Anansi Boys

Title: Anansi Boys
Author: Neil Gaiman
Reader: Lenny Henry
Published: 2005
Genre: Urban fantasy


I've wanted to read Anansi Boys again for a while now -it's been about five years since the last time!- and then remembered that there's an audio book version! And, people, damn it's good! The book is better than I remembered, and Mr. Henry delivers it masterfully. I spent last weekend with earplugs in, listening while cleaning, walking, shopping, pimping a few T-shirts, cooking, everything. That wasn't the original plan, but I didn't want to do the audio book equivalent of putting it down. Which, I guess, is still putting it down.

Fat Charlie Nancy, late of London, is getting married to his girlfriend Rosie, and while making the list of people to invite, she demands that he should invite his estranged father. As it turns out, Fat Charlie's dad has just died all the way over the Atlantic, and the funeral is... now. Fat Charlie -he's not really fat, not anymore, but this kind of names, they stuck- flies over just in time, and so begins his adventure of finding out so many strange things about his family. Including his brother: otherwise the name of the book would be Anansi Boy, wouldn't it?


   'Sorry about that,' he said to the spider, and, white wine slooshing comfortably around inside him, he said it aloud. 
   He put the card and the tumbler down on a cracked flagstone, and he lifted the tumbler, and waited for the spider to scuttle away. Instead, it simply sat, unmoving, on the face of the cheerful cartoon teddy bear on the birthday card. The man and the spider regarded each other.
   Something that Mrs Higgler said came to him then, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Perhaps it was the devil in him. Probably it was the alcohol.
   'If you see my brother,' said Fat Charlie to the spider, 'tell him he ought to come by and say hello.'
   The spider remained where it was, and raised one leg, almost as if it was thinking it over, then it scuttled across the flagstone towards the hedge, and was gone.


Reading that, I can still hear Mr. Henry's voice in my head. Nice.

Trumpet

Title: Trumpet
Author: Jackie Kay
Published: 1998 by Picador
Genre: Love, death and jazz
Pages: 278




Good things are worth waiting for. Last summer the SO and I visited London, and found this wonderful book shop, and since I was on a budget I had allowed myself only two books. I easily found 20. Trumpet was one I wanted to get, but ended up swopping it for another of Jackie Kay's books, and decided to get this one later. Well, later came, I bought the book and finally sat down to read it.


It became clear quite soon that I probably shouldn't read this one in public, as Kay's beautiful writing and the sheer amount of emotion made me tear up so many times. Trumpet is the story of famous jazz trumpeter Joss Moody, who dies after an illness, leaving behind loving wife and grown-up son, and the fact that he was physically a woman. While he was alive, only Joss and his wife Millie knew. Now, the truth is all over the tabloids, and the ones left alive are left to cope with it. Some, like an old musician friend, don't think nothing of it. Some, like the son Colman, have a harder time coming to terms with the lie and the truth.


Pardon my French, but this was a fucking beautiful book. I read the first 50 or so pages before the King in Yellow kind of fell on my lap, and thought to read a bit further yesterday. Take it slow, enjoy the book and a nice Sunday afternoon. Some tea. And then the book just ended. I could have put it down, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to part with the characters, didn't want it to end. But it did, and it was so worth the wait.




One of the bits in the papers said something like, 'Millie Moody must have felt lonely and frightened. Must have felt she was sitting on a time bomb.' But of course it didn't feel like that at all. I was never lonely, seldom frightened. I am frightened and lonely now. Our secretary said to me the day before I left to come here, 'You'll get over it.' From the look in her eyes, even she didn't believe that. I miss Joss. All this fuss has made the missing worse. I am the only one who can remember him the way he wanted to be remembered. 

The King in Yellow

Title: The King in Yellow
Author: Robert W. Chambers
Published: 1895
Genre: Science fiction short stories
Pages: ~200 on the Kindle




I was checking the internets on whether one of my new favourite authors Gemma Files has written any new books, and came across an anthology called A Season in Carcosa. "Wait a minute," I thought, "that sounds bloody familiar... from True Detective!" I've watched the TV-series twice, and will 'happily' watch it a few more times, I'm sure. The connection got me curious, and after some searching I found Ambrose Bierce's short story An Inhabitant of Carcosa, which apparently started the whole mythos that is going strong to this day.


Chambers's book followed soon after, and is a collection of short, spooky stories. The first five are more or less connected with the fictitious book within the book, the King in Yellow, which does funny things to the head when read. And they're pretty damn good and spooky. The horror is creeping and the stories captivating, even if I did guess some of the twists.

The last four stories are less disturbing bits about American artists in Paris. Not so good as the first five, but I did come for the spookiness. Stayed for the good writing. Will return to Carcosa for the creepiness.




Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink beneath the lake,
The shadows lengthen
          In Carcosa.


Strange is the night where the black stars rise, 
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
          Lost Carcosa.

Noitasiskokset

Nimi: Noitasiskokset
Alkuperäinen nimi: Wyrd Sisters
Kirjoittaja: Terry Pratchett
Julkaistu: 1988, suomeksi 1994
Genre: Huumorifantasiaa!
Sivuluku:


Mortin kanssa samasta joululahjapaketista paljastui tämä lemppari! Samoihin aikoihin luin huvikseni Shakespearea, joten entisessä linnassaan haahuileva kuninkaan haamu, kolme noitaa ja vallanhimoinen herttua vielä vallanhimoisemmalla vaimolla kuulostivat tutuilta.

Kuningas on kuollut, kauan linnassaan kummituksena haahuilkoon kuningas. Kruununperijä on toimitettu turvaan kolmen noidan, Muori Säävirkun, Nanny Auvomielen ja Magrat Kynsilaukan toimesta. Käsiään lähes tauotta pesevä herttua Felmet nousee Lancren valtaistuimelle, ja maa jatkaa kuin kuninkaille olisi luonnollista kuolla epäilyttävissä olosuhteissa. Kieltämättä se aika pitkälti onkin, mutta uusi hallitsija ei tunnu sopivan paikalleen.

Noitasiskokset ilmestyi vain vuotta myöhemmin kuin Mort, mutta kirjana tuntui paljon tasapainoisemmalta ja pratchettmaisemmalta. Huumoria ja vauhtia löytyy, samoin kuin niitä sivujen alareunoissa olevia lisähuomioita. Suomennoksessa oli myös useita paikoiltaan eksyneitä "-merkkejä, lienee ollut liikaa painon varastossa.

Tosiaan, tämän ja Mortin sain joululahjaksi 1994, mutta muistelen että luin ne kirjaston kirjoina jo tätä ennen. Pakostakin, koska ensimmäisen englanninkielisen Pratchettin ostin elokuussa 1994, tietoisena siitä että 1) tämä kannattaa ostaa, ja 2) nyt kannattaa harjoitella enkkua. Lords and Ladies on siis ihan eka Kiekkomaailma-kirjani. Jee. Tämä tieto tekee minut ainakin iloiseksi.


   Muori kääntyi ja katseli porteille. Vartiossa oli kaksi erittäin huolestuneen näköistä miestä. Muori käveli heidän eteensä ja naulitsi katseensa toiseen. 
   "Minä olen vähäinen vanha omenienmyyjä", hän sanoi äänellä joka olisi sopinut paremmin vihollisuuksien avaamiseen sodassa jossa tykinkantama oli keskiluokkaa. "Ole hyvä ja päästä minut sisään, poikakulta." Viimeisessä sanassa oli veitsiä.
   "Kukaan ei saa astua sisälle linnaan", sanoi toinen vartija. "Herttuan määräys."
   Muori kohautti harteitaan. Omenanmyyjän pelinavaus oli hänen muistaakseen toiminut vain kerran koko noituuden historiassa, mutta siitä oli tullut traditio.

Lasiruumiit

Nimi: Lasiruumiit
Alkuperäinen nimi: Glaskroppar
Kirjoittaja: Erik Axl Sund
Julkaistu: 2014, suomeksi 2015
Genre: Dekkari
Sivuluku: 411




Sundin seuraava suomennettu, varaussijasta 166 huolimatta sain sen käsiini Bestseller-hyllyä (ei varattavissa) päivittäin kyttäämällä Nowkun sitä ihkutettua. Varistyttö-trilogian jälkeen tiesi että mitään hilpeää ei ole odotettavissa, mutta pikavauhdilla lukemani kirja yllätti silti.


Ruotsissa taas ollaan, nuorten itsemurha-aallon keskellä. Teinit kuolevat eri tavoin, melko mielikuvituksellisesti ja vatsaa vääntävästi. Kuolleita ei voi yhdistää toisiinsa muuten kuin että he ovat juuri ennen kuolemaansa kuunnelleet musiikkia korvalappustereoista. Sellaisista kasettimallisista. Samaa bändiä, jonka kaikki tuntuvat tietävän mutta josta ei kuitenkaan tiedetä varmasti paljon mitään: Nälkä.


Varistyttö-kirjoista tuttun Jens Hurtig saa homman hoidettavakseen, eikä asiasta ymmärrettävästi kovasti ilahdu. Vaikka kirjassa on samoja hahmoja kuin trilogiassa, pystyy sen lukemaan omillaankin. Toki koska kaikki ovat niin jännittäviä ja taidokkaasti kirjoitettuja, kannattaa lukea koko 'sarja'. Mutta piti tämän jälkeen taas lukea jotain vähemmän ranteet auki -meininkiä.




Carita Hallgren Morgongåvasta toimitetaan Ivo Andricille kahtena kappaleena. Hänen päänsä irrotti ruumiista kahden millimetrin paksuinen pianonkieli ja Mercedes, jossa on kahdensadan hevosvoiman moottori. 
   Hänen vaatteensa ja omaisuutensa, T-paita, farkut, kaksi niittivyötä ja lisäksi korvalappustereot kasetteineen ja kuulokkeineen, on lähetetty teknisen puolen tutkijoille, ja sitten ne päätyvät Jens Hurtigin pöydälle.

Mr Norris Changes Trains

Title: Mr Norris Changes Trains
Author: Christopher Isherwood
Published: 1935, this edition 1999 from Vintage
Genre: Historical fiction
Pages: 230


I am so sorry, Mr Isherwood. I started Mr Norris sometime in... March? And then Älä koskaan pyyhi kyyneleitä paljain käsin happened. And Varistyttö and its sequels. And Mr Millar's new book, the Goddess of Buttercups and Daisies. And a couple of Pratchetts. So, since I owned Mr Norris, all the library books kinda came first.  But when I picked it back up, and had more than five minutes to really sink into it, the pages just flew.

It's the 1930's, and William Bradshaw is traveling to Berlin, to teach English to the locals. On the train he meets a very nervous, small man called Arthur Norris, who's like that one slightly greasy uncle everyone has. They strike a friendship, two Englishmen in Germany, and we the readers, with William, spend the rest of the book wondering what bumbling Mr Norris and his shady deals are really about. Not to mention that shady secretary.

The Nazis are on the streets already, communists as well, politics all over the place, the war looming, but no one yet knows just how bad it is going to get. It's the calm before the storm, and Mr Isherwood writes it beautifully.


   Arthur's hand was straying abstractedly over Anni's thigh. She raised herself and smacked it sharply, with the impersonal viciousness of a cat.
   'Oh, dear, I'm afraid you're in a very cruel mood this evening! I see I shall be corrected for this. Anni is an exceedingly severe young lady!' Arthur sniggered loudly: continued conversationally in English: 'Do you think it's an exquisitely beautiful face? Like a Raphael Madonna. The other day I made an epigram. I said, Anni's beauty is only sin-deep. I hope that's original? Is it? Please laugh.'
   'I think it's very good indeed.' 

From Hell

Title: From Hell
Writer: Alan Moore
Artist: Eddie Campbell
Published: Originally 1989
Genre: Crime/horror
Pages: Very many.


Some months, maybe a year ago, before buying the actual Kindle, I bought From Hell as a Kindle version, since it was for sale and, you know, it's such a good story. It's also a very thick print volume, and heavy. So heavy, a strain on my poor fragile little wrists.

I wrote a more in-depth report some years back on the graphic novel itself; this one's more on the Kindle version. Reading a comic book/graphic novel (I'm just going to write comic as it's short and easy, although not a grand enough word for this work of art) on the mobile screen or on a tablet doesn't sound like a very good idea, since the pictures, not to mention words, would be so small. On the Kindle you can easily tap and zoom on one picture at a time, and move onto the next as easily as if turning a page. About 90% of the pictures in From Hell are the same size and shape, which happens to fit perfectly on the Kindle screen. So that's lucky! Some were a bit more challenging, and there were a few pages where some images were skipped completely, and some zoomed only in part. 

The images were a bit fuzzy, though, since they were much bigger on screen than they are on printed page. But, you know, I didn't need to see what was happening to Mary Kelly in that high a definition. Thankfully From Hell is completely black and white. So is the Kindle Paperwhite, so reading a coloured comic would lose something. Colours show up on the mobile screen, of course, so there it wouldn't be a problem.

Just to be thorough, and procrastination, I just checked how the comic looks on my mobile. It's a Samsung SIII so the screen is reasonably large. The Kindle app shows the whole page at once, and upon tapping a single image, it enlargens it slightly. Very slightly. It's still readable, but not much detail shows. So, Kindle wins that round, but printed comic takes the cake.


   "Do you possess materials for writing?"
   "Over on the side there, sir, but..."
   "Splendid! Then you shall write whilst I dictate. We're going to write a letter, Netley."
   "A letter? 'oo to?"
   "Oh, Mr. Lusk, perhaps, or his Whitechapel Vigilance Committee. I wonder, Netley... how would you begin a missive of this kind?"
   "Uh, well... I suppose I'd put "Dear Mr. Lusk", sir..."
   "Oh, come, now. Are you not aware that one begins a letter with one's own address? "From Hell", Netley. Write that down. From Hell."


Damn it. I only went to look for a nice quote. Now I want to read it again. With all the little Appendix-details.

Lux the Poet

Title: Lux the Poet
Author: Martin Millar
Published: Not sure of this Kindle version
Genre: Fun fiction
Pages: 160


What can I say about Lux that I haven't said before? Except that has it really been FOUR years since I last read it?! Feels like a lot less. Anyway. Since it's one of my absolute favourite books, I bought it on the Kindle as soon as it was 'available'. I don't know, sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. I haven't figured this Kindle thing completely out yet.

To my giddy delight, the poet Luxos was in Mr Millar's latest book (I hadn't read anything about it before it came out, jumped in blind, pleasantly surprised!), and I got the urge to read Lux the Poet again. Is this really only the fourth time? Maybe I've read it more, but haven't reported here, not to seem... obsessive or something. I don't know. It's a good book! Makes you happy and stuff, even if it's set within a riot, and there are plenty of serious issues and even graphic violence. Still. I love it.


   They walk on in silence for a while, but Lux has an urge to talk.
   "Brixton is in chaos," he says out loud to the whole world. "All around buildings burn whilst police and rioters battle it out. Somewhere in the darkness a hell-spawned band of heavy metal thrashers are trying to inflict their dire music on an innocent public. Only Lux can stop them. Elsewhere unknown forces claiming to be computer police pursue their own nefarious ends and men in vans try to stuff diamond rings down the throats of harmless onlookers."
   His voice gets louder. "Meanwhile Pearl is sinking in a swamp of utter helplessness, partly of her own making, obstinately refusing the help of Lux, the only person standing in the way of total disaster, striding gamely through every trouble that life throws at him and laughing in the face of adversity. Lux, hero of film and poetry notebook, shining spirit, guardian of artistic sensibilities, fearless pursuer after..."
   "Shut up, Lux," says Kalia, and stoops to help a young child back onto her bicycle.
   "I can't help it. I'm bored."
   "We're in the middle of a riot."