Reading Is Bliss
Every now and again, as a reader, you come across a book that makes you sit up and pay attention. While I'm no cynic, it is rare for me to find the type of story where you think, the entire time you're reading it, that this is really something special - something that hasn't been tried before.
It's hard to describe Anna Smaill's The Chimes. I could try and categorise it as a sort of dystopian urban fantasy. You can see where David Mitchell, Elizabeth Knox, Angela Carter, Ursula LeGuin, and a whole host of other brilliant literary authors have influenced the writing - but merely to compare Smaill to other the greats would be doing The Chimes a disservice.
For it is an entirely unusual work, so dazzling for the most part that you can easily forgive uneven patches, perhaps even the occasional weakly sketched character. The story as a whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
It is difficult to believe that The Chimes is a debut novel, and I would wager money that Smaill has unfinished manuscripts tucked in a dusty drawer somewhere at home, but I'm glad for her that this is her first published book. Because it's one to make readers and reviewers take notice.
The world of The Chimes is both strange and yet familiar, the hallmark of good speculative fiction. Set in a parallel London, humanity has been rendered docile by something called The Chimes - in my imagination it's an uplifting type of gospel music that flows out of a giant instrument resembling a church organ, and renders people unable to form new memories.
Ahead of the Valentine's Day release of the film version of Fifty Shades of Grey, guest blogger and Kiwi Mum Rohani Alexander muses on the controversial label of "mummyporn"...
"Do you want to do another guest post?"
"Sure, something parenty again?"
"Er. Is Fifty Shades required reading?"
The New Year has rolled round a lot faster than I anticipated. My short break consisted of less reading than I would have liked, interspersed with many periods of sinful sloth, cat bonding, wine drinking, and watching a copious amount of Very Bad TV (Exhibit A: Marco Polo - it's so memorable that I had to go back and check the name).
Due to this, I have decided that my New Year's resolution should be to tackle my growing "to-read" pile. I have set myself the goal of reading two books a week. I knew it was going to be time-consuming, but I didn't realise how tough it could get until last week, when I realised I had spent almost every single night at home since I began the challenge.
I have however, managed to get through a few tomes that's been on my reading list for the past decade: Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five, Maxine Hong Kingston's sequel to The Woman Warrior, China Men and Khaled Hosseini's And The Mountains Echoed, among others. I am currently slicing my way through Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch, and a collection of short stories called Wasteland: Stories of the Apocalypse, both of which I have to finish by the end of the long weekend.
It's been a fun challenge, and I guess I began it because life is short, and there are way too many books...but also, I feel better about the world and life in general when I'm reading. There is something about feeling like part of the human condition, a sort of togetherness with humanity that only reading can offer.
I'd like to add new books to my New Year's challenge list too, so it would be great to hear what you think I should be reading.
This is it, folks...'tis the season, the countdown is nearly at zero and Christmas (plus 2015), is just around the corner. I'm not usually a fan of gratitude lists. They feel too contrived, as if life is only worth living due to its sometimes rare moments of joy. But hey, 'tis the season.
So I thought I would do a repeat of last year, and give you my top 5 reading gratitudes of 2014.
1. The ability to read
Occasionally I have to kick my own butt when I'm grumbling about some book-related woe or other. There are shelves groaning with Danielle Steeles I'll never read, Booker Prize nominees (and winners) I'll never agree with, and stream-of-consciousness YA novels written by 16-year-olds "discovered" on Wattpad and poorly ghost-written. When I'm feeling like the Grinch that Ate Bookmas, I have to pause and remind myself how lucky I am to be literate, when 775 million in the world are not. Next time someone tells you they don't like reading, remind them of this fact.
2. Owning books/being able to amass a personal library
I'm lucky enough to have the disposable income to spend on books, when there are far too many places in the world where this would be considered a frivolity beyond words. I'm lucky to live in a society and culture where indulging in book buying is seen as a harmless past-time, where I won't get sent to prison for owning or reading the wrong type of books, and where my gender doesn't dictate the sort of literature I'm allowed to consume.
This might even possibly deserve a blog post all of its own, but I'm thankful for writers. I am so grateful for the artists who have, often, sacrificed things that I myself have not in order to write that story. I'm grateful for the impoverished authors in garrets of days past, and the Hugh Howeys of today who did odd menial jobs so they could save the best of their minds and imaginations for writing the stories I love. Many of the writers I have met are some of the world's most inspiring, intelligent and fascinating people. Long may they prosper.
If I hear one more Christmas carol, I think I'll scream. Or cry. Or start bulk munching candy canes. I actually enjoy the festive season. I know it's cheesy as hell and over-commercialised, but the five-year-old in me delights at the thought of midnight mall openings, Christmas lights and plastic reindeer outside houses, tinsel, fir trees and presents. Carols are another thing though. Christmas carols should be banned until Christmas Eve, but that's just age speaking.
Reflecting back on my reading year, I haven't read anywhere near as many books as I would have liked. It's not time for New Year resolutions yet, but I can see that my top reading resolution will be to carve out more time to read.
As a treat, I thought I would check out some of the books that are being turned into movies for 2015. There are some interesting titles out there - many that I haven't heard of, others that I have heard of but haven't read, and so on. None of these titles have come out as yet as of publication.
The Martian, Andy Weir
This originally self-published novel came out in 2012 and was pretty much an instant hit. It hasn't garnered quite the same level of popularity as Hugh Howey's Wool, but it HAS been snapped up and turned into a film starring...dum da dum...Matt Damon! Who doesn't like Matt Damon? It's also being directed by Ridley Scott. I am excited about this one, and will make it a priority to read this book over the Christmas break. Apparent Weir, the author, has a background in computer science and is the son of a particle physicist, so I'm looking forward to some stimulating science fiction here.
The Price of Salt, Patricia Highsmith
I enjoyed The Talented Mr Ripley immensely when it first came out, though perhaps still being in high school had something to do with it. Poor Mr Ripley, he just wanted to be loved? By the same author comes this novel, which was apparently the inspiration for Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. Err. The book was originally written under a pseudonym, and classified as romance. I think largely because it was first published in 1952 and had lesbian content. It's moments like these that makes me glad I live in the era that we now do, because many things could be so much worse. Anyway, the story is about the affair between a younger and older woman. I won't reveal more.
Blog terms and conditions
You're welcome to post in the comments section of our blogs. Please keep comments under 400 words. When submitting a comment, you agree to be bound by our terms and conditions.