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Reading the End Posts

Review: The Lambs of London, Peter Carkroyd

Five bitchy remarks in response to The Lambs of London: 1. I cannot keep Peter Carey and Peter Ackroyd straight in my head. Both of them write books that sound like I would love them, and then I never love them. So I am doing like Mother Jaguar. I graciously wave my tail, and I shall call it Peter Carkroyd. And I shall leave it alone. 2. Can’t not mention this when talking about Peter Carkroyd because it is horrifying. Peter Carkroyd is also notable for writing the book Oscar and Lucinda, which was made into a movie starring Cate…

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From Doon with Death, Ruth Rendell

I kind of get a kick out of reading books that have Shocking Content (for their time), but because of the way society has evolved, the content that was shocking before is no longer shocking and indeed has become sort of — you know. Sort of wincey, and you feel bad for the author because it’s not her fault that the plot device she employed has become an awkward, lazy trope that a writer now would catch all kinds of flack for employing. And you know the author who did it when it was Shocking was a product of her…

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Gypsy Gypsy, Rumer Godden

Okay, I’m going to ruin the whole plot of this book for your sake to save you from reading it yourself and possibly judging Rumer Godden based on this book which you should not, she is actually wonderful. She just is not wonderful here. Gypsy Gypsy is about this girl called Henrietta who lives with her mean aunt Barbe. Yes, the lady’s name is Barbe, and she’s very sarcastic to everybody. It is a trifle on the nose, and I’d like to make some excuse for Rumer Godden like she was only 33 when this book was published, but you…

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Review: A Single Man, Christopher Isherwood

I am so bad at reading books promptly. Care sent me a copy of A Single Man, like, ten thousand years ago. Okay, not ten thousand. Only two. But still! Two years ago! That’s ridiculous! I’m sorry, Care. You were so kind to send me this book and I took two years to read it, like a jerk. A Single Man is about a British literature professor called George, who recently lost his partner, Jim. George is lonely and isolated, his primary source of company a British woman called Charlotte whose husband left her for another woman. He thinks a…

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The Unwritten again. The people oughta know.

I don’t love reading or reviewing graphic novels series when they are in progress. I only started reading Fables after the, whatever, the eleventh? volume came out, which — while that wasn’t the end of the series — was the volume that finished up the storylines that had been set up from the beginning. The climactic battle had happened, and the eleventh (or twelfth?) volume dealt with the aftermath, and that was it. I read Sandman long after it was finished. As you know, I like reading the end. It’s much harder to read the end of a graphic novel…

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Giving up

Okay, I can’t do it, I’ve read too many books and not reviewed them and then I can’t remember anything about them. So whatever. I’m doing little bitty ones here. I’m declaring bloggy bankruptcy and giving myself a clean slate. Have to. Here are a series of cranky little reviewlets. Mr. Fox, Helen Oyeyemi Liked it a lot! I went to see Helen Oyeyemi talk at McNally Jackson, and she said that writing Mr. Fox was just fun, that she was just enjoying every minute of writing it. It shows when you’re reading the book. Mr. Fox plays with ideas…

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Reviews: Case Histories, Kate Atkinson / The Invisible Ones, Stef Penney

Okay, my enthusiasm for my TBR shelf has cooled observably. The problem is that when I finish a book on my TBR shelf, I don’t have anywhere else to put it. It just goes back on my TBR shelf because that’s the only available storage. I need to move on selling discarded books to the Strand. I am hoping the Strand will agree to give me store credit instead of cash — they should want to, right? That would be beneficial to them as well as to me? Anyway, a TBR shelf is fun insofar as reading books off of…

35 Comments

Habibi, Craig Thompson

Nyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyynnnnnnnnggggg. Come on, dude. Is what I was saying throughout most of Habibi. I wanted to be saying what I was saying throughout most of Thompson’s previous book, Blankets, which was nothing actually because I was so breathless from the beauty of the story and the illustrations. I wanted that to be the case with Habibi, and occasionally it was, like when the characters were telling each other stories from Muslim traditions. Craig Thompson never didn’t succeed at making his stories beautiful. If he had stuck to this, we’d be having a very different review right now. Let me back…

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Review: Ground Up, Michael Idov

This is a book about a couple who open up a coffee shop on the Lower East Side, with the notion that it will be an upscale Viennese coffee shop, with Viennese pastries and perfect coffee and loyal clients, and Mark and Nina will grow old together as the couple who owns the coffee shop, just like this other sweet old couple who ran a coffee shop that Mark and Nina frequented on their honeymoon to Vienna. This does not work out so well for them. The book is a really quite good satire of snooty New Yorkers (not that…

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