The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

I feel that I am about to risk my life by saying what I am about to say and willingly putting it on the internet for anyone to see. But I am going to anyway.

I did not like this book. At all.

I tried out going to a book club briefly (it wasn't for me, but that's another story for another time) and this was the first book I read with them. I was terrified going to that first meeting, feeling how I did for this book. The writing was clunky and belittling, the characters cliche and predictable and I found myself having to physically force my self to read every page knowing that I could in no way feel any empathy for such unrealistic portrays of people. Yes, it could be argued that The Book Thief is considered a young adult book, and therefore may lack some of the maturity that is to be expected of 'older' fiction, I think that with so many really good YA books on the market now, it is proving that younger readers can understand a story and its themes without being talked down to.

The only redeeming factor was the narration view point. I enjoyed that the story was told from the view of the personification of Death. That idea struck a cord with me.

So here I was, about to meet with a group of people that I have never met, with nothing but negative thoughts about a book that the entire world seems to have loved - you can imagine how worried I was about that. It was relief to no end, to hear these eight other people say the same things that I had been thinking all month.

Unsurprisingly, I only gave this one out of five stars.

Harry Potter - J K Rowling

I am a little bit ashamed to admit that I waited until I was 27 to read the Harry Potter series. I had seen the movies of course, I don't live under a rock, and I had really enjoyed them. But I had never read the books.

Which is odd in itself, not only because of the world wide phenomenon that it became, but because when The Philosophers Stone was released in 1997, eleven year old, fantasy loving me was the prime target audience. But being then, a book snob with (according to the education system) a high reading age, I was much more interested in the worlds of Eddings and Tolkin to be bothered with such a 'simple' story. I vaguely remember trying to read the first book at the time but getting half way through and deeming it "too childish" - yeah, I was that kid.

Thankfully I grew out of that phase eventually.

And I am so glad that I did. This series is worth every single scrap of hype that it has generated over the last 17 years. 

The highest praise that I think I could possibly give it, is that it made me cry. There is nothing better, in my eyes anyway, than a book (and I guess in some respects a movie) that gets you so emotionally invested in the world and in the characters, that your own world gets ignored, and both the happy and the sad events cause you to react as though they were happening to you, rather than to your imaginary friends.

Over all, four stars from five for the series - this will definitely be required reading for any children that I have.

Sex Criminals - Matt Fraction

Its quirky, its light and its fun. The idea that these two people can use sex as a means to stop time and rob banks... its something different if nothing else.

Its bad day reading at its finest. Something to come home to and have a laugh to and smile. With bright colours and simpler artwork you can't help but enjoy it. The old school letters to the editor about adult topics are also quality entertainment in their own right.

Having read the first seven 'episodes' so far, individual ratings range between two and four stars from five, over all I would give the series a three.

The Madonnas of Leningrad - Debra Dean

Unlike The Book Thief, my second attempt at the book club proved a little more enjoyable. The story of the ravages of war on the youth as told by an aging and deteriorating Alzheimer patient. Another interesting narrative, but this time pulled off with far more success.

Writing this review nearly three months after reading it however. I have realised more and more that it is what I would consider an airplane book. A book that you pick up at the airport to entertain you en route, but then kind of forget about once you land, no matter how much you enjoyed it at the time. I guess that is further proof (as if I needed it) that I shouldn't have let my self get so far behind on this goal of review all that I read.

I remember that I liked it - I read it in one sitting with generally  means that my attention is sufficiently held by a book. I remember that the imagery was well enough written that I felt that I could almost see these paintings that were being describe; that I could see and smell and feel horrors that would have been Leningrad held in the grip of war and invasion. And I also know that I wanted it to go on longer, that is where it let itself down for me. I didn't find the ending enough of a conclusion to the story.

Three out of five stars

Deathmatch - Paul Jenkins

There was something oddly satisfying about this three part graphic novel series. The parallels and similarities between these brand new characters and the familiar characters of the DC and Marvel worlds it almost seem as though picking up an old favorite: the Superman and Batman's of the world that have become - now that I am an adult - the reading equivalent of the tatty old favorite sweater that will never be parted with, no matter how many holes it gathers, because wearing that sweater has come to mean home and comfort and safety.

But despite any such feelings, these are not those characters. They are not constrained by the continuities of universes that the Superman's and Batman's and Spidermen all come out of. 

That juxtaposition, I think, is what was most satisfying about these books. The art work was fantastic, the colours brilliant and the story solid, gripping and engaging.  And the best bit, as the reader, you were actually allowed to enjoy all that because your not fighting to learn a whole new mythos or find empathy for new characters because that part of your brain is pulling on that tatty sweater and finding itself at home in the familiar.

Definitely an easy and worth while read. Four out of five stars.

Satisfaction

When ever people find out that although I work retail and hospitality, I hold degrees in accounting and finance as well as history and classics, they are genuinely shocked. Why would I pass up a cushy salaried office job to slog it out in the kitchen?

Because of days like today.

Days where you spend 11 hours rushed off your feet, running around like a crazy headless person. Days where people can't get enough of something that you have created from scratch with your own two hands. Days that you start with nothing more that ingredients and manage to pull together catering for 150 people, even with things going wrong. 

The days where you go home, whole body aching from being so long on your feet on a concrete floor, having achieved so much.... those days make it all worth while. They satisfy the soul so much more than sitting behind a computer for eight ours ever did.

At least for me.

Ordering 101

It blows my mind on a daily basis that eighty percent of the population find it so difficult to do such a simple thing as ordering coffee:

customer: I'll have a coffee please.

me: sure, what kind of coffee would you like

customer: a white coffee

me: okay, so flat white, latte, cappuccino....?

customer: oh, a latte

me: sure, so was that a small or large?

customer: a medium

me: small or large?

customer: medium (they are getting irritated now)

me: I'm sorry, we only have small or large

customer: fine, large

I can understand it, if your in a cafe that has specialty drinks, but in a bakery? I had this conversation not just once, but at least half a dozen times today. And probably will tomorrow as well. Is it really so hard just to ask for a large latte straight off the bat?

The Extraordinary Works of Alan Moore - George Khoury

In my strange little brain, Alan Moore can do no wrong. His thoughts and views on the world and life in general are things that I agree with wholeheartedly and that these opinions are reflected in his writing style is something that I both appreciate and enjoy.

I do not however, like biographies. I don't know why, I just never have. So it took me a while to convince myself that I had to read this one.

And I really glad that I did.

Its not so much a biography as tribute. Yes there is biographical information, but it is in the form of an interview, so the quintessential Alan Moore intellect and wit still shines through.

Three stars.

Lost Girls - Alan Moore

“My dear, beautiful and imaginative things can be destroyed. Beauty and imagination cannot.”
Lost Girls, volume three

Sex in books is always an interesting topic - even more so in comic books. Where does one draw the line between art and erotica; between story telling and pornography. Sex is such an important part of adult life and yet we, as a society, tiptoe around it as if it is some boogy man hiding in our closets, waiting to pounce when we least expect it.

The Lost Girls trilogy addressed this wonderfully, I think. 

Yes, its graphic; yes, its full of sex and lesbianism and masturbation and all those other things that we are not supposed to talk about - especially as women. But it serves its purpose, and it serves it exceptionally.

Now I'm not saying that every book should be packed cover to cover with sex, but as writing tool it can be very powerful, either as an aid to character and emotional development, or in this case, a thematic platform. The use of sex by Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie to create such power and thought provoking contrasts was, in my opinion, truly inspired. Life and lust against the backdrop of the horrors and deaths of World War One told through the now grown up eyes of women so intrinsically linked with our childhoods - Wendy Darling, Dorothy Gale and Alice. Opposites that all fit together so perfectly to form the whole.

The only thing that let the series down for me was the artwork itself. The look was just ever so slightly off for me. But with such a thought provoking effect on me, I was willing to work around that. 

Three stars all up.

Dune - Frank Herbert

I wanted to like Dune, I really truly did.

But I couldn't.

And I am sorry.

I know its considered one of the classics of the science fiction genre, and well loved by millions of loyal fans world wide. I just couldn't bring myself to like it no matter how hard I tried.

No, that's not entirely true. I liked the idea of the plot. The sand worms and spice and links to the environment I thought were beautiful concepts. Its just a shame that my attention was constantly diverted away from that towards a clunky writing style that I had to fight against in order to emerse myself in said world, and lead characters that I had no empathy or intact feelings (beyond irratation) for.

I'm sorry. As a sci-fi fan I hang my head in shame.

Beginning - Part Two

Okay, so apparently sometimes I have the attention span of a gnat. I'm a big enough of a person to admit it. I'm that person that gets sidetracked by the shiney light spot on the wall from the sun radiating through the key hole.

Judge me if you will, I am okay with that.

 So I am going to start this enterprise again. Books-read-review... its in the post below, I'm not going to repeat myself. I will, however, endeavor to back track on the reviews for he books I have read so far this year on my 100 books goal, not just the current ones... hopefully I can redeem myself a little.

Terrible Person

Like the title says, a terrible person - that is what I am. Some times I get so distracted by what is going on around me that I forget to take the time to clear my thoughts. Its an endless cycle really. A full head leads to being more easily distracted which leads to a fuller head.... 

I should know better. I caught myself getting insanely irratable at my customers today. Never a good sign.

Although, in my defense, customers are the bain of every customer service job ever. I am a firm believe that 90 percent of supposed bad customer service stems from bad customer behaviour. But I digress.

 I am moving again. Some times I wonder if I will ever settle down and find a place that I can truly call home. This will be one step closer I think, but still not quite there. The other half has bought the house that he has been living in since uni and has asked me to live with him. In that respect, it is closet to having a 'home' than I have ever been. It is also a situation that is so full of firsts that the excitement is equally balanced with fear. It'll be the first time that I have ever lived with a boyfriend, all be out first house, our first mortgage, our first try at renovations, and out first property towards our goals of property mogul-ship.... I am under no illusions that this is going to be easy.

As a consequense, I think that my head is going to remain relatively full for a while to come. So, I really really need to make a conscious effort here. Everyday until it becomes habit, even if what I have to say is of no importance, it needs to be done.

When Home Isn't Where it Used to be

Most people return to their parents with some form of positive emotion. I sometimes wish that I did. That I could feel joy about the prospect of returning 'home' for a weekend.

But home shouldn't be a place of pressures and failures and short comings. It should be a place of comfort.

This isn't home anymore. I wonder if it ever was.

Beginings

I decided at the end of last year, that in 2014 I would do a reading challenge: 100 books read over the course of the year. This challenge I started doing through the GoodReads website but after finding out that the site had been brought by Amazon, I was leary of leaving my reviews of the completed books on there.

Don't get me wrong, I am still a fan of both Amazon and GoodReads, but I'm still learning. I'm still refining what it means to review something. With a such a large corporate involved, it seemed to increase the need for skill and perfection, and I am not sure I'm ready for that pressure.

So this shall be my practise ground. If nobody reads it, that's fine. If somebody does, that's also fine. At first I'll have to be catching up on the books I have already read this year - I'm already a third of the way through the challenge - but hopefully as I catch up, I'll figure out what I'm doing.

Renewals in the Wake of Rediscovy

After almost three years, one relocation, five houses and two jobs, I rediscovered this blog while clearing out an old, hardly used email account. During a period of frantic activity, it all seemed to slip my mind, and for that I am apologetic. Not that I am deluded enough to believe that anyone out there in the ether either noticed or cared, but now that I am thinking about it, there was something cathartic about truly speaking my mind.

Much can change over the course of three years: people and circumstances are both fluid objects, ebbing and flowing as though with the tides.

Six months after I last posted, the infamous letter of love that had been sent to my then best friend reached its full conclusion. The result was wonderful relationship that is still going strong. There's a lot to be said about breaking down the 'friends zone' barrier, I'm not sure why no people don't do it. By turns, the relationship led in part to me relocating my life south. I sold my furniture, quit my job, packed up my car and traded in the crumbling sights of Christchurch for the sleepy city of Dunedin.

Despite opinion at the time, this move was not solely based on the fledgling relationship, my health was deteriorating. By the time I moved at the end of March 2012, I had not slept a full night through in my own bed in over a year. My doctor was threatening medical aids to that and when combined with the 12+ hour shifts that I was pulling 5 or more days a week, I was not in a good place. Something had to change.

 It wasn't a cure-all, I would be lying if I claimed it to be. Relationships, when dealing with two fiercely independent people, take some getting used to, even without the trials of rewriting your life. The job that I walked into turned out to be a nightmare. It caused more stress and delayed my recovery - my sleep patterns only stared to normalise exit months after the move when I changed jobs once more. And lack of stability led to poor choices and some disastrous attempts at making new friends that left me questioning myself and my confidence.

But that was then.

Now everything is different.  I have a boyfriend who I love to bits and knows me like only a long term friend can; I have a job that I look forward to going to everyday - bakery hours are long and physical, but my workmates are now like a family and my customers like old friends, it makes it all worth while. And the icing on the cake is my best friend moving downhere to join me.

Life is good.