Dougal Trump V God Of Small Things…

 

I wanted to love A God of Small Things. It sounds clever, it looks clever, it had great reviews – everyone I spoke to had loved it. I was going to love it. I was going to be swept into another world, my heart was going to rip in two with the terrible events in the story – I was going to come to a deeper understanding of the caste system, of the rise of communism in India – the legacy of colonialism.  The OrangeDrink LemonDrink Man was going to haunt my dreams.

For I am a Serious Reader.  I belong to book clubs. I keep Goodreads updated ( well I did before the buy out – see, I even know there was a buy out – I am an informed woman).

I stroked the lovely matt cover, turned over the first page and read….

Ah.

Oh.

Gosh it took a long time.

I even quite liked Velutha but…

I still wasn’t all that bothered when what happpened happened.

Hmmm. Lot’s of nice scenes interspersed with a lot of other words. Boy, was it hard work. I don’t like my books being hard work. I want to fall into a world and be swept along by it, good or bad. Why didn’t that happen? What’s wrong with me? Which part of my brain is failing to connect with what is clearly a Work Of Art?

When I finished it, I ditched it with some relief and picked up Dougal Trump’s new book.  Yeah yeah, I know, it’s a kids book. It’s got a shiny red cover and a cartoon boy on the front. I’m a middle aged woman , reading this is work OK? I wangled a review copy, I’ve got to read it and review. Got to.

Ah ha ha ha!!!

It’s hilarious.

Well constructed, fun, tightly plotted, a world I happily fell in to. The little snippets  dropped in from each character somehow,  amazingly in so few words, deftly draw Dougie’s world.  My bath water went cold as I turned page after page.

Damn it all.   I see myself as a sophisticated book club lady!  Turns out I’m harbouring an inner small boy.

Come to think of it, last time I went to actual  book club I cycled back over a field using a wind up pig torch in lieu of light and fell in a ditch when I tried to stop.

Maybe I should just give in to it?

 

 

Stephen King, Back to Haunt Me.

I love the satisfying structure of circular stories.

Wuthering Heights was my favourite book for years.  Catherine and Hareton coming together at the end turns the book into one of hope. Out of all that ugliness, all that sorrow, come  two people capable of kindness, strength, love.

J K Rowling does a similar thing in Harry Potter.  I know some people don’t like the end – the happy ever after – but I do.  Not the marriages, but how the orphaned Ted Lupin isn’t shoved in a cupboard like Harry was. Ted is surrounded by loving families and treasured.  Hope out of sorrow.

Hip Hip Hooray, Words&Pictures on its Way!!!

SCBWI’s Words& Pictures is going ONLINE. This is very exciting news because, madly, the lovely editor has given me a job.

The Idea’s Shop. Mrs Bung answers the eternal questions, ‘Where do your ideas come from’ and ‘why do writers eat so much cake?’.

Yum…

‘Where do you get your ideas from?’  Asks Everyman.

Mwah ha ha, we jest hilariously, ‘The Idea’s Shop.’

Idea’s Shop!  Ha.  What a ridiculous idea.

Isn’t it?

School Visits – A fantastic post from Juliet Clare Bell

I had to share this with you.  Not yet having the proper qualifications, I’ve never done ‘author’ visits .  

What Makes a Writer?

I’m busy. Really busy. So I decided, until I  had an actual contract, I’d have to ease back on writing time, make way for other stuff,  the stuff  of life:

A Little Treasure – East of the Sun, West of the Moon

I don’t often put reviews on this blog and I’m not sure this is a review – more of a burst of enthusiasm about a new discovery.