This book has been to hand in my car for longer than I can remember. At least a year or two I'd say. It's a book that I have readily dipped into and out of when sat in the car, held up or waiting for someone to arrive. Admittedly not that often hence the duration.
It's the perfect book for that sort of leisurely approach to reading, being an almost anecdotal, observational critique of the darker quirks and troubled psyche that helped shape the musical output of several leading lights of '60s songwriting talent: namely Nick Drake, Syd Barrett, David Bowie, Ray Davies, Pete Townsend and others in their various yet interlinked circles.
I realised the other day, sitting in the car park at Crystal Palace station, that I've reached the final closing segment where these tremendously influential writers ultimately hand over to the glam, punk and new futurist generations that follow on, drawing inspiration from their often tortured experimentation and exploration.
Somehow I feel I should start again at the beginning. It's packed full of 'behind the scenes and inside the minds' thought provoking details.
Just continuing some basic research / background reading about the emergence of British counter-culture, especially in west London from the mid-60s to the early 70s. This is just four of the books ahead of me.
Writer Mick Farren was the founder of The Deviants and then the Pink Fairies, two of the leading underground bands in Notting Hill + Ladbroke Grove; Richard Neville published OZ magazine; and Jonathan Green is a key commentator on the period, having initially written for IT, OZ, Frendz and Rolling Stone magazines.
Jonathan Green gathers together words from several different people, building a chronological sequence that effectively uses the many voices to lead the reader through a single story over a number of years. One quote leads on from another, like a stream of consciousness, but a stream from 100 different people , each introducing the next and the next.
Seemingly every person who had any role to play, no matter how small, in shaping the 'underground' is interviewed or quoted.
With these books, and more, I'm therefore anticipating a serious amount of reading over the coming weeks. I could be gone some time.
One day, the day that never comes will come, and then it will continue coming, again and again, in a series of revengeful, gruesome murders.
This is volume two of a four volume set which follows the haphazard actions and mis-steps of three unlikely, or at least only partially likely, friends and erstwhile colleagues as they become willingly embroiled firstly in forming a detective agency (currently without a licence) and immediately even more deeply embroiled in finding who's responsible for the above mentioned series of murders.
I loved the first in the series so much, I immediately went online and bought the other three in this sequence. And a couple of others (presumably with a different cast of characters) in a follow up series.
This author is ridiculously prolific, and seems to be self-publishing. The books have that print-on-demand feel to them. So fair play to him, as they would definitely say in Dublin. I love his absolute command of Dublin vernacular and dry, cynical, Irish wit. It's almost as if he's writing them as fast as I can read them. And that's fast because they are SO readable.
Read my post about the first in the series just a couple of weeks ago and you'll get the gist. I haven't finished this one yet, and I'm already anticipating the next.
I really like the way Lily Allen tells her truth. Her candid honesty. Simple. To the point and no holding back. It's refreshing. She talks about her confusions in growing up, and thereby growing into her life, without sounding confused.
I also really like her songwriting. It was always her astute lyrics, both observational and interwoven with intricate yet simple wordplay, that I like most about her albums.
As does she... in the closing chapters she confesses: "It turns out I'm a songwriter. It turns out my job is to write about what I see and what I've learned and what I feel and what I know. I then sing out those words using the best voice I can. It's not world class but it's honest and it's true." To paraphrase her song 'The Fear', at its best her voice is her weapon of massive disfunction.
Then ultimately she concludes, and re-confirms what the book is all about, by addressing the question: "Do you want fame and money, or do you want to make a record that is real and honest?" Struggling with the former she has achieved the latter.
I seldom, if ever, take quotes from any of the books that I write about, but in this un-ironic way she's summed up why I like Lily Allen, and why I enjoyed this book, with those two simple observations. My thoughts exactly.
@lilyallen #thefear
When I was dropping off some books at my local Oxfam the other day, I spotted this clean, unread copy of Pete Brown's (borderline crazy) tale of traversing the globe with a barrel of beer. He set off to prove the myth attached to brewing an IPA in Burton-on-Trent before shipping to India in order for it to become fully ready for consumption. Surprisingly, although familiar with the outline of the story (from Pete himself) I hadn't read the book yet so snapped it up. £3.99 well spent, except for Pete as no more royalties will be coming his way. Sorry.
@petebrownbeer@panmacmillan
I'm two thirds the way through reading this three volume set of Arthur Ferrier's pre- and post-war illustrations for Blighty magazine. But taking my time to savour each glorious page.
Lovingly compiled and designed by Rian Hughes, it was Kickstarter funded and released at the end of last year. Packed with hundreds of b/w, 2-colour and full colour illustrations in over 900 pages across all three volumes, it's an almost overwhelming collection.
In addition each volume has several period articles written by Ferrier himself outlining his working methods and offering invaluable tips and advice for the budding magazine illustrators of the day. I really can't praise this impeccable collection enough.
—
@koreropress@device_fonts #rianhughes
I love it when some new author and his debut book turns up out of the blue. This was given to me as a sort of random gift a few days ago by @lunarjeep — Immediately intrigued I started reading immediately and was hooked. I loved it. A story set in present day Dublin, written by a Dubliner, with totally contemporary Irish dialogue and humour. It's action-packed from the first few pages. Now I find out it's the first in a trilogy (of four books of course). Obvs I'm coming back for more. As it says on the back cover blurb, in the right hands it has the making of a great film. A sort of Irish 'Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels'.
I bought this book from the author himself at his stall in a craft market in the recently renovated Victorian underpass beneath Crystal Palace Parade. He lives locally, and I am always keen to be supportive of local arts initiatives.
It is his first novel, but one of a number each with colour in the title. I also bought The Green Door.
The narrative moves rapidly along at a fair old pace. The author lives in 'south London', and I got the distinct impression that much of the action takes place in a thinly disguised Crystal Palace. I read most of it in one morning, but the blurb on the back cover suggests a twist in the tale is coming up, so I'll be compelled to keep turning the pages.
The author likes to have fun with his choice of names for people and places, which can be a little cheesy, making punning references to what he hopes will be familiar in what I find too obvious a way. The absolute worst is the name of a night club: 'G-spot, hard to find but worth it when you do'.
There are also a few too many unlikely coincidences that, depending on your point of view either make the mystery as it unfolds a little more accessible, or arguably just weaken the overall storyline. The idea of things occurring in pairs is a repetitive theme so far, I suspect that's going to be where we'll encounter the main plot twist, but it somehow feels a bit forced.
The writing, though enjoyable and always striving for simplicity and fluidity, is no match for Evelyn Waugh or PG Wodehouse, so I'm in two minds (pun intended) as to how quickly I'll get around to reading The Green Door.
Despite there being a lingering sadness at the heart of many of the stories in this book, which I genuinely found quite disturbing, nevertheless each of them highlights moments of warmth and joy that enrich and ultimately lift each contributor's life.
Chapters are quite short, like bursts of enlightenment, and alternate between archive material sourced from records at the Bishopsgate Institute and interviews with 'ordinary' people sharing a wide variety of gay suburban experience, conducted by the author up to the present day.
Being straight, I have come to realise that growing up I had never really given much thought as to which of my friends or acquaintances might be gay (and there were many) or quite inconsiderately to the struggles they probably faced, and which are effectively outlined in the tales in this book.
I was mostly unconscious of any expression of homosexuality around me, or that I should otherwise have recognised it growing up, but just accepted an unspoken 'status quo' without further thought or comment.
It was not until later in my own life that I actually came to realise many people I know may well have found difficulty living their younger lives being gay, as they simply seemed quite 'normal' to me. On reflection I now feel somewhat uncaring and inconsiderate, as it must've caused similar kinds of grief and personal doubt as described by many contributors, as they faced a largely unaccepting world. Was I just one of those people referred to in the book as knowing but not expressly acknowledging?
This is an illuminating book, and is eminently readable. I really enjoyed it. In retrospect I can recognise the realities of all of the characters portrayed and the situations they have encountered. It is humanity laid bare in both its potential nastiness and its ultimate beauty.
It's a very different book from John Grindrod's other architectural books, focusing on people rather than buildings, and is arguably quite the richer for it.
@johngrindrod@booksellercrow@therealkarenmcleod
It's a short book. Fewer than 120 pages. Written in very short chapters, sometimes only a paragraph or two in length. On only the third page Katharina Blum confesses to shooting a journalist who has been hounding her with regard to details of her private life.
I actually found parts of it confusing, or rather unclear, with much detail implicit rather than explicit, despite the writing style being modelled on a police report. It was not until the very last page that the confession is laid out in detail and more clarification was provided. (Sorry, spoiler).
Heinrich Bölle is a German writer held in high regard, a winner of Nobel Prize for literature, and an outspoken defender of artistic freedom.
Although concisely written I was struggling with it at times, until the concluding pages relieved the 'insidious tension'.
An absolutely fascinating book exploring the still inexplicable nature of consciousness in humans, animals and even plants. It is impossible to step outside of consciousness in order to observe it objectively, yet some current thinking suggests that consciousness does actually exist outside of the body, a concept I have been giving more credence to in recent times. It is true that not only are we 'aware' but we are aware of our awareness.
The book considers in separate sections four aspects of consciousness: sentience, feeling, thought and self all of which describe levels of awareness.
It is unknown how it is that when we wake each a day "a world appears" almost instantaneously. I am equally inquisitive as to what happens when the world no longer appears.
Parts of the book are so conceptually stimulating they will demand re-reading. Several times.
Purchased recently from Bookseller Crow on the Hill in Crystal Palace @booksellercrow
I didn't really enjoy this one that much, which is disappointing as it was recommended to me. It's far too long, and effectively repeats scenes with similar scenarios and their negative outcomes, presumably to prolong the dramatic tension. Actually it simply drags out the narrative, and frustratingly seems to get no closer to the resolution that we all know is inevitable. The innocent protagonist will eventually find the real killer. They always do. In this case the killer is clearly on a personal mission, we just need to find out what it is. And decide in the final pages whether it was all worth it.
