Monsieur le Commandant

As I have mentioned previously on this humble blog, I am a huge fan of the publisher Gallic Books. Their books are laced with a wry humour and I have particularly enjoyed The President’s Hat, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, the Pascal Garnier novels and the Hector series. It was with great delight and gratefulness then that I was offered an advance copy of their latest book Monsieur le Commandant by Romain Slocombe.

From the outset it was clear that this would not be similar to Gallic’s usual offerings in regards to tone and subject. Monsieur le Commandant is a bleak and at times horrific account of the Nazi occupation of France and the actions of Paul-Jean Husson, an author turned fascist sympathiser and collaborator.

The book is fantastically written and translated and, despite the grizzlier parts, it is a good read. The horror and sheer inhumanity of occupation is conveyed deftly. One of my favourite novels is Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada which, like Monsieur le Commandant, is not the cheeriest of reads, but which is a gripping account of wartime life. I think it is fair to favourably compare both of these novels as they are both stories which need to be shared so that we can hope the horrors of the past do not return.

I also found Monsieur le Commandant interesting from a cultural and historical point of view. Britain did not have the same wartime experience of occupation and collaboration as France. As such I did find it harder to place myself within the historical context of the novel, however, this is where the quality of the writing shines through, as you are engaged with the basic humanity (or lack of) of the characters as they try and survive both the occupation and their consciences.

So may I recommend Monsieur le Commandant to you. It isn’t the cheeriest of books but it is one which must be read as we forget the tragedies of the past at our peril. You may wish to read The Elegance of the Hedgehog afterwards just to remind you that, although we can be monsters unto each other, there is plenty about this crazy planet of ours which can warm the heart. 

Post-Holiday Roundup

Hi folks. Sorry for the lack of posts lately, I've been on my holidays and have been letting myself go! (Mainly to the seaside) It had been a long old time since my last decent chunk of time off so I just let everything drift and enjoyed moving to my own beat. Which as it turned out, was more of a gentle two-step than a wild Charleston. Except for one night it must be said, when the lethal combination of great company, a splash of alcohol and Dexy's Midnight Runners fused together to result in what can only be called 'Dad dancing'. Enough of that though, the mental scars are too much to bear for some of my chumrades. But I digress. 

Before launching back into library life and, what Harvey Pekar called one of his strips, 'Awaking to the Terror of the New Day', I thought I'd do a quick round up of some of the books I've been reading lately. Think of this as a literary detox, a release of the words that have been buzzing around my head since I wrote to you last. 

Joyland by Stephen King
Much to my shame, before this book, I had never read anything by Stephen King. That said I can only assume that Joyland isn't really a true reflection of King's horror stylings. Published by pulp fiction nostalgists (and I use that word in a very positive sense) Hard Case Crime, Joyland isn't a horror novel. To be honest it isn't really a crime novel either. What it is though is a classic coming of age novel set in an old fashioned theme park during the 1970s. It will make your heart ache with winsome nostalgia and I will be very surprised if Joyland isn't make into a film before too long.

The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil by Stephen Collins
This is a great graphic novel. Witty and beautifully drawn, The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil is a funny fable about the impact of a hairy disorder on the obsessively neat and ordered island of Here and their (our) inability to control the unexpected, and in this case, unkempt. Even if you don't read graphic novels, please give this book a try, it's worth it for the puns alone, they quite literally made me 'lol' as the hip kids say. 

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
Although this book is fictional, I'm convinced that there is some autobiographical details in here. The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a modern fairytale in the fine traditions of Grimm. Charmingly fantastic and at times dark, this is classic Gaiman. Well worth a read.

The Starboard Sea by Amber Dermont
An ok read. Can best be summed up by the following words: preppy, confused, unbelievable, rah's, meh.

Double Indemnity by James M. Cain
Classic American noir. A femme fatal and a jaundiced insurance salesman plan to execute the perfect murder to pocket a hefty insurance payout. Written during those turbulent inter-war years, Double Indemnity reflects the uncertainty and cynicism of that time. I read this for my crime reading group and it proved to be a hit amongst us all. The film is a classic too, with the screenplay written by Raymond Chandler. 

Bonjour Tristesse & A Certain Smile by Françoise Sagan
I seem to have gotten into the habit of reading Bonjour Tristesse annually. My excuse for reading it this year is that it has been re-published by Penguin with a new translation by Heather Lloyd. Bonjour Tristesse is drenched in sunshine and is anchored in the changing world of the 1960s. Every time I read it previously it made me want to be at the beach, so this year I took it on my day out to the beautiful coastline at Weybourne. Perfect. If you like the chic stylings of the French new wave give Bonjour Tristesse a try. The other novel in the book A Certain Smile is also a great meditation on the emotional impact of love, desire and longing. It's almost enough to make you crave some Gitanes. 

The Stupid Footballer is Dead by Paul McVeigh
An unusual twist on the well travelled path of football autobiography, with former Spurs and Norwich midfielder Paul McVeigh sharing his thoughts on sports psychology and what it takes to be a professional footballer. In some ways this book has more in common with self-help books than sports writing. An interesting and well written read. 

Murder on the Eiffel Tower by Claud Izner
A Gallic crime novel set in late nineteenth-century Paris. A pleasant enough read and the first novel of a series. Although not amazing, I'll definitely try the next book. 

One Step Too Far by Tina Seskis
Very disappointing. The blurb suggests that there is a unexpected twist but, sorry to spoil the book, there isn't one. Maybe that's the twist...

And there you have it. If I had to recommend one book on that list for you then it would probably be Bonjour Tristesse. It's very cool. Enjoy!

Heft

I have a thing about coming-of-age novels, particularly American ones. I love The Perks of Being a Wallflower and really enjoyed The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian and even the Tales of the City series has a strong coming-of-age theme. I'm not sure if it's the sentimentality of these novels or the inherent character development that comes with growing up which makes these books so attractive to me. Perhaps it's just nostalgia for youth. I dunno. The American setting of these novels can't be underrated either, they're always more glamorous than Cricklewood and help to suck me into another world, another lifetime, another youth.

Liz Moore's Heft shares many of the same qualities as the books I've mentioned above with the main thrust being, young characters, on the cusp of adulthood, trying to work out this whole life thing. Heft differs in one unusual respect from other coming-of-age novels as there are not one, but two characters growing up. Kel Keller is an eighteen year old boy trying to get to grasps with who he is and Arthur Opp is a 550lb recluse who hasn't left his home in over a decade. It is this contrast between a youngster and a emotionally sensitive older man which makes Heft an engaging read. 

At times heartbreaking, Heft moved me. As I said before, the sentimentality of novels such as Heft really do affect me (perhaps I'm having a mid-twenties crisis). It had a perfect blend of plot and characterisation which had me gripped, staying up 'til the early hours to finish the book, something which hasn't happen to me for a fair while now (I think James Oswald's Natural Causes was the last novel to come close to this sensation). Read it and feel winsome.

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'.