Water matters |
10. Elixir: A History of Water and Humankind by Brian Fagan (Bloomsbury Press)
What it says on the bottle – an
accessible account of how various past civilisations engineered water sources
to irrigate their crops, flush away their shit, supply themselves with drink
and, when supplies were abundant enough, prettify their gardens and public
spaces. Being mankind, though, we’re on the way to exhausting our natural
supplies through illogical idiocy like too many golf courses, gardens and
swimming pools in places like California, Phoenix, Texas and Arizona, resulting
in a chronically cost-ineffective use of energy and precious H2O. Sample quote: “The Owens River turned
Los Angeles into a megalopolis, located in an arid landscape where, by the
rules of common sense, no city should ever stand. Los Angeles hefts enough
political clout to capture any river within 600 miles. Today, the city receives
water not only from the Owens River but also via aqueducts from the Colorado
River and the California Aqueduct, which runs from the Sacramento-San Joaquin
Delta to Lake Perris, in Riverside County, 444 miles to the south.”
9. Absolute Monarchs: A History of the Papacy by John Julius Norwich (Random House)
This is an objective but
entertaining chronological rundown of everyone who’s ever claimed to be Pope,
how they got there, and what they did when adorned with the office of the
Papacy. It wasn’t always good and godly things, you know. Sample quote: “Hadrian’s successor, John VIII (872-882), was at
least energetic, but he also had the dubious distinction of being the first
pope to be assassinated – and, worse, still, by priests from his own entourage.
According to the Annals of the Abbey of
Fulda, they first gave him poison; then, when this failed to act quickly
enough, they hammered in his skull. The enthronement of his successor, Marinus
I, in 882 is said to have been marked by the murder of a high Roman dignitary,
that of Hadrian III two years later by the victim’s widow being whipped naked
through the streets. On Hadrian’s death on his way to Germany in 885 foul play
was also suspected. The next two popes, Stephen V and Formosus, died in their
beds,
but on the orders of his successor, Stephen VI, the body of Formosus was exhumed in March 896, eight months after his death, clothed in pontifical vestments, propped up on a throne, and subjected to a mock trial on charges of perjury and of coveting the Papacy.”
but on the orders of his successor, Stephen VI, the body of Formosus was exhumed in March 896, eight months after his death, clothed in pontifical vestments, propped up on a throne, and subjected to a mock trial on charges of perjury and of coveting the Papacy.”
8. I, Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan by Alan Partridge (Harper Collins)
The memoir of Steve Coogan’s
fictional, narcissistic nerd Alan Partridge, now a DJ at North Norfolk Digital,
stays true to the one-dimensional, Daily
Mail-reading archetype whose utterances induce equal amounts of delight and
embarrassment. An accurate mirror of mediocre Middle England, Partridge’s inane
wisdom and relentlessly self-serving (and at times unhinged) actions cause you
to cringe even as you nervously laugh – ridiculous but, in a John Major way,
frighteningly real. Sample quote (in
the car on his way for an interview at the BBC about a second chat show
series): “I felt, looked and smelt fresh and was in high spirits, electing to
forego a conversation role-play in favour of a singalong to The Very Very Best of Tears for Fears. (Their album was actually called The Very Best of Tears for Fears, but I
didn’t like ‘The Way You Are’ or ‘Woman In Chains’, and had taped it on to a
C90 minus these two tracks, and then renamed it to create a compilation that
really was the crème de la cream of their output.)”
7. Ten Thousand Saints by
Eleanor Henderson (Ecco Books)
Back in the 1980s, if the content
of American fiction is any indicator, every US high school kid was fucked up on
drugs, the product of a broken home, possibly adopted, and tormented by jocks
and bullies. Henderson’s 16-year-old Jude Green is no exception, and it’s a
good starting premise for a highly readable novel about nervous young love,
hard core music (with hard core abstinence thrown in for good measure), cool
and pre-gentrified lower Manhattan, and the fictional staples of
(homo)sexuality, mortality and fumbling around in the search for one’s true
self. Sample quote: “ ‘You can blame me for fucking
up my own kids,’ said Les. ‘But don’t blame me for fucking up yours.’ He put
down his glass, gouged out his cigarette in the ashtray, plucked up a cupcake,
and kissed the crown of Eliza’s head. ‘You’re not fucked up. I’m just saying.’
Eliza sat with her elbows on her knees, hands covering her face. ‘Happy
birthday, sweetheart. I tie-dyed you a Yankees shirt – it’s around here
somewhere. You can call me.’ His sandals slapped the marble floor as he crossed
the room. The door closed noisily behind him.”
Glorious mud, and other pleasures from the past |
Browsable for hours, even days,
preferably with your favourite records from the 1970s in the background, this
is the Christmas present that every football fan of a certain age yearns to
peruse while their neglected partner’s busy basting the turkey and getting
quietly pickled on cooking sherry. Pages and pages of prose and pictures
devoted to football memorabilia from the days when everything in the game was
so much better. At least, that’s the way it seems now. Sit back and be
blissfully reminded of adverts, food products, players, toys, kits, magazines,
stickers and trends you’d long since confined to your mental attic. Sample quote: “Mud used to be as central to the game of
football as the ball itself. Placed on a freshly repainted centre spot. By the
Man in the Middle. At Central Park, Cowdenbeath… Mud was synonymous with
football, a crucial factor in its tactics, skills and disciplines. We played in
mud and paid to watch better players overcome mud – their control, balance and
ability to dive and tackle like demons all dependent on mud.”
5. Hartland: Zu Fuss durch Amerika (Hardland: On Foot Through
America) by Wolfgang Büscher (Rowohlt)
A whole new kind of US road trip.
This German journalist can’t be accused of taking the easy option – instead of
going east to west by car, in summer, he goes from north to south. In the
middle of winter. On foot. Zese crayzee Germans, huh? He cheats now and then by
getting a lift, and at one point he buys an old pick-up truck and a second-hand
gun for a particularly inhospitable stretch, but by then you can’t blame him
after he’s ended up in places that are as depressing to read about as they must
be to visit. Sample quote (being
interrogated by two different border guards while having his rucksack searched
at the US-Canada border in the middle of winter): “It was less an examination
of my possessions, more an examination of my brain. The new border guard probed
it for contradictions, and I made sure that what I said tallied with what I’d
told the first interrogator. He was ready to pounce on any apparently trivial
detail to expose this bloke who claimed to have come on foot out of the wintry
prairie, and who was now planning to walk across America.”
4. Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention by Manning Marable (Viking)
This thoroughly absorbing and
comprehensive biography of Malcolm X fills in the gaps left by his own life
story, ghosted by Alex Haley, the genesis of which is a story here in itself.
Marable’s book charts his life from criminal youth to the radical statesman
latterly conflicted with the goals of the Nation of Islam that nurtured and
politicised him during and after his prison term. The road to his assassination
is clearly set out, but is no less upsetting or alarming for being so
meticulously telegraphed. A towering political history of courage, intrigue and
betrayal. Sample quote (at an OAAU
rally in December 1964): “ ‘You’ll never get Mississippi straightened out. Not
until you start realizing your connection with the Congo.’ His [Malcolm’s]
argument defined Pan-Africanist logic, but also ran deeper in light of the
‘imperialist’ connections that [Che] Guevara had drawn at the UN. Underlying
Malcolm’s main argument about the unity of the black struggle was an important point
about exploitation. The ‘connection with the Congo’ for black Americans had as
much to do with the commonality of economic oppression as it did with race. It
was the leap from race-specific ideas to broader ones about class, politics and
economics that pushed Malcolm’s thinking forward in late 1964, a lesson that
his travels in Africa had brought into focus.”
3. State of Wonder by Ann
Patchett (Harper)
Marina Singh, a research
scientist with a US pharmaceutical company, is sent down to Brazil to find out
why her former mentor, Annick Swenson, is taking so long to come up with a
revolutionary fertility drug she’s been working on deep in the Amazonian
jungle. She’s also intrigued by the fate of her close colleague, Anders Eckman,
the last employee sent down there, and curtly reported by Swenson in a telegram
as dead and buried. That’s just for starters – not even a swooping, hungry tree
python will force you to put this novel down once you’ve ventured downriver. Sample quote: “Dr. Swenson brightened
for a moment. ‘I’ll tell you what the locals do have a real genius for, and
that’s poison. There are so many plants and insects and various reptiles
capable of killing a person out here that it seems any idiot could scrape
together a compound that would drop an elephant. As for the rest of it, people
survive regardless of the care they get. The human animal is too resilient for
it to be otherwise. It is not for me to meddle’.”
2. Townie: A Memoir by Andre
Dubus III (WW Norton)
It comes as a surprise to find that
the author of the elegiac House Of Sand
And Fog was a psychotic thug in his youth, but this hugely honest account
of the psychology of violence explains in graphic, blow-by-blow detail why some
inwardly seething individual in a bar might just decide to come over and whack
you with little apparent provocation. Dubus starts out as a weak kid, in a
broken home in a shitty Massachusetts mill town, picked on and taunted by the
kids that use his house after school for drinking, drugs and sex. After helplessly watching his brother get
beaten up, he becomes the man in the Bullworker ad – he stops smoking pot and
starts working out, and by the time he’s ready for action, he’s got muscle and
a ton of scores to settle. A touching account of eventual redemption through
writing rather than kicking someone’s head in, and how he reached a sort of
peace with his famous author and namesake dad. Sample quote (walking home one night, he spots two men in a parking
lot as they threaten a pleading third. Dubus decides to step in): “Ryan hit him
again, and now I was close enough to hear it, the dulled thud of bone under
flesh on bone under flesh. ‘Hey!’ I felt my voice move through my vocal cords,
watched myself stand a pace behind them, my weight on my back foot. The tall
one was bent over at the waist crying, his hands cupped to his nose, and Ryan
turned to me. ‘Mind your own fuckin’ business.’
‘Why don’t you hit me then? Hit me.’
He rushed at me and there was a thrust in
my shoulder and he fell backwards to the asphalt and lay there and didn’t move.
The tall one straightened up and sniffled.
He looked from me to his friend, then back at me. Someone else had been
standing near the hood of the Monte Carlo, and now he ran around the car and
squatted on the ground near Ryan. ‘Shit.’
Ryan mumbled something. He rolled onto his
shoulder, and I turned and walked through the parking lot and out the iron
gates and into the street for the long walk home.”
War - still stupid after all these years |
4 comments:
Thanks Ian, Nice Selection, just ordered Got, Not got. I look forward to reading that. This year I also enjoyed Lost in Shangri-La, (and thus a re-read on James Hilton's Lost Horizons, totally unrelated except for Shangi-La), Matterhorn and a review of The Rum Diary. To satiate my need to escape reality... Wildwood and Game of Thrones. Hope all is well, let me know if you have time for a pint.
JH, There seems to be a pattern of people being lost in woods and jungles in those books - I'll hit you up for a lone of Lost In Shangri-La, it looks really good. Definitely up for a holiday pint between Xmas and New Year for a verbal (if slurred) revue of 2011.
'Loan', not 'lone'. Tsk.
I enjoyed John Julius Norwich's Byzantium history, and fancy these classy popes. Another fine Medieval institution seems to have fallen foul of political correctness, like the Vikings, although the occasional pontiff still makes on stand for barbarity by liking the Nazis and endorsing child-rape.
As for Patridge, I feel parliament beckons.
Merry Christmas!
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