So, as 2016 draws to a close, I've spent the last day's of the year reading about the future, and here's a very brief review of it!
What does the future hold? This is a subject that many have speculated about, but when the matter is considered in a combination of science fiction and war reporting it takes on a whole new complexion. In this book, Chris James reports the 'history' of a conflict in Europe between NATO and the Persian Caliphate which lasted (will last) from 2062-2064, told in a narrative style which draws on many 'contemporary' sources; politicians, military leaders and ordinary folk caught up in this troubling conflict.
This is a very believable tale - disturbingly so at times, excellently and engagingly told, but losing none of the horror that such a conflict should rightly engender. I would highly recommend this work (as I would some of the other stuff that Chris has written, which is very different), though be warned, the language can be a little emotive and near the knuckle sometimes.
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Saturday, 31 December 2016
Friday, 21 February 2014
The Changes - a memory from childhood
I consider myself very fortunate that my parents understood the importance of reading and made sure I was able to read before I started school: I cannot remember a time when I couldn't read, nor when I didn't enjoy the experience. As a small boy I would visit the local library regularly and avidly: particular perennial favourites were the Famous Five books of Enid Blyton and the Jennings books of Anthony Buckeridge - stories of another era, really (are they still read today?).
On occasion I would branch out and try something different, and on one occasion I picked up "The Weathermonger" by Peter Dickinson. I was captivated by the idea of a society which had turned against technology (as it was back in the 1960s), and quickly devoured the sequels: "Heartsease" and "The Devil's Children". The BBC made a television series of the stories in 1975, but after that the stories slipped off my radar and into the darkest reaches of my memory.
That was until I started reading a book by Francis Spufford called "The Child that Books Built", which is a kind of literary memoir. In the early chapters of the book, Spufford mentioned the Dickinson books (much to my delight), and through the wonders of the world-wide web I was able to purchase the trilogy and revisit them after a break of over 40 years.
Although written in the order that I mentioned them above, the chronology of the trilogy is the reverse, with "The Devil's Children" telling of the start of 'the Changes', and "The Weathermonger" explaining how they were caused and how they ended. With that in mind I re-read them in reverse order. The central premise is that Britain has violently turned its back on machinery and reverted almost to a Dark Ages, agrarian lifestyle. Anyone found using or even touching machinery is deemed to be a witch and is stoned. Society becomes very insular: cities are deserted by all but feral animals and villages are governed feudally, and anyone 'strange' (such as outsiders or, in "The Devil's Children", a community of Sikhs (who seem to be immune from the changes)) is treated with paranoid suspicion.
In all three stories it is (naturally in literature aimed at 10 year-olds) children who are the focus of the action, and in that respect it carries some of the spirit of Blyton, Buckeridge et al. There is a sense that any child could see themselves as being a part of these tales, and that they could make a difference for good. These are quite moral tales: the Sikhs are eventually integrated into wider society, but not until they have suffered some tragedy, and the country is 'put to rights' by the actions of a couple of teenagers. Although quite dated, the stories do 'travel' well, though maybe more would be made of the 'green' agenda if they were written today - as I read the final pages of the trilogy this morning I was quite taken by the final sentence, which spoke volumes to someone like me living in the at times claustrophobic and suffocating environment of a modern British city: after seven years without machines "...the English air would soon be reeking with petrol."
I really enjoyed coming back to these books. My only regret is that I didn't do so when my own kids were a little younger, so that I could've shared them with them: but then again, if the early 50s isn't too late to return to them, maybe the early 20s isn't either...
On occasion I would branch out and try something different, and on one occasion I picked up "The Weathermonger" by Peter Dickinson. I was captivated by the idea of a society which had turned against technology (as it was back in the 1960s), and quickly devoured the sequels: "Heartsease" and "The Devil's Children". The BBC made a television series of the stories in 1975, but after that the stories slipped off my radar and into the darkest reaches of my memory.
That was until I started reading a book by Francis Spufford called "The Child that Books Built", which is a kind of literary memoir. In the early chapters of the book, Spufford mentioned the Dickinson books (much to my delight), and through the wonders of the world-wide web I was able to purchase the trilogy and revisit them after a break of over 40 years.
Although written in the order that I mentioned them above, the chronology of the trilogy is the reverse, with "The Devil's Children" telling of the start of 'the Changes', and "The Weathermonger" explaining how they were caused and how they ended. With that in mind I re-read them in reverse order. The central premise is that Britain has violently turned its back on machinery and reverted almost to a Dark Ages, agrarian lifestyle. Anyone found using or even touching machinery is deemed to be a witch and is stoned. Society becomes very insular: cities are deserted by all but feral animals and villages are governed feudally, and anyone 'strange' (such as outsiders or, in "The Devil's Children", a community of Sikhs (who seem to be immune from the changes)) is treated with paranoid suspicion.
In all three stories it is (naturally in literature aimed at 10 year-olds) children who are the focus of the action, and in that respect it carries some of the spirit of Blyton, Buckeridge et al. There is a sense that any child could see themselves as being a part of these tales, and that they could make a difference for good. These are quite moral tales: the Sikhs are eventually integrated into wider society, but not until they have suffered some tragedy, and the country is 'put to rights' by the actions of a couple of teenagers. Although quite dated, the stories do 'travel' well, though maybe more would be made of the 'green' agenda if they were written today - as I read the final pages of the trilogy this morning I was quite taken by the final sentence, which spoke volumes to someone like me living in the at times claustrophobic and suffocating environment of a modern British city: after seven years without machines "...the English air would soon be reeking with petrol."
I really enjoyed coming back to these books. My only regret is that I didn't do so when my own kids were a little younger, so that I could've shared them with them: but then again, if the early 50s isn't too late to return to them, maybe the early 20s isn't either...
Tuesday, 10 September 2013
Stories of Genesis
A few years ago my wife introduced me to the concept of 'Fan Fiction'. This is where fans of particular TV series write their own stories involving the characters, and share them in on-line forums. They seem to be quite popular, and Jude has written a few tales about Horatio Caine and co from CSI: Miami.
Recently an advert popped up on my Facebook wall for a book that described itself as 'a new kind of fan fiction': 'Stories of Genesis, volume 1' by Chris James. It contained a collection of five short stories based on characters from songs by Genesis, and, as a long-time fan of the band, I found it a fascinating read.
The first story, inspired by the title track of the 1976 album 'A Trick of the Tail', tells of Mr Magrew's big adventure away from the City of Gold, meeting people unlike himself, who were all without horns and tail, and of his journey home. There's a nice twist at the end, too, but I won't spoil it by telling what it is.
Next is 'The Chat Show Host', which relates the dreams of Jason Jones ('JJ'), the eponymous host stuck in provincial TV waiting for his big break, and of Duchess, a fading star hoping to resurrect her career. JJ's dreams of success hang on his ability to humiliate Duchess live on air, and the story shows how sometimes our plans can be interrupted by events.
My favourite story in this collection is the next one - 'One Regret', inspired by 'Dreaming While You Sleep' from 1991's 'We Can't Dance'. This is one of the better late-period Genesis songs, in my opinion, and James brings a wonderful depth and poignancy to this tale of guilt and inner torment following a hit-and-run accident.
The longest story is 'The Final Battle', taking up more than half of the book's length, and is the one which most closely follows the 'plot' of the song that inspires it, the monumental 'Supper's Ready' from 1972's 'Foxtrot'. For those who know the song, you will know how complex the tale is, with its apocalyptic imagery and scriptural allusions. James' tale, with a strong sci-fi feel to it (his usual genre for writing, it appears), tells of the struggle by an angelic army against the Eternal Sanctuary Man, and gives an interesting modern slant to ancient concepts and themes.
From the longest to the shortest tale in the fifth and final chapter - 'The Agent Lunges', inspired by 'Down & Out' from 1978's 'And then there were Three'. I must confess that this is a strange tale, and almost comes across as an afterthought, but it rounds off the book nicely. Again, no spoilers!
Overall, the stories are engaging without being direct re-tellings of the songs, and a second volume is planned for later in the year. Fans of Genesis's music and lovers of a good yarn will enjoy these tales: I certainly did.
Recently an advert popped up on my Facebook wall for a book that described itself as 'a new kind of fan fiction': 'Stories of Genesis, volume 1' by Chris James. It contained a collection of five short stories based on characters from songs by Genesis, and, as a long-time fan of the band, I found it a fascinating read.The first story, inspired by the title track of the 1976 album 'A Trick of the Tail', tells of Mr Magrew's big adventure away from the City of Gold, meeting people unlike himself, who were all without horns and tail, and of his journey home. There's a nice twist at the end, too, but I won't spoil it by telling what it is.
Next is 'The Chat Show Host', which relates the dreams of Jason Jones ('JJ'), the eponymous host stuck in provincial TV waiting for his big break, and of Duchess, a fading star hoping to resurrect her career. JJ's dreams of success hang on his ability to humiliate Duchess live on air, and the story shows how sometimes our plans can be interrupted by events.
My favourite story in this collection is the next one - 'One Regret', inspired by 'Dreaming While You Sleep' from 1991's 'We Can't Dance'. This is one of the better late-period Genesis songs, in my opinion, and James brings a wonderful depth and poignancy to this tale of guilt and inner torment following a hit-and-run accident.
The longest story is 'The Final Battle', taking up more than half of the book's length, and is the one which most closely follows the 'plot' of the song that inspires it, the monumental 'Supper's Ready' from 1972's 'Foxtrot'. For those who know the song, you will know how complex the tale is, with its apocalyptic imagery and scriptural allusions. James' tale, with a strong sci-fi feel to it (his usual genre for writing, it appears), tells of the struggle by an angelic army against the Eternal Sanctuary Man, and gives an interesting modern slant to ancient concepts and themes.
From the longest to the shortest tale in the fifth and final chapter - 'The Agent Lunges', inspired by 'Down & Out' from 1978's 'And then there were Three'. I must confess that this is a strange tale, and almost comes across as an afterthought, but it rounds off the book nicely. Again, no spoilers!
Overall, the stories are engaging without being direct re-tellings of the songs, and a second volume is planned for later in the year. Fans of Genesis's music and lovers of a good yarn will enjoy these tales: I certainly did.
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Life of Pi
Adaptations of best-selling books for film can be hit-and-miss. Some have enhanced the story, others have ruined it (the film version of 'The Lovely Bones' for instance, while tense and brooding in places, was in many respects a travesty of the book). So when it was announced that Ang Lee was committing Yann Martel's Booker Prize-winning novel 'Life of Pi' to film there was some interest and not a small amount of concern, as the book was deemed by many to be unfilmable.
The ideas in the story of 'Life of Pi' have fascinated me from the time it was shortlisted for the Booker, but I must confess I had not managed to get round to reading it until recently, really in preparation for watching the film. The reason for the delay I'm not too clear about, other than the fact that I just didn't get around to it. Also, I have been somewhat disappointed recently by Booker-winning novels: 'The Finkler Question' promised much but sadly left me quite flat, and Julian Barnes, whose earlier work I have greatly admired in the past, left me somewhat similarly deflated with 'The Sense of an Ending'.
'Life of Pi', however, captivated me from the start. The images of beauty and brutality; the search for truth and for God; the determination to hang on to sanity and survival against tremendous ordeals - towering themes that permeate the book - were handled with sensitivity and at times with great power.
If you can only read a small portion of this book, read Chapter 74: I wanted to quote the whole thing, but here is one particular passage that spoke potently to me, and stayed with me:
I came to the film having almost finished the book, but not quite. I found the film a triumph: sumptuous in its cinematography, faithful in its narrative, and true to the spirit and spirituality of the original novel. Pi's natural ability to see and commune with God in the religious systems of Hinduism, Islam and Christianity, as well as in the beauty and the horror of nature in all its forms, was sensitively and seductively portrayed.
The film and the book left me with a profound reminder of the strength of good stories to elucidate truth. I highly recommend both media to any who enjoy a good narrative, or a parable even...
The ideas in the story of 'Life of Pi' have fascinated me from the time it was shortlisted for the Booker, but I must confess I had not managed to get round to reading it until recently, really in preparation for watching the film. The reason for the delay I'm not too clear about, other than the fact that I just didn't get around to it. Also, I have been somewhat disappointed recently by Booker-winning novels: 'The Finkler Question' promised much but sadly left me quite flat, and Julian Barnes, whose earlier work I have greatly admired in the past, left me somewhat similarly deflated with 'The Sense of an Ending'.
'Life of Pi', however, captivated me from the start. The images of beauty and brutality; the search for truth and for God; the determination to hang on to sanity and survival against tremendous ordeals - towering themes that permeate the book - were handled with sensitivity and at times with great power.
If you can only read a small portion of this book, read Chapter 74: I wanted to quote the whole thing, but here is one particular passage that spoke potently to me, and stayed with me:
Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love— but sometimes it was so hard to love. Sometimes my heart was sinking so fast with anger, desolation and weariness, I was afraid it would sink to the very bottom of the Pacific and I would not be able to lift it back up.
I came to the film having almost finished the book, but not quite. I found the film a triumph: sumptuous in its cinematography, faithful in its narrative, and true to the spirit and spirituality of the original novel. Pi's natural ability to see and commune with God in the religious systems of Hinduism, Islam and Christianity, as well as in the beauty and the horror of nature in all its forms, was sensitively and seductively portrayed.
The film and the book left me with a profound reminder of the strength of good stories to elucidate truth. I highly recommend both media to any who enjoy a good narrative, or a parable even...
Friday, 16 March 2012
Before I Go To Sleep
I've just finished reading SJ Watson's debut novel, 'Before I Go To Sleep'. It is the story of a 47 year-old amnesiac called Christine Lucas, who due to an accident a number of years ago cannot retain memories for longer than a day: every time she goes to sleep she forgets everything - her name, her identity, her past, those that she loves.
The story tells of her coming to terms with her past, which she begins to piece together through a journal she writes every day - and re-reads every day to remind her of who she is. More of the plot I'll not give away - read it for yourself!
It is a story of identity, of trust and betrayal. It is a gripping read, violent and disturbing in places, yet compelling. Having finished the book about 3 hours ago, I still find myself even now concerned about Christine and how she carries on with her life - you come to know and empathise with these people.
The central premise of the book - that our memories define us - left me pondering, as a person of faith, how religious conviction and a relationship with God would be affected by such tragic circumstances: If we cannot remember God, or our experiences of God, how does this affect our understanding of salvation? This has particular relevance to people of faith coming to terms with dementia, for instance: as we lose our identity, do we also lose our faith? Does faith need cognisance and memory to be real?
A marvellous book, which has rightly received many plaudits since its publication last year: I would highly recommend it to any who haven't yet come across it.
The story tells of her coming to terms with her past, which she begins to piece together through a journal she writes every day - and re-reads every day to remind her of who she is. More of the plot I'll not give away - read it for yourself!
It is a story of identity, of trust and betrayal. It is a gripping read, violent and disturbing in places, yet compelling. Having finished the book about 3 hours ago, I still find myself even now concerned about Christine and how she carries on with her life - you come to know and empathise with these people.
The central premise of the book - that our memories define us - left me pondering, as a person of faith, how religious conviction and a relationship with God would be affected by such tragic circumstances: If we cannot remember God, or our experiences of God, how does this affect our understanding of salvation? This has particular relevance to people of faith coming to terms with dementia, for instance: as we lose our identity, do we also lose our faith? Does faith need cognisance and memory to be real?
A marvellous book, which has rightly received many plaudits since its publication last year: I would highly recommend it to any who haven't yet come across it.
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
World Book Day 2012
Reading has always been a part of my life. I cannot remember a time when I couldn't read, or when I didn't read, though some the literature's great works are still waiting for me. I have tried throughout my adult life to pass on this love of books and reading to my children: every Christmas I have bought them a book in the hope that it would encourage them to develop their own love of literature (though I have to admit that some of them have simply gathered dust on the shelves).
This is one reason why I welcome 'World Book Day' - the hope that it will encourage people in this visual, sound-bite age to develop a love for reading, and for reading good, engaging stories.
To mark World Book Day this year I want to recommend my favourite book to you: Jonathan Coe's 'The Rotter's Club'. I first came across the story through a BBC adaptation (whose screenplay was written by Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais).
Written in 2001, it's a story set in the 1970s in Birmingham, and revolves round the lives of 3 young lads - Ben Trotter, Philip Chase & Doug Anderton - who attend King William's Grammar School, a direct-grant Grammar School, and how certain aspects of 1970s British life impacts on them - particularly the industrial strife that was endemic at the time, the mainland bombing campaigns of the IRA, the rise of the National Front and the music scene as it transitioned from prog rock to punk.
Why I particularly warm to this book is that it contains so many echoes of my childhood: I attended a direct grant school from 1972-79, not in Birmingham, but in Harrogate, and consequently grew up through the social turmoil that the novel portrays - strikes, power cuts, 3-day weeks - as well as through the musical changes. It was the time I was developing abortive romantic attachments, and marking a time of Jubilee. I find Coe's writing particularly evocative of my formative years in a way that brings the warm glow of nostalgia, but also reminds me of the darker shades those days.
Another feature of the book that always delights me is the final chapter, which consists of one sentence of 13,955 words - a stream of consciousness reflection by Ben Trotter on life, love & Cicely Boyd, the love of his life.
Coe wrote a sequel to 'The Rotter's Club' - 'The Closed Circle' - which picks up the story of the three boys, and other characters from the first book, in the 1990s, and ties up a few loose ends from the original story: it's also well worth a read.
What favourite read would you recommend?
This is one reason why I welcome 'World Book Day' - the hope that it will encourage people in this visual, sound-bite age to develop a love for reading, and for reading good, engaging stories.
To mark World Book Day this year I want to recommend my favourite book to you: Jonathan Coe's 'The Rotter's Club'. I first came across the story through a BBC adaptation (whose screenplay was written by Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais).
Written in 2001, it's a story set in the 1970s in Birmingham, and revolves round the lives of 3 young lads - Ben Trotter, Philip Chase & Doug Anderton - who attend King William's Grammar School, a direct-grant Grammar School, and how certain aspects of 1970s British life impacts on them - particularly the industrial strife that was endemic at the time, the mainland bombing campaigns of the IRA, the rise of the National Front and the music scene as it transitioned from prog rock to punk.
Why I particularly warm to this book is that it contains so many echoes of my childhood: I attended a direct grant school from 1972-79, not in Birmingham, but in Harrogate, and consequently grew up through the social turmoil that the novel portrays - strikes, power cuts, 3-day weeks - as well as through the musical changes. It was the time I was developing abortive romantic attachments, and marking a time of Jubilee. I find Coe's writing particularly evocative of my formative years in a way that brings the warm glow of nostalgia, but also reminds me of the darker shades those days.
Another feature of the book that always delights me is the final chapter, which consists of one sentence of 13,955 words - a stream of consciousness reflection by Ben Trotter on life, love & Cicely Boyd, the love of his life.
Coe wrote a sequel to 'The Rotter's Club' - 'The Closed Circle' - which picks up the story of the three boys, and other characters from the first book, in the 1990s, and ties up a few loose ends from the original story: it's also well worth a read.
What favourite read would you recommend?
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