August 22, 2013
Present: Doris, Jen, Gill, Eamonn, Carl, Nic
Wow - Carl really hated this book. Coming to the review somewhat later than planned, that is my lasting memory of the evening. Well, that and the intriguing bamboo screened mirrors and light decor which made this small intimate restaurant seem much larger than it was. The staff were charming, the food good and the after-dinner liqueurs, delicious.
As for the rest of us, we generally enjoyed the read without thinking it was amazing and without putting the rest of the series on our Must-Read lists. The Masai lead character was convincing and his hero "back story" was well-judged and human and, after the recent events in Nairobi, given extra poignance. The tale revolved around hidden births, stolen babies, a corrupt church. Sometimes confusing but sufficiently engaging to take us all through the story.
Sunday, 25 August 2013
Sunday, 28 July 2013
#76 - How To Be a Woman - Caitlin Moran (Choice: Shubha)(Venue: Cay Tre, Dean Street)
Date: July 26, 2013
Present: Shubha, Doris, Jen, Gill, Mark, (a triumphant return for ) Nathalie and special guests Alex and Davis
Unknown to Shubha, a return to our Christmas venue, where we'd all greatly enjoyed the food (and wine and cocktails) last December. Again, the food was freshly prepared (some cooked with great care at the table) and full of herbs and balanced (though not always delicate!) spices to produce flavoursome food that feels healthy but satisfying and which found appreciation with all.
The place was busy, loud and buzzy, making it hard for us all to converse and sometimes hard to order but, hopefully, protecting the other diners from some of our more controversial conversation: Caitlin's obsession with what to call her "lady parts" making for some ripe discussion. We all agreed, we'd never been driven, in the way Caitlin was to analyse and assess what to call them, as though feminism itself depended upon it. "Boobs" was our winner for up top. For the rest, Jen, as one might expect, takes a practical and no-nonsense, scientifically accurate approach. Others fudged it with phrases like "down there" being popular. "My lily" was a previously unheard description that we found endearing.
This was one of the best book discussions, though not necessarily best books, we could remember. Our debates about the porn and abortion chapters were particularly spirited and we held and (loudly) espoused a range of differing opinions on these sensitive topics. The abortion chapter, for example, was criticised for presenting only two possible choices - bring up another (unwanted) baby or have an abortion - and not addressing the possibility of giving birth and giving the child up for adoption where it would be very much wanted by a couple unable to have their own. But that "oversight" was not universally accepted - some pointed to high adoption failure rates and the problems suffered by adopted children, whilst others countered that was because most adopted children were not new babies given up in these circumstances but children from difficult backgrounds, troubled families often with abusive histories, whose problems were not helped by a society which considers adoption a stigma and castigates a woman as heartless for giving up her baby but empowered for having an abortion.
We didn't all like the book but we were all agreed that Caitlin was forthright and (brutally, bravely) honest, articulate, intelligent and frequently very funny. Whether the glimpses into her childhood were unwarranted or necessary background was a moot point, with special mention to the dog chewing her used sanitary pad. And, with that, the final word on this book, must go to Mark, who should get a special award for reading and discussing this, given that:
For a chap who becomes queasy even at the mention of ladies special parts, I found this quite a hard read ;-)
Present: Shubha, Doris, Jen, Gill, Mark, (a triumphant return for ) Nathalie and special guests Alex and Davis
Unknown to Shubha, a return to our Christmas venue, where we'd all greatly enjoyed the food (and wine and cocktails) last December. Again, the food was freshly prepared (some cooked with great care at the table) and full of herbs and balanced (though not always delicate!) spices to produce flavoursome food that feels healthy but satisfying and which found appreciation with all.
The place was busy, loud and buzzy, making it hard for us all to converse and sometimes hard to order but, hopefully, protecting the other diners from some of our more controversial conversation: Caitlin's obsession with what to call her "lady parts" making for some ripe discussion. We all agreed, we'd never been driven, in the way Caitlin was to analyse and assess what to call them, as though feminism itself depended upon it. "Boobs" was our winner for up top. For the rest, Jen, as one might expect, takes a practical and no-nonsense, scientifically accurate approach. Others fudged it with phrases like "down there" being popular. "My lily" was a previously unheard description that we found endearing.
This was one of the best book discussions, though not necessarily best books, we could remember. Our debates about the porn and abortion chapters were particularly spirited and we held and (loudly) espoused a range of differing opinions on these sensitive topics. The abortion chapter, for example, was criticised for presenting only two possible choices - bring up another (unwanted) baby or have an abortion - and not addressing the possibility of giving birth and giving the child up for adoption where it would be very much wanted by a couple unable to have their own. But that "oversight" was not universally accepted - some pointed to high adoption failure rates and the problems suffered by adopted children, whilst others countered that was because most adopted children were not new babies given up in these circumstances but children from difficult backgrounds, troubled families often with abusive histories, whose problems were not helped by a society which considers adoption a stigma and castigates a woman as heartless for giving up her baby but empowered for having an abortion.
We didn't all like the book but we were all agreed that Caitlin was forthright and (brutally, bravely) honest, articulate, intelligent and frequently very funny. Whether the glimpses into her childhood were unwarranted or necessary background was a moot point, with special mention to the dog chewing her used sanitary pad. And, with that, the final word on this book, must go to Mark, who should get a special award for reading and discussing this, given that:
For a chap who becomes queasy even at the mention of ladies special parts, I found this quite a hard read ;-)
Friday, 21 June 2013
#75 - The Sense of an Ending - Julian Barnes (Choice: Nic)(Venue: Cookhouse Joe's, Berwick Street)
June 20, 2013
Present: Nic, Jen, Gill, Shubha
First, a word about the venue: on discovering that the John Lewis Brasserie closed at 18.30, further inspiration failed me. We ended up at Cookhouse Joe's rotisserie chicken joint on Berwick Street for chicken and Pimms. "Connection?" you may well ask. What can I say? Much of the book's action took place in London and we ate in London and the chips did not appear to be hand cut. Alas, most apt venue of the year award is not mine. Shubha made a good call with post-dinner cocktails at Yauatcha though - hadn't expected to end up back there again so soon!
The book was somewhat more successful than the venue, however, and, in any other year, I think could be a serious contender. This year though, it faces Bring Up The Bodies, which was mentioned with fervent love again last night. Time will tell. And anything could happen because, as Tony Webster has taught us, what we end up remembering may not be what we witnessed.
This book is primarily engaged with memory and history and consequences. It is well written, simple and easy to read but intelligent and thought-provoking. "Small but perfectly formed", said Mark.
History is the lies of the victor, one of the characters said. Adrian, of course, had thought it through a little more: History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation. A lifetime later, Tony has reassessed: History isn’t the lies of the victors … it’s more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated.
Our memories are deliquescent (Jen's favourite word of the book): they have a tendency to dissolve and melt away. What Tony remembered, it transpired, was not what had happened. Even the innocuous letter he thought he had written was other than he'd remembered: bitter and with far reaching and unintended consequences.
Jen hated Veronica; we all found Tony sympathetic; we were all intrigued by his relationship with his ex-wife. We were hugely disappointed that we never got to read the diary. "... if Tony ..." had so many possible conclusions: if Tony stayed with Veronica, hadn't written the letter, had understood Veronica's mother ... But the diary was only someone else's flawed history so it could not have been conclusive.
Shubha (who didn't hate my pick!) hopes that, at Tony's age when we looked back at our lives, we'll feel more fulfilled, less passive. We can all agree with that.
Present: Nic, Jen, Gill, Shubha
First, a word about the venue: on discovering that the John Lewis Brasserie closed at 18.30, further inspiration failed me. We ended up at Cookhouse Joe's rotisserie chicken joint on Berwick Street for chicken and Pimms. "Connection?" you may well ask. What can I say? Much of the book's action took place in London and we ate in London and the chips did not appear to be hand cut. Alas, most apt venue of the year award is not mine. Shubha made a good call with post-dinner cocktails at Yauatcha though - hadn't expected to end up back there again so soon!
The book was somewhat more successful than the venue, however, and, in any other year, I think could be a serious contender. This year though, it faces Bring Up The Bodies, which was mentioned with fervent love again last night. Time will tell. And anything could happen because, as Tony Webster has taught us, what we end up remembering may not be what we witnessed.
This book is primarily engaged with memory and history and consequences. It is well written, simple and easy to read but intelligent and thought-provoking. "Small but perfectly formed", said Mark.
History is the lies of the victor, one of the characters said. Adrian, of course, had thought it through a little more: History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation. A lifetime later, Tony has reassessed: History isn’t the lies of the victors … it’s more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated.
Our memories are deliquescent (Jen's favourite word of the book): they have a tendency to dissolve and melt away. What Tony remembered, it transpired, was not what had happened. Even the innocuous letter he thought he had written was other than he'd remembered: bitter and with far reaching and unintended consequences.
Jen hated Veronica; we all found Tony sympathetic; we were all intrigued by his relationship with his ex-wife. We were hugely disappointed that we never got to read the diary. "... if Tony ..." had so many possible conclusions: if Tony stayed with Veronica, hadn't written the letter, had understood Veronica's mother ... But the diary was only someone else's flawed history so it could not have been conclusive.
Shubha (who didn't hate my pick!) hopes that, at Tony's age when we looked back at our lives, we'll feel more fulfilled, less passive. We can all agree with that.
Friday, 31 May 2013
#74 - The Earth Hums in B Flat - Mari Strachan (Choice: Mark)(Venue: Bibigo)
May 16, 2013
Present: Mark, Gill, Nic
Mark choose this novel because it was on a friend's list of all time favourite reads. The three of us enjoyed the novel but did not rank it as a "must read".
The book is about Gwenni's loss of innocence as she comes to a more mature understanding of what she has witnessed and realises the complexities of adult relationships. Because Gwenni has all the relevant facts at hand from the beginning, we, the reader, know what has happened from the beginning and, therefore, there is no real sense of suspense and no compelling thrust to the narrative. The question is not what happened but whether and when Gwenni will realise what happened.
The setting is a small and close-knit community where everyone knows everyone else's business: to paraphrase Nain, a secret is something everyone knows but no one talks about. The characters, even many of the supporting cast, all have a back-story and their life's baggage to carry, which Gwenni doesn't always understand and the book has a strong sense of place and time which is demonstrated through the prominence of the chapel, the treatment of people with bipolar disorder and depression and the willingness of people to stay in abusive marriages.
Bibigo was a far from obvious choice as a venue for this book but it was £12 for 2 courses and they did have goldfish-shaped waffles for dessert. We enjoyed a mix of starters, mains and desserts between us as we speculated about Bethan's mental health.
Present: Mark, Gill, Nic
Mark choose this novel because it was on a friend's list of all time favourite reads. The three of us enjoyed the novel but did not rank it as a "must read".
The book is about Gwenni's loss of innocence as she comes to a more mature understanding of what she has witnessed and realises the complexities of adult relationships. Because Gwenni has all the relevant facts at hand from the beginning, we, the reader, know what has happened from the beginning and, therefore, there is no real sense of suspense and no compelling thrust to the narrative. The question is not what happened but whether and when Gwenni will realise what happened.
The setting is a small and close-knit community where everyone knows everyone else's business: to paraphrase Nain, a secret is something everyone knows but no one talks about. The characters, even many of the supporting cast, all have a back-story and their life's baggage to carry, which Gwenni doesn't always understand and the book has a strong sense of place and time which is demonstrated through the prominence of the chapel, the treatment of people with bipolar disorder and depression and the willingness of people to stay in abusive marriages.
Bibigo was a far from obvious choice as a venue for this book but it was £12 for 2 courses and they did have goldfish-shaped waffles for dessert. We enjoyed a mix of starters, mains and desserts between us as we speculated about Bethan's mental health.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
#73 - Collected Ghost Stories of MR James (Choice: Jen)(Venue: The Grenadier, Belgrave Square)
April 11, 2013
Present: Doris, Gill, Jen, Nic
The walk to this venue was an absolute treat, from Hyde Park Corner, via Belgrave Square, along Wilton Crescent (which could put Bath's crescents to shame) to a cobbled mews street called Wilton Row and a genuinely, old and old-fashioned London boozer that is allegedly the most haunted pub in London. We saw and felt no unearthly presence but, the spirits cannot be expected to perform on demand and Jen cannot be held accountable for that. It was the perfect venue to discuss ghost stories.
What Jen can be held accountable for is this book choice! (And may it be known, she was her harshest critic. The rest of us tried to make her feel better by referring to her previous excellent and well-received choices. Hmmm... that didn't quite go to plan!)
Most people had read only a handful of the collection, anticipating that they were samey and lacking atmosphere. I had been on holiday and, therefore, read them all. I was able to confirm that conjecture to be correct. Even Mark, who couldn't make it, and sent email report that he'd loved them (particularly the "moving painting" - and we present agreed with this) found them samey by the end. The rest of us were less charitable.
Perhaps on a dark and stormy night, with yew trees clattering against the windows, told around a flickering and failing fire in a creaking cottage, abutting a cemetery, during a power cut, PERHAPS one of these stories could have raised a chill of fear. However, in a collection, read quietly, not told aloud, one after another, written in the same style and tone of voice, they fell rather flat.
Not so the evening though. The bar staff were friendly and welcoming, offered tasters of the excellent draft beers for the indecisive and under-played the food, with insouciant charm. In fact, the food turned out to be rather well executed, simple pub fayre like steak and chips with, frankly, marvellous onion rings - crisp batter and sweet, fresh, chunky-cut onions with just the right amount of bite.
Fantastic venue choice by Jen, again. And, um ... a book.
Present: Doris, Gill, Jen, Nic
The walk to this venue was an absolute treat, from Hyde Park Corner, via Belgrave Square, along Wilton Crescent (which could put Bath's crescents to shame) to a cobbled mews street called Wilton Row and a genuinely, old and old-fashioned London boozer that is allegedly the most haunted pub in London. We saw and felt no unearthly presence but, the spirits cannot be expected to perform on demand and Jen cannot be held accountable for that. It was the perfect venue to discuss ghost stories.
What Jen can be held accountable for is this book choice! (And may it be known, she was her harshest critic. The rest of us tried to make her feel better by referring to her previous excellent and well-received choices. Hmmm... that didn't quite go to plan!)
Most people had read only a handful of the collection, anticipating that they were samey and lacking atmosphere. I had been on holiday and, therefore, read them all. I was able to confirm that conjecture to be correct. Even Mark, who couldn't make it, and sent email report that he'd loved them (particularly the "moving painting" - and we present agreed with this) found them samey by the end. The rest of us were less charitable.
Perhaps on a dark and stormy night, with yew trees clattering against the windows, told around a flickering and failing fire in a creaking cottage, abutting a cemetery, during a power cut, PERHAPS one of these stories could have raised a chill of fear. However, in a collection, read quietly, not told aloud, one after another, written in the same style and tone of voice, they fell rather flat.
Not so the evening though. The bar staff were friendly and welcoming, offered tasters of the excellent draft beers for the indecisive and under-played the food, with insouciant charm. In fact, the food turned out to be rather well executed, simple pub fayre like steak and chips with, frankly, marvellous onion rings - crisp batter and sweet, fresh, chunky-cut onions with just the right amount of bite.
Fantastic venue choice by Jen, again. And, um ... a book.
Sunday, 31 March 2013
#72 - City of Thieves - David Benioff (Choice: Jane)(Venue: Yauatcha)
March 7, 2013
Present: Jane, Gill, Jen, Nic
A rare book group appearance by Jane, who undoubtedly travels furthest to get here - Mexico City's loss is our gain and delight.
Mark couldn't make it but sent comments: "... very much enjoyed the book and am a little bit in love with one of the characters!". It transpired that Gill, too, was in love with Kolya. Well, I didn't see that coming, any more than he saw the bullet that hit his arse! Entertaining in print, irritating as a really serious irritant in real-life, I suspect, especially if you were female.
Jane and Jen were not in love with Kolya but did love the book. I didn't, though I found it hard to express why. It had everything a compelling book should have: a transformative adventure, a hapless young hero, a more mature guide, vile villains and virtuous victims, a quest, an astonishing mix of comic, tragi-comic and downright tragic events, snippets of breath-stopping information about the siege of Leningrad that we had never known and the shocking recollection that it was a true story. Something about the style - the simplicity? - failed to engage me as much as that story would have done in other hands but it was, possibly, that same quality that set up a juxtaposition between the complexity of human nature and the simplicity of the telling that beguiled others.
The book was declared a winner, the food was delicious, the service was abysmal (well, I do love to say I told you so). Seeing Jane is priceless. For everything else, there's Mastercard and it does take a hammering at Yauatcha.
Thursday, 28 February 2013
#71 - Bring Up The Bodies - Hilary Mantel (Choice: Gill)(Venue: The Perkin Reveller, The Tower of London)
18th February 2013
Present: Mark, Jen, Gill, Nic.
Well, good wife Gill has, uncharacteristically for a woman of Henry's reign, thrown down the gauntlet and what a challenge it is. This has to be a firm favourite for most apt venue of the year. We dined at the Wharf of the Tower of London, through which Ann probably passed, where Thomas had been so often, on ground that probably had shaken beneath Henry's feet and, returning to earth, we drank beer out of jugs and goblets, bathed in candle light!
So I had to send my food back. So we'd probably never return. So what, I ask you? I was looking at Tower Bridge as I waited for my replacement meal to arrive!
Mark, Gill and I had finished and loved this book. Jen was enjoying it but was preoccupied by the number of characters and compelled to keep flicking to the frightening list of dramatis personae and selection of maps at the opening of the book, unhelped by the fact that she had not read the Woolf Hall, the first in this series. Ignore it, was our advice. The main players are so clearly written and so well-formed that, over the course of the book, you get to know and identify them and build up a full picture of them without this and, if a character is so minor that you cannot place them, their story little matters. Relax, enjoy.
This is a huge novel but is only physically weighty: the writing is adept and flowing and the plot marches along with a reassuring rhythm - slow enough that one can take everything in, pacy enough that you keep on turning the page. We could (and did) find faults but they were nit-picky and in no way marred the experience of this tremendous read. We liked Mantel's way of referencing Cromwell as He - she did it in the first book and it worked. We disliked the fact that she seemed to lose faith this time, using "He, Cromwell," too often - the context always indicated who it was and it felt heavy-handed. A small gripe indeed.
Thomas is more majestic that Henry: calm, deliberate, hard, mean, determined, loving, romantic, giving and gentle in turn; always in control. As Kipling could have written about Thomas: "If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you ...". Many did and it was often his fault. As to Thomas keeping his head ... well, that is book three and we cannot wait to read it albeit the anticipation is marred by the knowledge that there cannot be a fourth.
Present: Mark, Jen, Gill, Nic.
Well, good wife Gill has, uncharacteristically for a woman of Henry's reign, thrown down the gauntlet and what a challenge it is. This has to be a firm favourite for most apt venue of the year. We dined at the Wharf of the Tower of London, through which Ann probably passed, where Thomas had been so often, on ground that probably had shaken beneath Henry's feet and, returning to earth, we drank beer out of jugs and goblets, bathed in candle light!
So I had to send my food back. So we'd probably never return. So what, I ask you? I was looking at Tower Bridge as I waited for my replacement meal to arrive!
Mark, Gill and I had finished and loved this book. Jen was enjoying it but was preoccupied by the number of characters and compelled to keep flicking to the frightening list of dramatis personae and selection of maps at the opening of the book, unhelped by the fact that she had not read the Woolf Hall, the first in this series. Ignore it, was our advice. The main players are so clearly written and so well-formed that, over the course of the book, you get to know and identify them and build up a full picture of them without this and, if a character is so minor that you cannot place them, their story little matters. Relax, enjoy.
This is a huge novel but is only physically weighty: the writing is adept and flowing and the plot marches along with a reassuring rhythm - slow enough that one can take everything in, pacy enough that you keep on turning the page. We could (and did) find faults but they were nit-picky and in no way marred the experience of this tremendous read. We liked Mantel's way of referencing Cromwell as He - she did it in the first book and it worked. We disliked the fact that she seemed to lose faith this time, using "He, Cromwell," too often - the context always indicated who it was and it felt heavy-handed. A small gripe indeed.
Thomas is more majestic that Henry: calm, deliberate, hard, mean, determined, loving, romantic, giving and gentle in turn; always in control. As Kipling could have written about Thomas: "If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you ...". Many did and it was often his fault. As to Thomas keeping his head ... well, that is book three and we cannot wait to read it albeit the anticipation is marred by the knowledge that there cannot be a fourth.
Sunday, 20 January 2013
#70 - The Code of the Woosters - PG Wodehouse (Choice: Doris)(Venue: Sartoria, Mayfair)
Thursday January 17th 2013
Present: Doris, Gill, Jen, Nic and special guest Katy
I trotted up and down Saville Row, in Bertie's stomping ground of Mayfair, twice before managing to find Sartoria - hidden in plain view much as Jeeves suggested the Cow Creamer should be.
The tonic in my gin-and was lacking sparkle but nothing else about this evening fell flat, well, until the strudel (but let's not dwell on that tart end to the evening - boom boom).
Wodehouse's book was generally considered a belter. I was, perhaps, the most dissenting voice, finding it, ultimately, too frothy: feel-good without self-improvement, a giggle without learning. I don't like being lectured too (See The Children's Book) but I do like to feel that a book as been in some small way transforming, thought-provoking. Wodehouse is undoubtedly a master of the English language, weaving an entire novel from nothing more than a few, flimsy, fortuitous or otherwise, coincidences and his skilled wordplay but it left me wanting something a little more heavy-weight. I would read another but not with the same enthusiasm as everyone else.
I would return to Sartoria with greater enthusiasm. The staff were gracious and attentive and impressed with Jen's Italian skills. Starters and main courses were delightful and the wine ... well, it flowed freely, especially after the sommelier took a shine to us sharing (i) his thoughts on authors and books as well as (ii) some bin ends we didn't order and which didn't appear on the bill . All in all, he helped ensure a night that was memorable, albeit in the best of hazy ways. The following morning found us all suffering much as Betie did after Gussie Fink-Nottle's bachelor party and in need of one of Jeeve's patent morning revivers and vowing to be more abstemious than Aunt Agatha next month.
Present: Doris, Gill, Jen, Nic and special guest Katy
I trotted up and down Saville Row, in Bertie's stomping ground of Mayfair, twice before managing to find Sartoria - hidden in plain view much as Jeeves suggested the Cow Creamer should be.
The tonic in my gin-and was lacking sparkle but nothing else about this evening fell flat, well, until the strudel (but let's not dwell on that tart end to the evening - boom boom).
Wodehouse's book was generally considered a belter. I was, perhaps, the most dissenting voice, finding it, ultimately, too frothy: feel-good without self-improvement, a giggle without learning. I don't like being lectured too (See The Children's Book) but I do like to feel that a book as been in some small way transforming, thought-provoking. Wodehouse is undoubtedly a master of the English language, weaving an entire novel from nothing more than a few, flimsy, fortuitous or otherwise, coincidences and his skilled wordplay but it left me wanting something a little more heavy-weight. I would read another but not with the same enthusiasm as everyone else.
I would return to Sartoria with greater enthusiasm. The staff were gracious and attentive and impressed with Jen's Italian skills. Starters and main courses were delightful and the wine ... well, it flowed freely, especially after the sommelier took a shine to us sharing (i) his thoughts on authors and books as well as (ii) some bin ends we didn't order and which didn't appear on the bill . All in all, he helped ensure a night that was memorable, albeit in the best of hazy ways. The following morning found us all suffering much as Betie did after Gussie Fink-Nottle's bachelor party and in need of one of Jeeve's patent morning revivers and vowing to be more abstemious than Aunt Agatha next month.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Christmas 2012 - Tuesday December 11th
Venue: Cay Tre, Soho
Present: Jen, Nic, Carl, Jane, Gill, Mark
A good turn-out, which would have been better if Shubha didn't still have post-pregnancy brain and hadn't been at home in her jimjams at the appointed time! We shared a selection of delicious, fresh and full flavoured Vietnamese starters and mains between us and demolished a round of cocktails and 5, possibly 6, bottles of white wine and a carafe of red while we decided the following:
- General attendance this year has been dismal; we need to pull our socks up next year.
- Some of us had barely read the book group books this year; more socks needing to be pulled in an upwards direction - you know who you are. I wouldn't shame you here, Mark. Oops.
- Votes on the night (so far as I can decipher) were as follows:
Great Expectations took it by a nose but it was a hard fought contest with votes for Giovanni's Room, Revolutionary Road, The Sheltering Sky and The Tortoise and the Hare too. So many contenders makes 2012 a better book year than 2011!
Blooper of the Year:
Naked took it but there were votes for The Sheltering Sky and The Suspicions of Mr Whicher.
Best (nicest) Character:
Joe, Great Expectations
Best (worst) Character:
Ignatious, A Confederacy of Dunces, with votes for Magwitch and for someone (could be practically anyone) from Sheltering Sky!
Most Shocking Moment:
Magwitch in the graveyard with Pip, Great Expectations.
Most Disappointing Book of Promise:
The Suspicions of Mr Whicher
Best Improver:
Giovanni's Room
Best (most apt) Venue:
The Clarence, Suspicions of Mr Whicher
Best Venue (other)
Aldwych, Great Expectations (for unlimited Prosecco)
Best Members:
Gill and Nic - the "turning up" award
Most Apathetic Member:
Shubha - the "declaring you are back then forgetting to come" award. (Oops and we said we wouldn't shame anyone.)
Honourable Mention:
"Proud to have finished" - Great Expectations and Titus Groan (not a lot of people can say that).
Dishonourable Mention:
"Still the worst book of all time" - Spring Snow.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
#69 - The Tortoise and the Hare - Elizabeth Jenkins (Choice: Nic) (Venue: Vivat Bacchus, Farringdon)
29th November 2012
Present: Jane, Gill, Nic
Despite the low turn out we had a prolonged and heated discussion about this one. We all loved it, despite different takes on the morality of the characters. We were fascinated by this glimpse of a (mostly) by-gone era and wholly agreed on our distaste for Evelyn. Our thoughts and loyalties were divided over Imogen and Blanche, however. Imogen was very much a product of her time: reserved, lacking confidence, deferential, overly concerned with her looks. In short, lame: a fading beauty with seemingly little else to offer. Undoubtedly, she was kind, gentle, well-meaning but, also, she was dull; dull, dull, dull, while Blanche, in contrast, proved it was possible to be educated, opinionated and capable - albeit at a price; spinsterhood.
Questions:
Who, then, could blame Blanche Silcox for grabbing the opportunity for physical and emotional closeness with, ahem, both hands.
What loyalty did Blanche owe Imogen and why? Because they were both women? We discussed this at length, with some feeling that Evelyn was the only one who owed a duty of loyalty to Imogen and some feeling that Blanche too should have had regard to his married circumstances.
Seeking a more modern context, we compared Imogen with Lady Diana Spencer - conventionally attractive, doe-eyed, dutiful, none-too-bright, considered "appropriate" for The Family and allowed by her family to marry a much older man and a position and responsibility beyond her years - and Blanche Silcox with Camilla Parker Bowles - less attractive by conventional standards but intelligent, forthright and with an unspoken hint that privately, she is happy, nay, raring to, go at it like a rabbit.
We can't help who we fall in love with, "whatever love is" (sticking with the Charles and Di theme!) So, is it wrong for a married person to fall in love with someone else and leave? We decided no, that is not wrong, that is human but, if the eventuality arises, how one extricates oneself is what counts. We all know spouses who have left in unbecoming ways, with spiteful and unnecessary words. Dignity and courtesy at all times, we counsel. Evelyn did not have that. Although, in fairness to him, a state that did not come naturally to us, we did recognise that Imogen had given him every reason to believe she would accept another woman in his life, albeit if the affair were conducted discretely and at a distance, neither of which Evelyn managed.
So, Evelyn was a barrister, Blanche and Imogen were women, the cast feasted in London, where cheese was a feature of the meal and so, by protracted argument, we justified our restaurant. We three are women, Gill is a barrister and there is a magnificent cheese room and turophile at Vivat Bacchus in addition to a splendid wine list, which Evelyn would have adored.
And there we have it, another fabulous night!
Present: Jane, Gill, Nic
Despite the low turn out we had a prolonged and heated discussion about this one. We all loved it, despite different takes on the morality of the characters. We were fascinated by this glimpse of a (mostly) by-gone era and wholly agreed on our distaste for Evelyn. Our thoughts and loyalties were divided over Imogen and Blanche, however. Imogen was very much a product of her time: reserved, lacking confidence, deferential, overly concerned with her looks. In short, lame: a fading beauty with seemingly little else to offer. Undoubtedly, she was kind, gentle, well-meaning but, also, she was dull; dull, dull, dull, while Blanche, in contrast, proved it was possible to be educated, opinionated and capable - albeit at a price; spinsterhood.
Questions:
Who, then, could blame Blanche Silcox for grabbing the opportunity for physical and emotional closeness with, ahem, both hands.
What loyalty did Blanche owe Imogen and why? Because they were both women? We discussed this at length, with some feeling that Evelyn was the only one who owed a duty of loyalty to Imogen and some feeling that Blanche too should have had regard to his married circumstances.
Seeking a more modern context, we compared Imogen with Lady Diana Spencer - conventionally attractive, doe-eyed, dutiful, none-too-bright, considered "appropriate" for The Family and allowed by her family to marry a much older man and a position and responsibility beyond her years - and Blanche Silcox with Camilla Parker Bowles - less attractive by conventional standards but intelligent, forthright and with an unspoken hint that privately, she is happy, nay, raring to, go at it like a rabbit.
We can't help who we fall in love with, "whatever love is" (sticking with the Charles and Di theme!) So, is it wrong for a married person to fall in love with someone else and leave? We decided no, that is not wrong, that is human but, if the eventuality arises, how one extricates oneself is what counts. We all know spouses who have left in unbecoming ways, with spiteful and unnecessary words. Dignity and courtesy at all times, we counsel. Evelyn did not have that. Although, in fairness to him, a state that did not come naturally to us, we did recognise that Imogen had given him every reason to believe she would accept another woman in his life, albeit if the affair were conducted discretely and at a distance, neither of which Evelyn managed.
So, Evelyn was a barrister, Blanche and Imogen were women, the cast feasted in London, where cheese was a feature of the meal and so, by protracted argument, we justified our restaurant. We three are women, Gill is a barrister and there is a magnificent cheese room and turophile at Vivat Bacchus in addition to a splendid wine list, which Evelyn would have adored.
And there we have it, another fabulous night!
Monday, 29 October 2012
#68 - The Sheltering Sky - Paul Bowles (Choice: Mark's)(Venue: Soif, Battersea)
Date: Wednesday, October 24th, 2012
Present: Gill, Shubha, Jen, Nic
I wouldn't read this again but I'd go back to Soif any time. We had three delicious bottles of red from Languedoc a succession of delicious small and medium sized dishes and, for me Jen and Shubha, glasses of delicious liquor too - though Shubha's walnut one was the surprise winner. Big thumbs up for Soif.
Present: Gill, Shubha, Jen, Nic
"Here's my message. Everything gets worse."
That's what Paul Bowles said was the message of the book. Well, it certainly did get worse for the characters in this book. But, we didn't love the them or, honestly, particularly care.
This meeting combined discussions of Revolutionary Road and Sheltering Sky. Gill summed up the view of the four present brilliantly and succinctly as follows:
"So, Revolutionary Road: Thumbs up; Sheltering Sky: Thumbs down."
I wouldn't read this again but I'd go back to Soif any time. We had three delicious bottles of red from Languedoc a succession of delicious small and medium sized dishes and, for me Jen and Shubha, glasses of delicious liquor too - though Shubha's walnut one was the surprise winner. Big thumbs up for Soif.
#67 - Revolutionary Road - Richard Yates (Choice: Shubha's)(Venue: Soif, Battersea)
Date: 24th October, 2012 (postponed from 7th September)
"If my work has a theme, I suspect it is a simple one: that most human beings are inescapably alone, and therein lies their tragedy."
Thus said Richard Yates about this novel in 1999: a happy chap, obviously.
There's no denying it is a depressing tale. However, the four of us present tonight enjoyed this book immensely. It may be a contender for the BoOkSCARS book of the year if some of us (well, ok, me) are to be believed.
Richard Yates prose was simple but graceful with not a wasted word and his insight into human beings, their relationships and their motivations was extraordinary. Unlike The Confederacy of Dunces, this novel was populated with characters we all recognised and to some extent identified with. The central couple had drifted, without specific plans, in to a life that disappointed them. The thought they were better than others (but who doesn't sometimes judge others and find them wanting) and they thought they deserved better (and who doesn't sometimes think they deserve more recognition, better pay, a lottery win or some other life-changing good luck). It didn't make them nice people but it made them unfailingly human and definitely not monsters. It was impossible not to care about what happened them and essential to get to the end. If you've missed this one, I urge you buy it, read it and let's talk about it again at another meeting.
Present: Jen, Gill, Shubha, Nic.
"If my work has a theme, I suspect it is a simple one: that most human beings are inescapably alone, and therein lies their tragedy."
Thus said Richard Yates about this novel in 1999: a happy chap, obviously.
There's no denying it is a depressing tale. However, the four of us present tonight enjoyed this book immensely. It may be a contender for the BoOkSCARS book of the year if some of us (well, ok, me) are to be believed.
Richard Yates prose was simple but graceful with not a wasted word and his insight into human beings, their relationships and their motivations was extraordinary. Unlike The Confederacy of Dunces, this novel was populated with characters we all recognised and to some extent identified with. The central couple had drifted, without specific plans, in to a life that disappointed them. The thought they were better than others (but who doesn't sometimes judge others and find them wanting) and they thought they deserved better (and who doesn't sometimes think they deserve more recognition, better pay, a lottery win or some other life-changing good luck). It didn't make them nice people but it made them unfailingly human and definitely not monsters. It was impossible not to care about what happened them and essential to get to the end. If you've missed this one, I urge you buy it, read it and let's talk about it again at another meeting.
#66 - A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole (Choice: Jane's)(Venue: Bincho Soho)
Date: August 2nd, 2012
Present: Jane, Shubha, Jen, Nic
"I'm back", Shubha announced prior to this meeting, meaning "get ready to drink". Sadly, Jen and I rather let the side down: after drinking two bottles of Prosecco the night before, it was more luck than judgment that we'd made it at all. Fortunately, Jane was a much better friend!
Jane changed the venue several times in the half hour before we met but this final choice was a goodie, with skewer after delicious skewer of yakitori goodness, miso soup and daikon salad, washed down with grapefruit or lemon sours, so it seemed like the evening might follow Shubha's intention. And, with the best of intentions, after dinner, we proceeded to a lovely wine bar of Shubha's choice. Sadly, despite the undoubtedly charming surrounds, the vast wine list and the delicious wine, after one glass Jen and I admitted hung-over defeat, hair-of-the-dog having failed to revive us, and gave up and walked slowly home while Jane and Shubha partied on.
Meanwhile, the book deserves a word. And, for me, that word would be "tedious". Ignatious was a monstrous character - deliberately so, undoubtedly, but too much so to enable me to care what happened to him. The other characters (at least those introduced before I gave up) were also unpleasant. Jen found parts of the book very funny. Jane enjoyed it: having a theory that there was something "North American" about it that she could identify with. Certainly, Jane "knew" (of rather than personally) people such as those depicted. The rest of us? Not so much. Maybe those people exist but I'm glad I don't know them.
Whilst there's a tragic back story to this novel of an author who committed suicide as a result of depression , which it is at least speculated was contributed to, if not caused by his failure to find a publisher for his book in his life time, personally, I think the agents and publishers who originally turned it down were right. However, it won him a posthumous Pulitzer in 1981 so what do I know?
Present: Jane, Shubha, Jen, Nic
"I'm back", Shubha announced prior to this meeting, meaning "get ready to drink". Sadly, Jen and I rather let the side down: after drinking two bottles of Prosecco the night before, it was more luck than judgment that we'd made it at all. Fortunately, Jane was a much better friend!
Jane changed the venue several times in the half hour before we met but this final choice was a goodie, with skewer after delicious skewer of yakitori goodness, miso soup and daikon salad, washed down with grapefruit or lemon sours, so it seemed like the evening might follow Shubha's intention. And, with the best of intentions, after dinner, we proceeded to a lovely wine bar of Shubha's choice. Sadly, despite the undoubtedly charming surrounds, the vast wine list and the delicious wine, after one glass Jen and I admitted hung-over defeat, hair-of-the-dog having failed to revive us, and gave up and walked slowly home while Jane and Shubha partied on.
Meanwhile, the book deserves a word. And, for me, that word would be "tedious". Ignatious was a monstrous character - deliberately so, undoubtedly, but too much so to enable me to care what happened to him. The other characters (at least those introduced before I gave up) were also unpleasant. Jen found parts of the book very funny. Jane enjoyed it: having a theory that there was something "North American" about it that she could identify with. Certainly, Jane "knew" (of rather than personally) people such as those depicted. The rest of us? Not so much. Maybe those people exist but I'm glad I don't know them.
Whilst there's a tragic back story to this novel of an author who committed suicide as a result of depression , which it is at least speculated was contributed to, if not caused by his failure to find a publisher for his book in his life time, personally, I think the agents and publishers who originally turned it down were right. However, it won him a posthumous Pulitzer in 1981 so what do I know?
P.S. Sept. 13 2023 from Carl: Brilliant! I loved it! Of course it was full of characters to hate but it was just so wonderfully silly. Like the policeman being forced to wear random costumes and the detectives later getting complaints about a man in a sombrero.
P.P.S Set. 13 2023 from Jen, moments before Carl's comments: Oh yeah! I remember that book, although not the evening which from the blog is not all that surprising.
Friday, 29 June 2012
#65 - The Suspicions of Mr Whicher - Kate Summerscale (Choice: Jen's)(Venue: The Clarence, Whitehall)
Thursday June 28th
Present: Jen, Nic, Carl, Doris, Eamonn, Shubha
The Clarence's modern, light decor and bustling, noisy atmosphere belies its age but a sign on the exterior wall indicates that it was established in 1862. This fact, coupled with its location on the corner of Whitehall and Great Scotland Yard, where Mr Whicher and his fellow Scotland Yard detectives were based, and our romantic dispositions leads us to believe that the great man may have drowned his sorrows here as his suspicions in the Road Hill House murder threatened his reputation and stalled his ascent through the detective ranks.
I planned to be authentic to Whicher's era and enjoy a pint or two of ale for the evening. However, it was a beautiful sunny evening which, as we strolled to the venue, Carl announced was perfect for a few glasses of chilled white wine. Jen provided confirmation of this on our arrival and so began the descent.
We were probably three bottles in to the night when Carl drew us to order.
"Hands up" he said, "if you really loved this book."
Something in his tone told you his own hand would remain resolutely by his side. Eamonn ventured to say that he did love this book. The rest of us looked doubtful.
"Hands up" Carl continued, "if you thought this book was quite good."
Still, it was obvious that Carl's arm, like the man himself when reading this book, would remain unmoved. The rest of us spluttered into life. We thought the story was interesting but a little detatched: academic, though not well written. It read like a homework essay. It was not as compelling as it would have been if it had been written as a fictionalised novel. Of course, had it been emotionally involving, Jen acknowledges that it is highly likely she would have been unable to finish it as very bad things happen to the child. In this book though, although his injuries were described graphically, they were presented with detachment, as matter of fact, as something historic. One felt little involvement, little passion, little empathy with the victim or with any other character, for that matter. The people 'were', the things 'happened'. That was it. True, there were interesting snippets of historical detail. The fact that the police were so embarrassed on finding a blood-splattered ladies nightgown that they put it back and didn't record it as they did not want to embarrass the owner stands out amongst those but there were others: the fact that even suspecting a young, female child of murder caused such public outcry that it stalled the career of the country's most promising detective; the fact that detectives were so distrusted and considered an intrusion into middle class life; and so on. Quite what would Victorian England make of where we are now: more spied upon in London by CCTV than communist China.
"Hands up" Carl asked again, "if you thought this book was absolutely awful."
And, finally, his hand twitched. Of us all, Carl had least praise for this book, frustrated by its dull descriptions, lack of pace and constant references to other works. All valid criticisms. One has to accept it for what it is. This book is a string of quite interesting facts in search of a compelling narrative.
And we, several hours after we started out, were a string of drunks in search of the quickest way home and ebook versions of The Woman in White and The Moonstone (re-reading for some Wilkie fans, the first time for others). Not our official next books but ones we might yet discuss in meetings to come.
So ended the best turnout of the year to date and so begun the hardest morning-after for some time.
Present: Jen, Nic, Carl, Doris, Eamonn, Shubha
 |
| Mr Whicher woz 'ere |
I planned to be authentic to Whicher's era and enjoy a pint or two of ale for the evening. However, it was a beautiful sunny evening which, as we strolled to the venue, Carl announced was perfect for a few glasses of chilled white wine. Jen provided confirmation of this on our arrival and so began the descent.
We were probably three bottles in to the night when Carl drew us to order.
"Hands up" he said, "if you really loved this book."
Something in his tone told you his own hand would remain resolutely by his side. Eamonn ventured to say that he did love this book. The rest of us looked doubtful.
"Hands up" Carl continued, "if you thought this book was quite good."
Still, it was obvious that Carl's arm, like the man himself when reading this book, would remain unmoved. The rest of us spluttered into life. We thought the story was interesting but a little detatched: academic, though not well written. It read like a homework essay. It was not as compelling as it would have been if it had been written as a fictionalised novel. Of course, had it been emotionally involving, Jen acknowledges that it is highly likely she would have been unable to finish it as very bad things happen to the child. In this book though, although his injuries were described graphically, they were presented with detachment, as matter of fact, as something historic. One felt little involvement, little passion, little empathy with the victim or with any other character, for that matter. The people 'were', the things 'happened'. That was it. True, there were interesting snippets of historical detail. The fact that the police were so embarrassed on finding a blood-splattered ladies nightgown that they put it back and didn't record it as they did not want to embarrass the owner stands out amongst those but there were others: the fact that even suspecting a young, female child of murder caused such public outcry that it stalled the career of the country's most promising detective; the fact that detectives were so distrusted and considered an intrusion into middle class life; and so on. Quite what would Victorian England make of where we are now: more spied upon in London by CCTV than communist China.
"Hands up" Carl asked again, "if you thought this book was absolutely awful."
And, finally, his hand twitched. Of us all, Carl had least praise for this book, frustrated by its dull descriptions, lack of pace and constant references to other works. All valid criticisms. One has to accept it for what it is. This book is a string of quite interesting facts in search of a compelling narrative.
And we, several hours after we started out, were a string of drunks in search of the quickest way home and ebook versions of The Woman in White and The Moonstone (re-reading for some Wilkie fans, the first time for others). Not our official next books but ones we might yet discuss in meetings to come.
So ended the best turnout of the year to date and so begun the hardest morning-after for some time.
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
#64 - Titus Groan - Mervyn Peake (Choice: Eamonn's)(Venue: Meson Don Felipe)
Present: Gill, Nic, Jen, Eamonn and special guest star (and honorary member) Liz.
Date: 7th May
Two things can be whole-heartedly agreed:
Our numbers have also been slightly reduced: Alex is taking a "lurve sabbatical" and Nathalie wants to push on with reading her own choices; but, most embarrassingly, Jennie (as opposed to Jen) was frightened off by the prospect of seeing us again and choosing a book after only one meeting (admittedly that one meeting was "The Messiah" and a robust discussion). Oh dear - we were trying to be inclusive and instead were just scary.
Back to tonight. Sherry to start, red wine to follow with an array of excellent, rustic and very tasty tapas: salted almonds, delicious olive oil (though Liz, in briefly from Italy, was, in preference, lapping up the butter like there was no tomorrow), meats, cheeses, octopus salad, chorizo, patatas bravas and many (really, many) more. Only the bread was less-than it could be: I fear Jane has turned us all into bread snobs!
The book was not widely discussed and, Eamonn aside, who thoroughly enjoyed it, reaction of those present could be summed up in one word: Groan.
We start a fresh page, with renewed vigour on Thursday 28th June, Jen's choice. Here's hoping for a good turn out and great book, failing that we'll have as always, excellent company and a slap-up dinner.
Date: 7th May
Two things can be whole-heartedly agreed:
- Meeting on the same date (7th) of each month has not been the hoped-for success;
- Gill and I will turn out for every meeting! Hardcore, we are.
Our numbers have also been slightly reduced: Alex is taking a "lurve sabbatical" and Nathalie wants to push on with reading her own choices; but, most embarrassingly, Jennie (as opposed to Jen) was frightened off by the prospect of seeing us again and choosing a book after only one meeting (admittedly that one meeting was "The Messiah" and a robust discussion). Oh dear - we were trying to be inclusive and instead were just scary.
Back to tonight. Sherry to start, red wine to follow with an array of excellent, rustic and very tasty tapas: salted almonds, delicious olive oil (though Liz, in briefly from Italy, was, in preference, lapping up the butter like there was no tomorrow), meats, cheeses, octopus salad, chorizo, patatas bravas and many (really, many) more. Only the bread was less-than it could be: I fear Jane has turned us all into bread snobs!
The book was not widely discussed and, Eamonn aside, who thoroughly enjoyed it, reaction of those present could be summed up in one word: Groan.
We start a fresh page, with renewed vigour on Thursday 28th June, Jen's choice. Here's hoping for a good turn out and great book, failing that we'll have as always, excellent company and a slap-up dinner.
Friday, 30 March 2012
#63 - Naked - David Sedaris (Choice: Nathalie's)(Venue: The Old Express, Shepherd Market)
Date: 7th March
Present: Gill, Jen, Nic.
Strictly speaking this wasn't a book group meeting as Nathalie, whose choice this book was, and many others could not make it. Undeterred, Jen, Gill and I met for dinner and a fleeting mention of the book.
The Old Express was ominously quiet when we arrived. I found Jen sat in an empty restaurant, the staff outside having a chat and a cigarette. One of them quickly came in to take an order from me and, when that order was for a gin and tonic, disappeared to get it from somewhere outside the restaurant. Gill arrived shortly after and went straight for the wine, which it appeared they could provide "in-house". Were things looking up? Not entirely. The menus were oddly entitled Main Courses and were presented with apologies as they were missing the pies for which Old Express is, apparently, famous. However, the smiling waitress graciously offered to provide pies, off menu, if required, as they were the reason Jen had opted to return to our 2008 Mr Y venue. The pie, duly received, seemed to more than satisfy Jen and was eaten with big smiles and chips. My burger was acceptable; the onions rings excellent. Gill's fish and chips went down pretty well, if memory serves. Then we were offered coffee and / or the bill. Thus it transpired there was no "Starter" menu and no "Dessert" menu. So the "Main Course" menu was, in fact, "The Menu".
The chat was more plentiful than the food options, however, especially after we'd reviewed the book with a few short sentences such as:
"It wasn't funny."
"They were just dysfunctional."
"It was uncomfortable, like The Office."
"I just don't understand why people think it is hilarious."
And thus, glowing reviews are reserved only for the company this evening: food and book were mediocre. The calvados at The Only Running Footman was warming and enjoyable though, so warming, in fact, that Jen and I sat at an outdoor table for several, necessitating Jen taking a later train. That's unusual, I hear you say.
Present: Gill, Jen, Nic.
Strictly speaking this wasn't a book group meeting as Nathalie, whose choice this book was, and many others could not make it. Undeterred, Jen, Gill and I met for dinner and a fleeting mention of the book.
The Old Express was ominously quiet when we arrived. I found Jen sat in an empty restaurant, the staff outside having a chat and a cigarette. One of them quickly came in to take an order from me and, when that order was for a gin and tonic, disappeared to get it from somewhere outside the restaurant. Gill arrived shortly after and went straight for the wine, which it appeared they could provide "in-house". Were things looking up? Not entirely. The menus were oddly entitled Main Courses and were presented with apologies as they were missing the pies for which Old Express is, apparently, famous. However, the smiling waitress graciously offered to provide pies, off menu, if required, as they were the reason Jen had opted to return to our 2008 Mr Y venue. The pie, duly received, seemed to more than satisfy Jen and was eaten with big smiles and chips. My burger was acceptable; the onions rings excellent. Gill's fish and chips went down pretty well, if memory serves. Then we were offered coffee and / or the bill. Thus it transpired there was no "Starter" menu and no "Dessert" menu. So the "Main Course" menu was, in fact, "The Menu".
The chat was more plentiful than the food options, however, especially after we'd reviewed the book with a few short sentences such as:
"It wasn't funny."
"They were just dysfunctional."
"It was uncomfortable, like The Office."
"I just don't understand why people think it is hilarious."
And thus, glowing reviews are reserved only for the company this evening: food and book were mediocre. The calvados at The Only Running Footman was warming and enjoyable though, so warming, in fact, that Jen and I sat at an outdoor table for several, necessitating Jen taking a later train. That's unusual, I hear you say.
Thursday, 8 March 2012
#62 - Giovanni's Room - James Baldwin (Choice: Carl's)(Venue: Balans, 60 Old Compton St)
7th February
Present: Carl, Alex, Nathalie, Gill, Jane, Jen
I was dismayed to miss this gathering because I've never been to Balans proper, only to the cafe down the road which was but a pale imitation of the original, if the reputation (i.e. word of Carl and Alex) that precedes the original is to be believed. So, I envisage that, this night, the cocktails flowed freely and the food was enjoyed by all, which is quite my favourite kind of night.
I was also, of course, disappointed to miss what has been reported as an excellent discussion, with Gill, in particular, allegedly vocal in her strong dislike of the protagonist. And who can blame her? Certainly not me.
David lied to Giovanni, to Hella, to Jacques, to his father, to himself. He was selfish, thoughtless, dishonest and mean-spirited. Few of the other characters fared much better: Hella was trite and would have been easily dismissed had she not exuded a level of homophobia that made her decidedly unattractive; Guillaume was simply horrible, leaving the reader (well, me) quite unmoved at his violent end; Giovanni was a preening peacock contrarily riddled with insecurities and unreasonably demanding; and Sue was a self-made victim albeit with a level of awareness and sadness that engendered some symathy for her poor treatment by vile David. Jacques, for me, was the character who was most sympathetic; he was the first character with whom I engaged and the only one for whom I felt a glimmer of emotion. As Jacques questioned David about why David found his lifestyle so sordid, I empathised with Jacques and with the lifestyle he was forced to live by the prejudices that surrounded him and the fears that consequently crippled his emotional and physical life and the lives of those with whom he might otherwise have found happiness instead of brief and nervous relief.
The Paris and the time portrayed in this novel were bleak and depressing. Theses people lived underground, fearful and guarded, hiding their true selves from most people, unaccepted in society and largely unaccepting of themselves. Bleak, bleak times from which it is easy, living in London and working in Soho, to think that we have moved on. However, London in general and Soho in particular are not reflective of the whole of the UK and the UK is, in any event, a million miles removed from many other places in the world. In the USA, according to a map doing the rounds on Facebook, there are significantly more States where you can legally marry your first cousin than your same-sex partner; whilst much of Africa outlaws homosexuality and Uganda debates an anti-gay bill that would introduce the death penalty or life imprisonment for certain "offences". Last night on UK television, Milo Yiannopoulos, a gay Christian writer for the Catholic Herald left me with the impression he found homosexuality distateful and shaming in much the way as the characters in this book so perhaps things haven't changed as much as we would like. Milo did not come across as a happy man and his religion appeared to offer no comfort and, perhaps, the opposite. So this tiny tome has contemporary as well as historical resonance and is all the more depressing for it.
The dispiriting nature of the book was amplified, for me, because it was so dense and verbose. David seemed able to reflect interminably upon his life but without gaining any insights into his nature, without any intention of changing, and without giving any regard to the place of others within his life or to the effect he may have had upon them. Having such an unattractive protagonist makes it hard for me to engage with a book.
The book did not tell us what actually happened to Guillaume, only what David said he could picture, speculate at having happened. He was little enough friend to Giovanni at any time but how much less at the end than ever before. Here's what I like to think: David killed Guillaume and framed Giovanni to rid himself of two unpleasant reminders of a past (and unlived future) he chose to hide. Oooh, he's starting to become a villian I could love to hate.
This might be one of those books that gets better the more one thinks about it and discusses it: more enjoyable with hindsight than in the moment.
Present: Carl, Alex, Nathalie, Gill, Jane, Jen
I was dismayed to miss this gathering because I've never been to Balans proper, only to the cafe down the road which was but a pale imitation of the original, if the reputation (i.e. word of Carl and Alex) that precedes the original is to be believed. So, I envisage that, this night, the cocktails flowed freely and the food was enjoyed by all, which is quite my favourite kind of night.
I was also, of course, disappointed to miss what has been reported as an excellent discussion, with Gill, in particular, allegedly vocal in her strong dislike of the protagonist. And who can blame her? Certainly not me.
David lied to Giovanni, to Hella, to Jacques, to his father, to himself. He was selfish, thoughtless, dishonest and mean-spirited. Few of the other characters fared much better: Hella was trite and would have been easily dismissed had she not exuded a level of homophobia that made her decidedly unattractive; Guillaume was simply horrible, leaving the reader (well, me) quite unmoved at his violent end; Giovanni was a preening peacock contrarily riddled with insecurities and unreasonably demanding; and Sue was a self-made victim albeit with a level of awareness and sadness that engendered some symathy for her poor treatment by vile David. Jacques, for me, was the character who was most sympathetic; he was the first character with whom I engaged and the only one for whom I felt a glimmer of emotion. As Jacques questioned David about why David found his lifestyle so sordid, I empathised with Jacques and with the lifestyle he was forced to live by the prejudices that surrounded him and the fears that consequently crippled his emotional and physical life and the lives of those with whom he might otherwise have found happiness instead of brief and nervous relief.
The Paris and the time portrayed in this novel were bleak and depressing. Theses people lived underground, fearful and guarded, hiding their true selves from most people, unaccepted in society and largely unaccepting of themselves. Bleak, bleak times from which it is easy, living in London and working in Soho, to think that we have moved on. However, London in general and Soho in particular are not reflective of the whole of the UK and the UK is, in any event, a million miles removed from many other places in the world. In the USA, according to a map doing the rounds on Facebook, there are significantly more States where you can legally marry your first cousin than your same-sex partner; whilst much of Africa outlaws homosexuality and Uganda debates an anti-gay bill that would introduce the death penalty or life imprisonment for certain "offences". Last night on UK television, Milo Yiannopoulos, a gay Christian writer for the Catholic Herald left me with the impression he found homosexuality distateful and shaming in much the way as the characters in this book so perhaps things haven't changed as much as we would like. Milo did not come across as a happy man and his religion appeared to offer no comfort and, perhaps, the opposite. So this tiny tome has contemporary as well as historical resonance and is all the more depressing for it.
The dispiriting nature of the book was amplified, for me, because it was so dense and verbose. David seemed able to reflect interminably upon his life but without gaining any insights into his nature, without any intention of changing, and without giving any regard to the place of others within his life or to the effect he may have had upon them. Having such an unattractive protagonist makes it hard for me to engage with a book.
The book did not tell us what actually happened to Guillaume, only what David said he could picture, speculate at having happened. He was little enough friend to Giovanni at any time but how much less at the end than ever before. Here's what I like to think: David killed Guillaume and framed Giovanni to rid himself of two unpleasant reminders of a past (and unlived future) he chose to hide. Oooh, he's starting to become a villian I could love to hate.
This might be one of those books that gets better the more one thinks about it and discusses it: more enjoyable with hindsight than in the moment.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
#61 - Great Expectations - Charles Dickens (Choice: Gill's)(Venue: Indigo, The Aldwych)
Present: Gill, Nic, Carl and, sparing us an hour from his off-West End success in Pippin, special guest star Ben Bunce!
So, in terms of official members, we had a 50% uplift in attendance this month, which sounds awesome ... and was. Undeterred by the fact that there were only 3 of us (official-types and drinkers, that is), with a special offer of unlimited Prosecco for £12 when brunching, we drank enough of the bubbly stuff to make up for the rest of you and then some! Whilst Indigo stretch the definition of brunch somewhat by (i) serving from 12.30 onwards, meaning at least two of us had breakfasted before coming out, and (ii) serving such "unbruchie" items as seared Tuna with avocado, rocket and pickled ginger (delicious!), this was a fab venue. Attentive staff refilled our Prosecco glasses constantly from 12.30 until about 15.45, when we decided to move down to the bar and have cocktails, leaving Prosecco in our glasses, which is something I never thought I'd do. We draw a close over proceedings there, to save Mr Barnes' blushes but not in time to save his boots. Oh no, I've said too much.
Anyway, in between tales of family Christmases, new years and other activities, we also discussed the book, at surprising length, considering only Gill had finished it at that time (although I announce with some pride that I too have finished subsequently). Luckily, Gill and I had watched the BBC adaptation and Carl had read the book previously in the distant but only slightly dim past.
We all agreed it was a good story. We all agreed that Mr Wemmick was a firm favourite along with Biddy and that Pip wasn't really very nice, though he eventually redeemed himself. We all agreed that Dickens makes for a great TV adaptation (!) though we also felt that some of the changes the Beeb made for this last adaptation went far beyond abridging and actually changed the impact of the tale: the absence of Biddy was a great loss and manipulating the story so that, for example, Pip declines to stay the night after his sister's funeral (boo hiss, bad, bad Pip) whereas in the book he stays seemed to interfere unnecessarily with the reader/watcher's interpretation of the characters. We also thought Gillian Anderson needed to be more wrinkly to carry off being so white haired and that we liked her nervous hand-scratching and pinching but hated her strange delivery.
Ah yes, this is BOOK group isn't it? So, on the book: for my part, Dickens is too verbose to be readable (I KNOW others will disagree - so let's see some discussion) and his characters are too exaggerated and caricatured to encourage empathy and real connection. I was unmoved through all the adventures and traumas and didn't care whether Pip was eventually happy or not. Also, Dickens and I do not share a sense of humour and I find his jokes, such as they are, repetitive (Mrs Joe Gargery's refrain about not being out of her apron, about Pip being brought-up by hand, Mr Pumblechook's constant "May I" refrain) - yawn. Ya-a-a-a-a-wn. Where was I? Oh yes. I finished it. I am unlikely to be starting another but, thanks to Gill, I have now read a complete Dickens, enhancing my classical education and that, again, is a mark of what book group is meant to achieve.
That and dinner with friends. Not necessarily in that order.
So, in terms of official members, we had a 50% uplift in attendance this month, which sounds awesome ... and was. Undeterred by the fact that there were only 3 of us (official-types and drinkers, that is), with a special offer of unlimited Prosecco for £12 when brunching, we drank enough of the bubbly stuff to make up for the rest of you and then some! Whilst Indigo stretch the definition of brunch somewhat by (i) serving from 12.30 onwards, meaning at least two of us had breakfasted before coming out, and (ii) serving such "unbruchie" items as seared Tuna with avocado, rocket and pickled ginger (delicious!), this was a fab venue. Attentive staff refilled our Prosecco glasses constantly from 12.30 until about 15.45, when we decided to move down to the bar and have cocktails, leaving Prosecco in our glasses, which is something I never thought I'd do. We draw a close over proceedings there, to save Mr Barnes' blushes but not in time to save his boots. Oh no, I've said too much.
We all agreed it was a good story. We all agreed that Mr Wemmick was a firm favourite along with Biddy and that Pip wasn't really very nice, though he eventually redeemed himself. We all agreed that Dickens makes for a great TV adaptation (!) though we also felt that some of the changes the Beeb made for this last adaptation went far beyond abridging and actually changed the impact of the tale: the absence of Biddy was a great loss and manipulating the story so that, for example, Pip declines to stay the night after his sister's funeral (boo hiss, bad, bad Pip) whereas in the book he stays seemed to interfere unnecessarily with the reader/watcher's interpretation of the characters. We also thought Gillian Anderson needed to be more wrinkly to carry off being so white haired and that we liked her nervous hand-scratching and pinching but hated her strange delivery.
Ah yes, this is BOOK group isn't it? So, on the book: for my part, Dickens is too verbose to be readable (I KNOW others will disagree - so let's see some discussion) and his characters are too exaggerated and caricatured to encourage empathy and real connection. I was unmoved through all the adventures and traumas and didn't care whether Pip was eventually happy or not. Also, Dickens and I do not share a sense of humour and I find his jokes, such as they are, repetitive (Mrs Joe Gargery's refrain about not being out of her apron, about Pip being brought-up by hand, Mr Pumblechook's constant "May I" refrain) - yawn. Ya-a-a-a-a-wn. Where was I? Oh yes. I finished it. I am unlikely to be starting another but, thanks to Gill, I have now read a complete Dickens, enhancing my classical education and that, again, is a mark of what book group is meant to achieve.
That and dinner with friends. Not necessarily in that order.
Friday, 23 December 2011
Christmas 2011 - Saturday 10th December
Sadly, no cameras to record the food and the fun but we had a great turnout, despite some sorely missed compadres as Jane, Mark, Jennie, Doris and Gill were unable to join us.
Eamonn "3-dos in one night" managed to stay with us longer than expected for champagne and the annual Secret Santa book exchange but Shubha (with guest chauffeur and chef-extrordinaire Sanj, the pork-king), Alex (chef du salad accompanied by pastry chef Davis), Carl (the evening's veritable Mr Kipling), Nathalie (contributor of the cheese (edibles, not conversational)), Jen (hors d'hoevre queen and sous chef) and guest Brian (honourable chess-loser) were in it for the long haul through: tasty pastries; smoked chicken, pomegranate and pecan salad; roast pork, sausages, glazed ham, dauphinoise potatoes, buttered shredded sprouts, roasted butternut squash with pecans and blue cheese; Brazilian Pudim and Bakewell Tart; and, finally, cheese (or depending on the guest preference, cheese and, finally, Brazilian Pudim and Bakewell Tart) all of which was washed down with Champagne, Reisling, Pinot Noir, Port, Whisky and sparkling lime and mint refresher (the latter Nathalie's by choice and Shubha's less happily!).
As is traditional, only after all of the food and most of the alcohol had been consumed did we turn our attention to the book of the year awards so, with no further delay, the BoOkSCARS (and, boy, were we scarred by some of this years books!) go to:
Book of the Year:
City and the City, a narrow winner up against: Travels with My Aunt, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Messiah, although we failed to record the official runner up.
Blooper of the Year:
The Thirteen and a Half Lives of Captain Blue Bear, a popular, by which we mean unpopular, winner in the most fiercely fought category this year with strong showings from: Empire of the Ants and Kiss of the Spider Woman and an honourable mention for Boxer Beetle, although the latter was never really a contender (boxing joke alert!).
Best (Good) Character:
(Female) The Aunt, Travels With My Aunt (the only unanimous decision of the night)
(Male) Lt. Mamiya, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Best (Bad) Character:
Mr Stoll, Don't Look Now and Other Stories
Best Venue of the Year:
Brindisa, Kiss of the Spider Woman
Most Apt Venue:
The Criterion, The City and The City (not to be taken as a recommendation but awarded for the staff who unsaw us and the unseen 8 people for whom we were charged)
Most Shocking Moment:
The skinning alive, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Most Gripping / Haunting Moment:
The death of John at the hands of the dwarf, Don't Look Now
Most Disappointing Book of Promise:
Kiss of the Spider Woman
2011 could be a contender for worst book-year to date. Let's raise a glass to 2012, we do, after all have Great Expectations for it.
Eamonn "3-dos in one night" managed to stay with us longer than expected for champagne and the annual Secret Santa book exchange but Shubha (with guest chauffeur and chef-extrordinaire Sanj, the pork-king), Alex (chef du salad accompanied by pastry chef Davis), Carl (the evening's veritable Mr Kipling), Nathalie (contributor of the cheese (edibles, not conversational)), Jen (hors d'hoevre queen and sous chef) and guest Brian (honourable chess-loser) were in it for the long haul through: tasty pastries; smoked chicken, pomegranate and pecan salad; roast pork, sausages, glazed ham, dauphinoise potatoes, buttered shredded sprouts, roasted butternut squash with pecans and blue cheese; Brazilian Pudim and Bakewell Tart; and, finally, cheese (or depending on the guest preference, cheese and, finally, Brazilian Pudim and Bakewell Tart) all of which was washed down with Champagne, Reisling, Pinot Noir, Port, Whisky and sparkling lime and mint refresher (the latter Nathalie's by choice and Shubha's less happily!).
As is traditional, only after all of the food and most of the alcohol had been consumed did we turn our attention to the book of the year awards so, with no further delay, the BoOkSCARS (and, boy, were we scarred by some of this years books!) go to:
Book of the Year:
City and the City, a narrow winner up against: Travels with My Aunt, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Messiah, although we failed to record the official runner up.
Blooper of the Year:
The Thirteen and a Half Lives of Captain Blue Bear, a popular, by which we mean unpopular, winner in the most fiercely fought category this year with strong showings from: Empire of the Ants and Kiss of the Spider Woman and an honourable mention for Boxer Beetle, although the latter was never really a contender (boxing joke alert!).
Best (Good) Character:
(Female) The Aunt, Travels With My Aunt (the only unanimous decision of the night)
(Male) Lt. Mamiya, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Best (Bad) Character:
Mr Stoll, Don't Look Now and Other Stories
Best Venue of the Year:
Brindisa, Kiss of the Spider Woman
Most Apt Venue:
The Criterion, The City and The City (not to be taken as a recommendation but awarded for the staff who unsaw us and the unseen 8 people for whom we were charged)
Most Shocking Moment:
The skinning alive, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Most Gripping / Haunting Moment:
The death of John at the hands of the dwarf, Don't Look Now
Most Disappointing Book of Promise:
Kiss of the Spider Woman
2011 could be a contender for worst book-year to date. Let's raise a glass to 2012, we do, after all have Great Expectations for it.
Friday, 9 December 2011
#60 - Don't Look Now and Other Stories - Daphne Du Maurier (Choice: Nic's)(Venue: 2Veneti, Wigmore Street)
Present: Nic and Gill
Well, what a turnout! But what we lacked in numbers we made up for in enthusiasm for the Venetian theme, starting our evening with an Aperol spritz and following up with beef carpaccio; salami with cheese mousse; ravioli with pumpkin and Amaretto; and fritto misto, with a salad and mashed potatoes; all washed down with a light and subtle but flavoursome Venetian Valpolicella and followed by tiramisu.
Did we talk about the book? Well, yes, briefly, and we loved it.
The eponymous story of this collection was a tightly woven, atmospheric piece with not a wasted word but an abundance of Venetian detail and intrigue and a truly chilling ending that was slow to leave me as I tried to get to sleep. I can still conjure up an echo of the physical palpitation I felt at the denoument just by bringing back to mind the clear mental picture Du Maurier crafted of the two characters facing each other at the climax.
Not After Midnight was chosen as the lead story of and name for this collection when it was originally published in the UK and that too was a haunting tale. Despite the fact that it was narrated by the teacher, I still felt unsure of his survival at the end.
My least favourite was The Way of the Cross, notwithstanding it was a clever exercise in sociology and group dynamic which finds humanity wanting. However, I did like the young boy's questioning of his party's failure to stop and help a stranded motorist on the road where the Good Samaritan did his thing and it is true that most characters grew through their group experience.
The Breakthrough also had a chilling religious overtone but we could not help a greater fondness for the simple but enjoyable Border Line Case, a suspenseful tale of a young lady who unwittingly has sex with her father.
After that, the conversation meandered through Devon and Cornwall to family and Christmas. It was a delightful evening but our absentees were, of course, missed.
Well, what a turnout! But what we lacked in numbers we made up for in enthusiasm for the Venetian theme, starting our evening with an Aperol spritz and following up with beef carpaccio; salami with cheese mousse; ravioli with pumpkin and Amaretto; and fritto misto, with a salad and mashed potatoes; all washed down with a light and subtle but flavoursome Venetian Valpolicella and followed by tiramisu.
Did we talk about the book? Well, yes, briefly, and we loved it.
 |
| Venice by moonlight, Feb 2011 (c) Nic |
Not After Midnight was chosen as the lead story of and name for this collection when it was originally published in the UK and that too was a haunting tale. Despite the fact that it was narrated by the teacher, I still felt unsure of his survival at the end.
My least favourite was The Way of the Cross, notwithstanding it was a clever exercise in sociology and group dynamic which finds humanity wanting. However, I did like the young boy's questioning of his party's failure to stop and help a stranded motorist on the road where the Good Samaritan did his thing and it is true that most characters grew through their group experience.
The Breakthrough also had a chilling religious overtone but we could not help a greater fondness for the simple but enjoyable Border Line Case, a suspenseful tale of a young lady who unwittingly has sex with her father.
After that, the conversation meandered through Devon and Cornwall to family and Christmas. It was a delightful evening but our absentees were, of course, missed.
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