In Defence Of The Male Reader

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

One of the great advantages of Twitter is the way it will lead you to things that even the normal internet would not. Yesterday, quite randomly it led me to a post by the writer David Hayden with regard to men and their reading choices. It suggested that male readers would normally see writing as the canon with women hardly getting a look in.

The article is here https://lithub.com/david-hayden-men-still-too-often-see-their-writing-as-the-canon/

It referred to readers surveys which stated that male readers almost exclusively and deliberately read fictional books by other men and not women. This surprised me. I personally wonder how these surveys were phrased. Most male readers I'm aware of don't discriminate by gender at least not as consciously as Mr Hayden's article implied. That said, as I've mentioned in this blog in the past, there have been some female writers who I have avoided specifically because the cover and the blurb suggests not that it will be too female, but rather too gushingly romantic, too girly or too delicate for my male DNA.

As readers of this blog will also know I have tried to go beyond the covers recently (too varying degrees of success as I will explain later) but I don't blame myself for not looking at books that were not designed to attract me the male reader.

These covers need to be discussed individually. There were four particular types:

a) The "Mills and Boon" Cover: We are all aware of that cover that suggests whirlwind romance through a [insert historical period here]. Avoided Georgette Heyer (only read her for the first time a couple of years and Norah Lofts (I've a book of hers have not got round to reading yet).

b) The Chick Lit Cover: Bright Colours, Swirly lettering, Cartoon figures. They were literary warning lights for men to avoid. But if circumstances were different, I wouldn't have realised that (as I've explained in previous posts) Marian Keyes is a far more important writer than her covers would suggest.

c) The Chocolate Box Cover: Which interestingly I have an example in one of the two books I'm reading at the moment.

Santa Montefiore - The Beekeeper's Daughter

(The other book I'm reading incidentally is The Age Of Innocence by Edith Wharton)

So you're looking at that cover and would instantly see a sweeping romance style book. I won't chat about the novel until I've properly finished it. Though let's say that for the moment it's a case of Bad Santa.

4) The Delicate Cover: This tends to be a relatively thin book with a painting/photo and a blurb that suggests something arty and dull. Anita Brookner comes to mind here (though I have got a few of her books now though amongst the great unread at the moment).

There was also one other thing about Mr Hayden's piece (whose books incidentally I haven't read either - so many books - so little time ) that sprang to mind. His concentration on general literature ignored the genre where women writers have had critical and popular (including men) acclaim through the decades and that's crime.

From Agatha Christie and Dorothy L Sayers through to Liza Cody, P D James, Sarah Paretsky, Ruth Rendell  with now Lynda La Plante and Val McDermid female writers have shown that if you write in a subject men are interested in they are happy to read you without any issues of gender. And, it should be stressed that often the people doing the detecting are women as well.

I'm not saying that men (including myself) shouldn't read more books by women authors. But I am saying that the reasons we haven't are probably less obvious than Mr Hayden's article would suggest.

Until the next time.

On Books: Including For Men At Some Time What Is The American Version Of Jane Austen

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with the latest library book I've read:

Peter Haining - The Great English Earthquake

Did you know there was a violent earthquake in England in 1884 with Essex as it's epicentre? Well  didn't. How a book about an earthquake in England during the Victorian era reached a small library in South Wales I don't know. But there we go.

Historians and Seismologists will love this book. Mr Haining knows his Essex earthquakes and the research he's done clearly shows this. However for the general reader (of which I'm unquestionably one) account after account of the ground shaking and damage to buildings can be wearisome after a while.

Still if you're into earthquakes and especially Essex earthquakes this is the book for you.

So a couple of days ago I was looking through the hard drive of the DVR (dominated by programmes the wife records now for me it's just Pobol Y Cwm and Bones generally speaking) when I noticed a film she'd recorded in late December when I was away in Essex exile looking after my unwell mother.

" I see you recorded Little Women" I said

"What of it?"

"Well I'm reading it right now".

And for the first time ever when I mentioned to the wife what book I'm reading she actually gasped.

My attitude to Louisa M Alcott's classic novel was exactly that to whatever Jane Austen tome you'd care to mention. As a boy/teenager/in my twenties I avoided it as it was "for girls". When I got older it was a case of so many books so little time...until now.

Let's start by saying that a fifty four year old man is not the target audience for this. But given it's classic status any true reader does need to say that they've read it.

Apparently Little Women was originally two books before merged into the one we know today. This did not surprise me. For (talking about the completed package) if football is described as a game of two halves then so is this novel. I can't remember another book where there seems to be a radical and sudden difference between it's first and second half. If there was one reason why I couldn't say I liked Little Women it was that.

The first part was very homespun American. And the thing is, nothing much really happened. It was a dull read. Indeed it was a shame that it wasn't set in the American South because with the general storyline (the lives of a group of women living in genteel poverty) I couldn't help thinking of cliched Country and Western tunes. The type that work along the lines of "We were poor and living in a cardboard box in Nashville....but we were happy" (not that poor mind you,they have a servant).

But it seemed as if Ms Alcott realised this because in the second half everything that she could have put in such a book seemed to be thrown in all of a sudden. So I disliked it for a different reason. That things happening so quickly in relation to the first part beggared belief.

But yet again it wasn't aimed at me. Mind you I've read Caitlin Moran and Marian Keyes and have enjoyed them as well. So perhaps it was just the case that Ms Alcott knew her audience and was happy enough with that.

Perhaps. Who can tell?

And in the random way I pick books from the Kindle the next ebook turns out to be Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. As I've said before in this blog my view of her is that she's in that group of writers I call "Literary Switzerland". In that I don't dislike them but I can't understand why they're considered great. A position that always bothered me because I feel I've missed something.

My Kindle has a mind of it's own.

Until the next time.

Cecelia Ahern vs Marian Keyes.....Not Even Close

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Regular readers of this blog will know that since I've joined the library service (staring with the one in Sully) since moving out of Bridgend to the Vale of Glamorgan I've started on an attempt to read every "relevant" adult book there (when I say relevant I mean not reading books that would be stupid for me to open, such as keeping dogs when I have a phobia of the domestic wolves).

However when it comes to fiction it's simple. I intend to read every book unless it's in large print. Which is the reason why as a fifty three year old man the Cecelia Ahern novel How To Fall In Love comes into my hands.

Unlike most fifty three year old men reading Cecelia Ahern for the first time I do have a writer to compare her with. The same regular readers will know that I've read books by Marian Keyes (I won't bore you with how here but if you click Marian Keyes on the labels tag things will be explained). On the surface to compare both writers seem fair. They after all female Irish writers marketed as chick lit.

But...

Before the but I should acknowledge that Cecelia Ahern came to this comparison with two main disadvantages. One is that I'm a fan of Marian Keyes. It's my belief that she is a far more important writer than the chick lit covers do her credit for. I suspect that she'll be one of those authors though popular in her lifetime literary critics will only "discover" decades after her death.

The other disadvantage is that I've read three Marian Keyes books and this was my first by Cecelia Ahern, so that does need to be noted.

So you should not be surprised that when I finished I still felt that Marian Keyes is better.

But (back to that) what was a surprise is how much I actually hated the Ahern novel. In fact a quarter of the way through was seriously considering breaking " the reader's code" (that follows the Mastermind principle that once a book is opened "I've started so I'll Finish").

From the beginning it's badly written. No. Very badly written. So many I's in the first chapter for example an English teacher would have thrown it out if produced as homework. But here it is in black and white assaulting my eyes with it's awfulness. Marian Keyes on the other hand can simply write in a style that perhaps is best described as hope mixed with cynicism and humour. (Don't look for any humour in the Ahern, trust me on that).

Sometimes as a reader you don't notice bad writing if a good tale is being told. Not here. Never Fall In Love is basically a meandering journey into a coma with a few jolts along the way.You had a good idea from the cover what you were going to expect. As for the characters...I didn't really care. I'd challenge anyone to read a Marian Keyes book and say they were bored.

Ahern's novel is set in Ireland, mainly Dublin. But really it was so bland you could easily transfer it to anywhere you think of. Never been to Ireland, let alone Dublin, but you feel instantly that you're there in the Marian Keyes books I've read. If somebody tried to film the Ahern it would be a made for TV movie set probably in Boston that you find after NCIS on a weekday afternoon. For Keyes I suspect a RTE/BBC co production would appear to be the most suitable.

So what can I say? Next time you're thinking of reading a Cecelia Ahern book read Marian Keyes first. That way you can say you've read quality.

Incidentally the latest library book I've borrowed is.....

Bruce Chatwin - In Patagonia

One of those books I've been meaning to read for a while but never got round to it. Now it's time has come.

Until the next time.

As Nations Go The Brink Of Nuclear War....Let's Talk About Hilary Mantel And P G Wodehouse

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So for the past few days the world has to face the serious possibility of war between the United States and North Korea. Who knows how this will pan out. Let's just hope that both nations will wake up to the cliff edge they're walking towards. After all it will be far more than just those two countries that will be directly affected. And indirectly every country in the world.

And what of course this proves also is that fat men with stupid hairstyles should not be allowed to lead nations. Remember that when Boris Johnson tries to be British Prime Minister.

Let's then drag ourselves to the more civilised pursuit of reading books then. First off being Hilary Mantel's collection of short stories The Assassination Of Margaret Thatcher......oh.

When you read a well known author for the first time, as I will go on about when discussing P G Wodehouse, their reputation precedes them. Sometimes it's very difficult to shake that off as you're going through the book. With Mantel it wasn't that difficult. She's known for historical fiction, indeed have given out the Reith Lectures on BBC Radio 4 on the subject, revealing a voice that could be best described as a gentle Dalek.

These short stories though are set in the late twentieth century to the present day. So they're relatively modern which meant I could approach them relatively fresh. There are ten stories in the book, but one, Comma, I'd already found out was about child cruelty. Wasn't going to read that. So I'm chatting about the remaining nine.

Three of these Hilary Mantel stories had, much to my surprise some of the worst writing I've read since reading Sam Allardyce's autobiography........

(I'll pause here. I'm going to claim to be the first person able to put Hilary Mantel and Sam Allardyce in the same sentence. Now I've done it twice)

.....the writing was that bad I noticed it.

Two of the stories were inconsequential. What I mean by that is that was that my reaction at the end was to mentally shrug my shoulders.

One was well written but had a surprise ending so disturbing I wish I hadn't read it.

Three (the final three as it happens that includes the Assassination of Margaret Thatcher) were truly engrossing.

So a mixed bag then. I can't say I really have an opinion of Hilary Mantel after having read the book. Seems I'll need to read another one to have an opinion of her. Not today though. The next tome that I took out of the baby collection of books that is Sully library is this.

Cecelia Ahern - How to Fall in Love

Now this is an unexpected experiment. Regular readers to this blog would know how I've gone on about male readers avoiding female writers because the covers were too "girly" and argued that Marian Keyes is a far better writer than her chick lit covers would suggest. Well here's a book that the old me would have avoided by a famous "chick lit" writer. So we'll see how I get on.

With regard to the Kindle The Man With Two Left Feet And Other Stories by P G Wodehouse is finished. Every one of my prejudices were confirmed. Young men just want a good time, upper class men are mainly stupid, young women are pretty, old women are battleaxes, life is just froth. Problems just go away like that.

Even attempted suicide, suicide, is treated as if it was mere whimsy. Goodness only knows how he would have dealt with nuclear war.

So as you can guess I hated it.

The next on the ebook pile is Persuasion by Jane Austen. Thus far (early days) I prefer it to Emma.

Until the next (hopefully not radioactive) time

How Moving House Has Increased My Reading And Measuring Male Maturity Through Jane Austin

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

There is a twilight zone stage that me and my family are living in at the moment. Preparing for the move though it will be a number of weeks ahead so that a lot of things have been boxed, crated, charity shopped or just thrown away at the local tip. A consequence of which is that circumstances throw themselves up with unexpected results.

It's five o'clock this (Tuesday) morning. Exactly one hour before I wanted to get up. Nothing to watch on TV either recorded or live (which seem to be plastered with people trying to sell you cooking gadgets you'll rarely use, cleaning gadgets you'll rarely use or get into some rigorous training DVDs that I'm sure will lead me to a six pack and heart failure The DVD/discs are crated, as are the paper books. Nothing else to do for that hour than read on my Kindle (other e readers are available).

Before I wouldn't have considered reading at this hour, certainly not a paper book, as it's not comfortable for my eyes. But given the back light there's no problem here.

So Amazon (and the companies that sell the other e readers that are available) there's a whole new market of people to flog your wares to. Those who want to read but can't get at their paper books....you're welcome....a free gift voucher would suffice.

The book I finished this morning was H G Wells' 1899 novel When The Sleeper Awakes. The first thing to say about this is that the only way you can read it is by suspending your disbelief to such a level you'll consider when finishing taking up high wire lessons. The plot can only be described as bonkers. Starting from the fact that we have to believe that not only can a man survive two hundred years in a trance but doesn't age either!

The other thing you need to abandon when reading the book is the thought that in essence H G Wells is rehashing the plot from the earlier novel  The Time Machine (Victorian gent in the future having to deal with the society there).

It is readable....just. It's also in parts racist. The "N" word was mentioned twice. This was both unexpected and unwelcome.

Next I read Emile Zola's short story The Flood (I know, never read him before and he comes into my life twice in a week). I won't go into the plot other than what's obvious from the title. What I will say is that if you're not moved after having read this you've a heart of stone and probably a member of UKIP.

And so to the current book I'm reading. Emma by Jane Austen. It's the first Austen book I've ever read (though some paper books are in the great crated unread.

It's funny how my attitude to Austen has changed even though I've never read her work before. As a child soon to be a teenager I rejected her because she was "just for girls". As a teenager/twenties I wouldn't read her because she seemed to be the thinking woman's Mills and Boon.

(As an aside I wouldn't condemn my past self for that view. I've written before how I believe that some female writers would have a far greater male readership if the covers didn't give men the wrong impression about their work. Marian Keyes is a recent example, though at the time Georgette Heyer and Norah Lofts were rejected by me exactly because their covers reminded me of Mills and Boon)

In my thirties and forties I had acknowledged that she was worth reading but life and other books always seemed to come before her. Now, in the age of fifty three, being I suspect the only man outside of publishing who has read a Georgette Heyer novel first Jane Austen has arrived in my life.

Hope I like it.

Until the next time.

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.

Do Tablets Have Feelings? Did Porthcawl Library Miss Me? Can You Be Hammered Twice In A Month? And Other Deep Thoughts

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Firstly it appears that the situation in Bridgend Indoor Market has become even worse than when I spoke about it in October (http://sopralalunawithpenguinsintherain.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/perhaps-maesteg-is-not-only-indoor.html). Even more stalls are closing and today the situation even made the front page of the local newspaper. Next time I'm in the town I'll have another look.

I have to report a death, well I think it's a death anyway of my Samsung tablet. Tried to switch it on this morning, nothing. Not a Kindle of the Fire of life. Speaking of which good thing I'd recently bought the Amazon Fire. Probably the most foresightedness thing I've done in a decade.

Of course the question I need to ask is whether the Samsung felt somehow offended by the arrival of the new younger, quicker, faster pretender and was just so upset it committed tabloid suicide? The timing seems to suggest that it couldn't bare a rival and just gave up.

Must admit that apart from trying to see whether it can be resuscitated to get out a couple of photos I'm not particularly bothered by the situation. Though that's due to luck than judgement.

In an action which again may seem premature (there's a viewing on the house tomorrow) returned to Porthcawl library. It has been a week since I'd put books on the counter and quietly walked out. Assuming that I'd be leaving the borough shortly thereafter. Well that fell through so wanting to avoid the celebrations and parades of the prodigal book borrower arrived there early.

My intention had been to reborrow the two books I'd returned last week. But while Marian Keyes collection of articles Under The Duvet was an easy find it appeared that someone else was interested in Mark Chapman's recollections of trying to instill sport to his children so it was not there. A need arose then to get a football book and the one I eventually decided was.....

Sven Goran Eriksson - Sven My Story

Leaving aside his private life (to be honest I'm not bothered with what consenting adults do in private as long as there are no issues of hypocrisy) the thing which both Eriksson and England's other foreign manager Capello had was that early promise led to extreme disappointment. It should be an interesting read.

It is according to the front cover blurb quoting The Mail On Sunday it is the book "Everyone's Talking About". Don't remember my mother mentioning it to me .

After that memorable return to the book borrowing fold I went to the PAWS charity bookshop and bought four Penguin paperbacks for a pound (Penguin book budget now £2.07).

These books were:

R K Narayan - Tales From Malguidi

This came from the Penguin 60s of pocket books produced to celebrate their sixtieth anniversary.

Nadine Gordimer - July's People

I've read a couple of novels by this writer and she didn't disappoint so this will be interesting.

Ernest Hemingway - Green Hills Of Africa

This is an account of a "big game safari" in East Africa in the nineteen thirties. I ummed and arred about buying this book because I'm assuming he's hunting these animals. Ultimately though I felt it was important to read something from the man who tried to put a sort of romantic tinge in hunting and well aim to shoot it down. That's right I'm going to do a hatchet job.

Finally it's that man again:

The Rainbow - D H Lawrence

Well we'll see what I think of this when it comes amongst the great unread.

Twenty six days ago on a Friday night I watched West Ham lose five nil to Manchester City in the third round of the F A cup. It's happened before. About four years ago they lost to the same score in the cup to Nottingham Forest. The TV cameras cut to a small boy crying his eyes out. Remember thinking that I'd just turned fifty and I felt like crying too.

Well this evening there was a league match between these teams and in view of West Ham's good performance since that match there was a good chance the result wasn't going to be the same this time around.

Well it wasn't . It was four nil.As I sat down with my coffee in front of the TV I watched open mouthed as the team I followed capitulated as they did earlier this year.

I've had better evenings.

Until the next time.

Goodbye To Porthcawl Library

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know this is premature. I know that the move might fall through. But today (Monday) I went to Porthcawl library for what is probably the last time.

Why? Well three reasons. Firstly once the process of moving house goes into full swing giving back library books would be put in the back burner, and then forgotten.

Secondly, and conversely, dealing with the library is simple. Return the books. That's it.

Thirdly though, and most importantly, unlike some things I was going to do but will put off until the move is complete (going through an Elizabeth David book and volunteering for a food bank will have to wait) this was to be the first thing I was stopping that I was doing. It was also the first thing that would affect me. As the libraries in Bridgend (bar one) I consider a friend.

Porthcawl library is not the best library in the Bridgend area (in my opinion that's Pyle) as it is slightly small. In all other respects I have always enjoyed and looked forward to my visits there. It has a staff that knows what they're doing and, as I've explained previously, tolerate my bad jokes (On having to pay a fine "I thought you were going to throw the book at me").

As in all good bookshops what made this library (like the others in Bridgend..bar one) good was it's ability to surprise you by borrowing a book that you had not expected to want. I'm not saying that they would all be good (ie a biography of Aneurin Bevan) but you'd be prepared to give it a go.

I walked in. Gave the books and walked out. What I was not going to do was linger.

Goodbye

To Marion Keyes and Mark Chapman my apologies. Once the situation is sorted will make a beeline for your books. I promise.

Purchasing Penguin paperbacks though hasn't stopped. As I was in Porthcawl I went to the PAWS charity shop where for £2 I got this.

H E Bates - Country and Other Matters

This is a collection of five of his books, Fair Stood the Wind for France,The Wild Cherry Tree,Dulcima,The Four Beauties and Seven by Five (there were actually six but The Triple Echo is missing).

Regular readers of this blog will know that I'm not currently an H E Bates fan. My view of A Little Bit Of What You Fancy, the last of the Larkin books was that it was a UKIP wet dream of an England (not you would note Britain) that probably never really existed.

However as I hope Michael Palin showed my views on one book does not necessarily mean that they will be my views on another so we live in hope.

So goodbye Porthcawl,Pyle,Aberkenfig, Maesteg and the old Bridgend Town Centre library. It was fun.

As for the new Bridgend Town Centre not in the town centre abomination library which the Labour Council got EU money to action. I hope you (but not the books inside) rot.

Until the next time.

Library humour. Books Borrowed And Bought, And I Become A Bluebird Fan For Ninety Two Minutes

Hello there hope you're feeling well today.

Yesterday I went to the Porthcawl library for the first time this year. I was, I must admit a little late so needed to pay a small fine. So put the books down on the counter as the librarian approached me. Behind her were two other ladies looking at a computer.

"Just need to pay my debt to society".

"Well" she responded "We'll need to get the dungeon ready".

To which I said: "I thought you were going to throw the book at me"

Alright it's hardly a "Woody Allen when he was funny" remark. Still it wasn't bad. And it earned me a small ripple of applause which for a library is the equivalent to a standing ovation.

Have decided to limit the books I borrow from the library to two. One football book and the other well anything that takes my fancy. Having said that it is stretching it to say that this is a football book.

Mark Chapman - The Love Of The Game

This book is about how he tries to instill a love of sport to his children. I must be honest here and say that for reasons of her unwillingness on some sports and just bad luck with injuries on others have not really been successful with my daughter. But I'll chat about that once I've finished reading this. Can though relate to it, which is the reason I picked it up.

My second choice could not be more different:

Marian Keyes - Under the Duvet (actually photographed above one)

I have mentioned before in this blog how I believe that Marian Keyes is a brilliant writer undermined by chick lit book covers and blurb. This is a collection of her journalism (I mean would you expect a cover like that for Alistair Cooke?) so I'm hopeful.

I didn't have much time to spend once I finished with the library. But armed with £3.57 from my Penguin paperback budget went to the PAWS charity shop. Bought two books for a total of 50p. What really pleased me was that they were both on the old numbering system.

On the other hand:

835 - C S Forester - The Happy Return

As I've recently explained when discussing The Commodore I'm not a C S Forester fan at the moment because I believe UKIP would lap the over the top patriotism, all foreigners are flawed mantra that ran through that novel. So I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to reading another novel by him for a while.

The other book could not be more different:

D114 - Vasko Popa - Selected Poems

Vasko Popa was a "Yugoslav" (when this was published - was born in Serbia) poet. I've made it clear that poetry and me rarely get on. But I'm intrigued by this and will give it a fair wind when it's name comes up on the pile of the great unread.

It had been a while, other than watching Penybont FC, that the stars of the universe would align that I would be so aligned that I could watch some live sport. But later that afternoon I discovered through Twitter that the Cardiff  Under 23 team would be playing in the city stadium that evening and it would be free (including, a factor crucial to me for going to matches at Cardiff City in an evening, the car park). Daughter would be at guides, wife would have the chance to watch whatever Downton Abbey replacement TV is throwing these days and I would watch live football. Happy family life.

As I've made clear previously, Cardiff City, along with Swansea City, Newport County and Leyton Orient, belong in that small group of teams that I genuinely wish well as long as they're not playing West Ham. And as they were not facing any of the other teams I've just mentioned was happy enough to be a Bluebird fan for ninety minutes plus stoppage time.

I drove to the Cardiff City Stadium early. I'd done this once before and I knew that essentially it would be a few blocks of the stadium that would be occupied by fans so consequently had a good chance of a decent car park space. Once that was done went to what I had not realised before was a surprisingly small McDonalds (given how busy it must be for match days) for a meal. Once finished went inside the stadium.

Bluebird Country

From a distance new football stadiums look as if alien spacecraft have just landed ready to request to be taken to your leader. With the nearby Millenium stadium Cardiff has two relatively close together. That presumably is one of  the privileges of capital city status.

I'd taken the book Bobby Fischer Goes To War with me to read during the breaks and claimed on Twitter that I was the first person to take a book on chess to a Cardiff City game. Their Twitter feed quickly came back to say that they would need to "....check.Mate".

But for now....

...I'm still claiming this

Cardiff's opponents were Ipswich Town who apparently judging by their away strip seemed to think of themselves as the Barcelona of Suffolk. Still when the match began they were the ones who came closest to scoring in the first minute.

Beware Barcelona . Boys in Tractors are coming for you

Both teams played the opening minutes full of energy, youth and enthusiasm. As a fifty three old man I hated them for it.

But around the twenty sixth minute Cardiff scored. As I recall it was a response to a parry of a first attempt. But It didn't matter how they scored, they scored. One nil.

And from the moment the first half was mainly one set of Cardiff attacks after another. You've heard of an "unlucky bounce"? Well in this match there was an unlucky ricochet as the Cardiff shot went from the goalkeeper to a defender and then to safety to Ipswich. One nil is therefore how the first half ended.

So to the second half. You will note from this picture the Ipswich goalkeeper. Dressed in a colour that I could only describe as motorway maintenance.

Presumably cycling to Suffolk after the game

After that picture was taken Cardiff scored a second.A shot by James Waite. All seemed to be going smoothly then.....but

There came the moment where the Cardiff defence went all Rip Van Winkle when there was a run along the left, a cross and the oncoming Ipswich player slotted the ball to the net. Two - One.

Around the seventy fifth minute order was restored when Matt Kennedy scored a delightful free kick that got everyone outside of Suffolk applauding in admiration. It must have been particularly sweet given that two Ipswich players in separate incidents were booked for tackles on him last seen in a Jackie Chan movie. Three - One.

Five minutes after where. after a pass went astray the Ipswich manager threw a water bottle down to the ground in anger. He was by far the loudest person in the stadium that evening. His equivalents on the home technical area seemed to say nothing until ninety minutes had passed when all of a sudden they were shouting things to their players. Ninety minutes gone. Three one ahead and now you want to say something? Did not get that.

Anyway made no difference. The Match finished with the victory to Cardiff City.

Earlier I'd poked fun at the Ipswich goalie's taste in luminous clothing. But let me also say this. There are matches where a team is comprehensively beaten but their best player turns out to be the goalkeeper because he (or she) stopped the score being much worse. This was the case here. Michael Crowe put his body on the line constantly during the match to thwart what seemed to be near certain Cardiff goals. Judging solely on this game Ipswich should do their damnest to keep him.

Thank you Cardiff City. It was fun.

Until the next time.

In Which I Chat About Icelandic Football (though not much on THAT result), A Book Is Read And Updates On Football Cards and Polish Food

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I know this is chatting about this well and truly after the horse has bolted but I'd wanted to do the post about buying Polish food on Tuesday first because of the racist tensions the Brexit result has unleashed. I'm sure I'll be chatting about it again soon but for now football...and Iceland.

As mentioned before I was at work during the England/Iceland game so have only bothered to see the highlights but what really shocked me was not that Iceland won but how inept England were. Before the match I'd told someone at work that whilst I expected England to win it wouldn't have surprised me if they lost either. After all in pre qualifying Iceland came second in a group that included Turkey and the Netherlands and although England had the greatest humiliation they had also humiliated pre tournament dark horses Austria and embarrassed Portugal and Hungary in Euro 2016.

The point is the fact that Iceland played well should not have been a surprise because they have been playing like that for a long time now.

On Friday I'd watched a couple of club matches on the internet to take my mind off the Brexit gloom for a while. The one from the Irish Republic was a dull 0-0 affair (even though it was Shamrock Rovers/Cork City). The Icelandic game though also scoreless was a much livelier affair. I made a mental note to watch another game from this league when the opportunity presented itself. Remember it was before that.game and the chance came a day after that  game where I watched Fylkir FC play against those city slickers Viking Reykjavik

Let me say that I like Icelandic league football. It reminds me of the Welsh Leagues. Part time players, small grounds (no stands behind either goal here) but plenty of enthusiasm. No gloss more heart.

As the first half finished 0-0 the teams seemed about equal in ability to me so it was a shock to discover through google that in a 12 team league the home team were currently bottom with their opponents eighth. Given that they were bottom I was impressed with Fylkir so decided that they, the ones who played in a strip that could only be described as radioactive orange, were going to be the Icelandic team I would support.

So obviously when they win the league no one will describe me as a glory seeker.

In the second half contrary to everything you have been taught or read it was the Vikings who were being stormed  in their area time and time again until eventually Fylkir got the goal they truly deserved. That's how the game finished. My team won. The fightback starts here. You've read it here first... in English anyway.....I think.

I've finished the Marian Keyes novel The Other Side Of The Story. I won't bore you by repeating the superlatives I've been using to describe this. All I will say is that although it wasn't the best book I've read this year it came close.

Of course this means a new book from the Great Unread which is

Ali Smith - The Accidental

This was given out free with The Times Newspaper. Before you wonder whether I've further contributed to Rupert Murdoch's plan for world domination. It was bought in a charity shop for 50p.

The football stickers are progressing slowly. I've got now to a stage where I've more doubles in a packet than new stickers. Haven't yet had the opportunity to try and sort this out but will try to do soon. In the meantime here's the current standings. Remember there is a max of thirty three stickers per team.

Turkey: 18

Switzerland:16
France: 15
Russia: 15
Albania: 13
Spain: 13
Sweden: 13

Wales: 13

Czech Republic: 12
Northern Ireland : 12
Poland: 12
Republic of Ireland : 12
Ukraine: 12
Austria: 10
Hungary: 10
Iceland: 10
Slovakia: 10
Belgium: 9
England: 9
Germany: 9
Romania: 9
Italy: 8
Portugal: 8
Croatia: 6

Finally my wife looked a bit embarrassed when I walked in the house from work yesterday. It transpired that she tried the Jezyki biscuits I bought on Tuesday. She loves them. Seems like the Polish deli is going to be somewhere we'll regularly visit when in Bridgend Town from now on. I'm going to try them tomorrow afternoon (Friday) when I intend to spend an hour on the Get started in Polish book.

Until the next time.

My Day With Marian

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before I chat about Saturday one quick postcript about yesterday's post. As I explained I'm not going to start learning Polish until Monday as it will be the first day I will have time to myself. Having said that this (Saturday) morning I stumbled on a Polish series on the foreign language on demand service of Channel 4.

The show is called The Border. It's about Polish border guards as they stop criminal gangs trying to bring illegal immigrants entering their country, That you must think is ironic in so many levels.

Saturday was a day I had to go to work in the afternoon/evening shift. Again I've been unlucky in the sense that for this tranche of games in Euro 2016 (Saturday,Sunday, Monday) the only day I'm not working is Sunday. Not only that but the teams I want to do well.England. Italy and Wales are/were not playing on that day. If there are such things as football gods they're mocking me right now.

Wales were playing to reach the quarter finals of the tournament against Northern Ireland. Earlier in the morning national rugby team had faced New Zealand. The rugby and the football teams were playing on the same day but again it was the football team that had most of the attention, indeed even more so than the beginning of the month as there was a chance of going into the quarter finals. Really unless the Welsh Rugby Union pulls its socks up the slow decline of the sport here will seep into the national game. Something no one would have believed possible even five years ago.

Whatever my failings as a husband in the DIY department I come into my own in being able to grab an internet stream of sporting occasions to watch from around the world and at 8:30am had got the rugby game ready for my wife to watch. Must admit from time to time I peaked at the laptop and it was pretty awful for the team in red. Seen from my admittedly unknowledgeable eyes it moved from men vs men to men vs boys to men vs infants. Even she could not watch it to the end. It was like having arsenic through your eyes.

So anyway to work. In the two previous games where I've been working whilst Wales have been playing the days were less busy but busier than I had expected. This time though it would be almost dead. Good thing I'd brought a book with me. Of the four on the go at the moment today it would be The Other Side Of The Story by Marian Keyes.

It would have been a long day had this book been dull. Thankfully the skills she has that I'd remembered from Sushi For Beginners were also on show here. The ability to be able to say deep things but in a humorous way, believable female characters that are not dependent on men but not at war with them either, living lives that you can as a reader get involved in.

I'd read 361 pages that day. In a lot of books that would have been occasion for a pat on the back and a look at the great unread to see what's next to go for. But not with a Marian Keyes book oh no. About two thirds of the way through.

As I've mentioned before. I believe she's an underrated writer who has lost male readers who would genuinely appreciate what she writes about if it wasn't for being put off by the chick lit covers of her books. Still this male reader was grateful that what could have been a dull working day was alleviated by this novel and after yesterday when a majority of a disunited kingdom voted to bring us into the dark ages she raised a smile to my face.

For that alone. Thankyou Marian Keyes.

Until the next time.

In Which I've A Delayed Father's Day,Claim History With A Poetry Book,Dismiss Civilization,The Best Marian Keyes Book Cover Ever Plus Harry Potter And Football

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So it's 7am in the morning and I'm already downstairs watching a recording of Friday's baseball match between the Seattle Mariners and the team I support the Red Sox. Wasn't happy because they were losing 7-2. I was also bothered by the high level of twittering this early in the day. Couldn't those birds just fly off and be nosey somewhere else?

Then I hear familiar but unusual footsteps for this time of the day on a weekend walk down the stairs. It was my daughter.

"Daaad" she asked. In that tone I know too well meaning that she wants something. "Can I have the Ipad?"

The night before (actually the morning 1am) I'd caught her using her Ipad in be and confiscated it. Whilst not regretting giving it to her for Christmas a few years back (let's face facts other kids have it so it would damage her to be without one) there are moments when I wonder whether we should send her to hospital to have it surgically removed from her hands.

"No" I reply. To which she turned on her heels and walked back upstairs.

There was I then waiting for my daughter to come down with Father's Day gifts. No returning sounds were forthcoming. Five,ten then fifteen minutes passed. So up the stairs I went.

My daughter had gone back to sleep.

Eventually when properly awake two hours later she did come down bearing gifts. Everything then was alright with the world....for a while anyway.

Being Father's Day I had control of lunch. Decided on a takeaway from a relatively new American style Bar and Grill place near where we live purely on the grounds that we'd never tried it before.

So once I'd gone there. Given and paid for the order. sat and waited for it to be ready. Whilst waiting read the Thirties poetry anthology to pass the time. Therefore I claim to be the first person to read a book of poetry in an American Style Bar and Grill. My place in history is now assured.

Evidence

Finished Civilisation by Clive Bell. Well that was a waste of time. Just a load of waffle to prove to me that he didn't know the difference between Civilisation and Civilised. And when you find some races called "barbaric" and "savages" you get the idea of the author's frame of mind.

Still that means that a new book is needed and it's this.

Number 24 - Marian Keyes - The Other Side Of The Story

An explanation first. To celebrate Penguin's 70th anniversary they brought out a series of modern books but in the style of the original 1935 covers. Hence that is why this book is covered the way it is.

I have a theory, born out of no research whatsoever,that one of the reasons why some female writers of "general" novels don't seem to have a large male readership is because of their book covers. Marian Keyes is a good example of this.

Many years ago I was on holiday in Italy. I'd finished reading the books I brought with me and was looking for another English book to read (shamefully my Italian exists but with the vocabulary of a stumbling two year old). So going into this shop and noticing the group of used paperbacks on offer the only one that was in English was Marian Keyes' novel Sushi For Beginners.

Now if I was in Wales would avoided this book like a car crash. If I had the temerity to have picked it up subconsciously then the swirly lettering, the cartoon figures, the bright colours, the blurb would have been screaming at me.

"What are you doing looking at this? This is not for you. You're a man. Go back to your beer and football". 

I know that you can't judge a book by its cover. But when you pick a book up you have a short timespan to decide whether to buy it or not. The cover suggested another modern Pride and Prejudice chick lit tome, that it was not for me. But, in Italy at that time it was the only one available. So, reluctantly I bought it.

Well I was blown away by how good it was. Funny, witty and indeed deep it was the most surprising thing I'd read that year. The main characters were female. but the men were not either quasi Mr Darcys or evil knuckle scraping types whose sole job in life was to do down women. These were real people. The icing on the cake was that the author had the same contemptuous view of Barney the Dinosaur.

Marion Keyes is a good writer and it was only through circumstance that I'd realised it.

The weather was pouring most of  day so my wife and daughter suggested we watch the first Harry Potter movie, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone. Without any afternoon football to protect me I reluctantly said yes.

I have studiously avoided the Harry Potter novels in my life. agreeing with the late comedienne Linda Smith that adults who read children's books for their own pleasure are odd and in some cases creepy. I feel as well that when adults do this they're invading into territory they should avoid. Children should have things they call their own.

But here we are, a wet weekend in Wales and I'm watching the movie. I feel as if arriving late for a party not wanting to attend in the first place. What did I think of it? Absolutely nothing, perfectly neutral. But, I am a fifty two year old man, these books were not designed for me and please believe when I say I won't be dressing up in a wizard's costume anytime soon.

And so to the football. Two matches on in exactly the same time. France/Switzerland and the match no UKIP supporter will see Romania/Albania. I watch each match 15 mins at a time. It seemed to work fine. Didn't miss the only goal of the two games from Albania. Nor did I miss the rippable quality of the Swiss football shirt. Glad I don't have that in my collection.

One final thing. The Swiss goalkeeper was dressed in a colour best described as a luminous yellowy green. I assumed he was cycling back to their base after the game.

Anyway.

Until the next time.