Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse by David Mitchell

Few people do outrage better than David Mitchell.  Think about his many appearances on the Q.I. television show - it only takes a non-sequitur or a bit of ambiguity to set off his sense of outrage, often with hilarious results.

In Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse, Mitchell's outrage is front and centre.  This time it is modern life, especially life in a post-Global Financial Crisis world, that gets him going. 

Mitchell ranges across wide variety of topics, including offence-taking and forced apologies, corporate monopolies, sport, politics and chocolate-flavoured toothpaste.  His observations are acute, his analysis is deep, and his pronouncements are often as withering as they are humorous. And all this is wrapped up in an eloquent, coherent and forceful prose.

The text itself is a compilation of articles Mitchell wrote for Britain's Observer newspaper over a number of years.  This sometimes works to the detriment of the book as some of the writing is highly topical, and the nuances of certain topics may be lost on contemporary readers.  Also, as Mitchell was writing for a U.K. audience, some of the matters he raises may not be that identifiable for readers from other parts of the world. This is a quibble, and the quality of Mitchell's prose and thoughts more than make up for it.

Overall, Thinking About It Only Makes It Worse is an entertaining, revealing and thought-provoking book with many laugh-out-loud moments.  Of course, this has outraged me, and I await author's unreserved apology.

Small Gods by Terry Pratchett

The once mighty god Om mistakenly incarnates into the body of an innocuous animal and his divine powers are diminshed accordingly.  The only person he can find who believes in him is a simple-minded and illiterate novice priest called Brutha.  Meanwhile, the Omnian religion is run by an inquisitorial priesthood, its followers are terrified, and a new but secret religion based on the writings of an unemployed philosopher is gaining support.  War, both civil and international, is almost certain.  Can Om and Brutha reform the church and prevent bloodshed?

Small Gods is an investigation into the relationship between individual belief and religious orthodoxy, the relationship between the church and state, and how religious zealotry can blind the believer to the actuality of his/her god.  

Of course, Pratchett mixes his satire with liberal dollops of good humour.  The pace of this novel is a bit laboured compared to his previous novels, but he does have to cover a lot of complex ground.  Small Gods is a one-off novel that sits outside the usual witches/wizards/death/city watch canons of the Discworld books, and is  set much earlier chronologically.  Later and more "contemporary" Discworld novels will feature followers of the Omnian religion.

Not amongst Pratchett's best, but still a worthy and thought-provoking tale.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett

A talking cat in league with a bunch of talking rats and a young human with a pipe.  What could go wrong?  Nothing, until this travelling band reaches the remote town of Bad Blintz.  Then they find something nasty is waiting for them just below the surface.

This is Terry Pratchett's first Young Adult novel.  It is set on the Discworld.  The plot is clever, full of twists and rattles along at a jolly pace.  The jokes are fresh and the narrative style is crisp and refreshing.

Pratchett explores many themes in this book: power, utopian dreams, kindness and cruelty. He draws parallels between rats and humans, and the humans don't come out so well.  It seems he is preparing the younger readers for some of the realities of adult life.  The balloon of utopian thinking is well and truly popped in this one.  As is usual with Pratchett, the darker truths of life are leavened with humour and are, therefore, that much more palatable.  No doubt about it, Pratchett is a master of satire.

This book can be enjoyed by adults and adolescents alike.  I liked it, and so did my inner child.

Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

Reaper Man is the second Discworld novel to features Death as the central character (the previous one being Mort).  Always good for a giggle, Pratchett does not disappoint with this one.

For one reason or another, Death suddenly finds himself unemployed. When the office of Death is vacated, an imbalance between the forces of life and death has unforeseen consequences, as the 130 year old wizard Windle Poons will soon find out.

As is usual with Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man is a clever and inventive tale full of puns, gags and pop-culture references (the title itself being a play of words on the film Repo Man).

Thematically, the novel examines the importance of caring for and about human beings:  it is what life (and Death) is all about.  In addition, Pratchett introduces the Fresh Start Club, and is the beginning of the movement towards Ankh-Morpork becoming an increasingly inclusive and cosmopolitan city, a theme he returns to subsequent Discworld novels.

Such a nice way to fill in a lazy weekend.

My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

I discovered P.G. Wodehouse in my late teens.  It was a happy encounter.

Wodehouse's writing is a triumph of levity over gravity.  That is about the most profound thing about his works - the rest is entertaining fluff.  But what fabulous entertaining fluff it is.

If Wodehouse is remembered for anything, it is for his Wooster and Jeeves stories.  My Man Jeeves contains eight short stories, four of which feature Bertie Wooster and his valet Jeeves (the other four feature Reggie Pepper).  These are the earliest of the Wooster and Jeeves stories.  

Bertie is a man of independent means but with little commonsense.  He spends most of his time thinking about betting on horses and buying clothes.  Jeeves, on the other hand, has oceans of commonsense as well as vast reservoirs of experience and an impeccable sartorial taste.  The tales are usually about how Jeeves rescues Bertie from preposterous social situations, bad gambling decisions and fashion faux pas.  And that is about as deep as it gets.

The obvious joy about reading the Wooster and Jeeves stories is discovering how Bertie is dropped into trouble (and trouble, it seems, comes looking for him) and how Jeeves extricates him from it.  There is always a happy ending, and Bertie is always grateful for Jeeves' help.  A subtler joy is Wodehouse's lightness of touch.  Bertie, who is usually the narrator, tells his tales in the breeziest of manners.  His choice of phrase is a delight - for example, he describes an empty-headed friend as "unclouded".  As a result, the pages just roll by.

Entertaining, surprising and always comical, Wodehouse is a must read.

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

I recently came across an interview featuring Kurt Vonnegut in which he stated that the novel Catch-22 is based on Homer's The Odyssey.  This piqued my interest: if Vonnegut is correct, then it was something I missed in my original reading of the novel.  So I re-read it, and Vonnegut is right.

The action is set in the Mediterranean basin, mainly on the island of Pianosa (Odysseus - or Ulysses - visits many islands in the Mediterranean).  Captain John Yossarian (Odysseus) is a soldier trying to get home from the war.  He is prevented from doing so by the orders of his wrathful superior officer, Colonel Cathcart (Poseidon).  One by one almost all of Yossarian's comrades die (as did Odysseus' crew).  At one point, Yossarian even likens himself to Ulysses; and like Odysseus, he sustains a wound to his thigh.  So there it is: The Odyssey, this time set in 1943 during the Second World War.

But Catch-22 is so much more than The Odyssey. On one level it is about how humans stay sane or succumb to insanity in an insane situation:

Men went mad and were rewarded with medals.  All over the world, boys on every side of the bomb line were laying down their lives for what they had been told was their country, and no one seemed to mind, least of all the boys who were laying down their young lives.

On another level it about self-serving bureaucracy and the abuse of power:

You have no respect for excessive authority or obsolete traditions. You're dangerous and depraved, and you ought to be taken outside and shot!

Of course, there is the title of the book: Catch-22.  This phrase was invented by Heller to describe and give a raison d'etre to the logical double binds found throughout the book.  The central Catch-22 of the novel runs like this:

1. Regulations say a military doctor must ground anyone who is crazy and asks to be grounded.
2. Only a crazy person would voluntarily continue to fly on highly dangerous bombing missions; and being crazy, they would never ask.
3. Only a sane person would make the request, and so cannot be grounded.
4. Therefore, both the sane and the insane, if so ordered, must continue to fly.

And this is exactly the position the sane Yossarian finds himself in: he must continue to fly or, otherwise, disobey Colonel Cathcart's orders.  Both options could lead to his death.

I was a teenager when I first read Catch-22.  I remembered it as a quirky and comical tale I enjoyed greatly.  On re-reading it, I found it at turns puerile and profound, or frustrating but compelling. I suppose that is also true of war (and bureaucracies) as a lived experience.  There is a lot in this book to offend modern feminist sensibilities; but it was written in a time different from our own and describes an even different time: total war, with its concomitant brutalities. On the other hand, there is also the tenderness that is to be found in life's little acts, such as Yossarian's poignantly impotent 'There, there' as he nurses his injured comrade Snowden.

Catch-22 is one of the great books: dangerous and depraved, sane and crazy, comical and serious, crushing and elevating, and well worth reading.  Thank you, Joseph Heller.

Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett

Moving Pictures is the 10th novel in the Discworld series, and this time Terry Pratchett has Hollywood in his satirical crosshairs.

The ancient hill of Holy Wood has lost its last guardian, and something within it begins to stir and  call out to the world.  Meanwhile, the alchemists of the city of Ankh-Morpork have developed a process for creating moving pictures.  Almost immediately, entrepreneurs and wannabe stars hear the call, and the action moves from the city to Holy Wood.  But Holy Wood has more magic than just that of the silver screen.  Who can tell what danger it will pose to the inhabitants of the Disc?

As is usual with Discworld novels, Moving Pictures has several plots running simultaneously.  The main one features Victor Tugelbend, a student wizard who does anything but wizardry, and Theda Withal, a country lass who has come to hit the big time.  They soon become the new stars of Holy Wood.  Also hoping to hit the big time, in this case as a producer, is the failed-but-ever-hopeful Ankh-Morpork small businessman Cut Me Own Throat Dibbler.  Throw in a talking dog and a librarian who is in fact an orangutan, and you have the basis for a lot of fun.

Moving Pictures is more than liberally sprinkled with references to Hollywood: Gone with Wind, Casablanca, Sam Goldwyn, Marlene Dietrich, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, to name a few.  All is done with great intelligence and sparkling wit, and the episode featuring the Librarian and the Tower of Art is absolutely side-splitting.

Not the deepest of the Discworld novels, nor its best, Moving Pictures is definitely good for more than a giggle.

Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

Yea, the king will come bringing Law and Justice, and know nothing but the Truth, and Protect and Serve the People with his Sword. - Old Discworld Prophecy

Be careful what you wish for.

The eighth installment of the Discworld series is set in the ancient city of Ankh-Morpork.  It has been centuries since the city had a monarch, being ruled currently by a Patrician, Lord Vetinari, a tyrant in all but name.  A certain secret society is unhappy with this state of affairs and they hatch a plan to take control of the city by setting up a puppet king.  But they get much more than they bargained for.

Taking riffs from the film noir and noir literature genres, plod-police shows and combining it with Discworld magic, Pratchett provides us with a gumshoe/police mystery.  In doing so, and in the first of the Night Watch novels, he introduces the utterly memorable characters of Sam Vimes, Fred Colon, Nobby Nobbs, Carrot, Lady Sybil Ramkin and C.M.O.T Dibbler.

Thematically, Guards! Guards! is about human nature and the tendency of ordinary folk to allow evil to flourish through inaction and fear, rather than through intrinsic malice.  It also explores the phenomenon of humans abdicating their moral responsibility en masse to those in supposed positions of authority.

Of course, Pratchett's genius (apart from character creation) lies in his ability to take a serious theme and leaven it with sparkling humour - and there is a lot of humour in this novel - to make it more palatable, provoking thought and laughter at the same time.  A rare talent, indeed, and one to be all the more relished for both its rarity and its acuity.

Bluebeard by Kurt Vonnegut

I am happy and sad.  Happy because I had not read this novel before.  Sad  because, now I have finished it, I have read all of Kurt Vonnegut's novels.  They ain't making them like that anymore.  *Sigh*

Bluebeard is subtitled The Autobiography of Rabo Karabekian. It is the story of a one-eyed man (one-eyed both physically and metaphorically). We have met Karabekian before in Breakfast of Champions and tangentially in Deadeye Dick.  As with quite a few Vonnegut novels, this tale starts near the end of the narrative timeline.  The story then alternates between the present and the past.  As is also the case with other Vonnegut novels, this is also an inter-generational tale.

Rabo Karabekian is the child of two survivors of the Armenian "genocide" in Turkey during the First World War.  The elder Karabekians make their way to California via Egypt, having lost a fortune on the way, and start a family.  Later, Rabo shows some talent as an artist and, through a convoluted sub-plot, becomes apprenticed to America's foremost illustrator.  It is a hard and bitter apprenticeship, and finally Rabo eschews realism, preferring to specialise in abstract expressionism.  For one reason or another, he becomes a successful artist and a wealthy man.  Despite this, Rabo is haunted by regret, bitterness and disillusionment.  And then a certain person comes into his life ...

Thematically, Bluebeard is about the artificial extended families most of us manage to cobble together in the course of our lives.  Rabo says:

My parents were born into biological families, and big ones, too, which were respected by Armenians in Turkey.  I, born in America far from any other Armenians, save for my parents, eventually became a member of two artificial extended families which were reasonably respectable, although surely not the social equals of Harvard or Yale:
1. The Officer Corps of the Unites States Army in time or war,
2.the Abstract Expressionist school of painting after the war.

Of course, Rabo is not exactly correct in his generalisations: he also belongs to a little group of friends, with a kind of rotating membership, that is very important and influential in his life.

Vonnegut's characters are always deeply flawed, each in their own particular way.  There is is hope and despondency, rancor and good will, and yet each individual seems to contribute positively to the synergy of the group, producing unexpected outcomes in many cases.

Vonnegut meticulously builds up the layers of his tale, adding twists and turns that surprise or shock the reader. The dialogue is crisp and sharp, enhancing the insights into character and motivation already provided by the narrator. The alternation of narrative between the past and the present keeps the story rolling along while providing welcome respite.

Bluebeard is a reference to the Perrault fairytale about the one forbidden thing.  Apart from giving the book its title, it also provides Vonnegut with a device and a metaphor that runs throughout the novel.

I am  glad I read Bluebeard, and that I left it for last. Despite its dose of existential pessimism (and which of Vonnegut's tales doesn't contain it?), Bluebeard was hopeful enough and well-written enough to provide a pleasing full stop (for now) to my career as an amateur imbiber of Vonnegut novels.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Live by the foma [harmless untruths] that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.

The Books of Bokonon. I: 5

Kurt Vonnegut thought Cat's Cradle was one of his best novels, and I have to agree with him.  It is a tragicomedy of the first rank, and even more than fifty years after its first publication (1963), it is still a relevant and powerful document.

Cat's Cradle is narrated by Jonah (we never do find out his last name).  Jonah is intending to write a book about the day the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.  His research puts him in contact with the children of Felix Hoenikker, the (fictional) father of the A-bomb, and this leads him to the tiny (fictional) Caribbean island of San Lorenzo.  Here he finds and adopts a new religion, Bokononism,  meets lots of interesting people, becomes love-struck and then witnesses, um, something big - something very, very big.

Cat's Cradle is a retrospective narrative.  Jonah tells us early on in the novel that he is a convert to Bokononism, a religion founded in San Lorenzo by Bokonon, and he uses some of its theological terms to impart a metaphysical relevance to his tale. Bokononism is a fatalist religion and, therefore, a sufficiently discriminating practitioner will be able to see God's hand in even the smallest details of his/her life.  For example, when Jonah's cab driver suggests they make a detour during their trip, Jonah quotes from the Books of Bokonon: “Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.”

Of course, Cat's Cradle isn't really about a fictional religion.  It is a satire on the human condition in general (especially in relation to science, religion, history and politics), and the state of world affairs as it was in the early sixties.  As one would expect, the Cold War figures in the narrative, as does U.S. imperialism in the Caribbean, exploitative capitalists and well-meaning individuals.  Vonnegut also investigates the ethical implications of scientific research and the ways in which its discoveries and technologies are used by others.  On any of these points Vonnegut is both hopeful and bleak.

If you are worried about the current goings-on in the Ukraine or the Spratly Islands, or even in the environment in general, then Cat's Cradle may be the book to make you laugh and cry at the same time.  Challenging, entertaining, seemingly effortless and highly recommended.

P.S.  Regarding Chapter 125 on Tasmanian Aboriginals, Vonnegut says: "And the aborigines found life so unattractive that they gave up reproducing."  He got this wrong.  I am glad to say the Aboriginal Community in Tasmania is strong, proud and still here.

Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett

Welcome to the kingdom of Lancre, a mountainous realm more vertical than horizontal, a naturally magical domain that is the home of witches and the birthplace of wizards.  We've been here before but only briefly, in Equal Rites, when we visited the village of Bad Ass and met Granny Weatherwax, its resident witch.

Things get fleshed-out in the Wyrd Sisters: the village is now part of a kingdom, and the kingdom has a name and a history.  Alas, it has no legitimate king, for King Verence has been murdered by his cousin Duke Felmet (at the instigation of  Felmet's foreign wife), who then usurps the throne.  Understandably, Verence (or more correctly, Verence's ghost - who has been unfleshed-out) is upset by this, but so is something else - something big and powerful.  There is going to be trouble unless high-order action is taken.  And that duty falls to Granny Weatherwax and her two fellow witches, Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick.

Wyrd Sisters is the sixth Discworld novel, and the second to feature Granny Weatherwax.  Pratchett borrows riffs from Shakespeare's Macbeth and Hamlet in constructing his tale of witches, ghosts, usurpation and plays.  He deftly turns many of these tropes on their heads or bends them at right-angles, with surprising and often hilarious effect. Thematically, the book explores the power of words to shape perceived reality, and the corrupting influence of power - especially power held without public purpose.

Pratchett's ability to create memorable literary characters rivals that of Dickens.  In Wyrd Sisters, he further develops the character of Granny - this time as the first among the witches of Lancre.  But he also introduces the ebullient Nanny Ogg, a witch no less capable than Granny, but in her own special, out-going way.  Magrat, an archetypical new age wiccan, provides a counterpoint to her more traditional colleagues.

The supporting cast is no less memorable.  There is the mad duke and his sociopath duchess; Vitoller, a rumbling thespian, and his band of strolling players, including Hwel the playwright; and the canny fool.  Keep an eye out for Hwel and his bouts of inspiration:  side-splittingly funny.

Comparing Pratchett with Pratchett, I would grade Wyrd Sisters with an A.  He has written better, but only just.  And an A for Terry Pratchett is an A+ for a lot of other writers.  Worth the time, and then some.

Sourcery by Terry Pratchett

This above all- to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

     - Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3

In Equal Rites it was established that to be a wizard on the Discworld one had to be the eighth son of an eighth son.  Why then were wizards forbidden to father children?  Because the eighth son of a wizard is a sourcerer, a source of magic in an already magical world.  History shows this spells trouble; and when Ipslore the Red decides to become a father for the eighth time, history is just about to repeat with disastrous consequences.

Sourcery marks the return of the cowardly and inept wizard Rincewind.  As usual, he seems to be human lightning rod, attracting all sorts of magical misfortune.  This time it appears to be the end of wizardry and Unseen University.  Despite his best efforts to stay true to his nature (and this involves a lot of running away), Rincewind is just about to have greatness thrust upon him.

Sourcery is a watershed installment in the Discworld series.  It marks the end of Pratchett's initial conception of Unseen University. Prior to this book, the wizards had been organised into eight different orders, each with eight levels of prowess and prestige.  The characters state repeatedly that the events of the novel are going to end all that.  And end it they do, but the reader is going to have to wait until the tenth discworld novel, Moving Pictures, before they find out what changes have been made at the University.  

Let's just say the dissolving of the orders ends the emphasis on parody in the Discworld novels and replaces it with satire.  To my mind, this is a most welcome change, and from this point onwards the Discworld becomes a wonderful mirror in which our own world is reflected, powerfully, poignantly and hilariously.

As for Sourcery itself, the book investigates the problems of being true to oneself.  Rincewind's companions are, variously and improbably, a barbarian who wants to be a hairdresser, a clerk who wants to be a barbarian, and a sybaritic oriental despot who just wants to drink and be told stories.  The wizards of Unseen University, when handed unlimited magical power, revert to their true wizardly nature and engage in catastrophic behaviour.  As for Rincewind, circumstances force him to transcend his own nature at a very high price.

Sourcery is not among the best of Terry Pratchett's books.  It is a solid, well-crafted tale that serves its purpose - it is a scene-setter for subsequent books.  Still, it contains Pratchett's wonderful humour and word-play, and these nicely balance the serious events in the story.  Perhaps not as satisfying as its two immediate predecessors, Equal Rites and Mort, but well worth the time.

A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain

What a disturbing book!

Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote:

Somebody remarked: 'I can tell by my own reaction to it that this book is harmful.' But let him only wait and perhaps one day he will admit to himself that this same book has done him a great service by bringing out the hidden sickness of his heart and making it visible. - Assorted Opinions and Maxims

Nietzsche may be right.  If I wait, I may find the fault lies with me and not with the book.  On the other hand, A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court may be the outward expression of the hidden sickness of Mark Twain's heart.

Mark Twain, living in poverty in San Francisco, once put a revolver to his head with the view of ending it all.  Luckily for him and the rest of the world, he decided to stay alive, because he went on to write 

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, the latter being one of the great novels of all time. Twain established himself as a best-selling author and humourist, and he became a rich man in the process.  Not only this, he married a wealthy woman.  

Things were looking good for Twain until he invested his money in the development of a mechanical typesetting machine.  It ruined him and he had to declare bankruptcy. It was under this cloud of impending doom and then final insolvency that Twain wrote A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court.  It shows.

The book was an intended satire on the works of Sir Walter Scott, who had romanticised the ideals of mediaeval court chivalry, and the Catholic Church and its conservative and controlling influence.  Against these, Twain sets the ideals of rational control through scientific knowledge, the benefits of 19th century technology and capitalist endeavour, and a more open, presbyterian style of worship.

N.B.  The following paragraphs make explicit the outcome of the plot.

Henry (Hank) Morgan (the Connecticut Yankee and engineer) is knocked out by a blow on the head and awakens in England in the year 528.  He finds a land ruled by a vain, prejudiced and violent aristocracy, and with its common folk thoroughly cowed.  Whether they be aristocrats or commoners, the hallmark of these people is that they are superstitious and prone to believe whatever they hear.  Hank - first in order to survive, then to control - is not above lying to those he meets.  Through these lies and the use of 19th century knowledge and technology, Hank rises to a position of power, which he uses to introduce modern schooling and infrastructure to the kingdom.  In so doing, he undermines the power of the aristocracy and the Church.  Inevitably, a backlash occurs, war breaks out and there is lots of bloodshed.

In the end, it is modern technology that causes the deaths of thousands at the hands of the few.  In the end, it seems the rational of application of scientific knowledge to power is no better than the social systems that predated it.  Worse still, the power it delivers to Hank Morgan degrades him until he becomes a cold-blooded mass murderer.  Nobody wins.

It is hard to believe that this nihilistic assessment of humanity was Twain's intention when he started the book, but it is certainly the outcome - a sunny beginning eclipsed by a dark ending.  I wonder if it is more than a coincidence that Hank orders the execution of the court's only humourist.  Is Twain saying something about himself as well as the economic system and ethos that first made his fortune and then took it away?  Whatever the case may be, A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court  is disturbing and challenging to read.  To paraphrase Nietzsche this time: if reading it does not kill you, it will make you stronger.

Jailbird by Kurt Vonnegut

Ting-a-ling. Hello.

Here is a Kurt Vonnegut book I have not read before.  It is about human relationships in a capitalist society.  Walter F. Starbuck, the main character, is in his mid-sixties.  He has just served three years in prison for his undistinguished role in Nixon's Watergate scandal.  Walter narrates the story of his life from his childhood to the events in the brief time of freedom he has before he is jailed a second time.

Walter feels that what he has achieved was accomplished through the patronage of others and that his mistakes were accidents.  His life is a demonstration of the old adage that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  

After graduating from university (his tuition having been paid by his father's millionaire employer), Walter seeks employment as a public servant for a noble purpose:

It was my plan when I entered Harvard to become a public servant, an employee rather than an elected official. I believed that there could be no higher calling in a democracy than to a lifetime in government.

Walter's career in the public service is safe and undistinguished.  Looking back on it he says: "Never have I risked my life, or even my comfort, in the service of mankind. Shame on me."  Crucially, Walter makes a decision not to repeat one of his mistakes and it lands him in jail.

 In Jailbird, Vonnegut examines the merits of socialist thoughts and actions as opposed to those of the capitalist ethos.  While Walter F. Starbuck puts forward the merits of socialism, he runs up against the stark reality that any wealth-creating enterprise is doomed if it does not turn a profit.  Indeed, one of the characters has embarked upon a massive scheme to return the wealth of the United States to its citizens; but the irony is that the means to do this is summed up in a capitalist directive: 'acquire, acquire, acquire.'

Vonnegut, being Vonnegut, raises some of the big humanist questions: Where is God during a war? How does meaning and kindness enter the world?  Walter F. Starbuck says, 'We are here for no purpose, unless we can invent one. Of that I am sure.'  Vonnegut, in his prologue, says:

So I have always been enchanted by brave veterans like Powers Hapgood, and some others, who were still eager for information of what was really going on, who were still full of ideas of how victory might yet be snatched from the jaws of defeat. “If I am going to go on living,” I have thought, “I had better follow them.”

Of course, there is a lot more to Jailbird than I can relate in the brief time and space available to me.  Vonnegut, comparing himself to himself, gave it an A along with The Sirens of Titan, Mother Night and God Bless You, Mr Rosewater.  Jailbird is certainly worth reading, but it gets a B+ from me.  The other three books are a smidgen better, IMAO.

Ting-a-ling.  Goodbye.

World War Z by Max Brooks

It has been a long time since I devoured a book, but that is what I did with World War Z over the course of a very enjoyable day.  And when it comes to a book about zombies, devour is a very apt word.

Zombies?  Really?  The book is subtitled An Oral History of the Zombie War, but don't be fooled by the name.  This is a story about what people do when they are confronted with an unrelenting enemy; the zombies are just a satirical device.  

It is not a coincidence that Brooks sets some of the action in countries like Israel, South Africa, North Korea, Cuba and the United States: all these are countries where the resident population (or at least parts of the population) have perceived themselves to be under siege from larger, hostile forces.  Let us not forget that in the real-world cases of Israel and the United States, both countries are building physical walls of separation from their neighbours.

The book is set out in the form of first-hand accounts from survivors of the war, starting from the outbreak of a zombie plague and going through the various phases of the war between the zombies and the rapidly dwindling human population until the war's conclusion.

Brooks has done a marvellous job of giving authentic voices to the several dozen respondents who were interviewed for the history.  We get insights into their psychology as they recount their stories and the actions of those around them, as well as finding out how war on a vast scale impacts the lives of individuals and communities.  The respondents come from a wide variety of nationalities and backgrounds: doctors, soldiers, social engineers, politicians, and ordinary, everyday civilians; Chinese, Japanese, Arabs, Iranians, Russians, Latin Americans, Canadians and Yankees.

All of the respondents are eloquent storytellers, and there are some memorable quotes in the book:

Lies are neither bad nor good.  Like a fire they can either keep you warm or burn you to death, depending on how they're used.

I must admit, I allowed my emotions to rule my hand. I was the typhoon, not the lightening bolt.

The monsters that rose from the dead, they are nothing compared to the ones we carry in our hearts. 

All up, World War Z is an entertaining, well-written and thought-provoking book that asks us what it means to be human.

The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde

This diverting and thought-provoking book is the third installment in the Thursday Next series.  

We pick up from where we left off in the last novel, Lost in a Good Book.  Thursday has gone into hiding inside an awful romance novel, and she finds she is having some serious difficulties with her memory.  To add to her troubles, Thursday's closest colleagues are dying horrible deaths one by one, and it seems that someone is after her too.  And there appears to be a problem with the latest book operating system.

The Well of Lost Plots is a better book than its predecessor.  Although it suffers from the same slow start, its satirical edge is sharper and more clearly defined.  It is also a funnier book with many laugh aloud moments; and once the plot really gets going, it is a real page turner.

Like the previous books, The Well of Lost Plots is set in 1985 in an parallel world that is much like our own; however, there are supernatural beings, and beings with supernatural powers, and it is possible for people to enter into works of fiction and for fictional characters to enter into the real world.  

In this novel, Fforde expands and embellishes his conception of the reality operating inside the totality of the written word.  There is government, politics, espionage and dirty dealings; and there is love, heartbreak, loyalty and friendship.  It is a world that Thursday must adapt to - and quickly - if she is to survive.

If you read the first two books in the series with pleasure, this installment will not disappoint.

The One Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed out the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson

I liked this book a lot and had a great time reading it.  I wasn't expecting it to be the best thing to happen to modern literature (it certainly isn't that) but it was thoroughly enjoyable for what it is: a stratospherically tall tale about the history of the 20th century.

Let me start by answering some of the book's critics.  The work is derivative, yes, and it uses the same conceit as Forrest Gump - that a nobody was influential in shaping popular culture (or, in this case, modern history). Yet Forrest Gump was not the first to use such a device - I'm thinking of the Illuminatus! trilogy.

Secondly, the novel's structure and storytelling style is uncannily similar to those employed by Kurt Vonnegut.  Vonnegut's style of storytelling pre-dates the modernists, so he wasn't that original in this respect.  As for structure - well, tell me how many authors have been wholly original in that department?

Finally, the central character, Allan Karlsson, doesn't really develop over the course of the novel, and he seems incapable of forming lasting emotional bonds with either people or credos.  So?  This may be central to literary fiction, but not all fiction has to be literary - it would be a dull world if that were the case.  Some just want to tell you a story to cheer you up, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Having said that, what could possibly be right with the book?  Well, it does bear an uncanny resemblance to some of Kurt Vonnegut's work but without the latter's sardonic inflection.  That's a good thing in my books.  Allan thinks the world is what is and goes along for the ride.  And what a ride it is.  A lot can happen in a hundred years, and a lot of it happens to Allan. I don't want to spoil the fun by giving the plot away, because a lot of the fun is in finding out what happens next.  

If you are the kind of person who can't loosen the corset enough to let a silly story carry you away, then this book isn't for you.  If you are a stickler for historical accuracy, then forget it. If you want to enjoy a tall tale, then this one is one of the tallest.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'

Well, at least that is what the mothers and daughters in the town of Meryton believe; and when the affable Mr Bingley, young, rich and single, moves into the neighbourhood, the mothers want him for their son-in-law and the daughters want him for their husband.

Mr Bingley has brought his friend Mr Darcy with him. Darcy is far richer and more handsome  than Bingley and just as single. He's a dream come true for the ladies of Meryton, and then he opens his mouth.  It quickly becomes a truth universally acknowledged that Darcy is a self-opinionated and bumptious snob.  Who would want to marry such a man?  Certainly not Elizabeth Bennet, the second of five daughters of a solidly respectable country gent.  She says of Darcy:

I believe, Ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him.

And with these words Elizabeth seals her fate.  All we need do now is wait and see which path she and Darcy will take to the wedding chapel together.

In the course of the novel we get to see the little world of the Bennets and the people who move in and out of their circle - some of them endearing, some repulsive, and some of ambiguous personal merit, but all very memorable and well drawn.  It is to Austen's great credit that readers can easily immerse themselves in the story and come to care for the people they meet in the pages.

Pride and Prejudice gives us insight into the world of the English rural gentry in the early nineteenth century, and the reader is scarcely made aware that England had been at war with Napoleon's France for the better part of a decade.  No, the novel strictly confines itself to an examination of the manners and morality of that small slice of English society in a diverting way.  And why not?  Diversion is good when it is this entertaining.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

I liked the ending of this book, but I am not sure it was worth the journey to get there.  Seeing that the story takes the form of an American road trip, I can't help thinking there is some irony in the experience.

Shadow is a jailbird.  He gets paroled early because his wife has died in tragic circumstances.  As he travels across the United States to get home, he meets a mysterious man who calls himself Wednesday, and he receives an offer he can easily refuse but doesn't.  Shadow soon finds himself enmeshed in conflict and conspiracy on a cosmic scale.  His life falls apart as his business with Wednesday takes him up and down the length of America.  Perhaps it is all a grand joke, but one that is going to blow up in Shadow's face.

I haven't read Gaiman before, but I have experienced some of his work: the movie Stardust (based on the novel of the same name) and an episode of Doctor Who penned by Gaiman. I enjoyed them for the light touch and sense of whimsy they both contained.  American Gods, although it does have humour sprinkled throughout, is a far darker work.  Murder, death and betrayal are there in large doses.  And Gaiman does explore where the head and heart of modern America may reside nowadays, and it is a bleak vision.

My main problem with American Gods is that so much of it neither advances the plot nor develops the characters.  There is a lot of repetition that serves no real purpose that I could perceive other than to make a long book longer.  Its saving grace, to my mind, is the way Gaiman uses a certain motif throughout the book and then turns it into the metaphor for the denouement of the work.

Some times less is more, and vice versa.

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) Starring Alec Guinness

Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere,
From yon blue heavens above us bent
The grand old gardener and his wife 

Smile at the claims of long descent.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
'Tis only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

'Tis only noble to be good.  Tell that to Louis Mazzini, whose mother suffered an ignoble life and death at the hands of her own family, the D'Ascoynes, headed by the Duke of Chalfont.  Swearing to avenge his mother, Louis decides to murder the eight D'Ascoynes who stand between him and the ducal throne.  We know Louis succeeds because the film begins with him in prison, charged with murder, and being identified as the tenth Duke of Chalfont.  How, then, did he pull off his plan?

Kind Hearts and Coronets was one of the black comedies to come out of Ealing Studios in Britain just after the Second World War.  Other notable examples are The Lady Killers and The Lavender Hill Mob.  The difficulty faced by the producers of these movies was to make the audience care for characters who are disreputable or even downright amoral.  How then did they make us care for Louis Mazzini?

To start off with, Louis is played with infinite smoothness by Dennis Price.  The cold, calculating, killing machine is suave and charming; and he manages to gain the affections of not one, but two young ladies.  Louis has a way with words and a dry, roguish wit that he employs in both the dialogue of the movie and in the monologues he delivers in his role as narrator.  And these little gems of wit seem pardon Louis in an undefinable manner as he drowns and bombs and poisons his way closer to his inheritance.

Opposite Price, we have Alec Guinness, who plays all eight members of the D'Ascoyne family on Louis' hit list.  With a few exceptions, Louis makes the acquaintances of his relatives (usually without them being aware of their blood ties to him).  Guinness is able to portray them with same degree of likeability that Price brings to his character, albeit in quite diverse ways.  But we are not allowed to forget the shabby treatment these same charming characters doled out to Louis' mother.

In the end, we are in the morally dubious position of both liking and disliking a serial murderer and his victims, with the balance sheet tipped slightly in Louis' favour.  I think that it the success of the comedic elements of the movie, as black as they may be, that sees us arrive at this position; and it is a credit to the writers, actors and director that we do so.  How much easier it would have been to condemn Louis out of hand, and to forgive his family.

So, was there a last minute reprieve for Louis?  Or, like his family, did he get his comeuppance? You will have to see the movie to find out.  No cheating, now.