When an unpleasant task must be performed, or an unpleasant journey must be undertaken my thoughts turn to retail therapy. This seems to be a trait common to many members of my benighted generation.
Unlike, I suspect, many members of my benighted generation, my idea of really good, truly satisfying and utterly enriching retail therapy occurs only when I’m on my knees (careful…) sifting through piles of books in op-shops. Continue reading
Posted in Bibliophilia
Tagged Bibliophilia, Christopher Silvester, Fred Hoyle, George Orwell, Isobelle Carmody, John Mortimer, John Stuart Mill, Kevin Gilbert, Morris Gleitzman, Op-Shops, Oswald Schwarz, Pamela Bone, Pliny the Elder, Pliny the Younger, Poetry, Retail Therapy, Wilfred Owen
Nick Hornby is the sort of author who, in theory, I would love to hate.
Relentlessly populist (not to mention hugely popular), resolutely proletarian and never particularly subtle with his themes, Hornby seems made for me to sneer at.
I was quite impressed with High Fidelity on a first reading, but hardly blown away: it wasn’t until I read A Long Way Down that I fell in love. And Fever Pitch sealed the deal.
Since then, I haven’t been able to walk past one of his books without buying it. I’m saving up About A Boy for a particularly nice and lazy day when I can wolf it down in one go. Preferably while being fed peeled grapes by Elizabeth Hurley, but Liz’s people won’t return my calls. Continue reading
Posted in Reviews, Uncategorized
Tagged A Long Way Down, About A Boy, Boy Overboard, Elizabeth Hurley, Fever Pitch, Girl Underground, High Fidelity, J K Rowling, Morris Gleitzman, Nick Hornby, Slam, Two Weeks With The Queen, Young Adult Fiction