And Another Thing

Seamless, said someone in the audience last week, when talking to Eoin Colfer about his new Hitchhiker novel. And she’s right. After a year of Eoin saying he wasn’t going to try and be Douglas Adams, he has got much closer than you’d imagine possible. And that’s good. Seamless means that we don’t really notice the change from one writer to another. I’ve read other sequels where the style is very different, and with good reason. You can’t be someone else.

I feel that Eoin could be some kind of honorary little brother of Douglas’s. Like most others, I found And Another Thing to be more Hitchhikery than I’d thought possible. It’s very enjoyable. Someone said he’d not laughed reading this one, unlike with the other five Hitchhiker books. I agree to some extent, but wonder if that’s because we are not only older now, but the concept is less new and we have come to expect certain things, so don’t laugh out loud. But I could be wrong.

It’s good that Eoin didn’t seek to write this book. I think you do a better job when a little reluctant. So I was surprised at the Guardian reviewer’s comment that Douglas’s family allowed Eoin to write this sequel. They asked him to! There is a big difference.

To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t totally remember how we left Arthur and Co in book five. It’s been a while. But it was easy to get back into the flow, and it’s good that Eoin came up with his own plot, rather than use the notes Douglas left. I daresay we wouldn’t have had an Irish character without an Irish author, so Hillman Hunter is a fun invention.

The use of Norse Gods is also good. Would quite like people to settle on the spelling of Leif, however. I like it correct, and I don’t want both spellings competing with each other. And is it just my background, or is there some deeper meaning in Thor’s appearance and the fact that Arthur has some dislike for Thursdays?

Random Dent is quite lovely, really, particularly given the weird adults she’s surrounded by. Zaphod is better with the one head, but still stupid. Nice to see Trillian finding love. And I suspected Fenchurch would turn up, somehow.

Eoin hasn’t written a definitive ending, just really carried the story on a little. He’s left it so that we can stop here, or his idea of other relay authors taking over would be a feasible project. I would like to see poor Arthur sorted. He’s really a most unfortunate man. At least he’s getting used to his bad luck.

And there is something almost loveable about Vogons.

Hitchhiker history

Who needs it? The history. The background to one of the funniest ideas in – well, in what? – literature? Broadcasting? Television? Film?

I started at the wrong end, if there is one. I read the books first. Though, come to think of it, since the radio series of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a lot better than the books, it would have been more disappointing to go the other way. OK, maybe I did it the right way. In fact, I have a feeling I may even have watched the television series before getting to the radio. It was on just as I met the Resident IT Consultant, and I recall us watching it in the early days.

I looked on in fascination as the trilogy grew to five books. That’s British humour for you. It’s why I like my adoptive country so much. It has stuff like H2G2.

Fast forward to the unfashionable end of the last century, when I came across the radio series on audio cassette in the mobile library, and borrowed it for Son. I thought he might like it. He did. It wasn’t exactly news at the time. Nobody much – other than nerds – talked about it, so Son was educated in something vaguely historical and dated. Who cared, as long as he laughed and learnt a few new good quotes. It turned out useful, too. How his leaders at Pilots at the local church could even begin to think that children his age would be able to answer any questions on this subject in their fun quiz, is beyond me. Old-fashioned Son could, but his friends had never heard of it. Very handy, too, when it came to dressing up for World Book Day at school. We just needed to send Son to school in his dressing gown, holding a ‘book’ which said Don’t Panic.

From then on I’d say that H2G2 woke up again. More stuff on the radio, a film, and now the sixth book, written by Eoin Colfer. He is not Douglas Adams, but since we can’t have him, Eoin is a good second. I hope.

Anyway, that history. Who needs to know? I mean, who doesn’t already know about it? There was a long description/history thing in the Guardian a week ago, and I just wondered what the point was. As a fan, I do like reading about what I like, but there was something not quite right about this article. And I don’t just mean the fact that facts were wrong. Ford and Arthur did not hitch a ride with Zaphod when Earth was demolished.

The point of the new book is surely to educate a new generation of readers, and anybody old who happened to miss it the first time?

Mr Treemountain and other stuff

We travelled to Bali Rai-country on Sunday, to retrieve Daughter from outer space. On the drive to Leicester, which it is better known as, we listened to the second outing of Quote Unquote starring Adèle Geras, which the Resident IT Consultant had thoughtfully recorded and saved and remembered.

I had hoped that the lovely round library we went past last year, would be Oadby Library, which Bali praised back in June. It’s not. It’s Southfield Library, but it’s still very nice looking. We were late for our rocket launch, but so were the rockets. Spectacularly so, in fact. And luckily the ‘Cape Kennedy’ aspect of the sports field rocket launch pad broke down after about ten rockets, or we’d still be there now.

We returned to witch territory via another route, which took us past the prison where Stephen Booth did his research for one of his Fry and Cooper novels. I always like to feel literary when out, and seeing the bus shelter where the newly released prisoners catch the bus from, is pretty literary.

As we sped past the Dovedale walking centre we once stayed in, we debated when exactly it was we were there. The conclusion was between Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which takes us to spring 2000. That was when three of us mothers, having returned from a really wet walk with the small children’s group, relaxed in front of the fire with cups of tea, agreeing that we all loved – and fancied – Lupin. The bonding you can do over the most unexpected things…

Date decided on, the Resident IT Consultant had had enough of conversation, so switched the radio on, which I tend to hate. We accidentally hit on ‘Allan Ahlberg at 70′, which had just started, so we got to listen to most of this repeat. And it was good. I’m not all that into the Ahlbergs, Swedish name notwithstanding, but found it both fun and informative.

But let me tell you this, Allan. Your name does not mean Treemountain in English. You are Mr Aldermountain. Although your own idea of calling yourself Roald Blyton is not a bad one. Almost rhymes with Aldermountain.

Adèle on the radio

Adèle Geras is on the radio today! ‘Quote Unquote’ at 13.30 today on Radio 4. Should be good. Except that being out of the country, I will have to hope that someone records it. Or possibly that I end up catching the repeat on Saturday.

And speaking of the Geras family, I was pleased to come face to face with the Swedish translation of Sophie Hannah’s Little Face in the bookshop in Halmstad the other day. Prominently displayed near the entrance, with hardback book and audio book side by side. And a copy of the book in the shop window.

One of these days I will have the sense to carry a camera at all times. I’m so old and weird that I still use a mobile from the year 2000. It’s purple, and simple, but has no camera. You don’t think I ought to move on, do you? I have seen there are purple phones out there now. In fact, I was on the train recently, and three out of four people where I was sitting had purple mobiles. Very pleasing to the eye.

Glasgow tales

Killing time sometimes leads to more interesting things than you’d expect. My empty evening in London last November took me to the Cottesloe to hear Bill Paterson read from his book Tales from the Back Green. Not only did the book sound absolutely marvellous, but I quickly concluded I didn’t want to read it. 

I wanted Bill to read it to me. What a voice! And that accent! Those snippets in November lead me to listen to the whole book on audio, read by the man himself, which is actually very logical, as it first appeared on the radio. It’s a fairly short book, fitting onto two CDs, in ten chapters. It’s bliss to listen to.

And that’s before you take the contents into account.  I do have a fondness for a Glaswegian accent. Did I already mention that?

The first half is about the earlier days of Bill’s childhood, about playing in what must have been almost central Glasgow. It’s about the little stream called the Molly, before it was covered up. It’s about an interesting neighbour before the fear of pedofiles. It’s football and trams. The second half is about going to the cinema, wanting to join the Navy (I like the idea of stone frigates), summer holidays, the invention of the teenager, and finally about Bill discovering climbing and the theatre.

I’d say that 1950s Glasgow has a lot more in common with Sweden in the 1960s than you’d think.

And for a ‘mere’ actor who left school with few Highers, Bill writes very well, indeed. I’m feeling slightly green with envy. It sounds so easy, but I don’t think it is.

After the Cottesloe I contacted Bill to rave in a similarly uncontrolled manner to what I’m doing now. He replied (he replied!) that as it began on the radio, his main wish for Tales from the Back Green had always been to produce an audio book rather than a printed one. Great minds think alike…

If you don’t buy this audio book now, to listen to when you go to bed at night, I’d suggest you get it to play in the car as you set off somewhere for the weekend or on holiday. You might want to consider Scotland, unless you already live there, in which case I’ll permit you to go somewhere else.

The next witch

Meet Bookwitch’s baby sister, CultureWitch, who was born yesterday. It’s utter madness, I know. I can barely keep the books going, but we’ll have to wait and see what happens. It’s a sign of opinionated bossyness that I have to go on and on about anything that takes my fancy.

Back tomorrow with a proper book blog entry. Whose new book will it be?

How old should you be?

It seems we are to get age guidance on children’s books. The question is whether this is helpful or not.

Some quotes from yesterday’s Guardian Review; “which seven-year-old?” and “it’s not the age that’s important, but who the child is”. True. But if the book says age 7+ and you are buying for an exceedingly clever seven-year-old, you might decide to go for a 10+ instead. And some people are so out of touch with children’s reading, as well as with the child they are buying for, that any guide will be a help. Kind of the book equivalent of remembering that a two-month-old will neither resent the fact that her older brother gets chocolate for Christmas, nor that she won’t be able to make much use of the chocolate buttons offered as being more baby-ish.

Last week’s meeting with Derek Landy I was accompanied by a borrowed nine-year-old. Giggly, spontaneous and friendly, and so very mature. I wish they were all like that…

Some years ago I picked up a very tatty copy of Nina Bawden’s The Witch’s Daughter (how apt!) in the school fair. It was the original Puffin from the sixties, and the reading age was given as 8+. I thought it sounded a bit young, for me, but decided to push on with reading it anyway. Not only is it a good book, but it’s not that easy a read either. I came to the conclusion that an eight-year-old forty years ago was supposed to be more advanced in their reading.

Dumbing down. So, consider who gives the advice, and how many decades ago. Then adjust to what your needs are.

Symmetry

There’s been a pleasing regularity with things recently.

Author travels from North America to Britain. Gets to go on Woman’s Hour. Meets with the witch. Presumably goes home to Canada and Chicago again, mission accomplished.

So, after Budge Wilson last week, it’s Sara Paretsky this week. As I might have mentioned once or twice. (Don’t want to bore anyone. Much.)

Heard Sara speak at the big bookshop last night. If it hadn’t been for Sara, I may well have exited again, so uncomfortable was the venue. This morning it is the turn of the much smaller bookshop.

Will report back later, as usual. If there is a delay, it’s purely down to complete brain exhaustion.

Sara Paretsky is here

Well, the witch has waited a long time for this. She’s also done a bit of nagging. More than a bit, to be truthful. But along with the great and the good (venues, I mean), Sara is also coming to the watering hole near me. Here is her programme for the week:
Bleeding Kansas European Tour Schedule

Women’s Hour from Broadcasting House
March 25, 9:00 – 10:00 am
Gloucestershire Fiction Festival
March 26, 7:00 pm
Hulbert Crescent, Caernavon Road, Up Hatherley, Cheltenham GL51 3BW
On Air, Simon Mayo Book Panel, BBC Radio 5
March 27, 3:o0 pm; 7:30 pm
Sandwell Central Library, High Street
West Bromwich, B70 8DZ
Talk at Waterstones
March 28, 7:00 pm
92 Deansgate
Manchester M3 2BW
Interview and Signing at Simply Books
March 29, 11:30 am interview;
12:00 – 1:00pm signing
Simply Books
228 Moss Lane
Bramhall, Cheshire, SK7 1BD
Contact: 0161 439 1436
Talk at Barnsley Central Library Lecture Theatre
March 29, 5:30 pm
Shambles Street, Barnsley S70 2JF
Cambridgewordfest at ADC Theatre
March 30, 12:30 pm, Joan Smith to interview
Lunchtime talk at Peterborough Central Library Lecture Theatre
March 31, 1:00 – 2:00 pm
American Library
April 2, 7:30 pm
10 le rue du General-Camou, Paris 75007

The radio broadcasts you can listen to again. I will.

Radio Four on books about disability

The BBC had the good sense to turn to my local bookshop for a piece on the You and Yours programme on Good Friday. They spent fifteen minutes discussing children’s books featuring disability, which is about time. It seems that publishers think stupid thoughts like “there’s already a book out there which deals with disability, so we don’t need another one”.

They visited the shop and met up with some of the young reviewers there, who had each been given a book to read. It’s good to hear how well they spoke about their thoughts on the books. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time was one (obviously) and it was given to someone who’d never have considered the book otherwise, as it looked too young.

Among other books recommended I was pleased to find Siobhan Dowd’s The London Eye Mystery. So that we don’t equate disability with Asperger Syndrome; has anyone got suggestions for really good disability books?

The programme can be heard again for the next week on the BBC website.