Billybob

You'll be delighted to know that my failsafe computer tactic - ignore the problem and it will go away - has once more worked its magic. My 'b' key, though needing a tiny bit more persuasion than the others, is almost as good as new. All through the magic of ignoring the issue. Trust me, if restarting the computer doesn't fix the issue, then try ignoring it. Like all other dangerous animals, it secretly craves attention, and will right itself if is starved of it.
So why is this particularly pertinent today? Well, I realised I hadn't blogged properly about Shakespeare by Bill Bryson. That's a lot of 'b's, especially when you remember that William is known fondly as Billybob by myself and others who took the Shakespeare paper alongside me in finals.

The Carbon Copy bought me Shakespeare for my birthday, along with the wonderful and moving film Amazing Grace and, possibly my favourite, a little picture of Eeyore receiving his birthday balloon. My previous experience with Bill Bryson is positive - loved Mother Tongue, which I read about five years ago. Fascinating stuff on the evolution of the English language, and incredibly readable.

'Readable' always sounds a bit like damning with faint praise - cereal packets deserve the same honour - but it really isn't. Take it from one who had to read a lot of literary criticism, readability (is that a word?) is a must. Shakespeare follows suit - Bryson has obviously done a great deal of arduous and scholarly research, and the resulting book manages to be both deeply informative and incredibly amusing. Tricky combination.

So why do we need another book about Shakespeare? Bryson is honest enough to tell us how many thousands are on offer. Can't remember the exact amount, but enough to make sure I could comfortably be reading a book about Shakespare every week for the rest of my life - not mentioning the rate at which they're still being published. What sets this book apart is that Bryson's character and authorship is expressed through style and wit, not groundless speculation or wide context. Shakespeare is only about 200 pages long, but it is an essential and reliable tome. Everything we know about Shakespeare is in here. A few theories and possibilities are mentioned, but they are shown to be just that, and not argued as certain. The funniest chapter is the final one, on Anti-Stratford theorists i.e. those who, for some reason or other, refuse to believe Billybob wrote his plays. Littered with such scathing lines as "an excellent theory, if it weren't for the complete lack of evidence to support it," and "X demonstrated amazing foresight in, seeing as he died before many of Shakespeare's plays were written, secreting enough manuscripts that they could be gradually released, and correctly estimating the time period between his own and Shakespeare's death". I paraphrase, but you get the gist - very funny.

For the rest of the book - the first chapters sketch out Shakespeare's life; where he was, different instances at which he is mention in some document or other. A nice touch is that Bryson often details the person who discovered a new fact about Billybob, often through laborious and painstaking reading of many manuscripts and documents. Credit where due, is Bryson's motto. Subsequent chapters talk about the plays and the sonnets - not lit crit, but where they were performed or when they were first published. All very interesting, and if it sounds dry (and to me it doesn't!) then Bryson's wit and charm will fascinate you.

There have been thousands of books written about Billybob, and I daresay there will be thousands more, but for the facts in an engaging and funny way, this can't be bettered.

Free the Rice!

Sorry, been feeling sleepy of late. Clearly the lengthy time-off I took has left me unprepared for the world of work - or, more specifically, the early wake-up time. I consider myself quite a morning person, but there are limits. Once I have a cup of tea inside me, though, I'm bright n' breezy.

Thought I'd share a couple of things today, in lieu of anything particularly bookish to report (though am immersed in The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters and may not emerge for some time)

1) Handed in my Masters Application for English Literature 1900-Present! Yes, back here I annouced my intentions (sounds like I'm an Austen hero requesting a lady's hand in marriage) and, but a short 2.5 months later, I handed the forms in. Nine days before the deadline, mind, which in my book is organised. Should find out whether or not I've got a place in about two month's time.

2) www.freerice.com
Not in the sense of freeing injustly imprisoned rice (though that is also a worthy cause) or even the United States Secretary of State. This website, which can speedily become addictive, combines both a love of language and charitable giving. It's basically a game of synonyms - a word is given, you choose between four possible definitions/synonyms/vaguely-related-words-sometimes - every time you click, the companies which advertise on the site will give rice to United Nations World Food Programme. I don't know the ins and outs of this organisation, but it certainly seems more + than - . And the worst that can happen is that I procrastinate for a few minutes.
Go try. The words get harder as you get more correct (and easier if you get them wrong) with a running 'vocab level'. This goes up to 50, but I haven't got higher than 45... very addictive game. But with the added bonus of absolutely no guilt.

Sir Edmund Hillary

Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to climb Mt. Everest, died this morning. He was 88.


On May 29, 1953, Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norway conquered the world's highest peak, with equipment and support that is considerably outdated today. Knighted by the Queen of England on his return, Hillary then became a passionate advocate for improvement of Nepal's social infrastructure, most notably schools and health clinics. Hillary also led the campaign to clean up the mountain's south face, which over the years had become polluted from the debris left by mountaineers. He certainly had his fair share of controversy, but few can argue that the man always tried to do the right thing, and was more than successful than most in this endeavor.


I've always thought that you don't have to be born with special gifts to achieve success, that much can be accomplished with intelligence and sheer force of will. I believe Sir Edmund agreed.


"It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves."

- Sir Edmund Hillary.

What's Simon Booked?

I've booked some of these lessons:


What do you reckon it is? No, not golf.

Driving.

Ha ha ha. Ha. Ha...
(I warn you - my knowledge of golf begins and ends with that pun).

Watch out motorists and pedestrians of Britain, I am going to try to learn to drive. Eek. Quite, quite terrified, truth be told, and also rather poorer fiscally. I'm doing it a bit late (nice to know I can be old for certain things) mostly because I was too scared to try before, but I've realised that my dream of a rural idyll would be rather compromised by not being able to get to and from it. So, shall spend three weeks at a 'simulation centre', whatever that is (six hours in these three weeks, you understand, not the whole lot) and then hit the road... agh!

P.s. stories of how you and all around you nearly died whilst learning to drive not particularly welcome right now...

The Kite Runner - and a pondering...

I read The Kite Runner for Book Group last week, and after a few people raved about it, I was expecting something brilliant. Well, I quite liked it - there we go, nothing if not effusive! The first 100 pages or so were great - a very vivid and complex portrait of an unequal fraternal relationship. Fascinating glimpse at issues of servitude, power, jealousy, love and a very believable pair of main characters. For those not in the know, Hassan is the son of Amir's father's Hazara servant - so the boys are the same age, and very close, but in very different circumstances. Perhaps their relationship is best shown in the sport which gives the novel its title - Amir flies his kite in an important local competition; Hassan is one of those who run after the cut-down kites, to keep as prizes. Hassan runs after them in order that he can give the kite to Amir - and his loyalty is such that he will endure much rather than relinquish the kite.

There is an event about 100 pages in which changes the lives of the central characters, the nature of the relationship, and the rest of the novel. To be fair to Khaled Hosseini (the author) the event doesn't feel signposted in any way. I'm always annoyed by pages which scream "Look! Most Important Event Happening Here! Get Ready For Everything To Change!" But after it happens, the main force of the novel is lost. I waded through the remaining 200 or so pages with some interest, but The Kite Runner had rather, ahem, run out of steam.

And it got me thinking. Much of the reason I didn't enjoy the second half of the book, aside from its having lost momentum, was the violence and gore it involved. Don't get me wrong, this wasn't a slasher-horror or anything, it was just rather too much for a reader with as squeamish an imagination as mine. I think that political situations are best told through character, rather than graphic description. It's easy to write something fairly disgusting (it's farcically easy to write something which will make me feel ill) but difficult to write in such a way as creates true empathy.

So what was my pondering - it was about novels being challenging. Challenging mindsets and emotions rather than using long words, of course. I've always just assumed that they should (sometimes) be challenging - and in some areas I still do. I love it when novels change the way I think, especially the way I think about people, but I will no longer feel guilty for squeamishness. I always thought the fault was with me, being put off by novels too 'challenging', whilst now I think they're just difficult to read without feeling ill.

Hmm. I'm still not entirely sure, though.

Golden Globes Ceremony Canceled

The ceremony for the 65th annual Golden Globes has now been canceled, as have the after-parties that follow. As I wrote in a previous post, the WGA and the Hollywood Foreign Press Association were unable to come to an interim deal that would allow writers to work on the show. In addition, if no deal was reached than the SAG-nominated actors stated that they would not cross the picket line and attend the show.

Since it's pretty lame to have a televised party that no one watches and no one attends, the HFPA canceled the ceremony and will announce the winners in a news conference.

Eeeeeee!

It's fair to say that I'm pretty excited.

If this were the only thing to come from my blog, then it would all be worth it. Not that blogging is a chore. But I can't ask for much more than came through my letterbox - the paperback version of Angela Young's wonderful Speaking of Love. It was one of my favourite reads of last year, and the original review can be found here. Do go and see what I thought.

Angela read my review and wrote about it on her blog, and obviously her publishers - the aptly named Beautiful Books - also got to hear about. Then a while later I got an email asking if I would mind them citing me on the back of the paperback - did I mind! You can guess that, not only did I not mind, but I was deliriously happy. This is still Angela's wonderful, sensitive, emotive, beautiful book - but I like to think I share a tiny, tiny fraction of the cover, at least. Here I am:


So now you have two reasons to buy it. Not yet, though - wait until March. I'll let you know when, of course.

And for those counting, this doesn't contravene my self-imposed restriction on book buying during January, since this was a gift. Canny, no?