, having gone off it after the fifth trade paperback. And I see it's being turned into a TV series now, which might be interesting.

No, I haven't read Sentient, but you've whetted my appetite.

And I know what you mean about Gideon Falls. Lost its way a bit. And I can't imagine what the TV series will be like. It was still worth reading to the end, but I think I'll need to read it 4 times to understand it.

[Sex Festival Organizer]

You can pick up the lot for 7 euros on Comixology at the moment, and I promise I'm not on commission :)

Yeah, around volume 4 of Gideon Falls I started thinking that this could go on forever and I felt the story just spun its wheels, a feeling that didn't exactly subside with volume 5, so I'm quite surprised it's now actually finished, after just one more volume. So it would be pretty stupid of me not to read the last volume too, having got this far. After all, I thought it was pretty damn good for the first three volumes, and still want to know how it ends.

And I mean, it's not like I haven't previously read hundreds of pages of stuff I actually ended up hating (The Boys, I'm looking at you). Didn't pay for that, mind, but still...

[Artie Fufkin]

Speaking of Jeff Lemire, any of you read Sentient? A short (6 issues) and sweet (well, not really) story about a spaceship, a sentient AI and... Don't want to spoil anything, but I liked it quite a lot.

Maybe I *will* pick up the last issues of Gideon Falls after all, seeing as it's now concluded, having gone off it after the fifth trade paperback. And I see it's being turned into a TV series now, which might be interesting.

I'll be definitely checking out Sentient, thanks.
Gideon Falls? Yeah, vol 4, maybe vol 3, was a bit dull, but I really like the others, including the finale..

[Smeraldina Rima]

Prompted by a mention of it here, I've been reading Jude the Obscure.

Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature's logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.

In the dusk of that evening Jude walked away from his old aunt's as if to go home. But as soon as he reached the open down he struck out upon it till he came to a large round pond. The frost continued, though it was not particularly sharp, and the larger stars overhead came out slow and flickering. Jude put one foot on the edge of the ice, and then the other: it cracked under his weight; but this did not deter him. He ploughed his way inward to the centre, the ice making sharp noises as he went. When just about the middle he looked around him and gave a jump. The cracking repeated itself; but he did not go down. He jumped again, but the cracking had ceased. Jude went back to the edge, and stepped upon the ground.

It was curious, he thought. What was he reserved for? He supposed he was not a sufficiently dignified person for suicide. Peaceful death abhorred him as a subject, and would not take him.

What could he do of a lower kind than self-extermination; what was there less noble, more in keeping with his present degraded position? He could get drunk. Of course that was it; he had forgotten. Drinking was the regular, stereotyped resource of the despairing worthless. He began to see now why some men boozed at inns. He struck down the hill northwards and came to an obscure public-house. On entering and sitting down the sight of the picture of Samson and Delilah on the wall caused him to recognize the place as that he had visited with Arabella on that first Sunday evening of their courtship. He called for liquor and drank briskly for an hour or more.

In the down-train that was timed to reach Aldbrickham station about ten o'clock the next evening, a small, pale child's face could be seen in the gloom of a third-class carriage. He had large, frightened eyes, and wore a white woollen cravat, over which a key was suspended round his neck by a piece of common string: the key attracting attention by its occasional shine in the lamplight. In the band of his hat his half-ticket was stuck. His eyes remained mostly fixed on the back of the seat opposite, and never turned to the window even when a station was reached and called. On the other seat were two or three passengers, one of them a working woman who held a basket on her lap, in which was a tabby kitten. The woman opened the cover now and then, whereupon the kitten would put out its head, and indulge in playful antics. At these the fellow-passengers laughed, except the solitary boy bearing the key and ticket, who, regarding the kitten with his saucer eyes, seemed mutely to say: "All laughing comes from misapprehension. Rightly looked at, there is no laughable thing under the sun."

I also appreciated the sentence: 'It is a complete smashing up of my plans.'

And the shoddy humanity that eventually catches up with Mr Phillotson:

"And the Latin and Greek grammars?" Jude's voice trembled with anxiety.

"What about them?"

"You were to bring me yours, that you used before you took your degree."

"Ah, yes, yes! Forgot all about it—all! So many lives depending on my attention, you see, my man, that I can't give so much thought as I would like to other things."

Jude controlled himself sufficiently long to make sure of the truth; and he repeated, in a voice of dry misery, "You haven't brought 'em!"

"No. But you must get me some more orders from sick people, and I'll bring the grammars next time."

Jude dropped behind. He was an unsophisticated boy, but the gift of sudden insight which is sometimes vouchsafed to children showed him all at once what shoddy humanity the quack was made of. There was to be no intellectual light from this source. The leaves dropped from his imaginary crown of laurel; he turned to a gate, leant against it, and cried bitterly.

The disappointment was followed by an interval of blankness. He might, perhaps, have obtained grammars from Alfredston, but to do that required money, and a knowledge of what books to order; and though physically comfortable, he was in such absolute dependence as to be without a farthing of his own.

At this date Mr. Phillotson sent for his pianoforte, and it gave Jude a lead. Why should he not write to the schoolmaster, and ask him to be so kind as to get him the grammars in Christminster? He might slip a letter inside the case of the instrument, and it would be sure to reach the desired eyes. Why not ask him to send any old second-hand copies, which would have the charm of being mellowed by the university atmosphere?

To tell his aunt of his intention would be to defeat it. It was necessary to act alone.

After a further consideration of a few days he did act, and on the day of the piano's departure, which happened to be his next birthday, clandestinely placed the letter inside the packing-case, directed to his much-admired friend, being afraid to reveal the operation to his aunt Drusilla, lest she should discover his motive, and compel him to abandon his scheme.

The piano was despatched, and Jude waited days and weeks, calling every morning at the cottage post office before his great-aunt was stirring. At last a packet did indeed arrive at the village, and he saw from the ends of it that it contained two thin books. He took it away into a lonely place, and sat down on a felled elm to open it.

compare:

That after all these years the meeting with Mr. Phillotson should be of this homely complexion destroyed at one stroke the halo which had surrounded the school-master's figure in Jude's imagination ever since their parting. It created in him at the same time a sympathy with Phillotson as an obviously much chastened and disappointed man. Jude told him his name, and said he had come to see him as an old friend who had been kind to him in his youthful days.

"I don't remember you in the least," said the school-master thoughtfully. "You were one of my pupils, you say? Yes, no doubt; but they number so many thousands by this time of my life, and have naturally changed so much, that I remember very few except the quite recent ones."

"It was out at Marygreen," said Jude, wishing he had not come.

"Yes. I was there a short time. And is this an old pupil, too?"

"No—that's my cousin... I wrote to you for some grammars, if you recollect, and you sent them?"

"Ah—yes!—I do dimly recall that incident."

"It was very kind of you to do it. And it was you who first started me on that course. On the morning you left Marygreen, when your goods were on the waggon, you wished me good-bye, and said your scheme was to be a university man and enter the Church—that a degree was the necessary hall-mark of one who wanted to do anything as a theologian or teacher."

"I remember I thought all that privately; but I wonder I did not keep my own counsel. The idea was given up years ago."

"I have never forgotten it. It was that which brought me to this part of the country, and out here to see you to-night."

[kalowski]

I'm now reading The Second Sleep by Robert Harris. Like his other books, it's a great, fun, page turning mystery. I'm sure there'll be a few twists to come. I must admit I've enjoyed everything if his I've read, except perhaps Lustrum which bored me enough to not bother with the third if that trilogy.

[Small Man Big Horse]

Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman - I have to admit that based on the title and back cover I was expecting a more supernatural affair but while there are elements of the occult in it largely it's a tale about family life, love and how people slowly repair the damage caused when young. Sometimes the metaphors are really heavy handed or lazy but most of the time I was quite enchanted by this, and found myself caring deeply for the characters and dreading it when it looked like something horrible might happen, and given that romantic novels aren't normally something my cold dead soul enjoys I'm really surprised by just how much I liked this. 4/5

[Sebastian Cobb]

Quite enjoying it so far.

[Kankurette]

Not reading it now but has anyone else read Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro? I warmed to it once I got past the writing style. He seems to have a thing for people in horrible circumstances just accepting their lot.

[Small Man Big Horse]

Happy Fat by Sofie Hagen - Hmmm, I'm not sure what to make of this. On the one hand I agree that fat people are treated appallingly by many in society and are verbally and physically abused and of course that's horrendous, and Hagen also makes a number of great other points as well. But there are a fair few aspects I just don't agree with, especially the idea that all healthy food tastes horrible, or that it's difficult to change your GP if you're unhappy with them, and while she proves that you can be healthy and fat, she doesn't tackle certain elements like how being overweight can cause damage to joints and bones as you get older, and while it's obviously important that those who are fat are happy with their lives, I remain unconvinced by some of her other arguments. Plus it's a book which is incredibly repetitive and even patronising in places, and overall while it challenged how I think about certain things, which can be no bad thing, I wasn't ultimately won over by it. 2.5/5

[holyzombiejesus]

Not reading it now but has anyone else read Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro? I warmed to it once I got past the writing style. He seems to have a thing for people in horrible circumstances just accepting their lot.

https://www.cookdandbombd.co.uk/forums/index.php/topic,85655.0.html

[Kankurette]

Nice.

[timebug]

Just watched the latest series of 'Beck' on telly, and realised that I had the ten books that started it all. Procedural crime strories, written and published in the sixties. Often compared to Ed McBains '87th Precinct' stories (although so far, I can't see it!) I am currently almost at the end of the third book, and finding them, frankly, hard work. I know they are translated from another language (Swedish) but while I admire the prose style of the writing, it all seems very plodding and dull. Mainly good plots, and interesting characters, but failing to give that 'oh yeah,wow! feeling. I will finish all ten (I'm like that!) but so far no raving from me on how 'great' they are. Maybe if I had been aware of them during the sixties,they may have had a greater impact on me?

[Kankurette]

Re-reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog and while I love Renee - I'm a sucker for grumpy old women characters - Paloma needs a fucking slap.

Also, Muriel Barbery really wants you to know how amazing Japanese culture is.

[Sebastian Cobb]

Quite enjoying it so far.

That was good.

On this now.

[Small Man Big Horse]

Just watched the latest series of 'Beck' on telly, and realised that I had the ten books that started it all. Procedural crime strories, written and published in the sixties. Often compared to Ed McBains '87th Precinct' stories (although so far, I can't see it!) I am currently almost at the end of the third book, and finding them, frankly, hard work. I know they are translated from another language (Swedish) but while I admire the prose style of the writing, it all seems very plodding and dull. Mainly good plots, and interesting characters, but failing to give that 'oh yeah,wow! feeling. I will finish all ten (I'm like that!) but so far no raving from me on how 'great' they are. Maybe if I had been aware of them during the sixties,they may have had a greater impact on me?

I misread that and thought it said Back, and that Mitchell and Webb had somewhat insanely made a sixties set crime drama. It's a shame they're not very good though, I keep on meaning to read more crime fiction but so many feature the same characters or are a part of a big series and I never know where to start.

I'm currently reading The Versions of Us by Laura Barnett which is sort of vaguely like a British version of Paul Auster's 4 3 2 1, except there's only three variations on the same story. It started off well and for the first one hundred pages I was mostly enjoying it, even if there was the odd lazy bit or contrivance, but over the past 150 pages it's become utter shit, I've never read anything quite like this where I started off liking it but now hate it with a passion, I'll finish it off though I wish I had quit it as bar occasional moments of unintentional hilarity it's really fucking awful.

[Mobius]

I've just got that 'Middlemarch' after some people here said it was good.

[buttgammon]

I'm midway through Anna Karenina, which I'm reading in a bit of a panic because I'm thirty years old, I've been studying literature forever (and teaching it for a few years) and I've never read any Tolstoy. I'm not one for thinking certain books are obligatory reads but it feels like an egregious big blindspot. It's very good but for what it's worth, I preferred Middlemarch, which it's often compared to (so you're in for a treat Mobius).

[mr. logic]

I just read it last year, and loved it. Is Middlemarch as easy a read? If so, I will definitely be getting to that soon.

[buttgammon]

It's not an easy read in my opinion, but it's not a really difficult one either. There are some sections that are a bit obscure but it's pushed along by humour and some great characters.

There's a nice thread from a few years ago when some members had a Middlemarch readalong; this was before I read it, so I enjoyed catching up with the thread later.

[Small Man Big Horse]

I'm currently reading The Versions of Us by Laura Barnett which is sort of vaguely like a British version of Paul Auster's 4 3 2 1, except there's only three variations on the same story. It started off well and for the first one hundred pages I was mostly enjoying it, even if there was the odd lazy bit or contrivance, but over the past 150 pages it's become utter shit, I've never read anything quite like this where I started off liking it but now hate it with a passion, I'll finish it off though I wish I had quit it as bar occasional moments of unintentional hilarity it's really fucking awful.

I finished this last night and somehow it got even worse, it was lazy, repetitive and filled with clichés, Barnett keeps on telling us how amazing the characters are but there's absolutely no evidence of that at all. If someone ever gives it to you as a present as they're a fan of it I'd recommending pulling down your trousers, shitting all over it, then rubbing the book and shit in their faces before never speaking to them again.

[chveik]

been re-reading Westlake books (the Dortmunder series). still as ace as i remembered

[Johnboy]

One Two Three Four - that Beatles book by Craig Brown

It's good but the author is starting to annoy me

[kalowski]

One Two Three Four - that Beatles book by Craig Brown

It's good but the author is starting to annoy me

He can be annoying but it's a great book. Full of stuff I didn't know.

[Famous Mortimer]

Just watched the latest series of 'Beck' on telly, and realised that I had the ten books that started it all. Procedural crime strories, written and published in the sixties. Often compared to Ed McBains '87th Precinct' stories (although so far, I can't see it!) I am currently almost at the end of the third book, and finding them, frankly, hard work. I know they are translated from another language (Swedish) but while I admire the prose style of the writing, it all seems very plodding and dull. Mainly good plots, and interesting characters, but failing to give that 'oh yeah,wow! feeling. I will finish all ten (I'm like that!) but so far no raving from me on how 'great' they are. Maybe if I had been aware of them during the sixties,they may have had a greater impact on me?

The two authors were committed Marxists, and there was a really interesting article on them...which I read about a decade ago, and of course can't find. I'd recommend doing a bit of background reading on them, and if you like them and what they were trying to achieve, you might get more out of the books.

I'm reading "Impossible Owls" by Brian Philips, a collection of very long-form journalism, essentially. He currently writes for the Ringer, and I like his style. First essay is on the Iditarod.