Tag Archives: Médecins Sans Frontières

93. Books Bought & Read, November 2013…

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


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.

imgres I picked up a promo copy of the interesting but slightly disappointing ‘To The Letter,’ by the imgres-2author 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 Delisles 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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Posted by on December 8, 2013 in BOOKS


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