You can do just about anything with this blog. Follow it, leave a comment, ask a question, heart it, feed your RSS, email me, search inside, browse the archive, re-blog, etc etc. Unfortunately there's no "hate it" or "sigh and roll your eyes" buttons. In such circumstances (and I won't hold it against you) the little "x" at the top of your browser is always useful.
Loading Tweet...
I love Tumblr. It’s got style, it’s got personality. I love the way no two blogs are the same; you’re not confined by a rigid set of rules geared entirely around something as narrow as readership. It’s not blogging by numbers.
But.
You can’t have a conversation with yourself. And sadly, blogging on Tumblr is like blabbing away into a telephone receiver for ten minutes before you realise you’ve been disconnected. Hello? Is there anybody out there?
Wordpress, blogger, they’re not like that. Boring-looking and not for the technically challenged, these platforms are comprehensive and reliable, like nana’s biscuits. Year after year they’re the same; predictably nutritious.
So I’m making the move. This lovely looking blog will stay, probably only for my benefit, while wordpress in its uniform, cookie-cutter style, takes over the mantle. From now you can find 5inabus here.
Last week I forgot all about Bobbie’s Ballet recital that she’d been practicing for for the last several months. While the other Mums woke early, ironed costumes, pulled hair into tight buns, I yawned and snuggled down with a hot cup of tea and my book. While other little girl’s hearts fluttered with excitement as they peeked out at the crowd from behind the big red curtains, Bobbie was play fighting on the carpet with her brothers in front of the saturday morning cartoons. And while other parents will have that wonderful first ballet recital recorded on video forever, we will have to make do with this:
How could I forget such an important thing? I would like to say it’s the most impressive display of neglectful parenting I’ve ever had the honesty to admit to, but I fear there are bound to be worse examples to come. Just that same day I went to pick up Cormac from his friend’s place but drove off before he could even get in the car. I’d said to the other Mum “send him down now [from their apartment on the 6th floor], I’m outside”. Which I was at that precise moment. But no sooner had I hung up the phone than I put the car into gear and drove off. Without him. I only realized when I got up to the traffic lights and turned around to ask Cormac how his weekend was only to find he wasn’t in the car. That classic, cartoon-esque double-take. Brillliant, Nadine.
But mindless parenting aside, there’s something else I wanted to throw the light on. And that is - apologies. When I realised that Bobbie had missed her recital
The Magic of Reality: How We Know What’s Really True by Richard Dawkins
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
According to my 9 year old “everyone HAS to have a religion!!”. I’m not going to argue with him - we live in a country where we hear the call to prayer on average 5 times a day. It’s not so easy to compete with a reminder like that. Enter: Richard Dawkins for kids. Correction, “Richard Dawkins For Kids Who Always Ask Those Damned Difficult Questions”.
It’s definitely biased (would you have expected anything less?), presenting religion as just another fairy-tale or cutesy legend passed on down through the generations. I don’t think it needed to be quite so patronising in tone; there was a lot of scope to explore the reasons WHY different cultures may have used different stories to explain various phenomena of the physical world, which would have been incredibly interesting in and of itself - but that opportunity goes begging. However I doubt Dawkins would make any apology for that. The sole focus of this book is “reality”, science and the quest to explain human evolution in a manner that kids (and adults for that matter) can actually understand. The chapter “Who Was The First Man” is brilliant in this regard, and the practical mental exercise which prompts children to visualise the measurement of time going back hundreds of thousands of years is simple but incredibly effective.
In summary, I highly recommend this book be given equal shelf space in your kids’ home library, alongside any and all holy books that may also dwell in your house.
View all my reviews
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Me and 36,700 other people enjoyed the dust-cover off this book. I haven’t got it in me to write a full review, because I’m feeling a little sheepish. Here’s why:
1 - It’s a love story between two terminally-ill cancer patients, and I laughed quite a lot
2 - It’s meant to be for Young Adults, but I’m 34. Does that make the book really good, or me really immature?
3 - It’s only been in bookstores for 6 months, which means I paid the full hard-back price for this book, and I never, ever buy hardbacks. They are expensive. They are heavy. They ruin the visually-pleasing height thing I have going in my paperback dominated bookcase.
4 - I was affected by the declarations of love on these pages enough to write down the quotes for future reference. Such as:
“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”
I must admit, I’m a bit of a snob. Liking a book on the NY Time Bestseller list irks me. I would have preferred to be in the company of the 5 people that gave this book less than 3 stars (look them up, their reviews are solid).
But books are like lovers. You can’t always help who you’re attracted to.
View all my reviews
The Wandering Falcon by Jamil Ahmad
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This book reads like a book of short but interconnected stories bound together by one character who appears in all of them. The Wandering Falcon is not a central character in any of the stories, instead his observations take the form of a non-judgmental commentary from the periphery. The stories centre around a group of nomadic tribes in the areas where the borders of Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan meet. For hundreds of years these tribes have moved freely in this region according to the push and pull of the seasons, but as the lines of modern nation states are drawn up their traditional ways of life suddenly come under threat.
It’s authentic, beautifully written and incredibly sad for the most part - the treatment of women, as with many novels set in against a traditional backgrop in the Middle East, makes for uneasy reading to put it lightly. But the result, as always, is to feel better informed; as though someone has pushed the door open just far enough to catch a glimpse at what’s inside.
View all my reviews
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
This book builds suspense and intrigue like the promise of a good… sneeze, only to see the eventual climax evaporate into thin air. Listening to someone scrape their fingers down a blackboard would have been easier than listening to Kathy tell her story, recalling memories from childhood with an implausible and unemotional clarity. Even Kazuo Ishiguro himself admits, rather sheepishly, to having overplayed the “mysterious” elements of the book to the extent that the basic philosophical and ideological issues he had intended to probe seem to pass somewhat under the radar.
With what almost sounds like regret, Kazuo says that people tend to get more out of the book when they read it for a second time (or perhaps after having watched the movie?). Which is a shame - in this day an age it’s hard to sell a book once, let alone twice. That’s not to say I didn’t work out early on that this was about clones. (That’s not a spoiler either - Kazuo says if he were to republish the book he’d like to throw people that bone on page 1 as opposed to page 79). But as one who hadn’t seen the movie,
Liam winning gold today in the 25 meter free style, by just a whisker. He’s in lane two, near the botton of the screen. He’s such a reserved little boy, I never picked him for being so competitive. But there he is, drilling down the pool with the same determination that has seen him waking me up at 6am for the past two weeks so I could take him down to the pool to train. So proud of him. This is the stuff of why.
The Descendants by Kaui Hart Hemmings
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
She’s an asshole, he’s an ignoramus. Not really what I would have said a promising start for a novel, yet somehow I became invested in their story. In fact, at certain points I couldn’t put it down and I’m sure that is entirely due to the fact Joanie was SUCH an awful excuse for a wife (not to mention mother), and Matt King a truly pitiable excuse for a husband and father. Add to the mix their two kids, one a 17 year old ex-model and recovering drug-addict and the other a very odd ten year old with a penchant for talking dirty, and the whole thing makes for a scene you don’t want to watch but can’t quite turn away from. It’s darkly humorous and deeply, deeply tragic.
The book gives away all the spoilers on the back cover before you begin, so no harm in retelling it here. Joanie, a beautiful, charismatic (but completely self-obsessed and immature) woman lies in a coma after a boating accident. While her husband (head-in-a-hole workaholic) comes to terms with his wife’s inevitable death, his eldest daughter confirms the suspicions he’d long been trying to deny: his wife had been having an affair. Against a backdrop of negotiations into the sale of inherited ancestral land in Hawai’i (which has more of a role to play in the plot than you might think), the story then centers around a road-trip Matt takes with his children to find his wife’s lover and bring him, ill-advisedly or not, to her bedside before they turn off the machines.
The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
It’s disturbing that a book so bleak and depressing should be so hilarious that I literally couldn’t contain my laughter. I mean, since when did stories of cold-blooded murder fall into the realm of comedy? And try telling the people around you, annoyed by your constant snorting, that the book that that’s got you in stitches is a 19th century Western narrated by a psychopathic hit-man with a violent temper, who also just happens to have this really sweet vulnerable side; you know, once you get to know him.
But that’s what makes Patrick deWitt’s book so fantastic - no two pieces (i.e. the morally repugnant side and the thigh-slapping idiocy side) fit together. Yet as a whole it somehow works. The New York Times Review sums it up perfectly:
“The Sisters Brothers” is surely gritty, as well as deadpan and often very comic. Eli Sisters tells the story in a loftily formal fashion, doggedly literal, vulgar and polite at turns, squeezing humor out of stating the obvious with flowery melodrama.”
Here’s an example:
Because the Book Fair is here. And as an added bonus, if you take along a kid you get $30-50 worth of vouchers PER child to spend inside. So there are advantages to having 3 kids afterall!
In what I believe to be an admirable show of restraint (considering they were practically giving them away), here’s what I came home with.
Taxi by Khaled Alkhamassi. A novel which tells the story of the uprising in Egypt as seen through the eyes of taxi drivers; a brilliant concept which appealed to me immediately since I remember only too well how the pulse of Buenos Aires (from economic crises to theories on military dictatorships football matches) seemed to flow in and through the taxi drivers themselves. The inside cover of “Taxi” says “I dedicate this book to the life that dwells in the words of simple people. May it swallow up the void that has haunted us for many years”.
Mornings in Jenin, by Susan Abulhawa (and yes, that’s an average rating of 4.28 based on 790 reviews which I can assure is HIGH). It’s a bankable plot - as Palestine is carved up in 1948 making refugees of thousands, a mother is separated from her 6 month old baby. That child goes on to grow up as an Israeli while his mother and siblings grow up in refugee camps across the border. Eventually (predictably?) the siblings are reunited in, of all places, war. I narrowly missed an interview with the author at the book fair, but that may be just as well where spoilers are concerned, I can imagine this one will be gripping…
Nothing to lose but your life, by Suad Amiry. I have to admit I wanted to buy this on the basis of the title alone. Palestine again (I was at the Bloomsbury/Qatar Foundation stall, a veritable fount for new and exciting Arab fiction). This time it’s a non-fiction account of an Architect living in Ramallah who disguises herself as a man and crosses the Israeli border illegally to seek work in Petah Tikva. The book covers the eighteen hour journey with a couple of her compatriots and is apparently is as funny as it is tragic. Just my cup of tea.
Pigeon English By Stephen Kelman. This is the real surprise of the lot - it’s narrated by an 11 year old, which, for anyone who is familiar with my feelings on child narrators is not a strong starting point. It’s also recommended highly by Emma Donoghue herself, who it’d be fair to say is not my favourite author. Apparently Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time is also a good indicator of whether you’ll like this book (which I enthusiastically did not). But call me a sucker for punishment, the guardian’s quote on the front cover convinced me I shouldn’t throw the towel in on child narrators just yet. They describe it as “A gut-wrenchingly sad novel that makes you laugh out loud’. Again, my cup of tea.
And finally, a book I wanted to buy but didn’t as it’s not yet out in paperback…
I shall not hate, by Izzeldin Abuelaish. Not much to laugh about here, to be sure. A true story about a Palestinian doctor working in the Gaza strip, treating patients both Palestinian and Israeli, which is a story in itself - whose 3 daughters are killed by Israeli soldiers during the Israeli incursion of the Gaza strip in 2009. His reaction to this tragedy won him international recognition and humanitarian awards. Definitely have to read that one at some point.
Anyhoo. Off to make that cuppa now….
Loading posts...