Books, part the first
I should probably figure out a better way of documenting these — perhaps give them stars out of ten? — but for now a quick paragraph on what I thought.
1. Jasper Jones, by Craig Silvey.
I bought this with a book voucher a little over a year ago. I didn’t know anything about it, only that the author was Australian and that he and his first book, listed on the blurb, sounded familiar. I had a faint feeling someone had recommended him. I realised about a week ago that the only reason I recognised the name was because I’d previously picked up his first book, Rhubarb, second-hand somewhere — I hadn’t actually read it, though.
And so I am delighted that a random purchase based on a mistaken inkling had such a good outcome. I really enjoyed this book. My favourite sections were just about any part where the main character Charlie speaks to his best friend Jeffrey; I thought Silvey captured the essence of teenage interaction / jibes / what-have-you perfectly, although I did at times have to slightly suspend disbelief at thirteen-year-olds being quite so clever and amusing. I also enjoyed the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I turned every page, living like Charlie with his terrible secret. What a great read.
2. Wonders of a Godless World, by Andrew McGahan
I feel that I should have liked this less. I have very little time for any sort of mysticism about the natural world; speaking of the natural rhythms of Mother Earth pulsing through you, or any sort of conversation or overstated romantic communion with nature, tends to leave me cold. It was one of the things that bothered me about The White Earth.
Happily, the circumstances of the orphan and the foreigner in Godless were sufficiently exceptional as to make it, well, an exception — and a very good one, at that. The characters, their interaction, and the seemingly inevitable trail of events leading to the conclusion kept me interested and entertained. I felt a little betrayed by a predictable twist towards the end — feeling the reader’s intelligence somewhat insulted actually — but was mollified when it turned out to be a misdirection, giving way to the true ending. I really liked this book.
3. The Liar, by Stephen Fry.
Oh, what to say. I love Stephen Fry. I have whatever the equivalent term of a heterosexual man-crush is when experienced by a girl-dating girl. He knows everything ever and is witty and puts together, on the spot, reasoned, reasonable, well-phrased responses to anything posed to him, responses that would take me a few hours, access to Google and at least two thesauri to put together, and I still wouldn’t approximate his level of awesome. I think he is amazing.
And so, all I will say about his book is: it is his first, and I am sure they get better. I liked and was amused by the book on a paragraph-by-paragraph basis, but overall I wasn’t sure why it was written and while I ordinarily am not that fussed about whether a book has a plot or not, I felt that this one suffered for not having one. I wouldn’t recommend this book and can’t imagine a possible future in which I am inspired to reread it.
And I am very glad I will never meet Stephen Fry, because even thinking this makes me feel guilty.
Updatingly
I made mushroom veggie burgers early this week, with cannellini beans instead of lentils and stuffed green olives instead of kalamata (this is more necessity, the mother of invention than I have a clue what I’m doing in the kitchen).
They were good! The photo, sadly, is not, because it occurred to me to take a photo about 20 seconds before eating.
2011 Goals
I would love to know if I fulfilled many of last year’s NYR’s, but can’t recall if I made any. If I did, I have no idea where the list is. Previous years’ lists have suffered a variety of fates, ranging from disappearance to careful avoidance.
This year, however, will be different!
Having been dutifully carried over year to year, my 2002 goal of getting my driver’s licence has finally been struck off. Gone with it is the queasy and unsettled feeling which accompanied each iteration (attributed partly to guilt at making a resolution I was pretty sure I wouldn’t keep, and partly to these being the feelings that driving, or thoughts thereof, used to inspire in me). So now I’m free to make plans, plans for things that I might actually achieve! Hooray.
And so, preamble done with, in 2011 I will, in no particular order:
1. Get a tattoo
2. Cook twenty new vegan meals
3. Run a half marathon
4. Complete P90X
5. Read 25 books
6. Go on a yoga retreat
7. Go overseas
8. Consolidate my super
9. Publish an article for money not love
10. Sew an outfit
11. Finish my degree
12. Keep track of increased life awesomeness through blog
13. Get my green P’s
14. Go for a week eating only foods that come unpackaged
15. Do some sort of fundraising for charity thing at least once.
Bonus points if I:
– Go on a road trip
– Sky or scuba dive
– Learn to play the guitar
– Start (or finish!) a novel
– Do volunteer work in some capacity
– Get an awesomer job
But I think they’re more suited for next year, this year is looking hectic.
Right-o! In the words of some minor character from Pineapple Express, it’s time to go suck today’s dick.
slightly more awesome 