Part of a book-relay, this one. I’m always delighted to read children’s classics that have remained undiscovered by me, and Tuck Everlasting was more worthwhile even than most. I have to agree with JessicaEby in that the ending is bittersweet, but I think this is to the book’s advantage rather than otherwise.
The Blue Afternoon
Another book that arrived in the mail from a fellow bookcrosser, William Boyd’s The Blue Afternoon was a pleasant aquaintance. It starts out as something of a mystery but by the end it also somehow encapsulates an almost epic love story (though I never got emotionally involved in this, due to the usual reasons). I’m certainly off to add some Boyd titles to my wishlist.
Den hellige natten – Tahar Ben Jelloun
Denne var det bare så vidt jeg leste, de første femti sidene var det et slit å komme gjennom. Etter det klarte jeg nesten ikke legge den fra meg, men i dette tilfellet var det ikke positivt. Jeg leste nemlig videre med den typen skrekkslagen fascinasjon som gjør at man ikke klarer å la være å stirre på en trafikkulykke.
Ekkel og relativt uforståelig oppsummerer vel mine følelser om Den hellige natten. Verden er visst ikke helt enig – Jelloun vant Goncourt-prisen for denne boka i 1987. Jeg føler ikke at jeg har lært noe mer om arabisk/marokkansk kultur, ei heller føler jeg at jeg har fått noe nytt innblikk i menneskesjelen. Det er mulig jeg ikke er sofistikert nok, men jeg klarer slett ikke å se noe poeng i det hele. Kanskje skal det ikke være noe poeng? Prøv gjerne å overbevise meg om at denne boka var verdt de minuttene av livet mitt jeg brukte på den, jeg liker slett ikke å føle at bøker er bortkastet…
(Bokens bookcrossing-side)
Ravensdale
Books in the mail! This one from Christeph – Ravensdale by Kate Fielding (funny – amazon seems to have gotten the covers for this one and A Winter in Ravensdale mixed up…)
Let’s see, what to say… This is a feel-good, heart-warming tale, with some attempts at «darker» themes – it reminded me of some of the better British «soaps», Heartbeat or Ballykissangel or some such. This is hardly great literature, but pleasant reading none the less, and when you’re hopelessly in love with the British countryside, reading about the Yorkshire Dales can never be a Bad Thing. I’ll probably want to read the rest of the series, in other words.
English Passengers
I got Matthew Kneale’s English Passengers in the mail from nanny60read and since it’s been on my tlf (to look for) list for a while, I thought I’d start it right away.
It actually lived up to my expectations, providing an enjoyable, but also thought-provoking tale. Most of the people inhabiting Kneale’s universe are pretty hard to like, actually, and still I feel it was woth getting to know them. And you do get to know them. The novel consists of fairly short chapters written «by» (from the point of view of) the characters themselves, I count 22 narrators in all. Captain Illiam Quilliam Kewley, besides having the most wonderful name, is also one of the more worthwhile aquaintances the book offers, his style is straightforward and matter-of-fact, but with some highly personal observances to spice it up. Peevay, the Tasmanian aborigine, recounts his people’s rather miserable story after the arrival of «the white man» in a wonderfully poetic (for lack of a better word) language, and therefore provides some of the most fascinating sequences in the book. Dr. Thomas Potter is a wonderful counterbalance to Peevay, espousing his horribly familiar theories of racial types in a rather enjoyable diary jargong.
An excerpt from Peevay:
So I began to understand rum. I did suppose it would make me feel happy, but no, this was never so. It made me feel NOTHING, and this was great good fortune, too, as NOTHING was just what I was seeking. By and by I got another and then another, as I was hungry to get all the NOTHING in the world. But then I learned this rum was more difficult than I knew, as suddenly I was dizzy and feeling crook, so I had to go away, legs leaning like I was on some ship, and white scuts laughing, and when I got outside I was sick and all my beautiful NOTHING was gone.
Pondus – Fem rette
Ny Pondus-bok! Nå har man jo riktignok lest alle stripene før, man abonnerer jo på bladet (vel, mannen gjør), men allikevel må man jo løpe og kjøpe. Det er ikke stort annet å si om denne enn at den burde være obligatorisk eie for enhver nordmann (og alle andre som kan lese norsk).
Det blod som spillts
Det er svært hyggelig å lese ny (for meg) krim som ikke irriterer mer enn den behager (ok, behager er et dårlig ord når det gjelder god krim, men det er det beste jeg kommer på akkurat nå). Åsa Larsson skriver meget godt og sikkert, og historien har akkurat så mye driv som den bør ha. Jeg har nettopp «måttet» lese ferdig de siste 10 sidene etter å ha ankommet jobb – det var vanskelig å legge fra seg boka i går kveld, i dag var det platt umulig.
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
And so I finally got around to reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. About time, really, especially as it turned out to be just about as good as the hype claims, which was somewhat unexpected. So now I can cross off C on the list, which is good.
The Aubrey/Maturin series
No, I’m not dead. Neither am I «might has well have been dead», that is: Not reading. I just made the mistake of looking into The Final, Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey and, as is quite natural when it comes to O’Brian, simply had to reread the series. Which takes a while. It’s time well spent, though, and if you’ve still to read Master and Commander (just forget about the silly film and read the book, I tell you), then shame on you.
Thursday Afternoons
Aargh.
No.
I liked this until I realised how it was going to end and then I really didn’t want to read the rest but did anyway. I might stick to Dickens’ non-fiction from now on.