I managed to stick to my guns and read three of the ‘top five’ from my previous list – and in much quicker time. It was about a book per month since my last ‘Books wot I red‘ post in October, although I pretty much knew I’d devour two of those as they were in series’ I love. But the third was a US classic from 1925; would it send me rushing back to find more gems from yesteryear?
I’m sure this change of speed is a direct response to the fact I’ve been doing less reading and writing for work in recent months, concentrating more on planning, organisation and other projects (such as ad writing and infographics). Interestingly this has coincided with a big drop in computer gaming; I hadn’t played a thing since before Christmas until putting a little time into Avadon: The Black Fortress this week. But back to the plot…
The ‘Bryant & May’ series has the dubious honour of being the only one I actively follow and immediately buy any addition to. So when The Invisible Code by Christopher Fowler was released on paperback earlier this year, it was an instant purchase (hey, I like them – but I don’t hardback like them).
The Bryant and May novels are the perfect storm of writing for me. I love a good detective yarn, and even more so if it has an element of the supernatural about it (yes, I still mourn the X-Files and love Warehouse 13, Haven etc – despite them not really being very good).
And I’m fascinated by the more offbeat and often off-colour history of London, where I was born and brought up. These books have both, in spades, but more importantly they’re beautifully written and have one of the most endearing and colourful casts of characters I’ve ever come across.
Bryant and May are two detectives long past standard retirement age, working for the Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU); a fictional arm of the Home Office working outside of (and being loathed by) the capital’s Metropolitan Police. Only the strangest cases come their way, and even then only if they threaten the morale of the general public (a throwback to Second World War politics).
The banter between them is priceless, with Bryant taking on the Mulder roll (with added boiled sweets) and May that of (a male) Scully – except rather than looking to the sky’s for the truth (this isn’t sci-fi), Bryant looks to the history books for anything from secret societies to witchcraft. And they’re not like those overly silly X-Files episodes; these are wonderfully plotted and edgy stories brimming with intrigue.
Unlike many of these kinds of detective series, the supporting cast get almost as many pages as the stars. The whole of the PCU is vividly drawn, from their chinless superior right down to the office cat (and including several strong female characters). And don’t get me started on their Home Office nemesis…
If this sounds like your sort of thing, you’re probably advised to start at the beginning with Full Dark House. Its not the best in the series, chopping and changing between the present day and the Blitz, but its the only one that does so and really fills in the back story well (much like the first ever episode of Firefly).
As for The Invisible Code itself, its another great addition to the series. We learn a little of some of London’s lesser known yet fascinating churches – but also of gentlemen’s’ clubs whose ancient practises are as fascinating as they are horrific. But more importantly, Bryant and May find themselves having to try and help their nemesis save his wife from a terrible fate…
I’d loved the first book (and the film, as it happens) and had heard book two was every bit as good as the original. No pressure then. But the rumours were true.
I don’t have much to add to my feeling on the first book of The Hunger Games. The story moves on nicely, building on the original to take in a broader world view while adding meat to the main characters. The first half sets the scene nicely, before really cranking up the tension in the latter stages.
Again we have a strong exploration of the human condition, which is again very hand-holdy to help the younger audience the book is primarily aimed at. But again it doesn’t bother me; if it lets young teens tackle these difficult topics then more’s the better – and it just means I can skip about two pages in three and get to the meat on the bones!
I won’t discuss plot spoilers here as lets face it: this is a sequel – if you enjoyed The Hunger Games, you’re 99% likely to enjoy Catching Fire for most of the same reasons. When the action kicks off, it’s every bit as goose-bump inducing as it was the first time around. And if you haven’t read the first one, you should! As for the ending, it sets the final volume up beautifully. But despite this, I moved on to…
…The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I’d actually bought this as part of a gift set the previous Christmas for Zoe, as she’d expressed an interest in reading his work. She’d left it on the shelf, but I’d heard several people whose opinions I respect say good things about it, so gave it a go for a change if pace.
I thought it might be a good palate cleanser, a ‘classic’ of just 150 pages after reading various tales of mystery and fantasy. Unfortunately this page count was a lie; the truth being it was a normal length book but in teeny tiny font (it was the pictured Collins Classics version – try before you buy kids!). But I persevered.
It has that overly descriptive and wordy style you expect from books of the era; a pompous overuse of language thankfully largely behind us now. I struggle with it, to be honest, but have found in the past (reading Charles Dickens and Oscar Wilde, for example) that if the story is compelling enough I find it easy to wade on.
I struggled through the first half of the book, but around half way through things start to get interesting as the one thing the main protagonists can’t buy off – their deepest emotions – start to get the better of them.
The entire plot is built around the middle 20 pages of the book, in which Fitzgerald moves at pace from an unlikely love triangle set piece to an even less likely double tragedy. Everything before and after is either character development or nose-flicking at the unpalatable and pointless behaviour of those born into money and that don’t need to work (much like reading Made in Chelsea or The Karcrashians, but from 100 years ago).
I can see why it’s popular as a period piece, largely due to its attitude towards the rich and lazy, while parts of it I genuinely enjoyed (there is some fantastic uses of the word ‘shrubbery’, for example). But I think its fair to say I won’t be rushing off to discover the rest of his canon.
What’s next on the list?
I somehow managed to read my first, second and fourth choices (in that order) from last time; a rare feat of planning and execution! So nothing can go wrong this time, right?
- Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch. Number 1 at last, having been second and third on previous lists. Not only have I found my copy now after the move, but I’ve had more recommendations to read it – so read it I shall.
- Cognitive Surplus by Clay Shirky. Up to 2 after two lists at 3 and still here for the same reasons: “How to make a better world. I think it’s probably important to get up to speed on this.”
- Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. New entry! Having been blown away by the film, I was told the book was even more remarkable but in a different enough way to be a separate entity. Zoe’s folks had a copy, so it’s now waiting on the shelf.
- Dave Gorman vs The Rest of the World. New entry! A very funny and clever man talking about going around the world and playing strangers at games, from Monopoly to Tikal to darts. What’s not to like?
- Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop by Jeff Chang. Described as ‘the definitive history of rap music’, or ‘a history of of the hip-hop generation’, its a book I got several years ago as a gift and have been meaning to get to.