If this was a cartoon, it would be South Park's John Edwards episode.
I was going to have a little lie on the couch and watch some tv before I wrote this book review, but then I remembered about procrastinating later, which was just one of the excellent slogans presented in this fantastic little guide to writers. And so here we are.
If this was a play, it would be called "The Extraordinarily Talented But Oddly Modest Playwright Who, It's Easy To Imagine, Finds All This Fuss Amusing".
I've had my kindle for a month now, and while there's not really a machine that can replicate the glory of an actual, real life book, the kindle is an excellent substitute.
In a genre where there is so much pulp churned out all the time, it's easy to lose faith in crime fiction. But don't despair, because Henning Mankell is absolutely brilliant, and he rises above the masses effortlessly. Faith restored.
So I started reading a book, which shall remain nameless, because it's name isn't the point of this blog. Also, I'll admit, I didn't give it a fair crack. I read fifty pages, and I was like, ugh. Not for me. Some girl, it's always some girl.
If this was... my copy of the book, handed to Ms Klein, I'd be interested to hear her thoughts. My brother bought it in Thailand and it's obviously pirated. The cover looks OK until you try to bend it, the body paper is almost transparent, and there's evidence of low-grade scanning every other page. Large-scale piracy of Western goods, as the flipside of sweatshop labour, is a topic she leaves untouched.
I always knew I liked David Mitchell, but now it's official; he's like, in my top ten favourite people of all time list.
Jasmine is an epic tale set between two very different countries. Spanning generations, filled with intrigue, tragedy, and the intricate delicacy of the art of drinking tea.
A good, solid collection of crime-solving tales, infused with big pinch of Australiana and a twinkle in the eye.
This is a tale of true love and heartbreak, of fantasy and reality. A glorious narrative told by two different people; Yoko, a dreamer waiting for her true love to catch up to her, and Soko, her daughter and confidant. But Soko can't be expected to live Yoko's dream forever.
Christmas In Absaroka County is just the thing to get you into the spirit of the season. A tiny taster of the Absaroka County; my only complaint would be that there just wasn't enough of it!
Buck Reilly is back! In a fast paced romp across continents, joined by his long suffering mechanic and the faithful Betty, Buck is fighting for his reputation and his life with his quirky charm and a whole lot of luck. But will his luck run out when he is stranded in the last place in the world he wants to be?
”I'm Passe. Johnny Passe.” In the big city where everyone scurries onto the next big trend, and the classics fall by the wayside, it's easy to become passe. Unless you're noir by Fivelson and Cleavenger. In this case, Passe is enduring.
If this was a residence, it would be a garret in a boarding house in a part of town that was once architecturally significant and dignified but is now decrepit and largely abandoned. With the door nailed shut and a sulphurous smell. (In fact, I'm sure Machen could do better than "sulphurous"...)
When Jimmy Buffet sang “Son of a son of a sailor”, he could have been singing about this particular Buck Reilly Adventure.
Abby Slovin, author of Letters In Cardboard Boxes, fills us in on what inspires her and how Letters came about.
If these were turned into movies by people who actually gave a crap about them, then they'd make pretty good films but still probably wouldn't hold up to multiple viewings the way the comics do.
The second-wave rite-of-passage story (ie late twenties as opposed to late teens) has been done a lot lately. But if you want a solid example of the genre, go with Another Broken Wizard. Dodds has done an outstanding job painting a poignant, utterly unselfconscious depiction of growing up.