Short Short Story?

   This morning I had a half-dream in the time between my alarm and getting up: 

   The grey boys stood in silent rows in the walled yard. When the wind came, they folded forward from the ankle, dominoes, and then straightened. They were being trained or punished for something, but in that place there were no answers. 

   The Other darted through them, and a ripple of rebellion was his wake. The hooded men came hunting the Other, but his presence had changed the boys, and they shielded him. The search continued, the balance shifted, and the grey boys found their power in that burning world. 

The Pirates! In an Adventure with Vegetarianism

Bloomsbury, £6.99

   During the last two weeks, I've been reading my way through Gideon Defoe's hilarious Pirates series 'The Pirates!' in adventures with Scientists, Moby Dick, Communists, Napoleon, and the Romantics. Due to just a few little references here and there, the books are not really suitable for children, but these (mostly extraneous) parts were removed in the screenplay, and the first book in the series was recently made into a great animated movie by Aardman Animations (of Wallace and Gromit fame). 

Bloomsbury, £6.99

   The Pirates in question roam the seas not really doing any pirating, in their not-very-good-at-all ship, with a Pirate Captain who knows nothing about the sea and sailing, but whose wisdom and general magnificence are well-known to his devoted crew. Said crew consists of the pirate with a scarf, the albino pirate, the pirate in red, the pirate with a monobrow, and Jennifer. The Pirate Captain's main preoccupation is with his luxuriant beard, while the pirate crew spend their time discussing the best thing to do with a drunken pirate (soak him in a barrel until he grows flippers, put a plaster on his back), comparing people to fonts, comparing people to types of trees, and deciding what clouds look like. In order to decide which pirate gets to tell his anecdote first, the Pirate Captain has drawn up a list of topics - any story with mention of ham gets ten points, one with mention of nudity gets seven points, one with murder gets five points, and so on. And yes, that does seem like assigning strangely high entertainment value to ham. But not to these pirates. They positively live for ham. One of the Pirate Captain's most precious possessions is a prize ham which he keeps in a display case in his office, and a pirate feast is considered incomplete without a ham. 

Still from the 2012 film from Aardman Animations

   Now, thrilling as all this undoubtedly is, it so happens that ham is one thing that is absolutely turning my stomach at the moment. About two months ago, I joined a gym and, as part of my general healthy turnaround, revamped my diet to include a lot more protein and veg, and less bread. A couple of weeks of protein (eggs, tuna, lean meat, supplements) at each meal has been enough to mostly turn me off meat. I made lovely lamb chops last night, could only manage two bites, and instead made do with my lovely peas and spring onion mash. Is this the start of some half-arsed sort of vegetarianism? I have to say I fancy the idea at the moment. I'm sure I could get my protein from my eggs, beans, nuts, and supplements. Besides, all I've been reading lately is about how environmentally-unfriendly meat-eating is when it comes to land use and water consumption, so maybe it's just as well. I'll make do with reading about ham instead of eating it.

Prehistoric Mythologies and Technology

Harper Collins, £16.99

   I've been neglecting this blog recently because I've bought an iPhone and have been spending so much time discovering, reading, downloading, texting, talking, and being on Twitter a lot. Last night I bought my first ebooks (enovellas?) and read one of them (Brandon Sanderson's 'Infinity Blade: Awakening'). I've come to the conclusion that this screen is just too small for much reading more than tweets, emails, or recipes. 

   In real-book land, I've just finished reading Alan Garner's stunning newest book - 'Boneland'. Here's a book which you certainly couldn't read on a phone. The strange and confusing nature of the story make this one of those books where the reader is frequently turning back pages to check or reread something, wondering if a word, sentence, or paragraph was missed in haste. This fact, combined with the handy length (150 pages), mean that it's one I'm planning to reread straight away. 

   'Boneland' is the fifty-years-later follow-up to children's fantasy classics 'The Weirdstone of Brisingamen' and 'The Moon of Gomrath', which are great favourites of mine. This one, however, is decidedly not a children's book. Garner's prose is somehow both economical and lyrical, concise and succinct as well as beautiful. Garner states in an interview here ( http://m.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/aug/31/reading-group-alan-garner?cat=books&type=article ) that he works hard at achieving this style, writing and rewriting and whittling for brevity. It works perfectly to conjure atmosphere, mystery, and menace, reminding me a lot of one of my favourite books (mentioned in my last post also), 'The Owl Service'. 
   The book's curious structure, with no chapters and the parallel dual storylines of Colin (familiar from the previous books, now an astrophysicist) and his prehistoric predecessor as guardian of The Edge can make it a difficult read. As the story gathers pace, however, these concerns evaporate. Words whirl together to form a perfect new mythology of Earth, Universe, stars, physics, madness, and a deep connection with the past. Now I just have to read it again. 

What is my Daemon?

Scholastic, £16.99

   I recently picked up the audiobook version of Philip Pullman's 'His Dark Materials', and while I'm really enjoying revisiting the sprawling story of armoured bears, witches, plucky pre-teens, and other-world physics, what I'm finding myself thinking about most is the idea of each person having a 'daemon' - an animal companion which is an external manifestation of your soul and character, an inseparable part of yourself.

   A quick 'what's my daemon' Google search will reveal lots of online quizzes (basically personality tests of varying quality) designed to give you an answer to this question. Among the various results I got today were: otter, cat, hare, and owl.
   Unfortunately, in direct contradiction of my strictly scientific ideas of the non-anthropomorphisation of animal behaviours, these pronouncements tend to evoke certain very definitely human traits. Where do these ideas of animal characteristics arise? Probably some are due to simple animal behaviour, some certainly have folkloric origins, and some (of mine, anyway) are absolutely traceable to childrens' literature. 

old edition

   The image I have of the otter as a playful, active, and mischievous animal takes me back to Brian Jacques' wonderful 'Redwall' series of novels. Now, some of you will shiver with disgust at the thought of whole books full of talking, anthropomorphised mice, badgers, squirrels, hedgehogs, rats, weasels, and otters, but these are delightful stories of adventure, bravery, nobility, and the beauty of country life. The animals are quite stereotyped - all the badgers are brave and noble warrior kings and queens; the hedgehogs are friendly bumpkins speaking in West Country dialect; the otters are playful river gymnasts; the rats, weasels, stoats, and snakes are always baddies; the mice are the everyman - humble, vain, brave, shy, inquisitive, creative, clever, and helpful. Which type of otter would be nice to have as a companion? I like the sound of the African clawless otter, which is described as being exceptionally playful, enjoying mock fighting, mud-sliding, and noisy, yapping chases.
   My feelings about cats are well-known to my family at least - I am most definitely a cat rather than a dog person. While I've read novels with cats as the main characters ('Thomasina', by Paul Gallico; 'The Incredible Journey', by Sheila Burnford), I don't have any anthropomorphic view of them as I might of other animals. I think the reason is that we always had cats as pets while I was growing up, so my main impressions of them are from direct experience. I think a cat would probably be quite a good match as a daemon for me - somewhat solitary and cautious, but also whimsical (ever seen a snobby grown cat suddenly abandon everything to chase a spot of light around the room?). I'd like a lovely ginger tomcat as a daemon, please. 

Lion Hudson Plc, £10.99

   In many mythologies, hares are symbols of femininity and fertility, with the meat of the hare being prescribed for male sterility by Pliny the Elder. In Elizabeth Goudge's 'The Little White Horse', Serena the Hare (rescued from a trap and adopted by the main character Maria Merryweather) is an elegant, noble, intelligent, and graceful creature. 'Hares are clever and brave and loving, and they have fairy blood in them. It's a grand thing to have a hare for a friend.'
   And an owl. I've been keen on owls for a long time now, ever since I first read the amazing Alan Garner novel 'The Owl Service' many years ago. If you haven't read it, I would highly recommend that you do. A heady mix of mythology and mystery, its extraordinary atmosphere is one that you'll remember forever. The owl is a sinister presence in the story - feathers mysteriously appearing, sounds in the night, prints of claws in the dust, sabotage, and madness. And yet it has caused a fascination in me for these birds, which are simultaneously associated mythologically with  death and wisdom. If I was to have an owl for a daemon, I would definitely want a beautiful Barn Owl. This species is now unfortunately quite rare in Ireland, although I did once see one in the woods where I used to live, like a ghost swooping through the trees.
   What would it be like to have a constant companion, a talking animal which (who?) shared your deepest character traits. I remember dreaming once, years ago, of wandering through a city alone, with a leopard by my side. But that was purely an animal, a protector. A daemon would be a walking, flying, hopping mirror of yourself, a conscience sitting on your arm, an advisor whispering in your ear, a comfort in the dark.
   

  

Oh, the Words!

   How exciting it is to be reading a great book and to come across a word that's either completely new to you, or just one that is never really used widely. I love the casual display of intellect and inventiveness.

Pan Macmillan, £7.99

   'Kraken' was my introduction to the world of China Miéville. I only picked it up because I misread the blurb and thought it would be a straightforward thriller, so it was a nice surprise as a Fantasy reader to start coming across references to 'knacks' - the term used in this instance for supernatural talents. Fun! Though all of his books contain elements of this fun, this is arguably Miéville's most light-hearted work to date, apparently a treat he gave himself (he's a bit of a cephalopod geek) after the hard graft of more serious books. The language is casual, urban, full of slang, and just plain weird, in a wonderful way. 

   'He had mentioned the phenomenon to people, and though some had reacted with alarm, many told some anecdote about horripilation or twitches when they were under pressure, and Billy remained fairly sanguine.'

   '"Say Rubenesque or zaftig at your peril," Leon had said.'

   '"Shall we say a black cloud in water already black? There's a koan for you, Billy."'

  'What do you call that? Billy thought.That reconstitutive intelligence, berserker meme-splicing, seeing in nothings first patterns, then correspondence, then causality and dissident sense.'

   '"The Archi-bloody-teuthis, Billy Harrow, yes. The giant squid. That thing in the jar. That. That got took. And is been and gone. Are you really surprised someone might worship it?"'

   'Billy had another dream at last, that night. He had been feeling vaguely guilty at the lack of oneiric insights. But at last he had a dream worthy to be so called, rather than the vague sensations of cosseting dark, cool, glimmerings, heaviness, stasis and chemical stench that otherwise filled his nighttime head.'

   'All the way over them all, the cloud moved fast. It took shape. Church-sized clots of it evanesced, leaving - it was not a mistake - a lumpy anthropoid outline in night matter, a man shape crude as a mandrake root, a great cruciform figure over the city.'

   And finally, the best curse word I've ever seen: 'Fucksnot'. What more is there to say?   

The Girl who read a Gorgeous Fairytale in a Bed of her own Making

Constable & Robinson, £6.99

   Well, I have a confession to make. In a contradiction of the title of this post, the bed probably wasn't really made properly when I was lying in it reading this treat, but it didn't affect the experience at all, thankfully!

   This is the stunning 'The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making' by Catherynne M. Valente. The UK edition is published by Corsair (9781780338330), and they've done an amazing job of it. It's a beautiful book in large paperback format with great shaded drawings at the start of each chapter. 

   I had discovered the buzz about this book online quite a few months ago, and was about to order it from the US when I saw that it was being released for the UK market in June. Even knowing that fact, I was so tempted to buy it when I saw it in bookshops in Florida on my holidays in May just because the US edition is so gorgeous as well.  

   Well, I was very patient and waited until the book arrived in the bookshop where I work before nabbing a copy. Reading it, I was constantly struck by the smooth, really flowing style. It seemed to me that the author had (although this was obviously not the case) written the book, drafts and edits and tweaks and all, entirely in her head before committing it to paper. 
   This is the story of a girl called September who is whisked away (without even a wave goodbye, as children so often are a bit heartless, apparently!) by the Green Wind from her parents' home in Omaha to Fairyland. She is quickly informed of some of the laws of Fairyland - no iron of any kind; the practice of alchemy forbidden to all except young ladies born on Tuesdays; air locomotion permitted only by leopard or licensed Ragwort stalk; all traffic travels widdershins; all changelings must wear identifying footwear. 
   In the course of her fabulous adventures, September travels with a wyverary (a dragon whose father was a library) called A-Through-L, loses her shadow, rescues a blue djinn boy called Saturday, and encounters her Death. A friendly golem scrubs clean her courage (and her elbows), telling her: 'When you are born, your courage is new and clean. You are brave enough for anything: crawling off of staircases, saying your first words without fearing that someone will think you are foolish, putting strange things into your mouth. But as you get older, your courage attracts gunk and crusty things and dirt and fear and knowing how bad things can get and what pain feels like. So most people go around with grimy machinery, when all it would take is a bit of spit and polish to make them paladins once more, bold knights and true.'
   I have to really highly recommend this book to anyone who loves a good story, from eight to eighty. It's fresh and new, bright and sweet.

  

Reluctant Reading

Vintage, £7.99

   I'm sure I'm not the only one who has, after having put it off for far too long, finally started a book I've been meaning to read (and dreading reading) for ages, and to have found myself really enjoying it. In this case, it was my Book Club's choice a few months ago - 'The Beginner's Goodbye' by Anne Tyler. While it isn't my usual genre (I tend towards fantasy and science fiction), in this case I was really rewarded for leaning out of my comfort zone.

   I felt strongly at the time (and said so in the subsequent meeting) that, in order to get the most out of this book, you would need to be in the unfortunate position of having lost someone you loved very much. There's something here for everyone, but most for that small subset of us. 

   A particular quote was frighteningly apt. After my brother died a few years ago, I did shortly afterwards have a dream in which he was present. In the dream, I remember vividly being aware that he shouldn't have been there, but knew that to call attention to the fact would be to ruin the whole thing. The book says:

   'You would hold your breath. You would keep as still as possible. You would will your loved one not to go away again.'

   Lots of other sentences or passages were very familiar, or so opposite to my experience that they were quite revelatory:

   'I opened every sympathy note and read it with the utmost care, because there was always the chance that somebody would give me an unexpected glimpse of my wife.' - I read all the cards avidly. I don't think this was particularly the reason...

   'It was a good thing I had a job to go to. My job was my salvation.'  - For the character, Aaron, this means straight away afterwards. While I did feel like this, it took a while.

   'I wished I did have pain. I hated my body. I hated sitting there like a dummy while stronger, abler men fought to rescue my wife.'

   'I made no attempt to discard things. Not yet.' - This is probably more what my mother was feeling than me, but I don't think I've ever got rid of anything.

   'I had a huge, thick biography of Harry Truman that I'd begun before the accident. But I couldn't seem to make much headway in it. "Reading is the first to go", my mother used to say, meaning that it was a luxury the brain dispensed with under duress.' - This inability to read was, thankfully, not something I experienced. But it does also seem appropriate.

   'That was one of the worst things about losing your wife, I found: your wife is the very person you want to discuss it all with.'

   'She would be the warmth behind me in the checkout line; she's be the outline on my right as I was crossing the parking lot.' - Beautiful. And I did have a similar experience once, which is a strange feeling for an atheist.

   'And that was how I discovered the pleasures of watching a lawn being watered.' - I really love this, and I think it's great to take such pleasure in small things, whimsical things.

   '...I think if you knew them well enough, if you'd listened to them closely enough while they were still alive, you might be able to imagine what they would tell you even now. So the smart thing to do is, pay attention while they're living.' - Well, of course, that's the clincher. I think this is the explanation for a lot of things. 

   Anyway, whatever your usual inclination, I would strongly recommend this book. It's small but perfectly formed, and should hit a lot of familiar notes with people. How did Anne Tyler get it so right?