The Kite Runner I began by really enjoying until it seemed to lose its way a bit around three-quarters of the way in, before redeeming itself with a last chapter that was kind of perfect. I have, however, already forgotten most of it.
Category: Arts
A series of highs without any lows
I Served the King of England is a lovely fairy tale of a book, but it really needs to be read when you’re on holiday or laid up in bed with the flu. I read it in ten-minute bursts on the tube, and it’s not the kind of book you can read in a disjointed way. I will take it with me when I next go on holiday (currently scheduled for approx. 2010) and give it another go.
Slight expectations
Great Expectations was much funnier than I was expecting, and the ending was a nice surprise, as was the fact that it didn’t contain a single character called Mr Shitstick, which had been my previously expressed fear, although it came pretty close with “Gruffandgrim”.
The mystery which wasn’t
Agatha Christie: The Biography is a mildly overblown account of a life which was slightly less interesting than the author wanted it to be. It reads more like a genteel domestic saga than a penetrating piece of investigative biography, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I became increasingly irritated, though, with the amount of what I suppose could be called poetic license but which I might instead call “making things up”. At one point we are told that Agatha was “far more beautiful than is apparent from photographs”, and given that the author isn’t much older than me, I found myself thinking but how do you know?
Good book, bad title
On Beauty was more fun than I expected it to be, on my second attempt at reading it. The cover blurb describes it as a “comic novel”, which I don’t think does it any favours at all, because whilst it is beautifully observed* and deftly plotted, one thing it isn’t is all that funny. But it made me want to see what she does next, which is a better review than it sounds.
*Thanks to my days in a tiny corner of a big newspaper, I cannot type the word “observed” without giving it an extra “r” – “observerd”. Likewise, I always initially add an involuntary “ian” to the end of the word “guard”. I just did both things while I was typing this.
…and then the hamster died
The Christmas Letters: The Ultimate Collection of Round Robins is Simon Hoggart’s collection of edited highlights from the round robin letters his readers have sent him over the years. The awful people are, of course, the funniest, but there are some gems from people whose mailing list I’d be genuinely pleased to be on. I shan’t spoil it by reproducing my favourite (and very short) extract here, partly because it would probably be illegal.
Beard badness
Never mind the funereal procession of black gowns (you have to say “gowns”; “frocks” at a push – never “dresses”) on display at last night’s Oscars ceremony: I am more distressed by the profusion of poorly-thought-through beards. Witness the otherwise-attractive Seth Rogen, James McAvoy, Viggo Mortensen (although in his defence, he’s never looked good, apart from in comparison with the rest of the cast of LOTR, all of whom were playing monsters) and the master of the ill-advised facial hair arrangement, Johnny Depp. Sigh. Such a shame.
Cartier Affair
Yesterday, in the post-Sunday-lunch haze, I was introduced to this film, which I was amazed not to have heard of before. It’s a jewel-heist caper! With Joan Collins and David Hasselhoff! And it’s rubbish!
But I sort of loved the tagline: “His only hope is to escape with her jewels…before she steals his heart!”. Exclamation mark theirs.
Glad All Over 