The Trouble With George Clooney's 2010 Film The American Is......I've Read The Book

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As you know from my blog I read a lot of books. What you will rarely get here is a chat about films. I'm not a film buff. Of course I have favourites won't deny that but when I've control of the TV I'd rather as a rule watch the football (rugby,basketball etc).

And there is the subsection to that of films that are based on a book. Again normally I'd avoid them as it would spoil my enjoyment of the work it was based on. Reading a book after seeing a film would be like watching a recording of a football game whilst already knowing the result (in most cases,but I'll come back to that later). And If I've already read the book then to me what's the point of watching the film for exactly the same reason.

Of course occasionally the film is better than the sourced book. But in my experience only if the original was dull. The Guns Of Navarone as an entertainment is a perfectly good war film but the only near death experience I had when reading the Alistair Maclean thriller was to my brain as it was coma inducing (and for the record that's not an exception - I don't particularly like him).

All of this is leading to of course the recent exception to the above. Wife/daughter have been nagging me to do more in watching my recorded programmes on the DVR. It's about 14%  clear at time of writing. This is to be fair mainly due to recordings of football (rugby,basketball etc) as well as the Welsh language programmes such as the soap opera Pobol Y Cwm. So I've been making an extra effort to watch them. Which brings us to The American. A 2010 film starring George Clooney.

Now you may remember a while back after reading the original Martin Booth novel I said that when this film was next on TV I'd see it. This was partly out of curiosity and partly that I like watching films set in Tuscany as this is where my Italian relatives live. It came up on the DVR list and so started viewing .....I wish I hadn't.

The film starts with a gunfight in a frozen snow ridden part of Sweden. In the book a similar scene is the main character's bad memory somewhere around the middle and that was it. In the film it's the beginning and turns out to be part of the plot. In other words they were changing the storyline.

Personally it really angers me when they do that because if you hadn't read the book you'd have a wrong idea of Martin Booth's thriller. I first realised that film/TV could cheat like this when I was nine years old. There was a TV series in the early seventies of Black Beauty. Set in a Victorian country doctor's house the point was that for me as a nine year old it seemed to be a series for girls (the lead character other than the horse being the eldest child, a daughter) so I didn't watch it after the first few episodes.

About a year later I had the flu and as this was not even the age of the video recorder let alone the internet reluctantly picked a book from my great unread at that time which turned out to be somebody's unwanted copy of Anna Sewell's original novel. Well I was bowled over. Not only was it good it also had nothing to do other than have a black horse in it with the TV series that bore it's name. And incidentally it was also far tougher than I'd expected.

If you've read the book first you'll realise as a consequence that the main villain is not the same as the film. When you realise that it's not difficult working out who that is.

I mentioned  before in this blog falling asleep when trying to view the film for the first time. Well I understand why now. The novel slowly ratchets up the suspense with powerful intensity . The film is just slow and the occasional gunfight and naked female breasts cannot hide it's overall high boredom level.The most lively bit is at the end but I was just too numbed/annoyed to care.

George Clooney is the best thing in the film. In conveys the icy isolated main character impressively. However although he is the best thing in the movie he doesn't carry it.

I really should have known better.

Until the next time.

Of Books Borrowed And Bought

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As night yesterday (Monday) fell my wife suddenly noticed the pile of books on the coffee table (which in this house should be called a tea table but I digress).

"What are they?" she asked.

Clearly darkness and impending sleep had clouded the obvious in her brain. I was happy to help.

"They're books I've bought today".

"Well there's no shelf room left"

She is actually wrong. There is shelf room. And when the shelves are full then I will create more room. That is what collectors do.

As it happened for other reasons I had not actively sought out books for a while. The last Penguin paperback I bought was the collection of J B Priestley plays, and that was only because the nearby village was holding a fete. The last non Penguin/Pelican I'd bought was The American by Martin Booth which as I've explained in an earlier post is worth the read. It was time to buy more.

Things seemed to coalesce themselves into buying books on Monday. I needed to go to Porthcawl library anyway. My daughter in her "I'm a teenager and it's a summer holiday so don't wake me up" mode didn't actually get out of bed until 10:45am (so a trip to Neath/Ebbw Vale etc was pointless). Porthcawl it was then. Lunch,shopping buying books and then the library. Such is the glamorous life this family leads I was surprised that we were not tailed by paparazzi.

The weather in Porthcawl amounted to acceptable this summer. That is to say cool and cloudy but dry. We had lunch on the seafront. I gazed at the relatively calm sea. My daughter just ate her sausage rolls. Bored you could tell. Suspect that true appreciation of what at first glance seems like a nothing view happens when you're older.

Anyway after lunch we went to the best charity shop in Porthcawl for books (Porthcawl Animal Welfare Society - PAWS) which has a whole floor devoted to them. I was in my element. Unfortunately I was with a daughter who wasn't in hers. Quickly she suggested every Penguin paperback she could see. It appeared to be helpful but in fact was to get me out of the place as quickly as possible. There would be no time to make a considered decision. I'm the adult.Knew it was a bit selfish of me to be here in this shop whilst she stood around watching Dad indulge his hobby as she just hung around so decided to choose promptly.

So five books were quickly picked. They were as follows:

1717 - Jamaica Inn - Daphne Du Maurier

This is the only pre ISBN numbered book amongst the five. I've only ever read one other book of hers before (not a famous one) but it had such an effect on me can't even remember it's title.

Jill Tweedie - Eating Children

This orange spined Penguin is on the face of it the most intriguing of all the books I bought. Written by the late Guardian writer this is an autobiography about her troubled childhood. 

Now in the spirit (as explained in an earlier post) of my position as the slight hypocrite comes the next book.

Penguin Plays - Four English Comedies

This is as shown a collection of English Comedic plays by Ben Johnson,William Congreve,Oliver Goldsmith and Richard Sheridan. 

Albert Camus - The Plague

You know all true readers will say that there are certain writers that they have not got round to reading purely because life interferes and/or there is already a pile of the great unread to go through. For me Albert Camus is one of those writers. I'm happy I got this book.

And finally.

Dirk Bogarde - Great Meadow 

Towards the end of his life Dirk Bogarde became just as known for his writing as he was for his acting. This is part of his autobiographical series of books.

Five books for just £2. As they would say in Cardiff. Barrgain,

Before we went home we went to the library so that I can pick a football book. This was the one I chose.

Alan Stubbs - How Football Changed My Life

Alan Stubbs, ex manager of Hibernian and now manager of Rotherham was also a useful player in his own right. This is his autobiography (written before his managerial career) which also includes his battles with cancer. Suspect it'll be worth a read.

I enjoyed getting these books. Both as a reader and a collector.

Until the next time.

In Which The Weather Is Miserable....unlike The Finished Book

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I must admit that though I'm not a summer person, it's depressing when a day is spoilt because of the weather and there's really nothing to do. Tuesday has been exactly that. Raining from the moment I woke up and though dying out has still not stopped at the time I'm writing this.The greyness that so infected the past two months seems to have equally moved towards the beginning of this one. I shall regale future generations with the summer of 2016. All two days of it.

For my wife and daughter this didn't matter. Their day was made with the arrival to a new edition to the "family" and went to the hospital to see the baby girl. I didn't come along, if only because didn't think we should come in mob handed. And besides the baby is (extend lungs) my wife's brother's partner's daughter's daughter. Making me step uncle which I reckon puts me somewhere near the bottom of this family's tree.

I cannot really say that a lot was done. I've finished off watching the political drama Spin (Les Hommes De Les Ombres) and am now starting on the next French TV series Résistance about the French resistance during World War 2. So far on two episodes I'm impressed.

But at least a book was finished.

The American by the late Martin Booth was the thriller written in 1990 I bought, let's not forget, in of all places Poundland. So let me begin by saying that I loved it.

The book it reminds me of is The Eiger Sanction in the sense that it's about a man with refined tastes but a shady occupation. But although Trevanian's novel is entertaining in a seventies bestsellery kind of way this is by far the better book. It's slow burning, building with every chapter as you learn of the complex central character and what he has to face. I was gripped. 

If there is one criticism I would level it's about the title. Originally the thriller was called A Very Private Gentleman. However in 2010 there was a film of the book starring George Clooney and the title of both became The American. Now I have no problem with the title as it relates to the film. It's a movie after all starring Mr Clooney so it would be difficult to convince the cinema/DVD world that he could be from anywhere else but the USA.

However in the book the nationality of the character is as shady as his occupation. Although there are hints that he's English nothing is made clear. As a consequence I felt a bit cheated by the revision. Haven't checked but hope that any subsequent reprints went back to the original title.

Let this not hide the fact that it was one of the best books I've read this year.

And I bought it at Poundland!

Until the next time.

Howard Jacobson's New Fans, Books Borrowed Read But Not Bought Plus Swansea,Mumbles and BHS

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Before the family day trip later on I had to make a quick visit to Porthcawl library as they were due and quickly to Poundland to get razors,shower gel and some toothpaste....oh and a book.

You may remember when I'd last visited there I was surprised that Poundland were selling some quality books amongst the expected dross. Although there was a tome by Howard Jacobson for more sentimental reasons I'd picked The American by Martin Booth (A decision incidentally that wasn't wrong in itself. Spoiler alert: So far it's very good). This time though I was going to get the Jacobson.

Or I would have.....if there were any there.

To my knowledge Poundland leave books on the shelves forever. My favourite of the "dross" books was one that celebrated Irish Olympic hopefuls. All very well in itself if it wasn't for the fact that we were in Wales. So that the Jacobson completely sold out is encouraging. I suspect most of the people who bought the book wouldn't have thought to have picked it up anywhere else and some of those might be further encouraged to read more of his work afterwards,

Poundland:Encouraging reading and literature, Who would have thought it but let's celebrate it anyway.

Afterwards I went to the library. Was tempted to get the autobiography of the ex West Ham and new England manager Sam Allardyce but ultimately went for this as my football book choice.

The Secret Footballer - Tales From The Secret Footballer

This is the sequel to the original "Secret Footballer" book which apparently lifts the lid on the football world. It has the reputation. Let's see whether deserved.

The intention was to just get that book. But as you know me by now and needless to say I was tempted to borrow another which was this.

Clare Balding - My Family and Other Rambles

I took this book because I'm toying with the idea of taking up rambling. Not the sort that wanders lonely as a cloud in green places but that explores towns and villages. Rather like the day I spent going round the Valleys in May.

I have the prequel to this. My Animals And Other Family amongst the great unread.

Must admit as well to have an admiration for the author. Capable of being a broadcasting "safe pair of hands" and yet can fight for her beliefs as well. A lioness in jolly hockey sticks clothing. She also has the ability, rather like the late Alan Coren and the comedienne Linda Smith of being the sort of person you consider a friend even though you've never met them.

When I'd got home the wife decided that we should go to Swansea for the day. Given the washout of her birthday the day before I wasn't going to argue. Still though we were out of the house the car hadn't left the drive for a further ten minutes whilst she and daughter chatted to the neighbour opposite. In that time I finished a book.

It was Not A Hazardous Sport by Nigel Barley. As I was reading this it reminded me of the sort of series started by James Herriot. Take an occupation and write about your experiences in a manner which suggested that life was basically comic with occasional sad episodes. Of course we all know that life is a constant battle between the amusing and the tragic. And if you don't have an occupation tragedy always wins.

The point is that Nigel Barley is not James Herriot, and as his occupation is anthropology his style is a mixture of bad writing and patronising condescension sprinkled with a fair degree of dullness. I don't mean dull as in academic dull, more dull as in the more I read it the more fed up and uninterested I got.

To fast forward a bit when we returned took the next book from the great unread. Which turned out to be this.

H E Bates - A Little Bit of What You Fancy

This was the last book in the Larkin series. I've read the first, The Darling Buds Of May years ago and I remember thinking that the TV series was better. Mind you I didn't like the television version after the first season. Got all too predictable. I don't hold much hope, though to be fair I understand that this novel was never filmed.We shall see.

So to Swansea then. Which in the beginning got a bit damp.

Early afternoon in Swansea

We went into BHS in Swansea before it becomes a part of retail history. To be honest it was more in curiosity than anything else. Needless to say it was very sad. Everything was for sale.

And I mean EVERYTHING

What was interesting was that even with the reductions prices seemed cheaper elsewhere. I mean I wouldn't pay just under five pounds for a cereal bowl whoever made it. Perhaps that explains part of the reason for the decline of the business.

After that I spilt up with wife and daughter to go to a charity shop that just sold books. Or rather that was the intention, but for the second time today I was thwarted in buying books as it was closed for refurbishment. Other charity shops I saw didn't have Penguin/Pelican paperbacks that I didn't already own. Thwarted again.

A quick digression the worst place for me was a stall in Swansea market. Only because I don't like the price of books being stamped on the top. 

Don't like this one bit

After the ladies finished buying clothes and I finished buying nothing we went further west to the Mumbles. It wasn't really summer coastal weather being cool and cloudy. Still it can still do the views. Here are a few pictures.

Still can do vivid colours on a cloudy day

The original fifty shades of grey

Despite how it looks it didn't rain

Warm enough to have some chips whilst viewing this

And so the trip ended. It had been pleasant.

Until the next time.

Books:The Good.The Bad And The Unfinished

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's been a while since I've done a post solely about books but then again it's unusual when I finish three in one day. The literary equivalent of waiting for buses.

So let's start with the good. Sue Townsend's The Public Confessions Of A Middle Aged Woman, a collection of her columns in the Sainsburys Magazine was a joy to read. With her trademark engaging humour she writes about subjects as varied as Vodka and car boot sales though tinged with sadness towards the end with the decline in her eyesight. It's the best book I've read this year.

It occurred to me as I was reading that she is the last writer that was liked by so many readers. When I say liked I mean that you can be an academic or a gardener, male or female,work in a petrol station or a rail station, work in London or her home city of Leicester and still feel that you can relate to what she's writing. Her recent death robbed us of a person who I think we now realise was a quiet British literary institution.

Just as Sue Townsend's book is the best I've read this year then Ali Smith's The Accidental is the worst. This book won the Whitbread book of the year in 2005. Whitbread own the coffee chain Costa which is why this prize has changed to the Costa book of the year. But either way it struck me that the judges must have been high on caffeine to have awarded this first prize.

As a parent in the beginning there's an incident that upset me and I almost put the book down. I wish now I had.

If I was to say to you that some important characters are called Magnus and Astrid but it's not set in Sweden then you'll have an idea of how pretentious this piece of work is. But this is not so much a novel of pretensions but a pretend novel. For the author does not hesitate in using a hundred words where ten would do. Somewhere there might be a short story that I wouldn't bother to read screaming to be set free.

The writing style is best described as a "stream of consciousness" but is more a stream of urine. It rambles around like an intellectual tramp and in the middle there is even pages of poetry for no good reason whatsoever.

As a reader the only pleasure I had from this book was the feeling of relief when it was finished.

The trouble with The Dirty Game by Andrew Jennings is that for all the goings on in FIFA that it goes into intricate detail to explain (and it's a book that you truly need to be paying attention to or else you'll be lost in all the dealings it goes into) the investigations are still ongoing. When I finished this book I felt the phrase "TO BE CONTINUED" should have been placed at the ending.

As interesting a book as it is it really is unfinished and can only be completed once the legal and police processes are completed. Perhaps this can be best described as a first draft.

So new books now need to be picked from the great unread. The next Penguin to be picked is:

Not A Hazardous Sport - Nigel Barley

Apparently this is a book about a visit to a particular tribe in Indonesia. Hope this isn't going to be patronising. We shall see.

Unless anything unexpected happens I won't be able to visit the library until Monday week. So the non Penguin book I've picked is this one.

The American - Martin Booth

As you may remember I bought this book for a pound in Poundland but what pushed me into getting it was that it was set in Tuscany, the Rhondda of Italy.

Until the next time.

Do You Remember Harry Carpenter? (Even Great Books Can Die). Also Books Bought And Borrowed

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Let's start with the question in the title. That's for anyone living in what will probably soon be named the Disunited Kingdom. A land whose government is apparently telling people living here originally from the EU that they might not be allowed to stay post BREXIT.

No matter that you worked here, started up businesses and/or a family

With every day that has followed since the referendum this Kingdom seems to be slowly moving to a very dark place indeed. A look here,a remark there, a graffitied wall strewn with racial insults, in some cases violence.

Britain has become a very worrying place to live right now. And I say this as a white male with a British passport.

So I went today to Porthcawl mainly to go to the library. Here is the Porthcawl view of the day.

Metaphor time

That view seemed to match my mood. Calm but with a sense of foreboding.

Before I went to Poundland for a few odd groceries. Poundland sell small stocks of stuff mainly for, surprise, surprise a pound. Now they do sell books most of which deserve to stay there. Some though will surprise you. There was a Howard Jacobson. But that wasn't the book that caught my eye. It was this.

Martin Booth - The American

This attracted me because it was set in Tuscany, where my Italian relatives live. Remember starting to watch the film on TV and nodding off but liking what I saw before seductive power of the nap took over.

It's not a Penguin paperback I know. But as it was only a pound it was bought.

And so to the library. Picking the football book to read was easier than I thought.

Andrew Jennings - The Dirty Game

Well the cover says it all really.

I was about to leave when in the corner of my eye I noticed this.

Sue Townsend - The Public Confessions Of A Middle-Aged Woman

Sue Townsend wrote the Adrian Mole books (I've read when he was a teenager but not those as an adult) but she also wrote some other stuff as well (I remember a novel...though not the title... where the Royal family were moved in a Republican Britain to a council house). These are a selection of columns she wrote on various subjects. I borrowed it, pathetic as it sounds, because I thought it would make me laugh. How sad is that?

So to the question Do You Remember Harry Carpenter? If you do then I've finished my "car book", Glued To The Box by Clive James. Let me say now that the next car book is volume one of  Michael Palin's Diaries bought a couple of weeks back. I now have five books on the go. I'll never kick the habit of reading but I've got to learn to control it. Thing is I don't know how.

This was his final published collection of his TV columns for The Observer between 1979-1982. It's quite simply just as good as I remember it all those years ago. Funny yet erudite. Here is a man capable of talking about an opera and then move on to The Rockford Files (that was in an earlier book - Just lumped that in to say that The Rockford Files seem to be one of the few seventies detective shows that has stood the test of time - I liked The Rockford Files - It seemed to be written and performed by adults - Clive James liked it as well).

He is the best critic I have ever read. One of the few that I would look forward to reading (or perhaps even prefer listening to, as I mentioned when discussing the book of his radio show he used to do called A Point Of View).

But........

Do you remember Harry Carpenter? He was a BBC sports presenter in the seventies and eighties. He was mainly known for his Boxing commentary but he'd also present The British Open and Wimbledon. Clive James writes about him here. If you do then you will read the book with a wistful smile about a time long gone.

If you don't then the bulk of this book is not for you. It'll mention programmes and people long since forgotten unless you look them up on Google or Youtube. I don't know why book or literary or theatre criticism (Christopher Hitchen,Dorothy Parker, Kenneth Tynan) survives but TV doesn't, certainly not for this period anyway.

So when the last person to remember Harry Carpenter dies. This book, great as it is will die with it.

Until the next time.