Library Book Deja Vu

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Housekeeping, or rather housepossiblynotkeeping news first. There has been an offer on the house and subject to contract/no unexpected hitch we'll be off to Penarth pastures (or surrounding areas) new....hopefully for the wife/daughter anyway. As explained before I'm not as enthusiastic as either of the females. Best description of myself in this regard is neutral. However I'm conscious that the wife was there for me when unemployed. Conscious that she was there even in a way that she does not know when I was in the grip of an all consuming and paralysing depression. Therefore feel I owe her one

So as when the last time we thought the house was going to be sold the library books will be the first things that will be dealt with as it's a quick fix. Return the books walk away job done. I've seen Penarth library about a month ago, and from the outside it looks impressive. Of course should this fall through like the last offer I'll go back to Porthcawl library, becoming it would seem the Frank Sinatra of book borrowing with yet another comeback.

This time though I spent yesterday making sure that these books were read before returned.

They are though different in all other respects similar in that they reminded me of ones I read last year so some of what I'm going to say will be a bit repetitive. Apologies in advance for that.

Under the Duvet by Marian Keyes is a selection of columns she wrote around the nineties/turn of the millennium. It's a funny amusing read. The best thing I can say about this book is that it reminded me of a similar collection off magazine columns by Sue Townsend The Public Confessions Of A Middle Aged Woman which I read and chatted about in this blog last year. It's as good as that.

I'm not saying that she's the Irish Sue Townsend but she is similar to the extent that her books can be read by any adult whatever their age or situation in life. Of course having said that I'm probably one of the few men who's actually read a Marian Keyes book and as I've read more than one, well you'll probably see me on a freak show soon. But her books can be enjoyed by guys...honestly.

I've explained before she's one of those female writers who a lot of male readers have avoided specifically because of their covers and the blurb. In her case it's the chick lit bright colours, silhouetted cartoon figures and swirly lettering. And before you can say "You can't judge a book by it's cover". True. But if you consider a book cover to be a signpost to the reader about what's inside. A Marian Keyes book cover says "Women welcome...men go away". You have probably little time to choose and so as a reader a cover (including the blurb) is important.

As also said before she's not the only female writer that I've avoided for exactly the same reason. Georgette Heyer was not read for years because her covers were too much of the Mills and Boon style for me to take seriously as a teenage boy.

Wonder how many good female writers I've avoided in my life because the book cover led me astray.

Sven: My Story, the autobiography of the ex England (and many other clubs) manager Sven Goran Eriksson is ultimately an unsatisfactory read. Let's get the praise done first. Stefan Lovgren was the ghost writer for this book and the man who translated it from the original Swedish to English and yet it's far better written (in English) than the one produced by Sam Allardyce's excuse for a ghost writer that I read and chatted about late last year.

However I continued to have the feeling that despite what the cover described as a "no holds barred" autobiography bars were being held. For example in the early stages of his career he managed Gothenburg when they won the UEFA cup. A truly outstanding achievement that would have earned a book by itself. But no, his entire tenure there is covered in ten pages.

And since this is turning out to be a knock the book cover post on this blog it also describes this account as "tender". Well apart from when he discusses his immediate family tender is not a word I'd describe what I've read. Discussing his relationships with women I was surprised by the cold, matter of fact approach.

My view on reading this was that it was a fat book with an even more obese version screaming to get out. Perhaps in the future that will happen. In the epilogue Eriksson mentions that he keeps a diary.

Now that's a book I'd like to read.

Until the next time.