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Umberto Eco - The Name of the Rose (via booktumbling)

One of my favorite books of all time!

(via twowaymonologue)

Oh boy. I think I was twelve when I read this book, and though only 7 years ago, I remember next to nothing about it. I should probably read it again.

Heartily recommended - a great documentary about the aftermath of the assasination of Martin Luther King, where city authorities in Boston first attempted to ban a James Brown concert, and then ended up co-opting the concert into their plan to keep people off the street.

I’d always regarded Brown for his music, but felt a certain distaste for his kitsch and pomp - perhaps all centred in his Rocky IV ‘living in America’ quiff. Watching this documentary - a little bit like the recent The US Vs John Lennon - I got to see a different side of the artist. A man who, with all his ego and attitude navigated a difficult time in the history of his people and nation. The film shows loads of live clips of the concert, plus newsreel interviews with Brown from the time. The interesting thing is how he, a self-confessed non-pacifist (who had argued the point with Dr. King) used his groove to quieten the situation.

Finally got my hands on MJ Hyland’s This is How, and read it in two sittings. Some really great writing there, in a book which seems to have recieved overwhelmingly positive reviews - apart from a particularly brutal hatchet job by The Irish Times Eileen Battersby:

Most of the dialogue is wooden and flat, at times, downright ridiculous, almost as if attempting some level of parody. But the book is not clever enough for that. Patrick, the narrator, has dropped out of college and has run away from life. So far, so what? It is impossible to engage with this character as he is utterly unconvincing. Even had MJ Hyland not written such a good second novel as Carry Me Down which was short-listed for the 2006 Man Booker Prize, any reader would be asking questions as to how a narrative as ill-conceived as This Is How was ever published. The fact that it has is very serious, it does no service to the reader and does less to Hyland, and leaves one wondering would a book as poor have been published had it been a debut?

I can’t think of any recent review of a book that I’ve disagreed with more - it seems to me that Battersby is constantly attacking Hyland for not having written the book the reviewer would have liked to read, as opposed to finding concrete fault with the book in hand. The dialogue is tense and not particularly natural, but that’s because the narrator is a stilted uncomfortable man always out of the moment, and the book’s narrative is compellingly true to that personality. It’s a book told almost entirely in the present tense - where the narrator is surprised consistently by his own reactions, emotions, and actions. In this it’s close to Hyland’s previous novel Carry Me Down which Battersby apparently loved. It’s a mystery to me, then, how she could have disliked This is How so much.

Perhaps there’s a clue when Battersby concludes:

However presumptuous it may sound, having persevered through such a lacklustre yarn, I couldn’t help thinking that a potentially powerful tale of violence and perversion was lurking on the sidelines, just waiting to be written, but instead MJ Hyland merely opted for a tentative sketchy story that searched in vain for direction.

Judge for yourself - read the following and decide whether it’s a) brilliantly observed, or b) wooden and flat:

I put my bags down on the doorstep and knock three times. I don’t bang hard like a copper, but it’s not as though I’m ashamed to be knocking either. The Porch light comes on and the landlady opens the door. She’s younger and prettier than I expected. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Patrick’ ‘I thought you’d be here hours ago.’ It’s after ten and I was due at six. My mouth’s gone dry, but I smile as friendly as I can. ‘I missed the connection,’ I say. I’ve not meant the lie, but she’s forced me. ‘You’d better come in.’ We face each other in the hallway. I’ve got my back to the door and she’s got her back to the stairs. I should say something, but I can’t think what. I put my bags down again and my hands hang heavy. ‘You’ll have to meet the other boarders tomorrow,’ she says. ‘They’ve gone out.’ She takes hold of her long brown hair and pulls it over her left breast like a scarf. ‘Let me take your coat,’ she says. ‘I’m not bothered,’ I say. ‘I’ll keep it on.’ I want the pockets for my hands. ‘There’s a rack just beside you.’ ‘I’ve said I’ll leave it on.’ ‘I thought you might feel more comfortable with it off. It’s a very warm evening.’ She looks at me and I look at her and she takes a step back as though she blames the place where she’s standing for the silence.

Short, sharp, and ringingly true, the above passage is a good example of the style of the book. - I love that last bit in particular.