been a while
Haven't blogged in a while...mainly out of laziness. I think I'm gonna try to start posting something about once a week, on my nights off.
Anyway, the books I read since I last posted:
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway is not a favorite author of mine, by a long shot, but I tried to read this book in high school, and wasn't able to finish it, so I gave it another shot. It wasn't too bad, though I doubt I'll ever read it again.
The Blackboard Jungle by Evan Hunter. Hunter is Ed McBain's real name, which he reserved for his serious literary writing. I love McBain, so it really isn't surprising that I enjoyed this novel immensely.
The Man From St. Petersberg by Ken Follett. Follett is kinda the king of the dumb commercial potboiler with just enough of a dash of actual historical background to keep it from being completely brain atrophying. This was fast paced enough, but completely disposable.
CainX3. An omnibus collection of James M. Cain's three most famous novels. The Postman Always Rings Twice was more quaint than anything else. Of course, my appreciation of it is probably decreased by the extant to which every plot point has been endlessly recycled by hack crime movies and novels for 70 years now.
Mildred Pierce was interesting, though not all that enjoyable. The first half of it struck me as being something like an earthier, less sentimental variation on Imitation of Life...it picked up a bit in the second half, after Veda turned into Darth Bitch. I definately didn't see that last twist coming, and that's impressive.
Double Indemnity was the best of the three.
The Stupidest Angel, by Christopher Moore. Moore is, by far, one of the funniest novelists writing today. He's good enough that he actually manages to make the obligatory Christmas novel that most mainstream writers seem compelled to produce actually worth reading.
Fat Ollie's Book by Ed McBain. Another 87th Precint novel. Fat Ollie is my favorite of the regular characters in this series, and it was nice to have a novel mostly focused on him...unfortunately, McBain chose to dedicate way too much space to Ollie's horribly written novel. The first couple paragraphs of deliberately bad writing were funny, but it became tedious after a couple pages.
Why Darwin Matters by Michael Shermer. Yet another defense of evolutionary theory against the ID wingnuts. This stuff is serious preaching to the converted, for me, but I still enjoy it.
The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie. I found this novel on the library shelf completely by accident. I glanced at it, and wondered if this is the same Hugh Laurie from Blackadder and House. Turns out it is. The novel is a fantastic parody of commercial spy thrillers...though the jacket refers a lot to James Bond, it really reads more like a Robert Ludlum novel, only with a distinct awareness of it's own absurdity. Definately worth the read.
That's really all I have for right now...next week, I might write a bit about my annoying co-workers.
Anyway, the books I read since I last posted:
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway is not a favorite author of mine, by a long shot, but I tried to read this book in high school, and wasn't able to finish it, so I gave it another shot. It wasn't too bad, though I doubt I'll ever read it again.
The Blackboard Jungle by Evan Hunter. Hunter is Ed McBain's real name, which he reserved for his serious literary writing. I love McBain, so it really isn't surprising that I enjoyed this novel immensely.
The Man From St. Petersberg by Ken Follett. Follett is kinda the king of the dumb commercial potboiler with just enough of a dash of actual historical background to keep it from being completely brain atrophying. This was fast paced enough, but completely disposable.
CainX3. An omnibus collection of James M. Cain's three most famous novels. The Postman Always Rings Twice was more quaint than anything else. Of course, my appreciation of it is probably decreased by the extant to which every plot point has been endlessly recycled by hack crime movies and novels for 70 years now.
Mildred Pierce was interesting, though not all that enjoyable. The first half of it struck me as being something like an earthier, less sentimental variation on Imitation of Life...it picked up a bit in the second half, after Veda turned into Darth Bitch. I definately didn't see that last twist coming, and that's impressive.
Double Indemnity was the best of the three.
The Stupidest Angel, by Christopher Moore. Moore is, by far, one of the funniest novelists writing today. He's good enough that he actually manages to make the obligatory Christmas novel that most mainstream writers seem compelled to produce actually worth reading.
Fat Ollie's Book by Ed McBain. Another 87th Precint novel. Fat Ollie is my favorite of the regular characters in this series, and it was nice to have a novel mostly focused on him...unfortunately, McBain chose to dedicate way too much space to Ollie's horribly written novel. The first couple paragraphs of deliberately bad writing were funny, but it became tedious after a couple pages.
Why Darwin Matters by Michael Shermer. Yet another defense of evolutionary theory against the ID wingnuts. This stuff is serious preaching to the converted, for me, but I still enjoy it.
The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie. I found this novel on the library shelf completely by accident. I glanced at it, and wondered if this is the same Hugh Laurie from Blackadder and House. Turns out it is. The novel is a fantastic parody of commercial spy thrillers...though the jacket refers a lot to James Bond, it really reads more like a Robert Ludlum novel, only with a distinct awareness of it's own absurdity. Definately worth the read.
That's really all I have for right now...next week, I might write a bit about my annoying co-workers.
posted by Ralph Nadir at 8:41 PM
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