Books Bought, November 2013
‘The Marx Brothers Poster Book.‘
‘1Q84,’ Murakami Haruki
‘Stuff I’ve Been Reading,’ Nick Hornby
‘To The Letter,’ Simon Garfield
‘Fortunately The Milk…,’ Neil Gaiman
‘Pygmies,’ Chuck Palahniuk
‘Writings From The Zen Master,’ (Penguin Great Ideas Series)
‘Where I Lived And What I Lived For,’ Henry David Thoreau, (Penguin Great Ideas Series)
‘Toothpicks And Logos: design in everyday life,’ John Heskett
‘Nobody Belongs Here More Than You,’ Miranda July
‘Fight Club,’ Chuck Palahnkiuk
‘The Scarecrow And His Servant,’ Philip Pullman
‘The Total Library: non-fiction, 1922-1986,’ Jorge Luis Borges
‘Burma Chronicles,’ Guy Delisle
‘Speaking With The Angel,’ ed.Nick Hornby
‘Skullduggery Pleasant: playing with fire,’ Derek Landy
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Books Read, November 2013
Grantland, issue 5
Grantland, issue 6
Grantland, issue 7
‘The True Tale Of Billy Dean As Tellt By Himself,’ David Almond
‘Monkey,’ Wu Ch’êng Ch’ên
‘To The Letter,’ Simon Garfield
‘Seven Nights,’ Jorge Luis Borges
‘Toothpicks And Logos: design in everyday life,’ John Heskett
‘Super Sad True Love Story,’ Gary Shteyngart
‘Fortunately The Milk…,’ Neil Gaiman
The Believer, issue 102
‘I, Coriander,’ Sally Gardener
‘The Celestial Café,’ Stuart Murdoch
‘Gentlemen Of The Road,’ Michael Chabon
‘The Imperfectionists,’ Tom Rachmann
‘Mother Brother Lover: selected lyrics,’ Jarvis Cocker
‘52 Ways Of Looking At A Poem: a poem for every week of the year,’ Ruth Padel
‘Utopia,’ Thomas More
‘Burma Chronicles,’ Guy Delisle
‘Hell Screen,’ Ryunosuke Akutagawa
‘The Scarecrow And His Servant,’ Philip Pullman
‘The Coincidence Engine,’ Sam Leith
Pulling ahead of the books bought/read debit column yet again, I had a very varied and enjoyable reading month. The month started, tucked up warm in the family home in Essex, devouring a trio of Grantland sports journals, (an incredible way to catch up on a year’s worth of mainly US-based sports and culture), before I made my way through a backlog of YA (young adult) books from the wonderful David Almond, Sally Gardener, Philip Pullman and my beloved Neil Gaiman.
I picked up a promo copy of the interesting but slightly disappointing ‘To The Letter,’ by the 
author who wrote my favourite book of the year so far, ‘Just My Type;‘ learned about design in the modern day from a short tract by Chair Professor Emeritus John Heskett; and tracked down a further episode in Guy Delisle‘s incredible graphic depiction of life in some of the most bizarre corners of the world, (Guy being a French-Canadian artist who follows his wife on her travels with Médecins Sans Frontières from North Korea to Jerusalem to, here, Myanmar).
With a month at home between countries, (where some people are between jobs, I am usually also between countries), I took the opportunity to read some of the signed copies which are confined to my childhood bedroom cupboard, most enjoyable of which was the excellent ‘The Imperfectionists‘ by Tom Rachmann, a multi-registered, decades-long look at the life of various characters in an imaginary newspaper, which simultaneously made me want to work in journalism and deeply glad that I don’t. Quite a feat.
Mainly, this was a month of poetry. I often find myself buying poetry collections, (either because they are small volumes, or beautifully bound, or with names I feel I should know and have read), and they have slowly built up a layer of dust on a poetry shelf above my bed. Having read Stephen Fry‘s excellent introduction to poetry, ‘The Ode Less Travelled,’ last year, I finally continued my education with Ruth Padel‘s ‘52 Ways To Read A Poem,’ a weekly newspaper column which examines and explains a series of short, contemporary poems. This inspired me to read two books I have from two of my favourite singers, Belle and Sebastian’s Stuart Murdoch, (who wrote a poetic, although slightly dull, computer diary), and song lyrics from Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, although the enigmatic Cocker himself insists that lyrics are nothing like poetry).
I leave you with the final stanza from a simple, strangely beautiful and yet slightly disturbing poem by ‘folk-jazz musician’ Don Paterson entitled ‘Imperial,’ a paragraph which stayed with me after I’d finished reading all 52 poems in the collection, (which, being me, I decided to tackle five at a time: who has a year to read a book?!).
“and no trade was ever so fair or so tender;
so where was the flaw in the plan,
the night we lay down on the flag of surrender
and woke on the flag of Japan”
The most lyrical depiction of a slightly coerced taking of virginity you are ever likely to read.
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