Skip to main content

A 50 Book Year #1: Sweet Thursday

Like most relatively chaotic indiciduals who don't have a clue what they want out of life, I'm fond of setting myself an arbitrary challenge in a probably vain attempt to impose some order on my otherwise aimless existence. This year's is to get back in the habit of reading.

2017 was absolute mayhem for me, what with one thing and another, and my reading was pretty woeful (as was the writing), as I realised with horror when I came to do a few end of year lit quizzes and discovered that I was way off the pace (my crossword game has gone to shit, too). This needs rectifying, I thought, so, remembering a challenge last undertaken (and documented in these pages) before the birth of son #1 I set myself the task of getting through fifty books this year.

20 year old me would scoff at this meagre total. But 20 year old me was a useless chancer with far too much time on his hands, far less talent than he thought he had and a questionable attitude towards most things. These days I'm quite busy. But, crucially, maybe not quite AS busy as I was this time last year. I've also got a marginally better work ethic. 50 seems gettable, just. A book a week-ish, I reckon I can handle that.

And the first one's in the bank as of last night. Steinbeck's Sweet Thursday. The sequel to one of my all-time comfort reads (Cannery Row) it was an undemanding, pleasant enough start to the year. You'd have to have a heart of stone not to find it uplifting, though there's always a part of you which wonders at Steinbeck's propensity for making drunks and criminals likeable (a contemporary NYT reviewer noted that he "melted before the drunken bum"). I'll confess I find some aspects of it problematic, but I think those problems are products of the passage of time (the whole hooker with a heart of gold thing has been done to death, for example). The language can read overly theatrical, with the overall effect ebing of a thirties screwball comedy made paper, but it's giddily enjoyable for that. In the character of Suzy, Steinbeck has managed to create a heroine who doesn't quite act the way you'd expect and Doc, as in the first book is interestingly complex, and is given added layers here with his knowledge of his increasing irrelevance as he ages. The main criticism, as with Cannery row, is the exaltation of Mack and the Boys into heroic figures. These are men who think nothing of casual violence, theft, drunkenness but aw, heck, they ain't bad guys. This central conceit still sits a little uneasily with me, and requires a sizeable suspension of disbelief to properrly enjoy the book. But there is a tremendous amount to enjoy here. It's a vivid book, painted in primary colours, but with a stealthy subtlety to its themes of free will, predestination and how best to live one's life. The slang is perfectly understandable (amusingly, the old copy I picked up comes with a glossary) and whilst a character such as Old Jingleballicks is improbably monstrous, he does serve to drive the plot along and illustrate Doc's state of mind in one of the novel's more subtle episodes (as well as provide the possibility of a satisfying post-plot life for Doc and Suzy). A cheerfully riotous way to start the year off, and a splash of sunshine in a Dreich January.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The last day of the county season

 Look, I never claimed to be cool. As a a cliched middle aged male, I have a number of interests which, if not exactly niche, are perhaps not freighted with glamour. Not exactly ones to set the heart racing. I yearn not for wakeboarding, my cocaine with minor celebrities days are well and truly behind me, you are unlikely to catch me writing graffiti under a motorway bridge. I do cycle, but only as a way of getting from point A to point B, you are unlikely, you will be relieved to hear, to see me purchasing lycra and or/doing triathlons. I like going for a nice walk. I'm fond of a good book. I have a deep attachment to county cricket. Yes, that's right, county, not even the international stuff which briefly captures the nation's fleeting attention once in a blue moon. County cricket. Somerset CCC to be precise, though I'll watch / listen to any of it. The unpopular part of an unpopular sport. Well, that's the public perception, the much maligned two men and a dog. N...

D-Day Dos and Don'ts for Dunces

Oh Rishi. Lad.  You have, by now, almost certainly become aware of the Prime Minister(for the time being)'s latest gaffe, as he returned home early from D-Day commemoration events in France, in order to "concentrate on an interview" which, as it turns out was already pre-recorded. There's been a fair bit of outrage, the word "disrespectful" is being bandied about a lot.  The word I'd use is "stupid". It is often said of the Brits that we have no religion but that the NHS is the closest thing we have to one. This, I think, is incorrect, because the fetishisation of WWII is to my mind, far closer to being our object of national veneration.  I understand why, last time we were relevant, fairly straightforwardly evil oppo, quite nice to be the good guys for a change, I absolutely get why the British public worship at the altar of a conflict which, I note, was a very long time ago. I think it's a bit daft, personally, but I understand it. So you...

The three most tedious food debates on the internet.

 I very much only have myself to blame. One of the less heralded aspects of running a business is that one is, regrettably, obliged to maintain a social media presence, it's just expected. And, if I have to do it, I'm going to do it very much in my own voice, as I don't tend to have time to stop and think when I'm bunging something on Insta. It seems to have worked okay so far. But, as a man better versed on the online world than he would prefer, I should have known better than to stick up a picture of our bread rolls, fresh out of the oven. In my defence, I did preface said picture by saying "one of the most tedious debates on the internet is what these are called...". Doubtless you've seen the argument somewhere, it's one of the workaday tropes that shithouse FB pages use to drive engagement. Need a few thousand clicks to raise the profile of your godawful local radio station/page about how everything was better in the past/shelter for confused cats?...