gillyp, posts by tag: books - LiveJournal

Will Self vs Richard Littlejohn on the Nicky Campbell show.

Transcript be here.

Yes, it's me again. I've been out and planted a greengage and some anemones but I'm back now.

Joanne Harris on her latest novel, Blueeyedboy.

I'd been going through some troublesome times, and my sunny disposition had taken something of a blow. I found I didn’t want to write, and spent far too much time online, hanging around various sites and searching out ever more ingenious ways of evading reality. Under a pseudonym, I made a number of online friends, wrote a great deal of fanfic, and began to take an increasing interest in the way people interact online, the communities they create and join, and the way they choose to portray themselves. I began to understand that the small communities that have always informed my writing also exist in the virtual world, with the same little cliques of insiders, outsiders, gossips, liars, exhibitionists and bullies as in the “real” world. I understood too, how emotionally dependent people can sometimes become on their virtual friends and their virtual communities, even though there can be no way of knowing how honest these avenues of communication really are.

From all this came Blueeyedboy, a dark psychological thriller set in the world of the internet, where no-one is quite what they seem to be, and every taste is catered for, even the ones to which we dare not confess...

And now I need to know what her fandom is! And, yes, since you ask, I am posting like a mad eejit today.

The Orange longlist, with total sales for each of the nominated books.

 A Gate at the Stairs is on there? Seriously??? Worst book I've read this year.

My Year in retrospect, by gillyp, aged.

( Fandom and FicCollapse )( WritingCollapse )


( ReadingCollapse )( ReadingCollapse )
In general: Life has been a bit rough at times. We’re still doing one week home, one week at Dad’s which is stressful and tiring. Dad is exactly as he was, some days up, some days down (some days very down indeed), it’s become routine really, a bit bothersome. I have to keep reminding myself that in many respects, I have a life that’s pretty good, that many might envy. OK, a bit (very! Oh so very...)  uneventful and dull, but far from arduous and relatively free of pain. I do keep reminding myself of that (but if the Gods are listening, a little more excitement – of the nicer sort - really wouldn’t go amiss in 2010)

So to round off 2009, I’m going to do that first-post, last-post LJ meme and say, have a marvellous 2010 everyone, I think we all deserve a break. Much love to you all, thank you so much, every one of you, for the laughs and the love and for keeping me sane.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

( My Year on LJCollapse )

wot I found on the electric interwebs.

6 writers who accidentally crapped out masterpieces.

Why oh why does SF never get the Booker?

Well, they tell me it's Saturday. I suppose they could be lying but then, why would they bother, you know? But then the Met office said it would be sunny and they lie! for it is darkly grey and ominous and suspiciously warm.

A sleepless night after a tiring week has left me a well-knackered bunny. I had planned to use this day wisely and well in printing out the 3rd draft of Entanglement and doing that all-important 4th edit but I'm mildly scared I'll find that it's wall to wall shit now it's been sent to an agent and then worry. Why do that to myself, I cannot help but ask? Also the continuous interruptions - water meter man, post men, couriers, an itinerant hedge cutter - have done nothing to help my resolve to stare at the wall work on the book.

So, all of the above plus the aforementioned tiredness and my natural inklination to idleness leads me to endlessly peruse Twitter, t'internet and my current crop of reading, some self-chosen, some chosen for me (and for which I shall have to write reviews alas). For the bookly minded, these be:

Breath, Tim Winton. Surprisingly readable and really good.
Makers, Cory Doctorow. Frighteningly long.
Day After Night, Anita Diamant. A review copy and not my cup of tea at all ('Extraordinary true story', internment, Polish Zionist, Holocaust! run away, run away!!!) but I shall do my duty and hope (but not expect) to be pleasantly surprised.
The Thirteenth Tale, Diane Setterfield. Been wanting to read this for ages but work keeps getting in the way.
Vineland, Pynchon. Ditto.
The Men Who Stare at Goats, Tom Ronson

Tea now, I think. I'm currently working my happy way through a box of Twining's Lemon Grove which I hadn't had before and is surprisingly delicious. It tastes of lemon Opal Fruits which can only be a Very good thing. New Californication on the box tonight, also a repeat of the Robbie Coltraine, John Sessions Boswell thingum.

In short, life is currently pleasing me in a sound and goodly way, I hope she is doing the same for you, too, my esteemed and doxilicious flist. Here, have a sprinkling of pink sugar-dusted, sparkly cherry-vanilla kisses. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Whatever Mark's using in the bath, it smells bloody awful.

ETA: Too good not to share (Caution, contains Dan Brown).

Fox 'News' continues to amuse with it's deranged absurdity.

and I have a new Aga! Lawks a lawdy, it's hot in here! It smells a bit funny at the moment but we're assured that will wear off in a few hours and in the meantime - omg! heating and hot water and cookery! and heating and - did I mention how bloody hot it is in here? I shall post a picture as soon as the camera stops playing silly buggers.

And Twitter for a Nobel Prize? and is it Saturday already? And will it ever stop raining? And look at Gaiman's library O:!

Do I ramble? I think I'm being affected by the unbearable heat. Where's Omid Djallili when you need him? Well, on YT of course.

I think I need coffee. Maybe some toast.

this tragic news?

Tim Guest has died

No coffee till eleven. Woken (again) at some ungodly hour. I'd advise everyone to keep well back.

I seem to be craving toast.

And I've been reading The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas in a state of some fear and trepidation. You know when Amazon tell you, if you liked that, you'll love this! Well, this one came up and I read the blurb and omg! It sounded horribly similar to the novel I'm writing, so I ordered a copy and - there are similar themes, to be sure. There's this 'other world' that runs on quantum physics but in every other respect, it's nothing like mine at all. Mine has more plot, an entirely different story, an entirely different premise and construction and characters and - gosh, I hope mine isn't half so depressing. TEOMY is a brilliant book of massive imagination and a real page-turner but it does seem to be trying to suck your life out with a straw. And it means I'll have to be extra careful wth my query letter now, or run the risk of being binned with them thinking Entanglement's the same as this book.

::sigh::

There's always something, as my mum would say.

OK. What's the time now? Only an hour to the test. After the test there will be coffee and breakfast. I can do this.

Srzly!

It's still a bit nippy out there but the sun be shining, birds are nesting in my eaves; there's a wee Robin singing his heart out on my gate; daffodils and crocuses are up, my seedlings are sprouting like rampant crinoidal sprouty things. 

This has to be good.

We're home for a week anyway, Morrison's has been duly stripped of goodies, I have tea and bikkies and really should leave off Twitter now and do some work.

Oh, and I'm reading a wonderful book. I'm only 1/3 of the way in but I'm loving every damn page so far. Solo by Rana Dasgupta. A 100 year old man looks back on his life. Beautiful writing, great characters, rivetting story.

OK. Working. I am. I am. Right after I make some more tea.

As Meat Loves Salt from Amazon as I am reliably informed it is rich in teh gay. Anyone read it? Opinions? It gets glowing reviews.

And it's Sunday! Aka do nothing day. Toasty buttered toast, coffee, Countryfile, an exciting looking new book to review, all day to browse t'internet and post endlessly meaningless, skatageous dribblings. My quiet joy is quiet and joyous.

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to all that fit the category. I hope you're having a simply marvellous day you little furry balls of love and nonsense, you. XXX

Another review for simon_saysuk  - many thanks again for the free book which I adored and highly recomend.

( Read my reviewCollapse )

Cross posted to booky_talk,  goodreads and Amazon

Flist - who do we know who could play this character? From p.142:

'Terry McQuinn was five feet six inches tall. He had bright blue eyes and brown curly hair and JRR Tolkien was one of the few things in life that made sense to him. People indeed sometimes said that he looked like a Hobbit'.

If you ever get to read this book, I promise you'll enjoy putting our lad in this role. I know I did. ::she smiled knowingly::

Name ONE book that wasn't listed that you feel should have been.

I'll kick off with The History of Love by Nicole Krauss.

Blagged from so many; most recently elmyraemilie , cross_stitchery and davidbrider 

The BBC allegedly believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here (I find that hard to believe but there you go). Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish. I'm adding; underline those that are defo on your 'to read' list'. Here we go...
( Because I am the very Mistress of Prevarication...Collapse )

And now I genuinely have to turn off the emails and get down to some work. After coffee. And Just a MInute...

And ETA (because I'm drinking coffee, listening to Just a Minute *G*) why is The Five People You Meet In Heaven in there (a rather so-so book imo) and not the infinitely beautiful and superior History of Love by Nicole Kraus? Two books  linked in no way whatsoever except that I read them at the same time but the one is so much better than the other!

This is a puzzling list. I see no reason for many of their choices at all.

 

It’s certainly a page turner.

A claustrophobic thriller about a death that literally haunts a young and relatively innocent young man and his hideous friend, a PhD student and paranormal investigator. Nathan, the protagonist, deals with what’s happened and makes a life despite everything – in fact, he makes a rather good life, a life that, if the death had never happened, would not have come about. Can he deal with the implications of that knowledge?

I could see how ...more Another book to review courtesy of  simon_saysuk to whom, many thanks.

So, Burial. It’s certainly a page turner, I read it in three days. :o)

A claustrophobic thriller about a death that literally haunts a young and relatively innocent young man and his hideous friend, a PhD student and paranormal investigator. Nathan, the protagonist, deals with what’s happened and makes a life despite everything – in fact, he makes a rather good life, a life that, had the death had never happened, would not have come about. Can he deal with the implications of that knowledge?

I could see how the paranormal shades would come to colour the book, in fact, I was expecting rather more of it than we got but the twist at end came as a real surprise to me - maybe that’s because I don’t read or watch many thrillers.:o) It's not a genre that generally appeals to me and this is not a book I would likely have picked off the shelf myself. It certainly read as though the author had the TV market in mind.

The quality of the writing is often a little shaky with repetition and a goodly number of clichés, but if a darn good plot is all you need, then this is a darn good plot reasonably well executed and will keep you turning the pages for sure. I enjoyed it very much and if you're looking for a darker-than-average plane/train/beach read, I'd certainly rec this without reservation.

Review cross-posted to Amazon and Goodreads.

Gosh. That was a killer. ::wipes eyes, blows copious wet n runny snot into a series of tissues:: TMI? I half-heartedly apologise.

I have to somehow review it for Amazon now. What on earth will I say? It's blown me away.

We have to go back to Yorkshire for the duration today, and not a moment too soon since the fairy lights on the mantelpiece have just packed in, damn them. I'll be taking them down today anyway since we won't be back again before Twelfth Night and I have no desire to incur the ire of the Gods.

Mark wants to set off at ten since the roads will no doubt be horrific. I have a slew of things to do, in fact, before we depart, things I should be doing rather than sitting here, sipping a cooling mug of coffee, contemplating my filthy t shirt, but I think I shall sit here and ponder the mysteries over a fresh cup of coffee and maybe an oatcake for a little while longer.

ETA: Mark hath decreed that th'hour of eleven 'is early enough I think' and, since I've already stripped and changed the bed and packed m'bag; Mark's washed up there's little else to do so I'm back on my arse again, eating potato cakes (oatcakes have gone mouldy! :o), drinking juice and coffee (in separate receptacles, not mixed. That would be horrid) and perusing LJ (which is very quiet this morning. Where is everyone? Are you all holiday-busy or just hungover?

THIS BOOK.

It's made me laugh and cry, it has touched my very soul (hard-hearted bastard that I am) and I haven't even finished it yet. The writing is just gorgeous, brilliant, inspired.

Sorry for this literary outburst but I felt it needed to be said. I now return you to your regular LJing.

...she warbled as she chugged down her second mug of coffee.

I was tucked up warm in bed by ten last night, but working on my novel till some godforsken hour, then got involved reading An Accidental Light which is not the sort of thing I'd normally pick off the shelf because the cover is so off-putting, it just screams (in a Tom Baker voice)  'this is a WOMANS book, my Lord!' - But I'm supposed to be reviewing it and it's actually rather good. A policeman accidentally runs-down and kills a young girl. The book follows everyone involved in the incident and how it changes their life and all the while, the ghost of the kid be hauntin' them. It's all first person but beautifully written and very easy to read and I do commend it most heartliy (but they really should change that awful cover). So it was the wee small hours before I turned out the light, only to get woken at some darke tyme of bleedin bloody Nora o' clock by a car sliding and crunching around in the road outside and running, running, running his engine and now -

Shattered. Is what I am. It's bloody Narnia out there today and somehow, we have to get into Chorley for bankly-business and shopping and that. And will our blessed council, to whom we pay most munificent goodly tithes each moon have gritted the village roads? Verily, I say, they will not.

What is it about t'Internets that maketh one to write like that? Verily, I know not that, neither. Tis a mystery.

Anyway. I needs must drink more coffee and complete my novelly works if we're to be away at the appointed hour. ::Looks at thick coating of ice on road. sighs deeply:: There had best be hot chocolate and almond croissants at the end of this, I'm telling you or there'll be trouble.

By the estimable Mr. Mark Gatiss (who just happens to be one of my favourite comedy and Who writers).

I was generously offered a free copy of this in return for reviewing it on my LJ, just in case my regulars are confused by my sudden launch into book reviewery. So, like the notorious doxie and book-ho I am...

( The Vesuvius Club. My considered opinion lies hidden deep behind this cut... Collapse )

(Cross-posting this review to GoodReads and Amazon).

by Matthew Quick, is a book I'm reviewing for Amazon.

Pat tells you his story in his own, sweet, child-like way. He's spent a few years in an institution after some kind of a breakdown (? - we don't know that much about Pat yet, I'm only half-way through and he hasn't told us a lot about himself yet). He believes his life is a movie, written and directed by God. He's being haunted in the night by Kenny G who terrifies him.

Pat's so angsty and damaged and utterly adorable. He only wants to 'practice kindness'. His mom, who adores him, fought to take him home from the institution -  The Bad Place  - and get him into therapy.

Obsessional body-building aside, Pat is fanfic Blair, so very loveable, the poor mad baby.

It reads like the essence of every damaged-angsty Blair-fic I've ever read. Actually, it reads just like one of my own fics; reading it is a strangely familiar and comforting experience *g* I'm enjoying it enormously.

It's not out yet, but when it is, I heartily rec this book to everyone. The angst-monkeys will love it.

And the sun is out, the sky is blue, it's beautifu-ul... I should wrap up warm and go for a walk. Just want to read a wee bit more. It's been a while since I read a book in a day but I just might with this one.

So why are we both so shattered?

Made an early start - moved all the furniture and gubbins out of the kitchen. Made a little workstation in the still-stripped-out sitting room so we can continue to eat and make tea while the kitchen's wet/dusty/manky/filled with noxious chemical fumes.

Went to bloody BIG! B&Q in Bamber Bridge this time for all our housely needs. Still couldn't get a light for the stairs though; their lighting designers really don't account for tall people living under low ceilings. ::sigh:: Side trips to Matalan and Aldi took us into rush hour but hey ho the nonny, we're home at last, showered, with cups of espresso, camped in the bedroom. I have cooked sauce for pasta so dinner is only ever going to be 10 minutes away. I has Steve Coogan and Richard Ayoade DVDs. There is chocolate and wine.

The Caroline Dawnay Agency email to tell me they don't want my book yet the most awful rubbish continues to get published. Am I the only person in the English speaking world that hates The Time-Traveler's Wife? I admit, I've only read the first eighty pages but so far it seems the most awful load of arse. The two main characters are so bloody unbelievable, so utterly, utterly perfect - He with his musician parents and erudite bookshelves, she, so tall and slender with her red-gold hair and pale skin and childhood home full of stereotype servants - she just screams Mary Bloody Sue to me and the style - the writing style seems so stilted and turgid; it reads like the author read some of the best pre-war authors and decided she could write a book Just Like Theirs.

I'm prepared to believe it gets better as the book goes on. It has to (doesn't it?) Because otherwise the glowing reviews that led me to read this tripe are just puzzling. I shall persist (though at the moment I want to fling the thing through a window).

La di da. Life continues to amaze me with its mysteries. I have Californian Shiraz, I have little crunchy, oaty things. I have cheesy crisps and damn fine comedy on DVD and a whole evening free to enjoy them. ::comforts self with this knowledge::
 

I just signed up to Good Reads. I'm Gilly over there, in case anyone would like to friend me? (o:

ETA: I'm now GillyP. I hope that helps.

By way of a change...

Reading a lot of everything, really. I’m currently working my way through the LMFA recs and my desktop is looking nasty and untidy again from all the recs I haven’t had time to read yet.

But  I’m reading on the move a lot right now and since I pretty much gave up printing fic when the library got way out of hand (sometime towards the end of 2003, I think. Heh heh) that means books - which I’ve always loved, though I almost stopped reading fiction altogether at the height of my love affair with The Fic.

So, here are Four Books I Love – not necessarily my top four; just four books that I go back to a lot and that I’d like to rec, simple as that.



I’m currently reading 'When I used to be Cool' by Sam Kashner which is pruriently fascinating; laugh-out-loud funny - I’d love to hear the flist’s choice, too; what do you rec?  - Fiction only, though. I love non fic but that’s a whole other thang.