The Fight

It always surprises people when I tell them that I like boxing. One of my earliest sporting memories is going to bed on the night of the second Tyson/Bruno fight and asking my Dad first thing the next morning whether Frank had done it. People think that liking boxing means that you are a bloodthirsty thug revelling in the pain of others with the sport taking such a beating to its reputation that even the exploits of Team GB at the Olympics, and Nicola Adams in particular, are unable to restore some pride back to this sport.

What's so captivating about boxing is that, unlike most other sports, it's not just the boxer's physical attributes that are on display but also their mental toughness and psyche. Take Tyson for example, he was probably the most destructive boxer of all time but had a defence made of glass. Granted, he usually was able to keep his opponent at bay without needing his defence, but when he was on the back-foot he was laid bare.  Look at the infamous Holyfield fight, when Holyfield had the upper hand Tyson blew a fuse and went for the most wantonly violent and despicable response possible. What does the act tell us? What does his shaky defence but awesome offence tell us? It's a psychologists dream. I doubt we'd glean as much insight into a person's character from a iffy backhand from Andy Murray.  

But when you discuss boxing you have to talk about Muhammad Ali. Ali elevated boxing to a art form. If he wasn't outboxing his opponent by dancing around the ring, he out thought them. His confidence and ego were off the scale. Even if he didn't tell us that he was 'The Greatest', his technique would have made this obvious on its own. 

Reading Norman Mailer's The Fight, you are reminded just how multi-layered the sport had become during the 1970s. In many ways boxing had begun to mirror the social fissures exposed in America during that period with the build up to the 'Rumble in the Jungle' taking on political and cultural significance. Ali with his Muslim faith and attachment to the Nation of Islam compared to George Foreman's identification with traditionalist America and the added dimension of the impact of decolonisation on Zaire. The Fight is a readable blend of sports writing and sociology which acknowledges the racial significance of the bout and can almost be read as a historical document of a seismic period of social change.

Mailer's reputation affords him incredibly close links to the camps of both boxers. The highlight of these behind-the-scenes glimpses for me was the late night jog Mailer takes with Ali which demonstrated a humbler side of his personality. What Mailer does best in the book is weave incidences such as this with the action in the ring and the psychology of the fighters and at the same placing the fight within context. It is this awareness of the fullness of boxing which makes The Fight a classic piece of sports writing. 

Finally, may I recommend that you watch the fight on YouTube (http://youtu.be/55AasOJZzDE) In my opinion Ali's 'rope-a-dope' strategy encapsulates how boxing is as much about out-thinking your opponent as out-boxing them. I just hope that the modern day sport begins to reach these heights again soon. 

The Crossing Places

After finishing Uni, one of my greatest delights was being able to read non-study related books guilt free. At Uni whenever I started a fun book I always had a niggling voice at the back of my mind telling me that I should be working or reading something worthier. In my first post-Uni job at Waterstone's, the Stieg Larsson novels were absolutely everywhere so I thought I should give them a try. I had never been a huge fan of crime fiction (although I do remember reading a Point Crime book at school) so my expectations were low. Maybe being released from my pop-fiction exile had a lot to do with it, but I enjoyed The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo greatly. Since then I've started reading a lot more crime novels and have even set up a crime reading group in Norwich (crimefictionnorwich@gmail.com) 

All of this is a rather tortuous (and perhaps irrelevant) set up to a review of Elly Griffiths' The Crossing Places. I had first heard of Elly Griffiths at work as all of her Ruth Galloway novels have been set in Norfolk. She had also visited the library recently for an event which went exceptionally well by all accounts. So, with the same sense of release that I found when reading the Stieg Larsson books and with every crime novel since, I looked forward to starting The Crossing Places. 

I wasn't disappointed either. By the end of the first chapter I had fallen in love with Griffiths' heroine Ruth Galloway. It is incredibly refreshing to have a lead character in a crime novel who is, well, normal. I will leave it to my friends to draw comparisons between myself and Ruth Galloway, so lets just say that I can relate to her rather a lot. Which is for the best really as the plot of the novel is a combination of fairly standard whodunit with lashings of pagan paraphernalia. It is the character of Ruth that keeps you interested throughout with her normal-ness keeping the plot rooted to some form of reality. I must say though that Griffiths' writing style is as down to earth as her lead character which makes the book a delight to read.

I look forward to reading Elly Griffiths' other novels to see how the character of Ruth evolves. I just hope that everything stays normal on the Western front (of Norfolk).

Don't Need The Sunshine

Just like a Mister Whippy ice cream, John Osborne’s latest book Don’t Need The Sunshine, brings back all the memories of summer holidays beside the seaside. By chance, all of my childhood haunts are here, Yarmouth, Hastings, Clacton, Brighton, even Jaywick. All those memories, all those ice creams.

Like his previous books, Radio Head and The Newsagent’s Window, DNTS is a witty read. It’s also very clear that John simply loves the seaside and all the memories that they evoke. Reading about his stay in Hastings I immediately remembered the fun my family used to have in our rented caravan, the terror of the smugglers caves and the rather busty ship’s masthead over a chippy which used to make my brother blush every time we walked past it. It felt like it was only yesterday.

There’s more to DNTS than nostalgia though, and as a work of travel writing there’s some interesting diversions to a Punch and Judy convention, lighthouses and saucy postcard museums. John Osborne’s ability to seamlessly glide from the caff from Gavin and Stacey to heart-warming reminisces with his Dad in Abergele makes the book a delight to read.

Previously I had wizzed through John’s previous books but I savoured very moment of DNTS and soaked up all of the memories that bobbed up as I was reading. Quite simply, it’s a lovely summer read. Now, where’s me bucket?

Checkout: A Life on the Tills

I'm a big fan of the publisher Gallic Books and heartily recommend the novels they've published, in particular The Elegance of the Hedgehog and the Hector series, as well as the fanatically dark and wry books by Pascal Garnier. It was a surprise for me to discover then that they also published non-fiction titles such as Checkout: A Life on the Tills by Anna Sam. 

As someone who has worked in retail on and off over the last few years, I guessed, with a certain degree of confidence, some of the many frustrations faced by Anna whilst working behind a till. That said, I found the book an eyeopening reminder of how retail workers are casually treated with utter disdain by both their employers and members of the public. 

Like Gallic's fiction titles, Checkout is written in a very readable and light style which gently drives home the book's simple message; supermarket workers are people too. Now, writing that sentence seems daft as it should be taken as given that, well in the words of Depeche Mode 'people are people', but after reading this book you realise that this isn't the case.

In some respects Checkout reminded me of the central message of Catlin Moran's amazing book How to be a Woman which is the earth-shattering plea to treat people nicely (if you haven't read it yet you should read it now!) At the risk of sounding like a revolutionary Marxist, just imagine how much nicer society could be if we all just respected each other more. If the supermarkets had more respect for their workers then maybe they would be given longer than eighteen minutes break in a six hour shift. Imagine what it would be like if people repressed some of their selfish urges and stopped pushing in front of pensioners in till queues. I better stop now before I start sounding like John Lennon.

So I do recommend Checkout, not so much for its literary qualities, but for its overriding message of simple civility. On that thought I'll leave you with the immortal words of Jerry Springer: 'Take care of yourselves, and each other'.

May We Be Forgiven

Like thousands of others, I picked up this book after A.M. Homes won the Women's Prize for Fiction - it beat the all conquering Hilary Mantel so it must be good, right? Right. 

I must admit that getting into this review has been a bit of a struggle (which doesn't bode well for the future wellbeing of the blog...) because May We Be Forgiven is so delightfully multi-layered that every time I grasped at a plot line or an overarching theme I just got carried away and thought of another one, or another, or how they are linked or...well you get the picture.  

MWBF has been inevitably (and endlessly) compared to The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and it is easy to see why. Both authors aspire to writing quintessentially 'Great American' novels and both place dysfunctional families at the heart of the action. Where I think Homes differs from Franzen, and in my opinion why MWBF will stay in the memory longer, is that whereas Franzen likes to take his time developing his characters and delights in making you second guess their motives, Homes detonates an explosive plot device and develops characters around this major event. And blimey what an explosion...

Family relationships, modern life, technology, Judaism, growing up, growing old, madness, and even the legacy of Richard Nixon; all of these themes are intelligently crafted into a plot laced with dark humour. Even after finishing the book two days ago, I'm still thinking about the relevance of scenes or themes which is the mark of a terrific read.

So I hope you give May We Be Forgiven a try. If you do, let me know what you thought of it. If you can give me a theory as to why Richard Nixon may link all of the different themes of the novel together, then definitely let me know. I just can't put my finger on it. I suppose he'll always be tricky. And never forgiven?

What's This All About Then?

I think this introduction may best be delivered in the form of a Q&A. With myself responding to what can only be described as a totally fictitious person whose resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. For arguments sake (and to make this contrived first post, the most awkward of all posts I hasten to add, even more so) let's call this interviewer Michael Perkinson.

MP: Who do you think you are? 
JC: I'm Jon and I like books.
MP: Woop-de-do, why do you think we want to know what you think chump?
JC: Well, I work in a library and help to buy the books. I've been working in the book trade for a few years now and -
MP: Yeah, yeah I get the picture. Now what's all this 'On the Shelf' tosh eh?
JC: You need a name for these things and as I'll be writing about books and records mainly, and as these usually reside on shelves, I thought it worked as a blog name. It's also a nerdy homage to a song by my favourite band Belle & Sebastian Put the Book Back on the Shelf. Additionally it's also a part of the world famous White Hart Lane, home to Tottenham Hotspur. The Shelf side of Tottenham if you're interested...
MP: Huh, what? I dozed off.

Dear reader, before you doze off like our curmudgeonly imaginary interviewer, may I say that I hope that you enjoy this blog and can I also encourage you to comment, tweet and/or email as and when you feel moved to do so. Tweet me @ontheshelfuk or email ontheshelfuk@gmail.com

Let's see how this goes eh?