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Non-fiction is an account or representation of a subject which is presented as fact. This presentation may be accurate or not; that is, it can give either a true or a false account of the subject in question. However, it is generally assumed that the authors of such accounts believe them to be truthful at the time of their composition. Non-fiction is one of the two main divisions in writing, particularly used in libraries, the other being fiction. However, non-fiction need not be written text necessarily, since pictures and film can also purport to present a factual account of a subject.

Book review: Holy Cow! An Indian Adventure by Sarah MacDonald

the cover of the book

An incredibly candid exploration of a few of the religious and cultural elements of that great and varied nation, India. Love it or hate it, there's just something about it...

Book review: Cultural Amnesia by Clive James

the cover of the book

If this was one of its crisp, aphoristic sentences, it would be: "The lessons of history do not suit our wishes. If they did, they wouldn't be lessons, and history would be a fairy story."

Book review: Ways of Hearing by Ben Thompson

the cover of the book

If this was a musician, it would be Paul Weller. Note to reader: I know fuck-all about music.

Book review: British As A Second Language by David Bennun

the cover of the book

If this was a restaurant, it would serve Springbok kebabs with a union jack spiked, half-jokingly, into the top.

Book review: Fugitives and Refugees by Chuck Palahniuk

If this was a Lonely Planet guide to Portland, Oregon, it would be the SHEEZY.

Book review: Don’t Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff

If this was a twenty year old man with Dad issues, too much money and half a pound of coke up his nose, it would be Brett Easton Ellis.

Book review: Culture Club by Craig Schuftan

If this was a radio station, it would be Triple J—fun and youthful yet respectful to age (it’s owned by the ABC, let’s remember) but occasionally frustrating in its equanimity while bringin’ the bad local hip-hop at seven AM.

Book review: Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas by Chuck Klosterman

If this was a book cover, it would be its own - flashy, fun, inviting, two-dimensional and with a really wanky subtitle.

Book review: Shooting to Kill by Christine Vachon with David Edelstein

Shooting to kill is part biography of Christine Vachon’s vault into Producer Super Stardom and part DIY manual for struggling indie film-makers.

Book review: Angry White Pyjamas by Robert Twigger

If this was an apartment block, it would be a boxily majestic, curiously liveable design of indeterminate age, which deserves to be cleaned more often.

Book review: Dave Barry’s Money Secrets – Like, Why Is There A Giant Eyeball On The Dollar? by Dave Barry

If this was a pizza, it would be the pizza I’m going to make when I get home, using Lebanese bread as a base so you can eat a whole one (pizza) with many toppings and still feel a bit hungry. Pizza. PIZZA!

Book review: Nul Points by Tim Moore

If this was a bottle of wine, it would be a cheap and unprepossessing 2-year-old chardonnay from God-knows-where that grows in splendour right up to the final drop.

Book review: A Load Of Old Ball Crunchers by Jo Brand

If this was a stand-up routine, it would be one of those “themed” ones from a festival which is, sometimes despite itself, funny, and actually stands up better than a lot of the other fluff going around.

Book review: From Sun Tzu To Xbox – War and Video Games by Ed Halter

If this was a videogame, it would be something like Rainbow Six: Vegas—great attention to detail, confidence in its audience, not funded by the Pentagon, but a bit too dry for my tastes (sorry to be so literal, but I know not everybody’s used to using first-person shooter metaphors in their day to day lives, hard as it is to believe).

Book review: A Bit On The Side by Alan Coren

If this was a member of the pre-war idle rich, it would be Bertie Wooster.

Book review: Non-Fiction by Chuck Palahniuk

If this was an autobiography, it would be effing awesome, but I’d also like to imagine that Chuck will always be too busy out there doing stuff to pen his own memoirs.

Book review: Sex And Drugs And Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman

If this was the first meal of the day, if would be a bowl brimming with your favourite guilty breakfast cereal pleasure and ice cold milk (unless you prefer hot). And you’d be hungry. For a while, at least.

Book review: Killing Yourself To Live by Chuck Klosterman

If this was a stage act, it would be an obviously talented juggler who does nine balls in time with music for twenty minutes, then cocks and elbows over the mic stand and spends two hours talking about why his wife left him in a self-deprecating manner.

Book review: Hellfire Club by Daniel P Mannix

If this was a church, it would be the still-extant Wycombe chapel in High Wycombe, built by Sir Francis Dashwood, founder of the Hellfire Club. Look it up on Google, go on! (That golden ball on the spire where a cross normally goes is big enough for six people to get drunk inside, believe it or not!)

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