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.

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.

In Which I Realise I Know More About Chess Than Criminology and Other Book Stuff

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

A bit of housekeeping (or is that housestillkeeping?) first. The sale of the house I mentioned a few posts ago has fallen through, The potential buyers could not raise the required amount. So we're now back on the square of one.

Though neutral to the idea of a move I must admit to a certain irritation, if only because I'd spent a large portion of the week looking around Penarth properly for the first time since we'd put the house up for sale, getting details of all relevant houses and arranging viewings for this forthcoming week. All now cancelled.

And in case you're wondering yes I am going to borrow books from Porthcawl (and other libraries in the Bridgend borough) again. No reason why not at this present time.

Have finished the ebook of the three lectures Enrico Ferri gave to the University of Naples on Criminolgy. They were for me a mixture of my ignorance about the subject and the moments that he seemed to be chatting along about the bleeding obvious. Still I've never been afraid to broadcast my ignorance to the universe and so I think it's best to give Enrico the benefit of the doubt.

Amougst the great e unread the book that replaces it is An Armenian Sketchbook by Vasily Grossman. To go off at a tangent here I had discovered through Twitter a podcast about books which had somehow been forgotten called Backlisted. Going through the episodes it has quickly become my favourite book podcast. Their latest podcast concerns Georgette Heyer, a writer who I wasn't interested in until last year when I'd read False Colours (which was a Penguin paperback). I'd avoided her since I was a teenager in the seventies/eighties as was put off by the Mills and Boon like covers.

(Another writer who I reacted to in exactly the same way but who I have a vintage Penguin paperback in the great unread is Norah Lofts)

Now before they discuss the specific book/author that fortnight, The presenters tell an expectant world what they had been reading during this period. In the very first podcast Andy Miller (whose book on crazy golf I chatted about sometime back) mentioned he'd read (and recommended Grossman's epic novel Life and Fate. Come Christmas, armed with an Amazon £15 gift voucher , I decided to buy the ebook. But knowing I'd some money to spare decided to buy An Armenian Sketchbook as well.

So through the random way of picking the next book it's that one I'm going to read next.

I know how to play chess. Not well you understand. Normally play on a chess app on my tablet for fear of my fragile male ego being torn to shreds by a hothoused seven year old. Still I know the rules. And as long as you do that's enough to fully appreciate Bobby Fischer Goes To War by David Edmunds and John Eidinow. Their account of the legendary chess battle in Iceland to be world champion between the aforementioned Fischer and Boris Spassky.

This book works on so many levels. From the personalities involved in this struggle to the geopolitical cold war backdrop to an analysis of the games involved there is no part of this work that the authors haven't explained to the reader with infinite skill. If you consider chess a sport (and I do) then it's one of the best sports books I've ever read.

And apart from the analysis of the games if you don't play chess I still think you'd enjoy it.

The next book I'm going to read is the twenty page pocket sized book The Bookshop Fights Back By Anne Patchett which I bought at a nearby bookshop after saying a belated goodbye to West Ham's old Boelyn Ground in September.

The book on the right

It's the story of how she set up a bookshop as a reaction to the closure of one in her town. It'll be an interesting read.

Until the next time.