From the Orient

Saturday morning, and I get an unexpected lie-in as my daughter (henceforth ever known on this weblog as Kid A) had her swimming cancelled and then overslept. My wife (henceforth known as Pablo) has got up to take my son (henceforth known as the Thief) to his swimming lesson. I lie back in bed, stretching luxuriously when the doorbell goes. Luckily it is before Pablo has left, and she answers the door.

Then I here her coming up the stairs. I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. “Ouch”, I cry, as a 700-page hardback edition of You-Know-What lands on my midriff. That was a surprise. I mean I’d remembered it was St. Harry Potter Day the world over, but I forgotten that Pablo had ordered the book (way back in February) as a special offer on her BFC book club. I had meant to get it in a couple of weeks time at the local book shop (Friar Street Fantasy, btw) once all the hype had died down.

Pablo has gone to swimming. I really should get up and have breakfast, tidy the kitchen, get Kid A up, get her dressed, check the email, mow the lawn, weed the borders, wash the bike, feed the cats, read some weblogs, write a bit more of Thing, put on some music, have a bath, or take down the gazebo as high winds are due the next day. Or I could just see what the first chapter is like …

It’s later and Pablo has returned with The Thief to find me still in bed, 200 pages into the book. Kid A woke up and has trashed her room, trying on ear rings and clothes. I’ve been given detention for a week, and the book has been confiscated until further notice.

Now it’s Sunday morning. Pablo is out, and I’m in charge of the children. Using them as look outs, I break into Pablo’s locker and steal The Book. Despite facing possible neglect charges over the children, I manage another couple’o'hundred pages before Pablo gets back. Kid A is impressive in her role as lookout “Mummy Mummy” she calls and I stash the book under the chair just in time.

Kid A is no longer in my good books. She told Pablo that Daddy had a dinosaur under his chair, and upon finding the yellow tome, she checked the location of the bookmark and realised what I’d done. I’ve been banned from playing Counterstrike for life!

Sunday night: 9pm, I was allowed to continue reading once the children were asleep, and I’d tidied the living room and loaded the dishwasher and made Pablo a cup of tea and a dozen other remedial chores that seemed to take a lifetime. She’s gone to watch Big Brother or some other boring TV program. I read.

11pm. It’s finished.

Monday morning. The gazebo broke in the wind and rain last night. Two of the metal posts are bend and twisted, and the plastic corner pieces are in bits. It looks like a passing giant accidentally stepped on it.

It was lucky that the book is such an easy read; or did that just make it more addictive? Good, fun book. Don’t take it seriously, don’t believe the hype, but enjoy it. If you like that sort of thing.

Having read Ulysses for Dummies [ via "Karen":http://www.erzsebel.com/rise/risearchives/002927.html ], I now feel confident I can read the real thing.

This will only leave the Gormenghast Trilogy in The Pile that is a massive “I’m so big you dare not start reading me unless you have a spare month” type of book. All the rest are mere 400 pages or less.

Except for all the huge non-fiction books like “The Blue Planet” and all three “History of Britains”. And that biography of Samuel Pepys I was bought for my birthday (the name of which escapes me right this second).

The Rise Readers Top 100 Books

bq. Forget popular “nation’s favourite” smiley happy lists containing too many children’s books. I propose that we dictate a list of books that, if you haven’t read them, you can consider yourself a lesser person.

Read the comments for a list of some great books. I can’t really add to the list as most of the books I like are already on the list.

I’m the sort of person who only things “Oh, now that’s a great book” when someone else mentions it. I don’t think you can say any book is the best book ever, but there are a selection of good/great books and have you read “book a”?

Oh, and read the comments in reverse order (start at the bottom). Makes more sense that way.

I’ve read a miserably low 35 of the Top 100 Books. Although I’ve another 15 on the bookshelf as yet unread (will I ever read Gormeghast? You need not comment Stuart).

Maybe it was because there were so few Sci-Fi books in there, not that I’d expect there to be. I was suprised by the inclusion of Magician by Raymond E Feist. Seemed oddly out of place. It’s okay, and I’m sure people like it, but the best book ever?