On the Road - Jack Kerouac

I first read On the Road at university, but it was the uncensored, original scroll version. This tamer edition is the book that made it to press, with the changes Kerouac was forced to make, such as giving everyone pseudonyms and toning down the language, drugs, and sexual deviancy. For anybody struggling with who's who, Sal Paradise is Jack Kerouac, Dean Moriarty is Neal Cassady, Carlo Marx is Allen Ginsburg, and Old Bull Lee is William Burroughs. These colourful but deeply flawed individuals were key drivers of the 1950s Beat movement, which would later give rise to other countercultures. The Beat movement is steeped in hero worship and highly lauded in academic circles by beard strokers too Conservative and physically timid to follow in the footsteps of their reckless heroes. There is no denying that Kerouac's energetic prose is absolutely addicting to read and much of the book is like a car crash you can't look away from. However, not once did I lose sight of what nasty, terrible people they were.

It may seem somewhat paradoxical to give the book a high rating whilst delivering censure to its players, but the wanderlust and excitement it inspires rises above the sad and squalid lives portrayed therein. Paradise's/Kerouac's maiden voyage across America, before he becomes disillusioned and world weary, is bursting with what Dean Moriarty/Neal Cassady would call 'it.' The youthful enthusiasm of the characters later gives way to ruin and despondency as they take too many drugs, drink too much alcohol, and ruin the lives of too many women. The underage brothel scene in Mexico stands out in particular as a line crossed too far and one cannot help but feel a pang of satisfaction when Sal soon after contracts dysentry and is abandoned by best bud Dean, the 'holy conman.' Dean is the most interesting (though detestable) character in the book, with his psychopathic nature and clear signs of extreme attention deficit disorder, with Sal coming across as a pathetic, ragged follower who trails after him like a lost sheep. 

Although I immensely enjoy On the Road, and having thought long and hard on it, I don't share the opinion of my peers that the Beat generation had anything special to say. I do not rate the drug-addled drivel of Burroughs, nor the philosophy and poetry of Ginsberg, and certainly not the ravings of mad dog Neal Cassady. But for all his faults, Jack Kerouac hit on a winning formula with On the Road, a book which doesn't shy away from the gritty realism of toxic friendships, rotten, broken America, and the hopelessness of humanity. It's a dusty, dirty, oily, sweaty, anxiety-wrought book, but one that I can't get enough of. Its protagonists drive back and forth across the breadth of the 'groaning and awful continent' like souls possessed on the smallest excuse, leaving behind a trail of destruction (and robbed gas stations) in their search for enlightenment.

Rating: 4/5

Tom Gates Excellent Excuses and Other Good Stuff - Liz Pichon

There are moments of being a parent that take me by surprise, such as opening a Christmas present from my five year old daughter and finding a second hand children's book (in rough condition) aimed at 6-10 year olds. It was a giveaway from her school, and she was very proud of it. After failing to gently suggest that maybe the book was more suited to someone of her age range, and being heavily guilt tripped with "It was a special gift for YOU", I finally resigned myself to read it. Well, what can I say, it's a chaotic children's book full of scribble, cartoon doodles, and wacky font. A tome for the modern distracted child no doubt, as devoid of narrative substance as a Netflix cartoon generated by AI. What a vile, judgemental, ungrateful father, one might think? Quite so!

The book is in a series about a boy called Tom Gates who has a friend called Derek, an annoying sister called Delia, is in a band called DogZombies, and does and thinks lots of stereotypical things for a boy of his age. There isn't anything particularly clever or interesting done with the zany format, but I must stress again, I'm not the target audience. My daughter will read it next (she wouldn't let me read it with her) and I'll see what she thinks. I really don't have much more to write about this book, it's about a kid with an active imagination, less than average academic ability, and rather too much disrespect towards his parents and teachers. One of the friends is also clearly neurodivergent, for which he is mocked.

Rating: 2/5

The Lost Rainforests of Britain - Guy Shrubsole

Guy Shrubsole’s The Lost Rainforests of Britain might be handily summed up as ‘city boy moves to the country and realises there is still nature in nature.’ But Shrubsole’s mapping and discovery of Britain’s remaining temperate rainforests is more than that. He never outright claims to have discovered the sites, there is something more humble and self-deprecating in his approach, which struck the right chord with me. Full of enthusiasm and excitement about the soggy plantlife that makes up our depleted rainforests, he uses a journalistic style to engage readers on what at first glance might not seem the most interesting topic. But peel back the ferns, and a lost, ancient wilderness awaits rediscovery.

Each chapter is preceded by an anecdotal foray onto sites ranging from Dartmoor in Devon, to the Lake District, to Western Scotland. He meets a number of experts in the field of mycology and bryology, along with environmental activists, green farmers, and ‘professional trespassers.’ Shrubsole laments the fact that only 8% of Britain is public access, with the rest selfishly owned and fenced off by suspicious offshore estates. His main beef with managed countryside is sheep, deer, and rhododendrons, which are largely responsible for the devastation of forests and the suppression of fresh tree growth. Guy throws in a lot of pop culture references, frequently quoting from Jurassic Park, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter etc. An eye opening experience that made me want to visit ancient rainforest.

3/5

Wild: Tales from Early Medieval Britain - Amy Jeffs

Amy Jeff's second book is an exploration of wilderness and solitude, as seen in old Medieval texts. Jeff retells some of these stories whilst taking creative liberties with their themes and narratives. Each of the seven chapters: Earth, Fen, Forest, Beast, Ocean, Catastrophe and Paradise begin with a tale, followed by a more scholarly essay and personal reflections. Each chapter is accompanied by a woodcut engraving. Unfortunately I found the whole thing too dry and academic for my liking. Although the book is short, it took me a month to read because I was not engaged. The stories are deliberately nebulous and obscure. At times it felt like a modern agenda was being pushed into the narrative, particularly in Beast.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with her research, in fact, it was obvious that Jeffs had spent a lot of time poring over the Franks Casket in the British Museum and other artefacts and manuscripts, but I felt like there was no substance to it. I didn't really learn anything about the landscape or people of the past, it was all poetic, wishy-washy fluff with some personal anecdotes thrown in. I don't want to disparage Amy, she seems like a nice person, the book was just not what I was expecting at all. I wanted something more informative and factual - a natural history, as it were. Perhaps the title itself was somewhat misleading.

Rating: 2/5

The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

It isn't often that a book comes along and takes me completely by storm. I was gifted The Song of Achilles two years ago by friends who know I'm into Greek mythology. We weren't sure what to expect, from the cover it looked like it could be a fan fiction of The Iliad, and I'm eternally wary of bestsellers. Perhaps that prejudice can be broken now, for I haven't had such a good time with a book in years. The reading experience was akin to binge watching a compelling TV series, I simply couldn't put it down. Madeline Miller is an accomplised classical scholar, and her knowledge of ancient customs and the source text came across strongly in the first few pages. I could therefore relax into the read knowing I was in capable hands and wouldn't be annoyed by pop culture inaccuracies. I did notice a few instances where she was obviously influenced by the 2004 film Troy, but as this is a guilty of pleasure of mine, I was fine with that.

The story interestingly focuses on exiled prince Patroclus as the narrator, Achilles' cousin, childhood friend, and lover.  The language is direct, first person, alternately present and past tense from Patroclus' point of view. Although there is some attempt to keep things grounded in Ancient times, the language is modern enough to avoid alienating the reader, but not too modern to cause groans. There was one instance where Odysseus used a colloquialism which was quite jarring, but only once. The Greek world is vividly painted and Miller does a good job capturing the lusty boastfulness of the warrior culture. There are centaurs and gods, but somehow they fit within the text seamlessly without devolving into breathless fantasy and clattering of D20s. The depiction of Thetis (Achilles' sea nymph mother) and some of the other gods was genuinely terrifying. There are some rather strong passages of eroticism that could almost pass for a Mills and Boon novel, but I didn't mind them so much. I thought perhaps the book was one chapter longer than it needed to be, I'm not too sure if I liked the bittersweet ending, and after Patroclus dies, there's a chunk of novel left where he's observing things as a spirit trapped in limbo. Also notable is that Miller does not acknowledge the legend of Achilles' famous heel and I'd be interested to know why that was.

In all, a highly recommended read and I will certainly be seeking out her 2018 book Circe.

Rating: 4/5

Tyll - Daniel Kehlmann

Tyll started off promising enough, an enigmatic figure from German folklore taunting the residents of a small village. Then we delve into his back story as a child, the hardships he faces from his abusive household, spending the night alone in a spooky forest, and witnessing the execution of his father by witch hunters. It sets up a supernatural premise, but falls short on ultimately delivering. The book becomes more of an historical novel outlining the politics of the thirty years' war and the exile of the king and queen of Bohemia, which unfortunately, I found deathly boring. The book is not told in a chronological fashion, which I don't have a problem with, my main gripe was the lack of story. There is no central narrative as such, just a series of interweaving sketches jumping from past to present where Tyll comes and goes, meeting obscure characters from European history.

A tighter plot and, dare I say, looser backdrop of historical conflict, would have made for a more engaging read. I'm sure everything is very well researched, as the opening plaudits state, but I could have just read a history book if that was what I wanted. I wanted sorcery, folklore, and mayhem, not real life Game of Thrones. Kehlmann also continues the somewhat tired tradition of having us believe ye olde Europe's woods were full of marauding rape gangs, just waiting to sink their teeth into tender young runaways. I thought Tyll's gang rape was a bit unnecessary for his character development, you can paint a traumatic childhood without such excesses. I would say I enjoyed the first third of the book, but lost interest when the POV character shifted away from Tyll. Perhaps something was lost in the English translation.

Rating: 2/5

Three Round Towers - Beverley Elphick

I purchased Three Round Towers at a local village fair a couple of years ago and it sat on the shelf until recently. It was supposed to be someone's choice for bookclub, but the club disbanded before we could read it. I met the author and she signed my copy, so after finishing my other literary commitments, I finally had time to see what it was about. The book is set in historical Hamsey, Lewes, and the surrounding areas, so it held local interest for me. It's written in an engaging, slightly antiquated, first person style to echo the dialect of the time. Esther Coad is an orphan sent to work on a farm in Hamsey where she befriends Becca, another servant, who becomes pregnant from being raped by their employer. Becca commits suicide after birthing the child, and Esther claims parental responsibility. She escapes from the odious farm to seek her fortune elsewhere. It's not long, however, until she is framed for murder.

The plot and style reminded me somewhat of a Catherine Cookson novel, the adaptations of which I used to enjoy on television in the 90s, along with the high tragedy of Thomas Hardy. There are two main sections to the book, each dealing with different crises in Esther's life. There is the murder trial which dominates the first half, followed by the mystery of Esther's parentage and family origins in the second. She must navigate press gangs, smugglers, treachery, and love interests in her mission to find her place in the world and security for her adopted daughter Beth. The narrative runs on at a good pace and I found it to be a real page turner. There are areas where things slow down and it becomes more a slice of life style drama, but I was pleasantly surprised by the competency of the writer. I'm not usually into historical fiction, but I enjoyed this one and might even seek out the two sequels.

Rating: 3/5

The Last Battle - C. S. Lewis

The final book in the Chronicles of Narnia series was my least favourite as a child. Deeply allegorical, to the point in which it overtakes the story, the tale is a grim one where evil triumphs over good (if you ignore the end Nirvana sequence) and the land of Narnia itself is destroyed. The plot begins with an ape called Shift brainwashing his simple-minded Donkey friend/slave Puzzle into donning a lion skin and pretending to be Aslan. With this trick, he joins forces with the Calormenes and begins to take over Narnia, corrupting the talking animals through treacherous means. The last king of Narnia, Tirian, along with his companion Jewel, the unicorn, and recurring characters Eustace and Jill from our world, team up to try and put a stop to the sinister plot. The stakes are high, the situation hopeless, and Aslan is not around this time to come roaring in to save the day. 

More than any other book in the chronicles, The Last Battle has come under a lot of criticism for its racist and sexist undertones. The Calormen are described as cruel and dark skinned in comparison to the noble and white skinned Narnians. Several times they are even referred to as 'darkies' by dwarves. They worship a demonic entity called Tash. The sexism manifests in how the character of Susan is treated. Having embraced feminity, makeup and parties, she has been declared an enemy of Narnia and cannot join the others in Aslan's paradise. Some writers have been notoriously sensitive about Susan's banishment, even prompting Neil Gaimon to write a short story about her redemption. At the end of the book we learn that everybody is dead and the new world they enter is a sort of Heaven. It's supposed to be symbolic of entering God's kingdom and ascending to a better existence, but some readers may find this too traumatic.

Rating: 2/5

The Silver Chair

The Silver Chair was always my favourite entry in the Narnia chronicles. It's darker in tone, but in a more vivid and imaginative way than Prince Caspian. Eustace Scrubb and his schoolfellow Jill Pole are whisked away to Narnia from an abusive, experimental school whilst being pursued by bullies. Aslan sets Jill on an important mission to rescue King Caspian's missing son, the Prince Rillian, offering her four signs to follow. She fluffs the first three, showing the fallibility of a child protagonist and, in Lewis' metaphor, an atheist mind. Despite talking owls and magical beasts, the fact that the children constantly fail and are uncomfortable throughout much of the adventure grounds the high fantasy in murky realism.

The character Puddleglum, from a newly introduced race of Marsh-wiggles, steals the show as a depressive though stalwart companion. The drizzly marshes and moors of the late Autumn landscape, followed by the craggy hills of the giants and the terrifying city of Harfang are wonderfully oppressive and well drawn. The third act of the book takes place in the suffocating underground regions, where Jill must overcome her claustrophobia to triumph. It's a marvellous gothic fairytale of enchantment, deceit and redemption, with the added bonus that a vengeful Aslan invades our world to dish out punishment in the last chapter.

Rating 4/5

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader - C. S. Lewis

C. S. Lewis' third book written in the Narnia series (or fifth if we're going chronologically as I am) is unique in that it is pure adventure and exploration, with very little in the way of plot. There is no antagonist, unless one counts Eustace, the nasty cousin of Edmund and Lucy who is sucked into Narnia with them through a magic painting. The opening of the book is an extremely bizarre passage where we gain some insight into the kinds of things C. S. Lewis hates, namely 'very up-to-date and advanced people ... vegetarians, non-smokers and tee-totallers.' In other words, hippies? The boy that came out of such people fills a similar role to Edmund in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, although arguably his redemption arc is finished a little too early in the book to be as impactful as it might have been. Not only that, but his character is more or less sidelined in the second half.

As for the narrative, King Caspian and the three children, along with mouse Reepicheep and a crew of under developed seamen are sailing east to discover new lands and track down seven lords who went missing in the reign of the evil King Miraz. The adventures are naturally episodic, as in the style of The Odyssey, which is openly referenced by Edmund. I enjoyed this book a lot, but it does not quite reach the same level of greatness as some of the others. Aslan has become more Christlike than ever, and the religious parallels are pretty brazen. Toward the end of the book, we discover that he goes by another name in the realm of Edmund, Lucy and Eustace. There is much to excite and inspire the imagination of younger minds, if you can overlook some heavy handed symbolism and a rushed story. It could have used an extra chapter to flesh out the ending.

Rating: 3/5

Prince Caspian - C. S. Lewis

I used to subscribe to the argument that the Narnia books are best read chronologically, but I've since changed my mind. The stories flow better when read in order of publication due to the way C. S. Lewis' writing style and themes naturally evolve. Time has not been too kind to Prince Caspian, and it's quite a step down from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Set hundreds of years later, everything that was established in the first Narnia books is gone. All the named magical creatures are long dead, Cair Paravel lies in ruins, and the native Narnians have been invaded and almost led to extinction by an evil race of men called the Telmarines. The previous book had a dark tone too, but it was steeped in magic and fairytale. This time, the enemies are mundane humans and it all feels very depressing.

Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are called back into Narnia via a magic horn and many chapters are wasted with them wandering around trying to figure out where they are. After rescuing a red dwarf named Trumpkin from execution, they are told the story of Prince Caspian, heir to the throne, who is being hunted by his power hungry uncle, Miraz. The backstory runs on for a long time and ruins the pacing of the novel. By the time the Pevensey children are caught up, we're already halfway through. There's then a long trek with the children attemping to meet up with the Prince and his band of surviving Narnians to join the fight against Miraz and his army. Aslan puts in his customary appearance, and new talking animals such as Trufflehunter the badger, and Reepicheep the swordsman mouse are introduced. It's a disappointing, cynical follow up the excellent original story.

Rating: 3/5

The Horse and His Boy - C. S. Lewis

I always found The Horse and His Boy to be one of C. S. Lewis' weakest entries, but back in those days you couldn't just hop online to see what other people thought of it. I also never encountered anyone else who had read it, and it never received a screen adaptation, perhaps for reasons which will become evident by the end of this review. It was the fifth out of seven Narnia books to be published, but takes place during the Golden Age of Narnia when the Pevensey children from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe are still ruling. Much of the novel takes place in the Southern lands of Calormen, Lewis' attempt at enlarging the surrounding kingdoms and making his fantasy world more sprawling. The city of Tashban and the people of Calormen are heavily influenced by Middle Eastern culture, which has predictably led to lots of complaints about Orientalism due to the negative way they're depicted.

The story begins with Shasta, a poor foundling raised from a baby by an abusive fisherman. When he overhears his master plotting to sell him to a visiting nobleman, he steals the latter's horse and makes his escape. The horse turns out to be a talking steed called Bree who has kidnapped from Narnia as a foal and longs to return. Thus begins a perilous journey. They are sooner after joined by Aravis, a high born Calormen girl fleeing an arranged marriage with her own talking horse, Hwin. Accusations of racial stereotyping aside, I felt like the plot fell flatter than previous entries, lacked a lot of the humour and lightheartedness, and suffered from some pacing issues. There are some chapters were very little happens, and although the long trek across the desert is well written, it's still a very long trek to get through. I did enjoy it a lot more than I did as a child (the politics are more fun) but I'm rating it a 2 beause it's a poor Narnia entry.

Rating: 2/5

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C. S. Lewis

What can be written about this book that hasn't already been written? Everyone read it as a child, it's one of the most famous children's books ever written. The first to be published in the Chronicles of Narnia series, the story of the magic wardrobe and the realm beyond is one that has captivated people since 1950 and is heavily intertwined with a lot of my formative memories. It's probably a safe bet to say it was the first fantasy book I ever read. Revisiting it in 2023, there is still lots to love, but I was much taken with how much I misremembered. A testament to rich storytelling that engages the imagination and causes one to fill in the blanks, or the creative liberties taken by TV/film adaptations muddying the waters? The biggest surprise was the tea party at the beaver dam, which I remember as going on for ages, and only spans a couple of pages. The subject of eating is a very important, almost ritualistic one in this book, C. S. Lewis never neglects to tell us when characters are having their mealtimes, even in dire situations where a more modern novel wouldn't bother.

The plot introduces four siblings, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy who are sent to live with their uncle, an eccentric professor in a rambling country house to escape the Blitz in London. There they discover the magic wardrobe that transports first Lucy, then Edmund, and finally all of them into Narnia. An evil witch has cast a spell over the land, dooming it to eternal winter. An ancient prophecy stands to be fulfilled. The White Witch inveigles the troubled Edmund to her side with Turkish delight, it's a perfect blend of high blown fantasy themes and the everyday domestic. I think this is the thing about C. S. Lewis that always appealed to me over other fantasy writers, who tend to have more sterile, self important plots. Although a children's book, some of the themes are quite mature, and darker than what one would expect. I don't really have anything negative to write about this book, it offers up wholesome adventure that, despite its age and some antiquated language, has matured wonderfully. This book will certainly endure the purge.

Rating: 4/5

The Magician's Nephew - C. S. Lewis

Being the first chronological entry in the Chronicles of Narnia series, I cannot count the number of times I read The Magician's Nephew as a child. It was therefore with great familiarity that I picked up this book and embarked on my nostaglic re-reading as an adult. The words haven't aged at all, they were just as I had left them all those years ago, still fresh in my mind. After years of the ponderous Proust, it was a great treat to revisit a series that awakened my love of literature. It often seemed like there were two camps of fantasy lovers, those who were raised on Tolkien, and those by C. S. Lewis, I was definitely in the latter. Although not the strongest book in the series, it is far from the worst, and has always been one of my personal favourites. However, re-reading as an adult, I can see its deficits far more clearly.

Published in 1955, this entry is a prequel to The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and acts as an origin myth, documenting the birth of Narnia. The story begins with neighbours Digory and Polly exploring the former's creepy old attic, which his uncle Andrew, an amateur magician, uses as his study. They discover some magic rings with the power to transport them to different worlds, and here we learn that Narnia is far from being the only magical realm. A peaceful forest punctuated by many pools of water acts as a hub between worlds, with each pool being a portal to another world. Nowhere are the biblical parallels as strong as in this entry, Aslan walks around a Genesis black void, creating matter from nothing and breathing life into inanimate objects. The Witch is given an origin story, and later tries to tempt Digory into eating forbidden fruit in a paradisiacal garden. Even the infamous lamp post and the wardrobe are given origin stories. The plot is functional and fun, but nowhere near as enjoyable as the book that started it all off.

Rating: 3/5

Remembrance of Things Past: Volume 3 - Marcel Proust

A long time has elapsed since my last review, and even longer since I picked up the final volume of Proust's life work. I have been reading it on and off for almost exactly two years, a staggering record when it comes to my reading history. Indeed, I started on 20/12/21 and only finished on 19/11/23. Volume 3 incorporates The Captive, The Sweet Cheat Gone, and Time Regained. The first two deal with Proust's obsession and imprisonment of his mistress Albertine, who eventually escapes from him, whilst the latter deals with his post sanitorium days and his reflections on beginning the great work. I would be challenged to remember all of what transpired, but I do remember being, as is usual with Proust, insufferably bored. I only read the book in small doses, which is why it took me such a significant amount of time to finish. 

When I think of the years wasted on this enterprise, I do believe Proust has robbed me of time. Surely there must be some redeeming qualities in the text if I stuck with it? In truth, precious little. There are passages of profound clarity and insight to enrich the mind but they are so burdened down by trivial gossip and manic descriptions of aristocratic lineage that they can be hard to distinguish. An abridged version is most certainly needed, for there is much that can be cut. In addition to Albertine, Gilbert, the Duchesse de Guermantes, Robert de Saint-Loup etc., Proust returns to his observations of the Marquis de Charlus, a larger than life invert who in his later years frequents sex dungeons and have himself violently flogged. I did enjoy the closing chapters of the book where Proust finally finds his inspiration after a lifetime of indolence, there was much to relate to there. Overall though, this book has broken me, and I require literary healing.

Rating: 1/5

Mukiwa: A White Boy in Africa - Peter Godwin

Mukiwa was a book club choice from a neighbour who grew up in Zimbabwe through many of the conflicts described in this autobiography. It was interesting to learn the history behind the wars and massacres that reshaped Rhodesia into modern Zimbabwe, told from the perspective of a white settler who was eventually exiled from the land he loved. Peter's greatest strength in his writing is his ability to present a nuanced and unbiased account of the war, despite having been conscripted to fight against the guerillas. He avoids the temptation to depict the country's violent history through a modern, liberal lens, refusing to gloss over the atrocities committed by both sides, and the senseless loss of innocent lives caused through the collateral damage and corruption. Anyone hoping for a Guardian style account of 'white man evil, black man innocent' will be left disappointed. 

As with many true life historical accounts from someone who lived through such times, the reader will be subjected to a range of unpleasant emotions, predominantly anger at the cruelty and barbarism on display. This is certainly no read for the faint hearted, as it deals with some very distressing themes and recounts a whole slew of personal tragedies. One is given the sense of how cheap human lives are. Although Peter does an adequate job of describing the war, I don't have a head for politics so was frequently baffled by the different factions, leaders, and warring tribes. I often didn't understand why people were killing one another, and I also got the sense that, neither did they. Unfortunately, nothing has changed in Africa, it remains the same old bloodbath as it was during Godwin's time there. Still, it remains a land of exquisite beauty and wonder, but perhaps not fit for human habitation.

Rating: 3/5

Going Postal - Terry Pratchett

I had only read one other Terry Pratchett book former to Going Postal, and that was his first novel, The Carpet People, when I was a teenager. I didn't understand it, so I never bothered with any others. Going Postal was chosen for book club by a Pratchett fan due to it purportedly being one of his more accessible titles, but whether through reading whilst overly tired, or due to the often zany writing style and overinfusion of dry wit, or a lack of prior Discworld knowledge, I struggled to fully understand this one too. The confusing opening sequence went right over my head, which is followed by the false hanging of a conman called Moist von Lipwig. He is given a chance to redeem himself from his crimes by re-establishing the defunct post office of Ankh Morpork, which I assume is a major city of Discworld. Therein lies the problem, this being book no. 33 of the Discworld series, there is very little in the way of world building, and I had a lot of unanswered questions. However, as someone who hates the pandering of authors to new fans in having to re-explain the essentials in each book, I felt like I didn't have the right to complain about this.

For all my confusion, the plot of Going Postal was actually very enjoyable, even if the characters did have ridiculous names and Pratchett tried hard to force comedy into every sentence. The setting of a creaking old post office stuffed with mountains of unsent letters whispering to be delivered was a compelling one, and the rivalry with the technologically superior Clacks had relevant real world connotations. However, Pratchett does a poor job of explaining what the Clacks are to anyone with no experience with semaphore towers, and I finished the book none the wiser than when I began. I plan to watch the 2010 mini series just to get a handle on this, and also to make sense of the book's ending, which had me scratching my head. This book was a solid 3 stars for most of the read, but sadly plummeted to 2 after a fairly underwhelming, unsatisfactory, and puzzling denouement. Will I read more of Terry Pratchett in the future? Quite possibly, but not in any great hurry.

Rating: 2/5

Myths of the Norsemen - Roger Lancelyn Green

This month's book club offering was one I was happy to get involved in. I have long felt that my knowledge of Norse mythology was not as great as it could be, so I was eager to fill that gap. Does Roger Lancelyn Green deliver? To begin with, this Puffin Classics edition is a children's book, a selection of fifteen cherry picked stories from what I assume is a much wider canon. Each story is headed by an illustration by Alan Langford to set the flavour. The stories range from the creation of the Nine Realms, to the Aesir's forays into Jotunheim to battle the giants, to internal squabbles among the gods, to visions of Ragnarok. I would have liked the event of Ragnarok itself, but is that even recorded in the Sagas, or do we only have prophecy? I enjoyed the tales, as many of them I was reading about for the first time, and they were competently written without pandering too much to children. A glossary is provided at the end.

Unfortunately, I do not feel like my Norse knowledge is sufficiently more enriched than before. Whilst this book is a good introduction to Norse mythology, it centres mostly on the most famous of the gods, namely Odin, Thor, and Loki. I still do not know much about the rest of them. With the exception of Freya, Baldur, and Iduna, the others were not given any standout tales of their own and act more like bystanders. A family tree of the giants and gods is provided, a very much appreciated addition, although due to the book's limited scope, it does reveal just how many of them don't get a look in. It should be pointed out that the short introduction to this edition, written by Michelle Paver, is very good. I would recommend this book as an accessible starting point to pique one's interest, but for the real deal, you'll need the Eddas.

Rating: 3/5

A Whole Life - Robert Seethaler

This book club pick was a brief interlude before the titan that is Marcel Proust, and at only 149 pages, I was able to finish it in a few sittings. The sparse narrative tells the story of Andreas Egger, a taciturn man who spends most of his whole life living in an Austrian mountain valley. The book is set in the mid-twentieth century, following Egger's career, beginning as a bastard foundling, through his years of solitude, working on cable car ski lifts, as a prisoner of war, and finally as an elderly mountain tour guide. The simplicity and concision of the text works well in depicting Egger's humble, morally unblemished and almost monastic existence. Despite a brief marriage that ends in tragedy, the man's life is one of isolation, therefore I imagine that a longer book would run the risk of getting quite boring.

A Whole Life was a quick and enjoyable read, with effective use of nature writing to paint the beauty and hostility of the mountains. There are some sage messages within about the understated value of physical labour and a low key existence. Egger works tirelessly on backbreaking tasks with minimum salary, and he does so without complaint. After the death of his wife, he practices a life of celibacy, shunning human society for the most part. As the world and technology changes around him, he becomes a living relic of a bygone age, eventually devolving into a state of pure lunacy. A quiet, unobtrusive novella, I would recommend it to anyone who needs to unwind after a more gruelling or obnoxious read.

Rating 3/5

The Little Prince: and Letter to a Hostage - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

One of my sisters read this years ago and was raving about how good it was. Sorry Dana, I disagree! It is a children's moralistic parable full of maudlin, overly sentimental missives on child wisdom, and a lamentation on how silly adults are. Perhaps I am simply the accosted here - the very figure Saint-Exupéry rails against. Whilst I do not necessarily disagree with the philosophies expounded, no one can really argue against 'It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye', the fact that such obvious advice needed to be written at all is rather irksome. Reddit is full of gushing reviews about how the book made them hyperventilate and sob uncontrollably, or about how they give it ritualistic readings every year. It seems very extreme. I also did not enjoy the illustrations, which, much like the story, are of a very simple, bare bones design. Suffice to say, the Little Prince did not charm me.

The story is not of much consequence. A pilot has crashed his plane in the Sahara desert and comes across the titular character whilst conducting repairs. The young boy reveals himself to be the sole inhabitant of another planet, and has been on a tour of the cosmos, meeting foolish characters along the way. There is a king with no subjects, a narcissist with no one to posture to, a drunkard, a businessman counting stars for the sake of it, an indolent geographer who never leaves his desk (perhaps a poke at academia?), and a blindly obedient lamplighter pursuing a redundant job. On Earth, the prince befriends a fox and a snake, the latter of which will later kill him in assisted suicide. Within this flimsy framework are scattered the life lessons Saint-Exupéry wishes to enlighten his readers with. Granted, this is a book for children, and as is usually the case, it has been hijacked by adults who have forgotten the essential truths.

Rating: 2/5