Good Omens

Title: Good Omens
Author: Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
Published: 1990, this edition is by Corgi.
Genre: It's the end of the wooorld!
Pages: 383


After finishing Why... I started on another book. It was kind of slow reading, but I kept going. Halfway through 400+ page book I realised that I don't really care what happens, in the story or to any of the characters. So I put that aside and, feeling a little burned out, picked up Good Omens. I was a wee teenager when I first read this, in Finnish, though, and the last time I remember reading it was when I was barely 20. So it was well due a re-read!

Misters Gaiman and Pratchett join forces to bring on the end of the wooorld! The combination of Pratchett's humour, Gaiman's darker style, and their shared awesomeness produced something that makes you laugh (and maybe even cry a little) despite the fact that Armageddon is here! The angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley have been kind of friends, despite the obvious differences, for some six thousand years. Living on the Earth in some kind of harmony, steering things gently their own ways, when needed, and feeding the ducks. When the Antichrist is finally born -and shuffled around by nuns with severe communication problems- and grows ready to instigate the end of the wooorld!, the friends realise that they don't actually really want that.

Added in the mix are the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of witch Agnes Nutter, her professional descendant, the Withchfinder army, the Four Horsemen -with modern horses- and the Antichrist and his gang. Plus some lost Tibetans. Oh, and angels and demons, of course. And my favourite fact of cassette tapes left in the car for more than a fortnight...

Good Omens was as fun as ever, and a nice pick-me-up in these dark days. Meaning, of course, November. 


Crowley, somewhere west of Amersham, hurtled through the night, snatched a tape at random and tried to wrestle it out of its brittle plastic box while staying on the road. The glare of a headlight proclaimed it to be Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Soothing music, that's what he needed. 
   He rammed it into the Blaupunkt.
   'Ohshitohshitohshit. Why now? Why me?' he muttered, as the familiar strains of Queen washed over him. 
   And suddenly, Freddie Mercury was speaking to him: BECAUSE YOU'VE EARNED IT, CROWLEY.

Why Don't You Stop Talking

Title: Why Don't You Stop Talking
Author: Jackie Kay
Published: 2002 by Picador
Genre: Short stories
Pages: 244


Ah man, these early winter months, they just suuuck the life right out of you, don't they? I've had zeeero interest in anything creative lately, including updating this little journal. I almost even gave up on reading there! That was a scary two days, I can tell you that...

I don't usually read short stories much, and after this collection, all I'm thinking is And why the hell not?! I really should, at least more by this particular writer! Why... was the second book I bought from London, while getting Misfortune, and while I've kind of regretted swapping this for Jackie Kay's Trumpet, which I was going to get first, it's now only a regret of getting to read that one later.

It's been what, a month or so, since I finished Why... so my memory is fuzzy, but many of the stories still keep coming up: images, phrases, how beautifully they were written. Physics and Chemistry actually made me cry. Happy tears, though! Aww. There are 14 stories altogether, mostly of women: mothers, daughters, girlfriends, wives, grandmothers, women who fancy other people's wives... all kinds. Normal lives, normal days, and you're in there with them. I will definitely try to get my grabby hands on more of her books!


   She let herself into her office on Kingsland High Street, Dalston Travel, and put her fresh fish in the fridge. (Now, she'd need to make sure not to forget her trout when she was leaving.) She made herself one of her three cups of coffee per day, stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar, the white killer, but what the hell, and sat down in front of her computer with her bagel. Friday was busy in Dalston Travel. Weekends made everybody think of going somewhere. Paris. Amsterdam. Madrid. Lyon. Bologna. Bruges. Brussels. On a Friday, Melanie prepared herself to expect anything.