Summer Reading
I finished reading the new Harry Potter yesterday. The last 200 pages were read by the pool while working on my tan. And it’s made me think - of all the books I’ve read in the last few years, my favourites have all been the ones that I’ve read while sunbathing. It’s a beautiful, magical quality of books that you take from them what you put into them: the time, the location and how you’re feeling when you’re reading all dramatically effects your enjoyment of a particular book1.
This probably explains why I hate Wuthering Heights so much. Being stuck in a classroom and forced to learn rote analyses is never going to do a book any favours.
But some recent examples
Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell - Suzanna Clarke
This is a dense, dense book. Each one of its 1000+ pages is packed to the brim with some of the most florid, beautiful English I’ve ever read. But as terrific as this was, it posed a bit of a problem. I’d been mainly reading it before bedtime and I was averaging maybe a page a night before my brain would just shut down. And after two weeks of reading, I was maybe 40 pages in.
But then we went on holiday to Rhodes. A totally relaxing holiday with nothing planned except spending at least a week lounging by the pool, sipping on little drinks with umbrellas in them. And, by Christ, I flew through the book. It was a bit unusual, being whisked away to a damp, grey Edwardian England while I was relaxing in the Mediterranean sun, but I still fell in love with this book. So much so, I bought a first edition hardback copy off eBay, just to treasure.
The Lies of Locke Lamora - Scott Lynch
I hate ‘high fantasy’ as a genre. What’s more, I hate ‘high fantasy’ books that run into long series. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Robert Jordan - you’ll never see a fucking penny from me.
But all those long evenings playing Oblivion on the 360 must have softened me up. I guess I was ready to dip my toe in the water, and a couple of things about this book grabbed my attention: Edge magazine had written some very favourable things about it. And then I found out that it started out as a bunch of blog posts before the author got a book deal on what he’d written, which was bound to endear me to it. So I bought the book as something to read while I was relaxing on the beaches of Cape Cod.
The Lies of Locke Lamora is an incredibly entertaining piece of fantasy, made all the more enjoyable (and accessible) by the author’s amazing gift for storytelling. When I don’t enjoy a book, I’ll speed-read it and skim over passages. With Locke Lamora, I made sure to read every word. I fell in love with it. And now, whenever I think of the book, I’m reminded of being on a beach in Harwichport and all the nice feelings associated with that (being completely relaxed, full of beer and lobster the whole time). And vice-versa - when I think of our holiday, I’m reminded of the fantastic book I’d read.
The only bad thing about it? It’s book one of a NINE-part series, with the second book coming out next week. I’ve started reading a series of fantasy books! (But let me reiterate my previous sentiment - fuck you, Robert Jordan, I’ll never read your books.)
So what about you guys? What are your favourite summer reads?
- Obviously, there are exceptions to this rule. Before Harry Potter, I spent a few days by the pool reading Stephen King’s Cell, and I fucking hated that book. [↩]
‘Fup’ by Jim Dodge - who knew a novella about a duck could be so inspirational. read it in locarno a few years ago and it just added to my summer buzz.
Not having the money to actually buy books, I’ve been living off hand-me-downs from the family. As such, I’ve had a pretty eclectic read over the past few weeks.
Scarecrow - Matthew Reilly. Don’t let the vicious Amazon reviews put you off. This book may seem like it was written by a 12 year old boy with a fixation for bounty hunters and explosions, but only in a good way. It’s throwaway rubbish, but a great book for reading by the pool.
Musnt Grumble - Terry Wogan. I kind of like Terry Wogan, because he’s able to laugh at himself. Didnt care very much for the book though (his second autobiography), large portions of which he uses as a soapbox to lambast various different bodies and movements who he has felt wronged by over the years. It’s completely all over the place stream-of-consciousness stuff too.
A Long, Long Way - Sebastian Barry. A story about a young Dub who goes to fight for Britain in the trenches of World War One, set against the backdrop of the 1916 Rising at home. I thoroughly enjoyed it, Barry’s writings is incredibly powerful and emotive, without being overly sentimental. Too often are soldiers portrayed as stiff-lipped king-and-country or glory-hunting types, and it’s unique for a book to be populated with characters who are intrinsically *Irish*. That the characters are so close to home dramatically increases the sense of immersion.
I’m going book-shopping in a day or two for my trip to Japan. I’m going to pick up Dom Joly’s ‘Look at me! Look at me!’, as well as ‘Superheroes and Philosophy’ by Tom & Matt Morris, and a few others.
Just finished reading ‘Crying with cockroaches’ by Marianne Du Toit.
her memoirs as she took two horses from Argentina to New York.
awesome book - like the long way round but without the annoying bits. and horses instead of motorbikes!