February 17, 2014 Eimear Fallon

Read: Post Office, by Charles Bukowski

Reading this novel forced me to take a critical stance, and I finally found one that I felt comfortable with; this is an excellently-written novel, with an utterly vile if sometimes compelling protagonist, and… — **Read:** *Post Office*, by Charles Bukowski

Reading this novel forced me to take a critical stance, and I finally found one that I felt comfortable with; this is an excellently-written novel, with an utterly vile if sometimes compelling protagonist, and an authorial voice that is sometimes profound and at other times profoundly misogynistic.

The narrator (presumably a cipher for Bukowski himself, though I won’t presume) has the sort of job that I was doing over Christmas - the kind of braindead but brutal easy money that starts to rot the soul after a few weeks. I couldn’t help but laugh at the steady increase in his absences from work, as it reflected my own commitment to the job; by the end, I became downright scornful of an organization that sees people as machines, and even more so of the supervisors driving that machine into total submission. Working in a data entry center is mentally numbing, physically torturous, and aggressively antisocial. It will hopefully be the worst job I’ll ever have.

For Bukowski’s protagonist, the long-term nature of his awful job feeds into a wild sense of nihilism that infects his life - he fucks his way through several women, seemingly without care for their own thoughts and feelings, and there’s one occasion in particular early on that irreparably tainted my perception of the rest of the book. (This book comes with a pretty heavy trigger warning is all that I’ll say, as I see no need to upset people by describing events in detail). Sometimes, all of this is viewed dispassionately, and it’s here where it thrives - the detached first person perspective allows you to fill in the gaps and imagine an entire depraved life for this man.

But. Then, there are moments where the voice of the novel attempts to guide you into sympathizing with the protagonist, and while he has a shitty job, the trail of human suffering and general unpleasantness he leaves in his wake means that when you’re forced to have feelings about him then you end up resenting any attempts to bring you onto his side. It’s a little as if Patrick Bateman suddenly started making an impassioned defense to the reader in favor of his way of life.

So it’s a mixed bag. A product of its time, in that it puts the quality of the writing first, and absolutely doesn’t suffer in that regard, but it’s also a novel that sees women as little more than objects you can put your penis into. And, honestly, I’m a little bored of that attitude.

February 9, 2014 Eimear Fallon

Read: The Rook, by Daniel O'Malley

This was a strange creature of a book. The problem, perhaps, is that it contains a dizzying array of excellent concepts and spends a little too much time focusing purely on exposition.

The book opens with a young… — **Read:** *The Rook*, by Daniel O'Malley

This was a strange creature of a book. The problem, perhaps, is that it contains a dizzying array of excellent concepts and spends a little too much time focusing purely on exposition.

The book opens with a young woman waking up in a park in London, surrounded by corpses, all of them wearing latex gloves. From there, she learns that her name is Myfanwy Thomas; that she is a secret magical operative in a covert government organisation called the Chequy; that the organisation’s centuries-old enemies may be staging a comeback, and that someone from within the Chequy is trying to kill her.

She - a blank canvas at first - largely learns about all of this from a sequence of letters from her former self, and it’s these letters that suffer from a little too much exposition. Some get into her past exploits, and these are gripping, but just as many are devoted to explaining the backstories of every single character you encounter. It feels a little sometimes like reading case files, and while there’s obviously an argument that a book about someone with amnesia necessitates this level of prior explanation, that isn’t in itself an excuse.

All of that aside, though, this was wonderfully entertaining, especially so at its high points, where the characters were given the room to open up and breathe a little. There’s a captivating plot at work here that kept surprising me, and for something that definitely has genre trappings (to all intents and purposes, it’s a fantasy spy novel) it often finds a way to subvert expectations. The protagonist, while a bit saddled with quips, is a breeze to read, and by the end of this novel - the first in a series - you’re left hungry for more.

October 14, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: QI by John Lloyd (and loads of other people), Fables by Bill Willingham (and a few other people)

The QI app (collecting The Book of General Ignorance and The Book of Animal Ignorance together) eventually got a bit tiresome - there’s only really so much trivia you can consume before you stop caring altogether, and while I know exactly how to prepare worms for dinner, I can’t say I learned anything that could be delivered without the sort of smug air you’d expect on Radio 4. Time for a change of mood.

That specific mood is the ridiculously popular Fables series, which was completely unfamiliar to me before The Wolf Among Us and which hooked me in less than an hour of reading. I have quite a few comics queued up, but also a mountain of fiction. After all this historical dryness, I need a bit of imagination.

September 30, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Pump Six and Other Stories by Paolo Bacigalupi, QI

Pump Six was gleefully black-hearted, fascinating from one story to the next, and wonderfully apocalyptic in a way I haven’t really seen for a long time. It’s good to see violence be treated in fiction as something worth exploring for its own sake, rather than a convenient plot beat or something to heighten the mood. Bacigalupi is a master at his darkest - occasionally, the stories try and mire themselves in politics for a little too long, and that’s where the immersion’s slightly broken. But this was remarkably solid. Definitely check it out.

QI - or, specifically, the QI iOS app, comprising both The Book of General Ignorance and The Book of Animal Ignorance in a more digestible form - is something I’ve been meaning to plough through for a long time, and I’ve cleared some of the individual chapters. Given that I’ve had this for over two years, though, it’s about time I got me some learnin’. Also, I’m going to have my editing head on for the next couple of months, and I could do with having my head a little clearer.

September 22, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Codename Prague by D. Harlan Wilson, Pump Six and Other Stories by Paolo Bacigalupi

D. Harlan Wilson is the sort of writer who’s either terrifyingly intelligent and shrouded in shocking imagery, or a nightmarish Andy Warhol - creating meaningless artifacts out of the wildest parts of pop culture. Either way, Codename Prague isn’t for everyone, and it definitely isn’t his most accessible work. He used to be my favourite writer, but as time’s gone by I’ve fallen out of love with him in favour of other, arguably more measured writers, but ones who see writing as a human project rather than a metafictional exercise.

I know absolutely nothing about Pump Six, other than it was part of the Humble eBook Bundle (which is how I got it). That’s fine with me. I’m up for something new.

August 31, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Magic for Beginners by Kelly Link, Codename Prague by D. Harlan Wilson.

Magic For Beginners was ridiculous and strange and inspiring in the sense that it reminded me that sometimes, simplicity is the key to telling a spellbinding story. Kelly Link’s style is very approachable, and it’s left up to the reader whether to contemplate the ramifications of each line or leave it as it is. A few moment’s reflection, and I found myself falling in love with this book.

Codename Prague is a short novel (not quite a novella, I don’t think) by a madman called D. Harlan Wilson. I have the first in this so-called trilogy, called Dr. Identity, and it’s fair to say that Wilson’s kicked me out of more than one slump in my own writing in the past. This is shaping up to be just as odd and brilliant.

August 22, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read: Screwjack by Hunter S. Thompson, At The Mountains of Madness by HP Lovecraft, Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

Reading: Magic For Beginners, by Kelly Link

Got distracted, and never posted these. So:

Screwjack was short - almost criminally short for a book that’s sold as a standalone work, given that I finished it in about twenty minutes. It feels more surreal than Thompson’s usual work. There are a lot of elliptical lines, and less savage than Thompson’s usual work - the violent moments are more like a drug-fuelled fever dream than Thompson’s dark heart. Still interesting as an afterthought to his work, though.

At The Mountains of Madness is my first Lovecraft, and I don’t think I’m yet in love with the man’s style. The visual leitmotifs are really arresting, and some images will stick with me for a long time, but I couldn’t help but notice that the novella was essentially devoid of character and that there is a lot of repetition (not always employed effectively). It’s probably important to note that as far as writing weird fiction, Lovecraft was one of the first; sadly, beyond its seminal nature, other writers have since aped his style with a great deal more skill. I’ll continue to read him from time to time (I have his complete works), and I might shift - I can’t help but wonder if his short stories are better.

Zoo City was brilliant - bleakly comic, tantalisingly savage and utterly fascinating until the very last page. It’s also refreshing to see a female protagonist in this sort of story - parts reminded me of the video game Beyond Good and Evil, though this has a much darker tone. Not what I was expecting, but fantastic - so read it.

Magic For Beginners was just quoted on my dashboard, and apparently the book has a fairly ardent fanbase - I’m excited to read it. Also, short stories! Who doesn’t like short stories? (Please buy my short stories.)

Why did you shoot me? I was reading a book”: The new warrior cop is out of control →

July 28, 2013 Eimear Fallon

In 2010 a massive Maricopa County SWAT team, including a tank and several armored vehicles, raided the home of Jesus Llovera. The tank in fact drove straight into Llovera’s living room. Driving the tank? Action movie star Steven Seagal, whom Sheriff Joe Arpaio had recently deputized. Seagal had also been putting on the camouflage to help Arpaio with his controversial immigration raids. All of this, by the way, was getting caught on film. Seagal’s adventures in Maricopa County would make up the next season of the A&E TV series Steven Seagal, Lawman. Llovera’s suspected crime? Cockfighting. Critics said that Arpaio and Seagal brought an army to arrest a man suspected of fighting chickens to play for the cameras. Seagal’s explanation for the show of force: “Animal cruelty is one of my pet peeves.” All of Llovera’s chickens were euthanized. During the raid, the police also killed his dog.

July 12, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides, a giant Instapaper queue

I’m still reeling from this book. It’s definitely cemented Eugenides as one of my favourite writers - he writes characters so finely detailed that they leap off the page, and is so invested in his world that he can make the most mundane situation seem utterly invested in magic. This was heartbreaking, and brilliant, and at once hilariously and painfully relatable, and it makes me absolutely furious that he’s only written three novels. (I still haven’t read The Virgin Suicides, but it’s on my wishlist.)

Maybe because this was so fantastic (and anything following it would be diminished), or that I’ve more or less exhausted my work’s library, or that I’m fighting off the urge to plunge into the ASOIAF series so soon after reading the first book, or the fact that I’m going to be in America for two weeks and probably won’t be reading as much, but I’m taking a break to plough through the huge reserve of articles I’ve saved in recent weeks. With any luck, I’ll come back with renewed vigour. Or something.

Seriously, read that book.

July 10, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/read/reading: Stardust by Neil Gaiman, Rock On: An Office Power Ballad by Dan Kennedy, The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides.

Stardust was lovely - criminally short, but fantasy at its best in that sense, leaving enough to the imagination and defying convention without seeming aggressively counterculture. I might even watch the film, now. Also: it’s struck me that I consider myself a huge Neil Gaiman fan, even though I’ve only read two of his books (this, and American Gods). That’s probably important.

Rock On was a bit lacking in substance - any ode to a lost heyday tends to be that way - but riotously funny, nevertheless. I came to this from The Moth, which is definitely worth listening to, and while there are probably much better books out there, this is a lot of fun.

The Marriage Plot will be my second Eugenides book (after Middlesex - I haven’t read The Virgin Suicides). I’m very excited.

Back on Goodreads →

July 3, 2013 Eimear Fallon

They improved it while I was gone!

June 28, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin, Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

A Game of Thrones was more or less exactly what I thought it would be - four young adult novels with vastly more interesting and complex subject matter, interwoven around each other to make an 800-page behemoth. I loved it. I think I might get the rest of them.

Stardust, incredibly, is only my second Neil Gaiman novel (after American Gods. I’m very excited. I haven’t seen the film, either - I’ve been holding off.

June 19, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Drive by James Sallis, A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin.

Drive was lean, and brilliant, and reminded me that some writers can say more in ten words than others can say in a hundred. It gives me confidence. When I’m writing fiction, I try and pare things down to the essentials, but you see it so rarely that often I wonder if I’m not just doing it for simplicity’s sake. I’ll definitely be looking at more of Sallis’s work.

… you don’t need me to talk about A Game of Thrones. Its reputation more than precedes it.

June 15, 2013 Eimear Fallon

I post about this every now and then, but I just updated my Pinboard account with a few dozen more articles that represent the best of what I’ve been reading over the last few months. Check it out if you’re running low (which, I know, no… — I post about this every now and then, but I just updated my Pinboard account with a few dozen more articles that represent the best of what I’ve been reading over the last few months. Check it out if you’re running low (which, I know, none of you are).

May 24, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion, Up In The Air by Walter Kirn.

You might have noticed - that was quick. Reading Warm Bodies has taught me that it’s ages since I’ve read a YA novel (the last was probably the Hunger Games trilogy, the freaked out reactions to which Arden can attest were during April 2012), and it’s almost alarming how quickly the words fly off the page when you’re used to more dense, tortured material. But it’s fun!

It’s funny - Stephanie Meyer has a cover quote, but it’s far from her dreck; there’s a metric ton of gallows humour, a believable and active female character, and a protagonist who reinvents rather than wholeheartedly dilutes an already-established idea (zombies to Meyer’s vampires). It feels very filmic already, so I can see where the adaptation came from; that said, I wouldn’t be surprised if they change a couple of things. Like the clear nod to erections in the closing pages. I doubt that made it in.

Continuing with the books-with-film-adaptations theme for a little while. Most of it’s because I’m currently bleeding the college library dry, and they’re mostly academic so have an awful literature collection; but, at the same time, stuff like this tends to be fairly interesting. Usually, even if the film adaptation’s awful, the work that it’s adapted from holds some scrutiny.

May 22, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion.

Extremely Loud is an odd book. It’s kind of fragmented, which is how I read it - short bursts over a month, because I’m sometimes terrible at committing to books and this one was definitely challenging at points. But it’s rewarding - the protagonist, nine-year-old Oskar Schell, is a fascinating character and it felt almost painful to be torn away from him by the alternative perspectives presented throughout the novel. It’s not perfect - some of the more experimental sections border on the banal - but it’s fascinating in a way that few books have been lately.

I’m not expecting much from Warm Bodies - I know it’s unabashedly populist, a YA novel, and the film was middling to good(ish). I just need something lighter after that mammoth.

April 28, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/read/reading: Kraken by China Miéville, Palo Alto by James Franco, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Kraken: This was strange, and not as good as Miéville’s straighter fantasy stuff (Perdido Street Station was the last of his I read, and that was magnificent), but still an exhilarating read. Miéville constructs worlds better than any other writer I know, and this continued that trend. Where this occasionally fell down for me is the reverent eye it attaches to London (in a way that, say, The Book of Dave by Will Self doesn’t), but the beauty is in the grotesque characterisation and odd events, which unfold more like a drug-addled nightmare than a narrative. Miéville, to me, has always felt like Hunter S. Thompson if he wrote fantasy novels - that same acerbic wit and savage sensibility translates perfectly, only this has an adrenaline shot of imagination to boot.

Palo Alto: Quick read, and occasionally felt a little like James Franco was jerking off on your face, but there were a lot of high points - there’s talent there, even if it feels a little unrefined. He’s constructed a cast of characters who feel young and nihilistic, but in an anti-Bret Easton Ellis twist, you end up caring for a lot of them. There are a lot of fucked up moments, but they pull you in rather than push you out.

I’ve heard good things about Extremely Loud, though not the movie - we’ll see. Reading is fun!

April 6, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, Kraken by China Miéville.

Norwegian Wood was odd, even though it doesn’t really dive down the rabbit hole of magical realism that (apparently) Murakami usually does; it’s frank when it comes to depression, but the greatest struggle in reading it is knowing that the protagonist is hopelessly blinkered. Imperfect narrators are few and far between, so it can be a bit of a shock when you come across one; that said, it’s masterfully written and there are long, extended sections that blew me away. And plenty of others that were surprising - though I suspect by now I’ve seen enough anime to see where values aren’t always cross-cultural.

Very excited for the next one. I’ve heard it’s a Kracker. Um. Cracker. Heh. Don’t shoot me.

March 15, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.

This… didn’t impress me. I think that’s the first time I’ve said that in a while. I suspect part of it comes from the inevitable postcolonial reading you have to give this book - it’s horribly racist, and not in the sense where it’s satirising or highlighting the racism of others. There are still gripping moments, and the key moments regarding the (metaphorical) darkness of people’s psyches are still strong, but I suspect there’s a reason why people generally consider Apocalypse Now to have superseded the material upon which it’s (loosely) based.

In retrospect, I could have given this one a miss.

High hopes for Murakami. Either that, or Casey’s horribly wrong about everything.

March 12, 2013 Eimear Fallon

Read/reading: The Curse of Lono by Hunter S. Thompson and Ralph Steadman, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad.

That was quick.

This was an odd one. It feels a little like a collage, with Thompson jumping around a lot, and the resulting effect is that you don’t quite get the smack of a conclusion that appears in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. On the other hand, Steadman’s art is gorgeous (there’s a reason he’s co-credited - a lot of the images in the book are two-page illustrations, full of colour and odd detail) and there are some really choice lines. It demonstrates that Thompson’s gonzo spirit wasn’t limited to the seventies, and that his anarchic sensibilities continued until his death, and it’s worth reading if you can find a copy that isn’t incredibly expensive.

As for Heart of Darkness, I’m not sure what to expect apart from brevity. I loved the themes that Apocalypse Now explored, so I’m cautiously optimistic. We’ll see.