Reading etc.

This Year’s For Me and You by Emily Bell

This was written by someone I know. That caveat aside, I really enjoyed it. It’s a funny Christmas read (although the author assures me that it is an appropriate read at any time of the year). I saved it up to read in December and I found it completely charming and very funny indeed in places. I am glad to finally know what hot yoga entails.

Stalking the Atomic City by Markiyan Kamysh

This is a very peculiar book written by a youngish man from Kiev whose father was one of the Chernobyl liquidators. He regularly visits the exclusion zone illegally. It’s quite short but the writing is more like poetry than prose (in translation at least). Interesting but weird.

The Bullet that Missed by Richard Osman

Another outing for the pensioner detectives – charming and readable as ever though the plots are getting more convoluted.

City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare

The final installment in this young adult series. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Is it pretty stupid? Yes also.

And Finally by Henry Marsh

Another book by the slightly odd neurosurgeon. He’s retired now. He is a strange man and this comes across in the book. At the same time a very sensitive compassionate person and someone marching to a different beat to the rest of humanity. Recommended.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

This is a tiny novella which I was VERY reluctant to read but my objections were overcome. I am so glad that I let myself be convinced. It is a beautiful, beautiful book. The writing is gorgeous and evocative. The story is a bit like a fable but the people are real. It is a bit sad but also, as our friends the critics say, life-affirming. A truly wonderful Christmas read. It’s set in the 1980s in an Ireland I remember so clearly but it seems like a long time ago. Highly recommended but you would want to be in the whole of your health.

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

I found this really hard going. It’s about a young Medici daughter who marries the Duke of Ferrara and then dies (honestly, not a spoiler). There was a lot of research went into it and you can tell. Not always an advantage.

The Idiot by Elif Batuman

Herself recommended this. It is about a college student who follows her romantic interest to Hungary. It feels entirely episodic like a series of articles strung together. There’s no real propelling forward of the narrative as a whole. That said some of the pieces are very good and the interactions of girls and their mothers is really well observed and frequently hilarious. I would try another.

Act of Oblivion by Robert Harris

I don’t know why I keep reading Robert Harris books when I really don’t go for him. It’s in hope. This is about the manhunt – in New England – for the regicides who signed the death warrant for Charles I. It’s just not for me. All very erudite and well-written but I found it a bit dull. There it is.

Your One Wild and Precious Life by Maureen Gaffney

Dear God in heaven. A friend gave me this when I took my break from work. It was kindly meant but self-help psychology is not a genre I read a lot. There is a reason for this. It drives me wild. I’ve been reading this in fits and starts since I got it last June. Everything is your mother’s fault or, if you are a mother, also your fault. I found myself passing my mother’s parenting style and my own under constant review as I read this and I did not enjoy it. I told various people about it as I ploughed through it and was asked subsequently, “How are you getting on with the wicked witch of the subconscious?”. Fair question. I was outraged to see in the acknowledgements that good friends of mine were thanked. It felt like they were out to get me too. I mentioned it to herself, “I’m surprised she didn’t thank her mother,” she said. I gave it to my sister when I was in Cork. She likes this kind of thing.

The Death of Grass by John Christopher

This was recommended in two podcasts I enjoy. It’s written in the 1950s and, the clue’s in the title, grass gets diseased and starts to die. It starts in the far East and then spreads and people begin to worry about starvation and order breaks down. It sounds like my cup of tea but though I found the concept clever, I just didn’t enjoy the novel. It felt way too dated for me.

I’m Sorry You Feel That Way by Rebecca Wait

I read a good review of this in the paper. I found it very interesting on the inner workings of a family – an English family – but, in some ways, universally applicable. Her characters are brilliantly drawn and lots happens to them. There are parts that are exceedingly funny. But yet, but yet, there’s something that didn’t quite work. I can’t put my finger on it. Might try another but wouldn’t be rushing out to buy one.

Une Femme by Annie Ernaux

This is a very short biography. It’s about the author’s mother’s life. It’s a companion piece to the book about her father which I read last year. Really, really good, beautifully written (v readable in French) and interesting but a bit grim. Not maybe a feelgood read.

Spare by Prince Harry

Sorry. It was on ten day non-reservable loan in the library and I couldn’t help myself. It’s not too bad actually. I watched him give an interview on the TV (Mr. Waffle sitting beside me reading the paper) and he talked a lot about his difficulties with the media. Mr. Waffle emerged briefly from his paper to say, “It’s like being cornered at a party by the man who wants to tell you about his dispute with the council.” Honestly, there is some truth in that. He is obsessed with the media. Overall, very readable though and mildly interesting in places.

I am an early adopter but I also tend to stick with things. This can be a poorish combination. I started this blog nearly 20 years ago (when blogging was new and exciting and I’m still going (even though it is definitely no longer new or at all exciting). When I started it was on the first blogging platform I came to on a list 20six (numbers tend to come before letters in these kind of lists).

When it folded, sometime in 2006, I think, I went on to WordPress. There are two types of WordPress blog – one that basically does all the work for you and one where you have to get your own domain name and which requires a bit of techy experticse to update. In retrospect, I cannot emphasise enough how much more suitable the former would have been for me but look, as the Irish politicians said after the banking crash, we are where we are. Over the years, I’ve paid for domain hosting (I know) and the odd tech person to do updates when it got beyond me and basically it’s been fine. I have enjoyed the WordPress experience.

The advent of the WordPress app was a boon allowing me to blog and note on the go (hold your uproarious laughter). It’s integrated with Jetpack which seems to be more statistical. I’ve never been super interested in my stats; I mean I would like to be an internet sensation but I’m ok with small numbers, it’s not like it’s a business or I’m trying to sell anything. So basically, Jetpack is not at all important to me. However, it seems to be a big part of the WordPress empire now. Since early November the app has been pretty glitchy – one of my most faithful readers cannot access my site at all. I am told to move to the Jetpack app which is even better (ahem) but if so I must get rid of the WordPress app as they don’t work together. Huh? And now when I publish my posts, I see that Jetpack is counting down the number of times I can share them (only 22 shares left!). I mean, I’m not hung up on stats but I would like to be in a position to let my 5 (or 6 on a good day) faithful readers know that there is deathless prose to be had. I see that if I “upgrade now” I can get more shares. If I click on the link I have to login to find out how much that service would be. Great. €25 a month apparently. I will not be paying that. I am filled with fury but it will pass. Sigh.

That is all.

I despair of getting it to work at the moment. Its had a long November. Haven’t we all? Something has been swallowed up in the ether. Will it reappear? Who knows?