Review: The Year of Reading Dangerously by Andy Miller

Or, The Year of Reading Dangerously: How Fifty Great Books (And Two Not So Great Ones) Saved My Life, to use the full and imposing title.

I'd really expected to love this book, and I did end up liking Andy Miller's voice, at least for the most part. I was just a a bit confused about the overall point of the book and slightly immensely uninterested by same-y novels chosen to discuss.

Summary: A working father whose life no longer feels like his own discovers the transforming powers of great (and downright terrible) literature in this laugh-out-loud memoir.

Andy Miller had a job he quite liked, a family he loved, and no time at all for reading. Or so he kept telling himself. But, no matter how busy or tired he was, something kept niggling at him. Books. Books he'd always wanted to read. Books he'd said he'd read that he actually hadn't. Books that whispered the promise of escape from the daily grind. And so, with the turn of a page, Andy began a year of reading that was to transform his life completely.

This book is Andy's inspirational and very funny account of his expedition through literature: classic, cult, and everything in between. Beginning with a copy of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita that he happens to find one day in a bookstore, he embarks on a literary odyssey. From Middlemarch to Anna Karenina to A Confederacy of Dunces, this is a heartfelt, humorous, and honest examination of what it means to be a reader, and a witty and insightful journey of discovery and soul-searching that celebrates the abiding miracle of the book and the power of reading.

The blurb seemed to imply to me that this book is about a man who had never known the joy of reading, but who started to feel the lack and therefore challenged himself to read fifty of the greats. His life would be forever altered, etc etc. It's definitely not that... but I'm not really sure what it is, either.

It turns out that Andy Miller is a previously published author, ran a successful chain bookstore and subsequently worked as an editor for a large publishing house. Not exactly the unread eejit implied. The book just doesn't know what it wants to be - there are rambling anecdotes about irrelevant topics, musings about bookish topics, snobbish rants about authors I've never heard of and the occasional smugness about his List.

Ah, the list. Let's talk about that. Andy has created a 'List of Betterment' by choosing ten books that he feels would, obviously, better his life by reading. I think I would have enjoyed it more if I'd had any interest in the ten books he chose to read (right - click to enlarge).  Of these ten, I have read two and only wish to read one further. I have an almost anti-interest in four of them, for God's sake.

He likes left-wing political symbolism and half-mad, epic, rambling monologues, but dislikes Pride and Prejudice! That's fine, to each their own, but I was never going to get on with a bookish memoir written by this person.

So Andy finishes his List about halfway through this book, which prompts a change of tone somewhat. His ten books are completed... so he just decides to read forty more. The thing is, he doesn't tell you what the list consists of or where it's from, and he starts to like the sound of his own voice a bit more. It becomes less about the novels and more about his life, but not the funny parts - just monologues of how he idolises novelists I've never heard of.

It's a shame because I really had expected to love this book, but I ended up actually avoiding picking it back up once I'd put it down. We started off well enough - I really like Andy Miller's narrative voice and he made me giggle out loud a few times as he discusses his daily life and his reading history.

Most straight men are an embarrassment; that much is clear. They enjoy porn, Sky Sports, racing cars, barbecues and gadgets; they stink of Lynx deodrant. Though they mostly prefer the company of other men, they are scared stiff of being mistaken for women or homosexuals. In general, as we have seen, they perceive reading as a feminised activity and, although they do read books, these tend to be about either Joe Strummer or the Mafia, or have some rigid practical application, e.g. How to Cook Great Food without Looking Too Gay. According to a survey from the National Literacy Trust, four out of five fathers have never read a bedtime story to their children, either because they see it as the mother's job or because We're Going on a Bear Hunt doesn't have enough lesbians in it.

It's very contradictory, which irritates me. Even aside from the 'I need more books in my life, even though I'm an editor with an impressive reading history' shtick, Andy Miller never seems to be able to consistently convey one opinion. He states at one point that everybody has their own list and should read for pleasure, not what they're told to... but then spends pages and pages blasting Dan Brown (a pet hate)! God knows why he read it in the first place as it wasn't on his list, but there was no discernible reason for it. Sometimes I wonder if authors don't spend so much time abusing Dan Brown just because he's infinitely more successful.

Then again, there is a mild tone of snobbishness from around the halfway point, so perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised. He and his wife decide to read War & Peace together, and I swear you'd think they were the only people to ever have done so. There's a lengthy pretentious paragraph about how his wife swears she will never need to read another book, which ends with a rather condescending 'you go girlfriend!' 

The full list of Andy's List of Betterment has been thoughtfully included at the back of the book, with helpful little asterisks to denote which books are the easiest to get into... and it makes zero sense. Anna Karenina and The Master and Margarita but NOT Lord of the Flies or The Code of the Woosters? This is just confusing.

I just didn't get on with The Year of Reading Dangerously. It's hard to tell how much of that is due to inherent flaws within the book and how much is simply because my tastes vary quite drastically from those of the author. Either way, I was irritated by the pretentious tone, inconsistencies and my confusion over what the damn point of the book was.

What books do you think should be on any 'List of Betterment?'

Review: 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

I can't believe that I've never reviewed this before. I've read 84 Charing Cross Road three times since 2010 and I swear it never gets old. It's one of my all-time favourite books and it's so lovely and charming that it just can't fail to make you feel all squishy.

Plot summary: It all began with a letter inquiring about second-hand books, written by Helene Hanff in New York, and posted to a bookshop at 84, Charing Cross Road in London. As Helene's sarcastic and witty letters are responded to by the stodgy and proper Frank Doel of 84, Charing Cross Road, a relationship blossoms into a warm and charming long-distance friendship lasting many years.

It's a very simple premise - an American reader exchanges letters with an English bookseller over the course of about twenty years. But it's oh so much more! Helene's quite outgoing and gently teases Frank, which he doesn't seem to know how to take at first. He takes longer to come out of his shell - quite reserved at first, eventually he's responding to Helene with little bits of chitchat and friendly asides himself. Their relationship is so subtle and so gradual and so lovely (I feel I may be in danger of over-using this word, but it sums up the book so well).

Did I tell you I finally found the perfect page-cutter? It's a pearl-handled fruit knife. My mother left me a dozen of them, I keep one in the pencil cup on my desk. Maybe I go with the wrong kind of people but i'm just not likely to have twelve guests all sitting around simultaneously eating fruit.

It's so lovely (see?). It makes it all the better that it's real. You know, this is the first time I ever considered that maybe it is actually purely fictional but then I decided that it couldn't be (and it would pretty much break my world if it was). I just think it's too... messy to be made up. Book relationships (even platonic ones) aren't this subtle. In addition, certain letters are missing, which you can tell when they refer to something mentioned in a previous letter... which you haven't read. Perhaps those letters were lost or not included due to the wishes of the family, but I just don't see why a fictional novel would bother to do that.

I have looked it up since - it's a true story *goes back to snuggling her book.*

I never realised just how long their correspondance lasted before - they exchanged letters on-and-off for more than twenty years. It seems so alien now, in a world where you can have a reply to an e-mail an hour after you sent it or just log onto Facebook and chat for four hours a night. Twenty years. No wonder it feels so special.

I have these guilts about never having read Chaucer but I was talked out of learning Early Anglo-Saxon / Middle English by a friend who had to take it for her Ph.D. They told her to write an essay in Early Anglo-Saxon on any-subject-of-her-own-choosing. “Which is all very well,” she said bitterly, “but the only essay subject you can find enough Early Anglo-Saxon words for is ‘How to Slaughter a Thousand Men in a Mead Hall’.

84 Charing Cross Road is my ultimate comfort book. Without sounding too dramatic, this book just feels like it's part of me - it's who I am. It's short but so lovely, and it restores my faith in humanity somewhat. The very existence of this book makes me want to cry - it's just nice, through and through.

Read Ellie's review of 84 Charing Cross Road at Book Addicted Blonde.   

Review: Lady Chatterley's Trial by Penguin Books

Lady Chatterley's Lover is actually one of my favourite books; a statement which is usually met with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk by those who know the book by reputation alone. Its sordid status comes, of course, from the censorship trial of 1960 when a jury were asked to decide whether the novel was just too obscene for public release. There are two things to remember here, folks:

a) There's actually remarkably little sex in this at all. It's not very graphic, it's not very long (*smirks*) and it's not that frequent either. The moral outrage was more about the theoretical promotion of adultery than the sex scenes themselves and readers in the 1960s were a lot more easily shocked than today; and

b) You know there are other parts to this book, right? Like, there is a story here and stuff?

Summary: In May 2005 Penguin will publish 70 unique titles to celebrate the company's 70th birthday. The titles in the Pocket Penguins series are emblematic of the renowned breadth of quality of the Penguin list and will hark back to Penguin founder Allen Lane's vision of good books for all'. In 1960, thirty years after D. H. Lawrence's death, Penguin moved to publish his most provocative novel Lady Chatterley's Lover for the first time. What followed was the most significant literary obscenity trial of the twentieth century, as Penguin called upon a string of expert witnesses including E. M. Forster and Sir Allen Lane to triumphantly defend the book's literary merit, in a case that compellingly reflected the changing face of contemporary society.

I was expecting a short book analysing the censorship trial with maybe a few quotes thrown in for good measure, so I was initially quite disappointed when I realised that it's actually just a collection of excerpts from the trial with no commentary at all, not even an introduction.

While I'd still like to read such a book (if one exists), Lady Chatterley's Trial is still worth reading in its own right. As a quick disclaimer, I'm a lawyer. I have absolutely no idea whether this would be of interest to somebody who doesn't have a bundle of ridiculously pretentious qualifications, or if you'd have more fun using it to make a papier mache bowl. I do know that only quotes from the main hearing of the main trial are included - there aren't any dry comments on procedure, directions, process, etc. Purely the interesting parts, and as it was being aimed at a jury at the time, it's perfectly comprehensible.

</condescension>

There must be quite a lot missing as this is only 54 pages long and these hearing things (technical terms) can go on for days. Barristers aren't exactly renowned for their brevity. The gist is there, often in summarised form, but I'd have liked to have read the nitty gritty. Actually, what I'd really like is to read a transcript of the jury's deliberations, but that's not possible and never will be.

The first page states 'it is hoped that (this book) is reasonably fair to both sides.' Without seeing a full transcript I can't be absolutely positive, but it does seem that rather a lot more of the prosecution's submissions are missing than the defendant's! Their cross-examination summary is a lot shorter and less detailed. Were there really no prosecution witnesses? It's almost like Penguin were biased in favour of their own company or something...

Don't get me wrong, I realise this book was published by PENGUIN to celebrate PENGUIN'S anniversary of publishing PENGUIN books and it would be completely unreasonable to expect them to include every snippet of why they shouldn't be allowed to publish exactly what they choose. Just pointing it out :)

I actually do feel all fuzzy about Penguin now, to be honest. I knew their basic story before - that Allen Lane was shocked that the working classes couldn't afford to buy books, so he strove to publish paperbacks no more expensive than a pack of cigarettes. Without him, who knows whether books would be as widely available and affordable today. Their story is fleshed out a little more in Lady Chatterley's Trial and it really made me appreciate all the books on my shelves and that I can buy a cheap-ass paperback instead of a hardback, leatherbound monstrosity.

But of course that whole attitude is one which Penguin Books was formed to fight against, which they have always fought against, and which they will go on fighting against - the attitude that it is all right to publish a special edition at five or ten guineas so that people who are less well off cannot read what other people read. Isn't everybody, whether earning £10 a week or £20 a week, equally interested in the society in which we live, in the problems of human relationships including sexual relationships?

*spontaneous applause from the cheap seats*

I can't even really explain why I fell in love with this book so much, considering it's just a collection of quotes and summaries of speeches. Maybe it's not the book I like, but the concept. Excuse the tweeness, but it made me feel so lucky and so privileged that we live in a country where we can afford to own 300 books we haven't even opened yet, and where it's perfectly okay to publish a novel where a bored aristo has sex with the groundskeeper in the woodshed.

That's thanks to twelve (it is twelve, right? There are certain people reading this who will never let me live it down if it's not...) normal, average men and women who realised that books should never be banned because they contain a concept that you don't agree with and that Penguin Books should be commended for striving to make books available to the masses. I assume that's what they realised, anyway... perhaps they just wanted to wrap-up so they could go out for a smoke.

Read my review of Lady Chatterley's Lover... which we're allowed to read, thanks to Penguin!

Review: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

I honestly believe that one of the best feelings in the world is being five pages from the end of a truly amazing book. When it's 2am and you desperately want to finish it, but then you also don't want to finish it, because then you'll have finished it and what will you do with your life? When you want to whimper at just how good that book is. When you have to pause after every last page to give yourself time to process. Ready Player One gave me that feeling. This book is unbelievable.

Contains strong language as I completely fail to control myself.

Plot summary: It's the year 2044, and the real world has become an ugly place. We're out of oil. We've wrecked the climate. Famine, poverty, and disease are widespread. 

Like most of humanity, Wade Watts escapes this depressing reality by spending his waking hours jacked into the OASIS, a sprawling virtual utopia where you can be anything you want to be, where you can live and play and fall in love on any of ten thousand planets. And like most of humanity, Wade is obsessed by the ultimate lottery ticket that lies concealed within this alternate reality: OASIS founder James Halliday, who dies with no heir, has promised that control of the OASIS - and his massive fortune - will go to the person who can solve the riddles he has left scattered throughout his creation. 

For years, millions have struggled fruitlessly to attain this prize, knowing only that the riddles are based in the culture of the late twentieth century. And then Wade stumbles onto the key to the first puzzle.

Suddenly, he finds himself pitted against thousands of competitors in a desperate race to claim the ultimate prize, a chase that soon takes on terrifying real-world dimensions - and that will leave both Wade and his world profoundly changed.

See, I knew none of that. The blurb of my copy just shrugs its shoulders and half-heartedly gives you five lines of vagueness about 'the greatest quest in history' and 'the fate of humanity.' I think it kind of worked for me though - going into the book knowing so little meant I was able to be more thoroughly impressed with its ingenuity.

I didn't even want to read the damn thing. I bought it on a whim last week because I couldn't find anything else in Waterstones, and then read it only as it seemed like the best of a bad bunch. I am an idiot. I could have read this book two years ago if I'd only looked on the right shelves. Because HOLY FUCKING GOD THIS BOOK IS AMAZING.

*breathes into a paper bag*

Let's start with the world that Ernest Cline has created. In typical sci-fi style, it's set in the future and there's all kinds of new technology. More specifically, there's a virtual reality society called OASIS that the majority of people spend their lives within. Almost like the Matrix, except they're aware they're plugged into the system. It's hardly a new idea, but the detail that's gone into it is nothing short of astounding.

He's considered exactly how such a world would work and explained it to us in meticulous (yet fascinating) detail. It's not just the technology though. He's also thought out the economy, communication, the bartering process, the transport system... it's unbelievable.

It's partly the world-building that really makes Ready Player One. Or, worldS-building, considering there are so many of them. The OASIS system allows users to travel from world to world, which Wade does frequently. Each one is as vivid and brilliant as the last... and some of them will be familiar to you.

GSS had also licensed preexisting virtual worlds from their competitors, so content that had already been created for games like Everquest and World of Warcraft was ported over to the OASIS, and copies of Norrath and Azeroth were added to the growing catalog of OASIS planets. Other virtual worlds followed suit, from the Metaverse to the Matrix. The Firefly universe was anchored in a sector adjacent to the Star Wars galaxy, with a detailed re-creation of the Star Trek universe in the sector adjacent to that. Users could now teleport back and forth between their favourite fictional worlds. Middle Earth. Vulcan. Pern. Arrakis. Magrathea. Discworld, Mid-World, Riverworld, Ringworld. Worlds upon worlds.

As you can see, there's a dash of Thursday Next here. But oh, can you imagine? Being able to pop over to Ankh Morpork or have your holiday in Rivendell? What you will also notice, is that it's not just games that are referenced in Ready Player One. Far from it.

Excuse the handwriting. It was 2am.

This book has been carefully crafted to appeal to everyone. Do the references to obscure 1970s arcade games go over your head? Fine, you'll probably get the 80s rock band references then. Music not your thing? You can amuse yourself with the epic fantasy novels or the cult films then. There are so many references to so many things which means that there's something for every reader. They drink Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters and drive DeLoreans emblazoned with Slimer motifs. Every single name-drop felt like a quick 'ding' of triumph when I recognised the origin.

It's all real too. Certain games, books, music and films are given a fair amount of air-time as Wade has to complete a challenge within their boundaries. ZORK, for example, a 1970s (I think) text-based adventure game, plays a huge part... but every aspect of it is accurate. I know this because I played it when I was eleven :) Logically, this means that Ernest Cline has actually played/watched/read these things, which explains the aura of geekery that prevails throughout the novel.

I should probably actually mention the plot at some point. There is one, you know. Ready Player One isn't some silly excuse to mention as many niche games as possible in the space of 372 pages. Like I said before, I didn't actually know what the plot was before beginning, but it's very, very good. Very unique.
Not only that, but the author is actually talented at writing as well. It hardly seems fair. Certain scenes are imbued with such atmosphere and tension that I had to pause reading after every page to allow myself time to take in what I'd just read. There are plot twists that literally made me gasp and even the characters are likeable.

I never say this, ever.... but... there is nothing wrong with this book.

I hate that I never again get to have the experience of reading it for the first and it also bothers me that I have to wait a whole year before I can include it in the Best Books of 2015 list. Which I will be doing. I finished the novel with a tight, happy feeling in my stomach and the knowledge that I will buy everything that Ernest Cline writes.

I haven't researched any negative reviews as I think they may make me cry tears of pure rage, so go visit Laura and Katie's equally glowing reviews of Ready Player One. 

 

Review: The Rabbit Back Literature Society by Pasi Ilmari Jääskeläinen

For the first time ever, I've read every book I bought on a Waterstones trip with Ellie within a week of buying it. I actually do kind of want a medal for this please. I admit I only bought four and I only read them consecutively because I was stuck at Lewis' with no other material, but still. Praise me.

Plot summary: Only very special people are chosen by children's author Laura White to join 'The Society', an elite group of writers in the small town of Rabbit Back. Now a tenth member has been selected: Ella, literature teacher and possessor of beautifully curving lips.

But soon Ella discovers that the Society is not what it seems. What is its mysterious ritual, 'The Game'? What explains the strange disappearance that occurs at Laura's winter party, in a whirlwind of snow? Why are the words inside books starting to rearrange themselves? Was there once another tenth member, before her? Slowly, disturbing secrets that had been buried come to light...

The Rabbit Back Literature Society is a very charming book on the surface - Ella, the main character, is invited to be a member of an elite writing club founded by Laura White, the hugely important author of a children's book series (kind of like Beatrix Potter). Ella is suitably excited and everything is lovely and adorable... except not.

Laura White disappears and Ella is introduced to The Game - a secret ritual that the members of the Literature Society can play on each other at any time. It's absolutely fascinating, and that's where all semblance of charm ends. I was impressed with the way such a dark game was tied into the process of novel writing - it's not immediately obvious what the purpose of it is, but it does eventually make a lot of sense. Although it's an important plot point, it's not the focus of the novel and I'd have liked to know more about it. We get to see the other members play The Game, but not Ella herself, which I feel would have been particularly interesting.

She's not too bad, as fictional characters go, although I wish her motivations had been explained a little more. We're given her very basic incentives for investigating the Literature Society, but not why she's so willing to go that far. Which is vague, but this is one of those books that you're best off unravelling for yourself.

It makes me want to write! I can't; I'm terrible, but this book makes writing novels sound like such a whimsical art form. Don't get me wrong, I know that blood, sweat and tears go into writing books (and this novel reinforces that - literally) but I love when something you're reading convinces you to go out and try something new.

So it's going great, I'm loving this book and I'm just enchanted by the novelty value... and then the epilogue happens and it all goes screwy. Seriously, has there ever been a good epilogue in the history of literature? Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, The Lord of the Rings... authors should know when to put the damn pen down and back away from the manuscript.

First off, it ended too soon without actually answering any of the questions asked in the blurb, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. Not in a 'make up your own mind' way, more of a 'yeeeeaaaah, I didn't finish this book' way. So not the good way. It annoyed me because I was really interested in the book plague especially and I still don't know anything about it! Also, the main point of the book, Laura White's disappearance... nope, still have no idea.

Secondly, it brought in a lot of seemly paranormal elements but it never told us why they were there or even if they were 'magic' at all. I finished the book frustrated and fuming - it hurts all the more because I'd really liked The Rabbit Back Literature Society until that point. Damn epilogues.

To conclude, this is an interesting, unique book with a pointless, unsatisfying ending. Make of that what you will, but I'd recommend reading it anyway. I was completely hooked until the last chapter or so, and it's a rare book that can engross me so completely.

Read a different review of The Rabbit Back Literature Society at Vulpes Libris.

Review: Mr Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

I bought this on a shopping trip with Ellie, who has mocked me ever since for whipping it out from under her nose in Waterstones. Actually, her nose was at the other end of the store and it's her own fault for turning right instead of left, but I figured I'd better get it read anyway. For all I know she might turn up tomorrow and 'steal' it back!

Plot summary: Recession has shuffled Clay Jannon out of his life as a Web-design drone and serendipity coupled with sheer curiosity has landed him a new job working the night shift at Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore. And it doesn't take long for Clay to realize that the quiet, dusty book emporium is even more curious than the name suggests. There are only a few fanatically committed customers, but they never seem to actually buy anything, instead they simply borrow impossibly obscure volumes perched on dangerously high shelves, all according to some elaborate arrangement with the eccentric proprietor. The store must be a front for something larger, Clay concludes, and soon he has plugged in his laptop, roped in his friends (and a cute girl who works for Google) and embarked on a high-tech analysis of the customers' behaviour. What they discover is an ancient secret that can only be solved by modern means, and a global-conspiracy guarded by Mr. Penumbra himself... who has mysteriously disappeared.

This is... not what I expected.

I really enjoyed Mr Penumbra's... to begin with. It has a casual, chatty tone that I always love in books - it feels like the book is talking to you and I can really settle in, ready to listen. There are some wonderful paragraphs and I could sit here all day and type out interesting quotes to you. Clay, the main character, loves books but he's also teaching himself how to program, and it's an interesting mix that works really well. Books about books are always interesting and the quirky twist was an added bonus.

When the 'twist' started to show itself though... yeah, it wasn't great. It's very difficult to follow and I'm not positive I could explain it to you now. I'm not sure if I'm stupid or whether I missed something, but there were certain obvious questions about the workings of the bookshop/concept/mystery that the book didn't even try to explain. How does one book lead to another? How do they break the code? What do they end up writing about? SO MANY QUESTIONS. 

I don't always mind this in a book when you're meant to come away with questions, but I really don't think it was intentional here. I'm just confused and baffled.

There is no immortality that is not built on friendship and work done with care. All the secrets in the world worth knowing are hiding in plain sight. It takes forty-one seconds to climb a ladder three stories tall. It's not easy to imagine the year 3012, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. We have new capabilities now - strange powers we're still getting used to. Your life must be an open city, with all sorts of ways to wander in. 

Also, what's with the really heavy emphasis on Google? I don't know if Robin Sloan used to work for them or what, but it reads as though they paid her to big them up wherever she could. The company is integral to the plot as they strive to help Clay uncover the mystery, using their vast resources to benefit mankind. Please, please, just stop. There's a ridiculous amount of detail about their hierarchy, projects, vision, etc, and it's just too much.

I'm not fond of Clay himself either really - I know I've complained before about characters who instantly and automatically believe everything they're told ('Huh. Vampires are real. Cool.'), but this is too far in the opposite direction. He just won't stop bleating about how he 'doesn't believe in this religion' and how it's so obviously just a cult. WE GET IT. DESIST PLEASE.
 
Just one last thing, because this review is turning into a rant that I completely didn't intend. I do have to say that the dialogue is very odd - for example, Clay will be thinking something in his head, but then another character will respond to it out loud. It happened so frequently that I genuinely thought that mind-reading would turn out to be a plot point. It didn't.

I know it sounds like I loathed Mr Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore and I really didn't at all. I think I just expected a bookstore-based story with a few odd goings on, not the conspiratorial mystery that I ended up with. It has a unique and interesting plot, but it wasn't explained even nearly well enough. It's a shame as it had such good potential, but it's a deeply average book at best.

Visit Robin Sloan's website here.

Review: The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

When I read the blurb of The Marriage Plot in The Works, I knew I just couldn't resist it, despite never having read Middlesex or The Virgin Suicides. A book based around the dissection of my favourite author's works? Yes please.

Plot summary: Brown University, 1982. Madeleine Hanna, dutiful English student and incurable romantic, is writing her thesis on Jane Austen and George Eliot – authors of the great marriage plots. As Madeleine studies the age-old motivations of the human heart, real life, in the form of two very different men, intervenes.
Leonard Bankhead, brilliant scientist and charismatic loner, attracts Madeleine with an intensity that she seems powerless to resist. Meanwhile her old friend Mitchell Grammaticus, a theology student searching for some kind of truth in life, is certain of at least one thing – that he and Madeleine are destined to be together.
But as all three leave college, they will have to figure out how they want their own marriage plot to end.

While this is very much a book about books, Madeleine's thesis about Austen and Eliot doesn't actually feature much. There isn't really an over-arching plot at all - instead it's about people, finding religion, literature, bad decisions, mental illness and a whole host of other issues. Not a whole lot actually happens as such, but it's worth reading just for the lovely prose and detailed conversations about books.

Not that I've read any of them. It's mostly about incredibly obscure philosophical 'greats,' which can make it a little difficult to follow at first. This didn't affect my enjoyment though - I'm happy to sit back and 'listen' to people who love literature as much as I do, even if it's about unfamiliar works.

She'd become an English major for the purest and dullest of reasons: because she loved to read. The university's "British and American Literature Course Catalog" was, for Madeleine, what its Bergdorf equivalent was for her roommates. A course listing like "English 274: Lyly's Euphes" excited Madeleine the way a pair of Fiorucci cowboy boots did Abby.
... the magesterial presence of all those potentially readable words stopped her in her tracks. She could scan book spines for as long as an hour. Her cataloging of the family's holdings rivaled the Dewey decimal system in its comprehensiveness.

Sound familiar to anybody? The Marriage Plot could only be written by somebody with an intense love of books. There's a lot to relate to in here.

Books aside, the remainder of the plot focuses on relationships. Madeleine, for reasons completely absurd to me, is drawn to Leonard... who doesn't really care about anything, too busy with his manic depression. He's a very unlikeable character who causes no end of problems, but I assume that's kind of the point. Mitchell, Madeleine's friend, is desperately in love with her and so runs off travelling to avoid his problems. If I were her I'd stick with my books, I think. 

The story loosely relates to the title, but only vaguely. Mitchell wants to marry Madeliene, who wants to marry Leonard, who isn't marriage material. Straight out of an Austen book, only with more sex. Unless you're Longbourn, anyway. It's kind of... real, though. The characters are all flawed and not exactly likeable, but somehow that adds to the appeal. It seems like this actually could happen, and to real people.

Like I said though, it almost doesn't matter. The writing is too great. It has a slightly formal style and passes on a lot of academic knowledge, so it does require your full attention but is worth every minute. It feels natural, somehow.

He'd turned eighteen in August and the Disease, as though waiting for him to reach legal drinking age, began to flood him with intoxicants. Two things mania did were to keep you up all night and to enable nonstop sex: pretty much the definition of college. Leonard studied at the Rockefeller Library every night until midnight, like a yeshiva student davening over the Torah. At the stroke of twelve he headed back to West Quad, where there was always a party going on, usually in his room.

The ending isn't very good at all though, which is probably the only fault of The Marriage Plot. It tries to be clever and tie in with the title but it's overly twee and incredibly unsatisfying. It's too flat. It actually took the rating down a whole star - what can I say, endings are important.

To conclude, Jeffrey Eugenides is a hugely talented author. The prose flows beautifully and he manages to get inside the head of a bookish 20-something woman perfectly - and I'm a damn expert. Read this for the experience, but don't expect to be blown away by the story.

Read Laura's review of The Marriage Plot over at Devouring Texts.

Graphic Novel Review: Deadpool Killustrated by Cullen Bunn and Matteo Lolli

It's been a while since I reviewed a graphic novel, hasn't it? And it's the first time I've ever written a post about a Marvel superhero. I just could not resist Deadpool Killustrated though - it's about an anti-hero running through classic novels and trying to eliminate their characters. Like The Eyre Affair meets Watchmen! But not really.

Summary: Deadpool killed the Marvel Universe.

The veil lifted from his eyes and he saw the world for what it was: a fiction. He took it upon himself to set everyone, hero and villain alike, free from the burden of living the tale. But his job isn't done yet.

So, comic-book writers. Awesome at stories, terrible at blurbs. That just doesn't do this graphic novel justice because the concept is actually really clever. Deadpool has become aware that he is living in a fictional reality and pretty much just wants to die - only he can't because the authors keep writing him back to life. His theory is that if he travels back into classic books and kills off their heroes, then there will be nothing for modern superheroes to be based on and so they will eventually cease to exist.

It sounds a little cheesy I suppose, but it works very well. It's explained in a way that actually makes sense, unlike my summary above. As an example, killing Bram Stoker's Dracula would cause all modern vampires to vanish as they're based on the original (an over-simplification, but you get the point) - no original, no later copies.

Deadpool runs through an awful lot of classics. Like, a lot. Some are dwelled on more than others, but it focuses on books with a lot of supernatural figures/technology/action or where the main characters work in a team. We see Moby Dick, Sherlock Holmes, Frankenstein, The Jungle Book, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Little Women... and a huge amount more. I didn't even recognise them all and I like to tell people that I'm well-read (seriously. I'm one of Those People.)!

It would have been nice to spend a little more time on each classic I think. This graphic novel compiles only four comic-books, which was the entire run of the series. I know, to generalise and stereotype horrifically, that the comic-book demographic isn't really into classic novels, but it could have been extended a little more. I don't expect a full issue per book or anything, but it would have made the work as a whole seem slightly less rushed. At one point there's a montage-style flitting through several classics when the obstacles and challenges of each book could have been examined more thoroughly.

I'm trying to work out how familiar with Marvel you need to be to enjoy Deadpool Killustrated. You don't actually need to know anything specific about Deadpool himself - I didn't, and I really liked this. Basically, though, he was part of the Weapon X programme, like Wolverine, and therefore heals super-fast and pretty much can't be hurt. There you go. That is the sole information you need. Now go play.

Basically, as long as you've seen a Marvel film here and there and you're aware of the existence of Spider-Man, Captain America, etc, you'll be fine.

The ending is a little airy-fairy (first time that word has ever been used in connection with Deadpool, I swear), but passable on the whole. That's the thing, when you come right down to it. Deadpool Killustrated is really good - but it could have been amazing. It feels a little rushed in places, but it manages to pull off a really 'out-there' concept without it ever feeling silly. You should read it, regardless of whether or not you feel like you're 'into' the superhero thing.

See what other graphic novels I've reviewed here.

Review: On The Map: Why the World Looks the Way It Does by Simon Garfield

I bought On The Map from King's Cross Station on a whim last year. You know when you're convinced that your Kindle is going to die so you need to buy a book (genuinely need, for a change) right there and then so you're not left book-less for a two hour train journey? Oh, just me then. But apparently Kindles are way hardier than I ever gave them credit for, because On The Map ended up languishing on the shelf at home until... well, now.

Summary: Maps fascinate us. They chart our understanding of the world and they log our progress, but above all they tell our stories. From the early sketches of philosophers and explorers through to Google Maps and beyond, Simon Garfield examines how maps both relate and realign our history. His compelling narratives range from the quest to create the perfect globe to the challenges of mapping Africa and Antarctica, from spellbinding treasure maps to the naming of America, from Ordnance Survey to the mapping of Monopoly and Skyrim, and from rare map dealers to cartographic frauds. 

En route, there are 'pocket map' tales on dragons and undergrounds, a nineteenth century murder map, the research conducted on the different ways that men and women approach a map, and an explanation of the curious long-term cartographic role played by animals. On The Map is a witty and irrepressible examination of where we've been, how we got there and where we're going.

I loved this book - by the second chapter I wanted to devour every snippet of map-related knowledge it could teach me. And there are a lot of those snippets, by the way. It covers everything from cholera to GPS to the Polar Expeditions, with a great deal in between, in an accessible and friendly manner. At one point I was so engrossed I almost missed my train stop and had to hurtle to the doors with half-open book still in hand!

It's very, very comprehensive, which is a good thing, but it does occasionally result in some chapters being more interesting than others. For example, I loved learning about how disease maps have led to cures, but I really wasn't interested in the spread of guidebooks for travel destinations. 

It's set out more or less chronologically, starting with Alexander the Great founding the Library of Alexandria in 330BC and ending with the GPS-type stuff of the modern age. It includes all kinds of modern references, including the Marauders Map (if I have to explain that, you're on the wrong blog) and the 2011 Muppets Movie, which pleased me no end. It doesn't always follow the timeline though, which is a bit odd. For example it jumps straight from the creation of the London Underground map to travel books in the 1800s. I mean, I don't mind, it's just a little confusing.

The topics get more irrelevant towards the end and therefore the chapters also get shorter. Subjects like maps of movie stars' homes and the Indiana Jones-style moving diagram maps probably don't deserve an entire chapter to themselves. I really do give Mr. Garfield credit for being as thorough as possible, but I did feel like it was dragged out a little.

The writing style is actually kind of perfect, however. It's casual and accessible, but not dumbed down. It's a perfect balance - you don't need any prior geographical knowledge, but the author doesn't get the hand-puppets out to explain it either. It's not easy to read, exactly - you do need to pay attention. There are lots of names (often Greek and similar), facts, figures and dates so you can't half-arse it or you'll end up skimming and not taking anything in.

It is worth it, however. I learned so much about a wide variety of topics and actually ended up liking and respecting Mr Garfield a great deal, which is rare when I read non-fiction. On The Map has taken pride of place on my non-fiction shelf and I'm looking forward to reading it again in the future. It's a comprehensive yet accessible look at how we came to be where we are.

Visit Simon Garfield here.  

Review: Telling Tales: A History of Literary Hoaxes by Melissa Katsoulis

While Telling Tales was my Random Reads pick for this month, chances are I would have read it soon anyway. It just looks exactly like my kind of book - accessible non-fiction neatly arranged by topic, with a funky cover and, most importantly, about a topic I adore - books.

When Dionysus the Renegade faked a Sophocles text in 400BC (cunningly inserting the acrostic ‘Heraclides is ignorant of letters’) to humiliate an academic rival, he paved the way for two millennia of increasingly outlandish literary hoaxers. The path from his mischievous stunt to more serious tricksters like the controversial memoirist and Oprah-duper James Frey, takes in every sort of writer: from the religious zealot to the bored student, via the vengeful academic and the out-and-out joker. 

But whether hoaxing for fame, money, politics or simple amusement, each perpetrator represents something unique about why we write. Their stories speak volumes about how reading, writing and publishing have grown out of the fine and private places of the past into big-business, TV-book-club-led mass-marketplaces which, some would say, are ripe for the ripping. For the first time, the complete history of this fascinating sub-genre of world literature is revealed. Suitable for bookworms of all ages and persuasions, this is true crime for people who don't like true crime, and literary history for the historically illiterate.

Telling Tales is a collection of some of the most interesting literary hoaxes committed in the last two centuries, neatly arranged each under its own subheading and then arranged by subject, motive or century. Katsoulis explores the different types of hoax along with possible reasons or motive behind the scam.

There's a wide range of topic covered, some more interesting than others. My favourite was definitely the chapter that covered Celebrity Hoaxes, like the Hitler Diaries or the autobiography of Howard Hughes. I knew a tiny bit about both of these already, but it was great to expand my knowledge. That's the wonderful thing, I think - this book covers everything from famous hoaxes like the above to smaller, every-day scams like those fake 'misery-memoirs' you see so often on supermarket shelves.

I'm not entirely sure every single story deserved to be in here though. There's quite a lot about books written by authors under a different name or using a different photo, and I don't really see anything wrong with that. A story is a story, no matter who it's told by. As long as it's not masquerading as non-fiction, I don't see the harm. That said, I didn't realise Go Ask Alice, the coming-of-age novel about sex and drugs, was written by a middle-aged, middle-class, white woman. Considering the infamy that book has gathered, it was quite a revelation to me.

It would have been nice if the chapter groupings were a little more consistent. Some are arranged by date, some by topic and some by motive and it gets a little annoying. Either write chronologically or by topic, don't chop and change! It's not difficult!

I found it strange that there was no conclusion, bibliography or author information, but this is clearly meant to be a fun read, not an academic tome. That said, the author presupposes you already have a lot of literature-related knowledge, like the complete works of any given author. It's a strange mix, like using sock puppets to explain one concept and then explaining the next in Ancient Arabic at 400 wpm.

The information and tone of this book are great, but I do think the formatting and grouping could be improved a little. The author's leaps of faith also bothered me a tiny bit, as she kept saying the words 'no doubt that...' and 'we can assume that...' and she never cites her references. That said, it's a great read that you can either dip into or sit down and read it in a day (like I did).  

Visit the author's website here.

Review: So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading by Sara Nelson

Do you ever wonder if maybe you've been reading a completely different book to everybody else? Like, maybe somehow in the publishing house, somebody messed up and the wrong pages were inserted into the cover and so the book you're reading isn't actually the amazing book that everybody's raving about. I'm pretty sure that happened here - I've heard such wonderful reviews about So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading, but when it came to read it, I didn't feel disappointed so much as an over-whelming urge to throttle the author. I usually try not to completely slate a book - but this one actually managed to offend me.

Sometimes subtle, sometimes striking, the interplay between our lives and our books is the subject of this unique memoir by well-known publishing correspondent and self-described "readaholic" Sara Nelson. The project began as an experiment with a simple plan - fifty-two weeks, fifty-two books - that fell apart in the first week. It was then that Sara realised the books chose her as much as she chose them, and the rewards and frustrations they brought were nothing she could plan for.

Subtle? No. Striking? Yes, but only because I wanted to strike her with a mallet. I'm going to try and be as unbiased as I can, as it was Sara Nelson and her opinions I disliked more than the book. If you actually enjoyed this book, feel free to cover your ears and run.

My main point is that it takes the woman right up to page 33 to say that she actually likes reading. You might say that it's implied because she has, after all, cobbled together a book on the subject. But she seems to be one of those people who reads because 'it's the thing to do' and feels to make a massive issue of it and wants everybody to know that "HEY LOOK PEOPLE! I'M READING!"

'People notice what you read and judge you by it. Which is why if I were going to read Danielle Steel, Iwouldn't do it at the office. But Nine Parts of Desire speaks to anyone who might be listening: I'm smart, it says. I'm concerned with current events, it announces. I am a serious person. 

Umm... what? This woman has to be the snobbiest reader I've ever seen. She always has two books on the go so that she can read one she actually enjoys at home, and a smarter, more serious book on the train or at work. Why on earth would you do that? For God's sake, read what you want to, not to show off. She constantly mentions that what you read says a lot about the person you are. I can see her point, sometimes it can, but she's definitely overly concerned with it.

I think the point when I really wanted to throw the book across the room was when she discussed the lending out of books to people who don't go on to enjoy themas much as she did. The solution? Get some new friends - they're obviously just not as clever as you. This irritated me so much that I had to read it aloud to my mother (who, by the way, was reading the same book she'd been reading on the train - even though she was at home!) -

An occasional disagreement over a book's merit should not be a big deal to normal people, but the people I love - and the person I am - are not normal: we're book people. To us disagreeing about something we've read is as shocking and disruptive as, say, deciding that we hate each other's husbands. I should let it go, or reconsider my feelings about the book in question.But I end up reconsidering my friendship instead.

The Boy informs me all the time that I'm a book snob, and yes, I can be sometimes. But I do subscribe to the concept that whatever you're reading is good for you - Twilight, Mills and Boon, Katie Price's autobiography... it doesn't matter. And I'm certainly not going to cut of all ties with somebody who doesn't enjoy a book I lent them. What's wrong with this woman!?

But yeah, all that's annoying, but not life-changing. The one part that actually managed to offend me (and it's not easy - I work in retail) was this -

It seems to me that rereading - or claiming to reread - is just another way for some people to trumpet their intellectual superiority. To wit: have you ever known someone to say they're 'rereading' the oeuvre of, say, Jackie Collins?

Uhh, yes, actually. And Twilight. Terry Pratchett's books, and Agatha Christie's. Harry Potter. The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic. I've read all of those numerous times and shockingly, I'm not trying to make a statement about my 'intellectual superiority.' Crazy idea and all, but some people aren't using books to try and seem clever. Not only does it imply that everybody who rereads has an ulterior motive, it slates books like Jackie Collins' as not worth reading - or rereading, at the very least. Get off your high horse, lady.

It's not really all that about books, not that that's always a bad thing. I mean, I understand that it's about Ms. Nelson's reading in relation to her life, but it bored me a little. I mean, two chapters about how she's scared of baseball bats and her husband doesn't want to play baseball with their son? Be quiet please. It's also padded out with letters to authors (two chapters to the same one) I've never heard of and Oscar nominations - maybe she didn't read enough books that made her seem intellectual enough to actually mention.

I'm living out your fantasy: I'm getting paid to read, I have (or have access to) all the books in the world and I have the time to read them.

To be fair to her, the type of books she reads just aren't very similar to my own. She likes contemporary fiction, memoirs of cross-cultural marriages, etc. and that's not really my thing. So it's possible that lessened my interest in the book itself. I did enjoy the appendixes at the back, where she lists the books she meant to read, the books she actually managed to finish and then the books she still means to read.

Believe it or not, I've edited this twice and toned down the bite a little, but I know it's still a little snide. I've tried not to be, but Ms Nelson really irritated me. I'd recommend Ann Fadiman's Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader instead. It's a similar collection of essay's, but you can tell Ms Fadiman genuinely enjoys books for their own value.

LATER: I've just popped back to add a redeeming feature for Ms. Nelson. I was reading other reviews and one blogger mentions that she e-mailed the author to tell her how much she enjoyed her book and received a prompt and friendly response in return. I love it when authors try and appreciate their readers.

Library Confidential by Don Borchert

This may be the last review for a week as I'll be too busy trying not to rip my hair out in frustration as I move house. Easier said than done, considering I have to condense two bedrooms full of crap (and books!) into one. So wish me luck and I'll see you all soon!

From Amazon - 'The public library – a haven of calm, source of information, home to the student, the geek and the aging librarian. Or so you might think. Don Borchert’s ten years as assistant librarian have taught him that a library is more than just a place to borrow books, it’s also a place where people hide from the law, fall in love, fight, deal drugs, introduce their children to reading, look up porn and pursue their dreams. Borchett’s hilarious memoir delves behind the bookshelves as he discovers the weird, dangerous and downright dirty world of a public library and the fearless civil servants who patrol its aisles.'

This is less a book about libraries and more a book about the people who work in Mr. Borchert's library. There's nothing particularly surprising about library life - customers who don't want to pay fines, children who don't want to be quiet, staff who don't want to speak to either of those- so it seems to be padded out with unrelated stories about his friends and colleagues who apparently go on holiday, get married and contract illnesses just like any non-librarian. Consider my world enlarged.

He also goes off on tangents a lot - I remember a particularly long section about a recent family vacation to Hawaii that was seemingly unconnected to Librarydom. He writes fairly well (although somebody needs to disillusion him about long sentences and introduce him to the wonderful world of commas) but it does seem as though there just isn't enough about libraries to fill a whole book.

Looking back, he barely mentions books themselves ever. He even mentions children that are 'ruining their summer reading.' Although Mr. Borchert has compiled a list of the staff's favourite books at the back, this is the only indication that any of them have anything to do with books other than swiping them at the counter. Obviously that's not a bad thing in itself, but you do expect a librarian who wrote about to vaguely mention the damn things.

It's a short review because there is almost nothing to say about this book. It's accessible and readable but it didn't tell me anything I didn't already know about libraries. I enjoyed reading it but I doubt I'll feel the need to read it again in the near future.

Tolstoy and the Purple Chair by Nina Sankovitch

I was sent an ARC of this by a friend of mine on LibraryThing who spotted it on my wishlist. She wasn't overly impressed with it, but I adore books about books and so I thought I'd give it a go.

From Amazon - 'After the death of her sister, Nina Sankovitch found herself caught up in grief, dashing from one activity to the next to keep her mind occupied. But on her forty-sixth birthday she decided to stop running and start reading. Sankovitch devoted herself to reading a book a day: one year of magical reading in which she found joy, healing, and wisdom.'

Ms. Sankovitch has a background in Law, but her writing ability would easily lead you to believe she had years of literary training under her belt. Her prose is beautiful from beginning to end and the images she creates of her childhood holidays and her parents' wartime experiences seem to jump off the page.

The most memorable aspect is Ms. Sankovitch's grief over the death of her sister. I have never read such moving descriptions of a lost relative as in this book. Anne-Marie was clearly a beloved sister and that is never forgotten here. Nina's words really convey the depth of her loss.

It's not really as 'book-ish' as I'd have expected, considering the basic premise of the book. It's more of a jumpy autobiography, using snippets of book plots to prompt various memories from the author's life. She relates her own experiences to literary ones and theoretically learns how to deal with her own feelings based on those in novels.
 
I particularly liked the list of the 365 books read in the back. There are some interesting titles there, including some I've added to my own wishlist. They're not the usual type of books I read, so it's broadened my scope a little bit and I can't wait to get my hands on some of those titles.

I have to admit though, the concept doesn't make much sense to me. Surely a better way to deal with your grief is to face up and deal with your issues, not hide your head in the sand (or a book) and pretend they don't exist? Her husband goes to bed alone every night because she's too busy reading and her children beg for attention. She completely ignores the real world in favour of reading. Trust me, I know it's an appealing idea sometimes but it comes across as very, very selfish.

'I had to bring back joy enough to reignite belief in my children that the world is not about death and that living is not about waiting to die.

And that is why I was here, in my kitchen with a pile of waiting books on the counter, and more books waiting on a shelf in the next room.'

Uhh... what? If you want to reassure your children that life is worth living and that death isn't to be feared, crazy idea and all, but why not talk to them!? This paragraph irritated me beyond all belief. Hiding away does not help your children deal with death. If anything it teaches them that ignoring their problems (and their family) makes them go away.  On Thanksgiving, Ms Sankovitch reads a 376 page book instead of bothering to enjoy the festivities with her family. Boy, I sure wish I could be as festive and jolly as her during the holidays.

It also annoyed me that she constantly refers to her challenge as 'work.' No, dear. 'Work' is what your husband does to support you and your four children because you've decided you'd rather read all day instead of contributing to the household income. 

I've come across as quite snarky in this review, and I didn't mean to because I genuinely enjoyed living through the author's memories and bookish musings.  However - we all use reading to escape from our problems, whether it's grief, illness, relationship issues... we do. But we don't call it dealing because it's not.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

Who's Afraid of Jane Austen? How to Really Talk About Books You Haven't Read by Henry Hitchings

I'm contemplating writing the sequel - 'Who's Afraid of Literature? Just go READ the damn things!'

Yes yes, I know. It goes against all my natural principles too. I have never in my entire life pretended to read a book that I hadn't, and I'm not likely to start now. After a brief flick through of the book in the library though, I saw that it's not actually about that, or not really. Instead, it's a nice, brief summing up of a few major (and minor) classics.

A year or so ago, I read How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read by Pierre Bayard and I've never read a book I've wanted to forcibly feed to the author quite as much. The premise of that particular little gem (and I'm breaking out in hives even typing that sarcastically) is that reading is pointless and the people who don't read are actually far more intelligent than those that do. I'm not exaggerating, it's true.

Jane Austen - terrifying, right?

Thankfully though, the premise of Mr. Hitchings book is very different. He states that as such a vast number of books exist, it would be impossible to read every single one of them, and it's very likely that one day someone you wish to impress will comment on one of those unread volumes. Personally, I still wouldn't claim to have read it, but at least this book can give you a basic working knowledge of a good few.

It's not really a book you want to just sit there and read as constantly reading summaries of other books does get repetitive after a while. As a book to just dip into now and again, it's fairly entertaining. I particularly enjoyed the chapters on Shakespeare and the Qu'ran, although I do admit to skimming through a large portion of the Poetry section. Those are just my particular preferences though.

The chapters about the books I'd already read interested me more than the ones I hadn't, which I admit defeats the purpose of the book a little. Thinking about it, it makes sense though. If I haven't read it already, it clearly doesn't interest me - and if it doesn't interest me, why would I want to read about it?

I also liked the little literary facts sneaked in between the summaries. I didn't know that Charlotte Bronte disliked Jane Austen's novels or that there was any connection between Kant and platypuses (platypi? Now there's a question I never thought I'd have to ask).

For me, the most important point in this book's favour was the humility of Mr. Hitchins. In many books about books, especially those regarding classics, the author's words are underlined with a certain smugness and arrogance that implies they haven't read a book that wasn't first published in Latin since they were three and would rather lick a dead seal than read Agatha Christie. I respect Henry Hitchins all the more for admitting that he has read (and enjoyed) The Da Vinci Code and for quoting Terry Pratchett's attitude to literature.

I'm glad I've read it, although equally glad I didn't buy it. Having gotten through it once, I doubt I'll ever feel the need to pick it up again. It's mildly entertaining and has definitely increased me working knowledge of a few greats.

You may also enjoy:

Jane Austen is quite accessible, if you want to make a starton the classics, especially Pride and Prejudice or Persuasion.  

Dickens' A Christmas Carol is very short and one of my favourite books of all time.

Just make sure you never ever pick up the book of a similar name by Pierre Bayard.