A Travel Book, Murder Mystery and Historical Account

Three books in a row left our crowd of noble literary voyagers rather cold and this bold companion lays the blame firmly in the hands of the creator.

Dark Star Safari, Sin: Pride

Africa is an incredibly suitable subject for Paul Thereoux, the massive, wild origin of humanity, where the vast resources are slowly siphoned off by the Vikings progeny and returned in the form of small parcels of food to keep people just about alive some of the time, is a great subject to rant on and on and on about. And his rants are on occasion, poignant, thoughtful and important. Thing is, Thereoux's ego is so unbelievably massive that it can barely be contained on the pages with the already heavy subject-matter. He seeps through the individuals described, through the utter hopelessness of it all and it left me so utterly uninterested that I found myself unable to complete reading the book. Its all about him, all about his feelings and his experiences and his utter contempt for anything that seems to disagree with him, I wanted to punch him, or for him to die, or for some horrific accident to hurt him terribly, perhaps extreme but let us be clear, he is a fucking wanker.

The Chimney Sweeper's Boy, Sin: Greed

Barbara Vine on the other hand, produced a technically excellent little mystery thing that is quite satisfying and interesting. You just kept feeling she was trying so hard to create something "good" that in the end it just seemed forced. Too many symbols spoil the plot and this text is so overflowing with symbols, subtle literary devices and pointless character development that its a surprise the central story-arc remains quite strong. Perhaps blaming the author is harsh as she constructed something very enjoyable, but one feels the opportunity to create something great is spoiled by over-cooking.

The Surgeon of Crowthorne, Sin: Envy

Finally, Simon Winchester's historical account told a fascinating story very competently. Winnie plays the game with a spring to his prose and an interesting format, comparing and contrasting two of the major writers of the Oxford Dictionary as well as describing the general origins of the book. His crime is the rather bizarre building of tension that is more reminicent of a work of historical fiction than non-fiction. It is almost as if Winchester wants to be writing fiction but finds himself hemmed in by the restrictions of the actual history. After a while, interest in the facts fade away and you are faced with a potted history of a pointless book and lets be clear, no one ever really convinced me of the value of this universal definition book, other than to ruin lives and give the criminally insane something to do. The oddly perverse climax is not really a climax at all, its just another little tragedy in the life of a man who is beyond much help. Non-fiction is not the appropriate route to address this story, it is begging for narrative invention to allow for a nice, binding central arc that can evoke that oh, so crucial, cathartic satisfaction. An interesting account but nothing approximating the literary greatness that Popular Penguins should be all about.

So there we have three authors who produced something interesting but failed to produce something great. Next up, an author who failed but in a much more magnificent way. The real question has to be put: considering the number of wonderful books in the world, why is it this stupid Popular Penguins list is filled with such average examples of the English novel.

Special Super-Delayed Review Editions, Vol. 2

The Surgeon of Crowthorne, by Simon Winchester

A non-fiction book, the Surgeon of Crowthorne is concerned with the origins of the ultra-ubiquitous Oxford English Dictionary. Perhaps the most respected reference book of all time ("Yo Brittanica, you got some great facts, imma let you finish..."), it was also the first to be constructed around quotations from actual usage, aiming to cover everything in the language. I found all the background on the history of dictionaries very interesting since I didn't really know anything about it beforehand, but Mr. Foulkes said he already knew most of it so if you're an expert in dictionaries it may not be the best reading.

The major focus is of course on the eponymous surgeon, a mentally ill man who started as an American civil war medic and ended up shooting a man in London and being sent to an asylum. From there he sent massive wads of quotations to the dictionary's editors, who were for a long time unaware that this helpful character was in an asylum. Although the story centres on this strange character I'd say at least half of the book describes the process of the dictionary being made with him somewhat in the background. It is amazing that such a respected and seemingly conventional and boring reference book has this weird, almost unbelievable character attached to it, and after reading the book the dictionary itself appears much more interesting than I previously thought.

The Surgeon of Crowthorne is competently written, but really is more like a giant magazine article than a piece of literature. As such there's not really too much more I can say about this particular Popular Penguin. It's a really strange and interesting story told in a mostly factual way about an unusual topic. I enjoyed it, but Poms threatened severe violence to anyone ranking the book above a 0/10, so you'll have to decide for yourself!

Special Super-Delayed Review Editions, Vol. 1

The Chimney Sweeper's Boy, by Barbara Vine

The blurb describes "The Chimney Sweeper's Boy" as "one of the finest, most accomplished and chilling tales of psychological suspense ever written." While this is an exaggeration I think the most apt word is "accomplished". Barbara Vine aka. Ruth Rendell is an exceptionally experienced writer who really does know her craft. She always keeps the plot moving at just the right pace and her writing style, while not particularly exciting, has plenty of nice touches.

That said, I found the book unsatisfying. The symbolism (like the butterflies) was a bit heavy-handed and there were a few too many passages which were obviously just put in as clues to the mystery. The general outline of the solution to the mystery is pretty easy to see coming, though the details were unexpected (to me anyway). The strongest part of the book is the characters, who all have believable, slightly strange habits and flaws that still seemed realistic. Nobody's actually normal in real life are they? The plot itself is a bit more artificial but I could certainly imagine it happening.

I think the main thing that let down the book as a whole was the lack of much deep insight. Vine may have been just a bit too obsessed with building a story about a Serious Issue and let that get in the way of making a well-rounded story. I've never read any other Ruth Rendell but from this book I imagine her straight crime novels are really great examples of the genre. I think she certainly deserves credit for writing something much more ambitious and morally complex than a typical mystery book, and while it didn't work perfectly I did find it a good read.

A Confederacy of Dunces - A Review

I think it's fair to say that when one picks up a good-sized novel, one expects to be drawn into a good story. A Confederacy of Dunces did well to keep me wanting such enticement, and 400 pages is a long time to be waiting.
It simply lacked a coherent narrative. The farcical comedy, while at times hilarious, in my opinion didn't make up for this weakness. Furthermore, I felt little affinity with any of the characters, although in retrospect (and after bookclub discussion) the more extreme bits of all of us can be found lurking in the psyche of the book's gargantuan centre, Ignatius Reilly. Perhaps I failed to notice this because I was so repelled and revolted by his habits and behaviour most of the time. Unfortunate.
There was too much ranting too, which I absorb enough of in my everyday existence as a student, that to read it in a fiction novel is like cleaning a well-used bathroom - something of a chore. Hidden among these rantings, brandishing of plastic cutlasses and blocking of valves were small gems of social commentary that addressed themes of sexuality, reputation, mental illness, modernity, and the wobbly wheel of fortune. First and foremost however, A Confederacy of Dunces is a book about a confederacy of dunces. Even Angelo, who had enough sense to solve the mystery of the brown packet trade spent most of the book locked in a bathroom, or sulking around the streets in a ridiculous costume. Would it be utterly pretentious of me to be disappointed by his almost complete lack of back-bone? And Ignatius himself could be squeezed into a nutshell (if we could find one big enough) with the force of the single sentence, 'In his wake he had left a trail of overturned tables.'
Provided it was done well, this book would definitely translate into an excellent slapstick comedy film, with plenty of opportunities for symbolic visuals like the pirates earing flashing about, and closeups of a steaming, quivering hot-dog. But this is not a film, it is a book, and despite moments of genius comedic exaggeration and pertinent mockery of modern society, it is a novel which perhaps requires a certain type of reader, or a certain type of reading, to make it an overall enjoyable read. As one of our number aptly put it, this novel promises much but never truly delivers.
I give it 5/10.