Thursday's trailer

Reading & Writing

Although I occasionally delve into the treacherous realms of non-fiction, I have to admit that overall I prefer to stay clear of the genre. Sure, I like reading about other people’s projects and experiments and I love the odd literary biography but that’s as far as it goes. Reading to me consists of fiction, nothing more, nothing less. Whenever people start adding politics, religion and philosophy to the mix, I cringe and start having flashbacks of the courses I used to flunk.

My idea of reading is that it should be fun, entertaining and (thought-provoking) escapism. I adore quirky characters, engrossing storylines and a fresh original voice that takes me to unchartered corners of my imagination. If I have to chose between an author who alters reality to give his or her own twist to the tale and someone who chooses to stay as close to everyday life as possible, then I clearly won’t be opting for the latter.

In a nutshell, the non-fiction I do read is either voyeuristic entertainment or inspirational and I’m currently reading the latter, hoping it’ll get my own fictional juices flowing again: Het Geheim van de Schrijver (Renate Dorrestein) and Maps & Legends (Michael Chabon). Both books focus on the life of the author and include useful tips and tasty anecdotes about their passions and experiences. Especially Chabon’s book (which I still have to read) looks very promising as it’s less of an how to book and more of a why to book aka just what I need.

In the meantime I’m focusing on my duties as a journalist. After a quiet summer I’m back in business and in hot pursuit of a man who doesn’t want to be caught on tape. Ah, the joys of journalism, it keeps life interesting. And things will get even more interesting when I finally get my own column. Counting the days…

The Help

After two weeks I finally finished The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It took me a while to get in to it and even then, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Reading all those rave reviews, made my expectations pretty high but in the end The Help was just your garden variety human interest story.

Jackson, Mississippi, 1962. Aibileen and Minny are two black women working as cooks and caretakers in white households. Enter Miss Skeeter, a white girl back from collage who wonders where her beloved maid Constantine went. During her quest to find out the truth, she delves into the lives of Constantine’s friends, the maids of Jackson, and decides to write a book about them so she can honor the woman who raised her.

The result is sentimental, predictable and so politically correct that it really annoyed me. Ok, it’s the USA, it’s the South and it’s 1962, racism was a part of life and it probably still is back there. It’s a common fact. Lots of rich white families depended on their domestic help for everything and would be literally helpless without them, which is another common fact that it frequently forgotten so yes, these men and women naturally deserve credit but Stockett’s novel is just another feeble attempt at fictional awareness, something to soothe the masses and middle-class moms.

What really bothered me wasn’t the fact that it’s moralizing and contrived but that so many people loved it or should I say, are supposed to love it because it reminds us of important (historic) issues that are smothered with “humanity”. Stockett, who is herself white, does her best to portray the thoughts and typically “black” vernacular of these women but sadly, her efforts lack any conviction and leave me with a rather artificial and predominantly American aftertaste. The Help is patronizing and predictable, the perfect fodder for people who love sentimental, simple and PC BS.

Thursday's trailer

Ghostwatch

October 31, 1992 BBC1 made history with its splendid horror mockumentary / TV movie Ghostwatch which is, in my opinion, still one of the scariest broadcasts to date (excluding Material Girl for slightly different reasons). I still have vivid memories of watching this together with my grandparents, or parts of it at least from behind a cushion.

Ghostwatch is a live documentary that attempts to uncover the truth behind “The most haunted house in Britain”. The BBC naturally sends its top investigators to the scene who expect a light-hearted scare or two and probably to uncover a hoax. The British public settles down and decides that this is going to be a bit of fun. But ninety minutes later, the BBC and the country had changed.

Using actual horrifying footage from the house, its unwanted guest and interviews with the family and neighbors, the BBC was able to convince 11.5 million viewers that not only do ghosts actually exist but that one of the nation’s most loved presenters (Sarah Green, who I worshipped every Saturday morning during Going Live) had met her untimely demise.

In a nutshell Britain was shocked, appalled and horrified and TV has never been this good since, until True Blood that is. Using very simple yet surprisingly realistic (for 1992’s standards at least) techniques, they were able to create a ghoulishly good atmosphere with one hell of a backstory and aided by tremendous supporting cast of BBC favs.

Even before The Blair Witch Project or Paranormal Activity, mockumentary filmmaking had reached an unequivocal high that was sadly missed by everyone outside of the UK who wasn’t coincidently watching at the time seeing as this broadcast was banned for almost ten years, proving once again that it shook Britain to the core.

It may seem a bit fake and contrived now, but the story is great and the ending still freaks me out after all those years. It’s just a shame that this highly controversial and groundbreaking TV classic should be forgotten. Luckily, there's always Google Video.

Meme time

Every week, thousands of memes are thrown into cyberspace and many of them end up in my RSS feed. I love reading them but I hardly ever participate seeing as they can be pretty time consuming. This week however, was Book Blogger Appreciation Week, so I’ll celebrate with the latest and greatest literary meme.

The book that’s been on your shelves the longest

It’s my mother’s copy of Winnie the Pooh from when she was little. It’s in Dutch but contains all the original (black and white) drawings. I remember my grandmother reading me the stories when I was little and it’s actually the only “literary” family heirloom that I’ve got. Sadly, the dust jacket is torn and the colors have faded but the interior still looks great considering it’s rambunctious past from 1969 onwards.

A book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)

Just one? The funny thing is that I can still recall exact time or place when I read a specific book. I actually have a frighteningly good memory when it comes to trivial details so here are a few:

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger: I was waiting for my pumpkin to come home from his annual snowboarding trip in 2006. If it wasn't for this book I probably wouldn’t have been able to stay up all night and no other novel has had that effect on me since.

Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton: this reminds me of my first trip to Dublin in 2003 where a friend of mine was lecturing me in Easons on the utter brilliance of Botton, resulting in me purchasing this novel and embarking on an ongoing love – hate relationship with the man.

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien: This beautifully illustrated edition was my best friend’s most prized possession and was handed down to me last year after she died. Although I’m not into Tolkien personally, I have to admit that it’s a gorgeous object that I’ll cherish forever.

A book you acquired in some interesting way

When I was working at Standaard Boekhandel over a year ago, I received an advance uncorrected proof of The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen so I could analyze its potential. Sadly, it’s still somewhere in my to be read pile but I love the fact that I have a copy that no one outside of the publishing industry has.

The book that’s been with you to the most places

Do notebooks count? Because that’s the only type of book that’s seen more places than my living room, bedroom and the inside of whatever mode of public transport I’m using at the time. I’m constantly jotting down ideas, making lists,…

The most recent addition to your shelves

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, in theory because I still have to bring it home with me. Otherwise it’s my glorious True Blood box set.

Your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next

The Help by Kathryn Stockett, The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks and Hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world by Haruki Murakami (probably)

Things are getting slightly out of hand

My books (and storyboard)


My to be read pile (minus Freedom and the Charlaine Harris' 8-novel boxed True Blood set)



My sweetpea's books



And finally the graphic novel section



At the rate we're going we'll have wall to wall books in no time. I'm already getting goose bumps.

Mid-morning ponderings

Will Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom really live up to its expectations in being The Great American Novel? I’ve tried reading The Corrections twice and he usually loses me halfway seeing as his prose is too dense and his characters are simply bland and even boring. I understand that his ability to intertwines so many topics in a supposedly simple and human tale make a lot of people’s heads spin but I can help but wonder if we’re not just getting a tad ahead of ourselves. I’m slightly hesitant to give Freedom a try but somehow it’s already found its way to my to be read pile.


I love Stephen Frears’ work (Dangerous Liaisons, High Fidelity, Dirty Pretty Things, The Queen,…) and usually jump at the chance to see his next movie but Tamara Drewe? Please… The trailer is as convincing as Gemma Arterton’s acting so I can’t help but conclude that he’s lost touch with his former cinematic splendor. He used to be able to transform a straightforward plot into a real treat by relying on great actors, engaging characters and his sensational vision. It is a daring choice but I guess the best of formulas is bound to fail if Posy Simmonds so-so graphic novel is your basis.


And now the big one: will I ever finish my “novel”? I started in April, filled with enthusiasm, hope and (in my opinion) wonderful ideas but lately I can’t find the time or inspiration to proceed. Who am I kidding? I was on a roll until July and then all of a sudden the juices stopped flowing and reality kicked in. Don’t I have better things to do than delude myself in thinking I can actually become a writer? Enter the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, looking after my physically and emotionally draining mother and grandmother (the joys of being an only child!), writing articles, blogging, reading and having some sort of a social life. I now also have a “real” job, as some people like to call it, so I can add another excuse to the list. The silly thing is I really want to do this, so what’s stopping me? Real writers just write, don’t they?

Thursday's trailer

Book Reviews

I’ve been reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett for almost two weeks now and I haven’t even reached page 50 yet. It’s supposed to be “utterly brilliant”, “immensely readable” and “outstanding” but the mixed up narrative and Southern vernacular aren’t really drawing me in as much as I had anticipated which is a shame because I was craving a good story seeing as the last books I’ve read weren’t that impressive.

It all started with The Adventuress by Audrey Niffenegger which I had been coveting for quite some time. It’s a beautiful and luxurious book but the story is nonsensical and even idiotic. Her trademark physicality and dreamlike atmosphere are already very much an issue in Niffenegger’s first novel in pictures which is illustrated by elegant aquarelle drawings. The story on the other hand, is just a feeble concoction which has the sole purpose of tying her artwork together, such a shame.

I read The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks next, expecting a fast and fierce cult classic. How wrong I was. Granted, it’s pretty gruesome at times but this supposedly shocking tale about a sixteen-year-old killer wasn’t all that. When it was first published 25 years ago it may have been a ground breaking piece of literature but now, even the so called twist at the end wasn’t all that surprising. Still, it was an interesting look inside the head of a very troubled kid.

If I’m still dragging myself through the narrative at page 100, I’ll just quit The Help. I’ve got a couple of dozen books competing to be my next literary lover anyway so…

Dodgy knees vs. the Ardennes

I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my knees the past few weeks: aching, swelling, a lovely crunching sound whenever I walk up a flight of stairs and the feeling that they’re going to succumb if I have to stand still for longer than 24 seconds. My left knee in particular has always been a bit troublesome ever since I broke it 17 years ago but now, thanks to strenuous and repetitive exercises, climbing a few hills in England and the physicalities of working in a book store, my right knee has decided to join the fun.

I had some X-rays done this afternoon to see how bad the suspected damage is to my cartilages but until I get the results and the right treatment, I’ll just have to enjoy my double (!) kneecap infection a little while longer. I’ve already been impersonating a couch potato for the past two weeks, all for the greater good (i.e. my health) off course but sadly this will all be coming to an end as we are going to the Ardennes for a fun filled family weekend of walking, talking and endurance.

Thursday's trailer

The Happiness Project

The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun, is another memoir / project along the lines of Eat, Pray, Love and Julie and Julia where one bored and disgruntled woman decides to do something extraordinary during the course of a year.

Being a formerly disgruntled woman myself, I was once again intrigued by the premises and dove into Gretchen Robin’s book full of hope and anticipation. It’s not particularly enlightening literature but by focusing on small aspects such as exercize, organize, enjoy the now, start a collection, take time for one another, give something up and learn something new, Rubin was able to add a little more satisfaction to her day to day routine.

Every month she tackles a new subject (vitality, work, mindfulness,…) but it’s all pretty basic and simple stuff that we easily take for granted, making her suggestions easy to follow and almost guaranteeing you some form of success. Rubin, a lawyer turned writer, uses quotes from well known philosophers and authors as well as her own life experiences to prove her point being that it’s ( how shocking) the little things that matter most and that thus everyone can achieve some form of happiness by focusing on them.

The most important lesson to be learned however, is to just be you. Sounds easy, right? The Happiness Project is an interesting, though not particularly groundbreaking book that will probably be turned into a movie sometime in the distant future.

And don’t forget "Whoever is happy will make others happy, too." Mark Twain.

True Blood

I just wanted to say that I love, love, love True Blood! It’s just soooo good. Just like Twilight it is based on a series of novels, The Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris to be precise, but whereas Twilight is romantic, innocent and the perfect fodder for every girl’s (and woman’s for that matter) naïve inner teenager; True Blood is sexy, shocking, mature and oh so gory.

Pining, brooding and purity, it’s all so last season. This year’s hardcore, meaning great characters, a phenomenal script and lots of intrigue resulting in exciting adult entertainment. Trust me, TV has hardly ever been this good. I guess producer Alan Ball (Six Feet Under, American Beauty) had something to do with this.

True Blood revolves around the co-existence of vampires and humans in Bon Temps, a fictional small Louisiana town. The main character is on Sookie Stackhouse (Anna Paquin), a telepathic waitress, who falls in love with vampire Bill Compton (Stephen Moyer). But their romance is just the beginning and not the focal point as in other series.

There are also some shape shifters, religious fanatics, Gods, blood addicts, transvestites and werewolves on the loose to keep things interesting, not to mention a couple of orgies, some very kinky sex and an abundance of dead bodies. Now don’t go thinking this is just a cheesy, sexist supernatural show because; despite its adult content, it’s definitely not. It’s stylish, tasteful and very stimulating due to its daring and eclectic mix of characters and situations, guarantying you a sensational and satisfying show.

I even bought a boxed set of the first 8 novels in the series because I simply couldn’t wait to see what happens next. Too bad I have a job now, which I love by the way.

Bye bye former favs

Over the past few weeks I’ve read and even re-read several books by authors I used to love such as Douglas Coupland, Chuck Palahniuk and Margaret Atwood. Sadly, not all of them lived up to my expectations. I my early twenties, which isn’t that long ago, I was completely gob smacked by their original and hyperactive stories (Palahniuk) and their incorporation of contemporary media, language and typography (JPod rules!). It all seemed so daring and fresh seeing as I was spending most of my time in the company of Dickens and the Bronte sisters then. I literally craved a funky fictional mish mash of madness, movies and morbidity (thank you Chuck).

I re-read Coupland’s Microserfs a while back and although I once love d this novel’s ingenuity, I now felt it was gimmicky, bland and outdated. It’s basically about with the rise of Silicon Valley, a bunch of geeks and their families, Microsoft and Apple, in a nutshell themes that don’t particularly interest me if it wasn’t for Coupland’s incredible ability to add warmth, humor and tons of one-liners to the mix. It worked in the nineties and still has its charm but sadly, Microserfs has lost its wow factor. Needless to say, I won’t be re-reading Jpod anytime soon in order to hold on to the illusion of this novel’s greatness.

And then there’s Palahniuk, I still have fond memories of the summer I spent on a Palahniuk high (2003) but for some reason his crazy slang infused bursts of adrenaline just don’t cut it for me anymore. I only got halfway through 2008’s Rant, thinking all those years of freaky shit wore him out a bit. 2009’s Pygmy sounded like a classic nonsensical Palahniuk trip but after page 20 I packed it in, seriously doubting my once giddy affection for the man. Now although his latest novel Tell-all looks and sounds great, I think I’m going to pass one. Maybe he’s losing his touch or maybe, just maybe I’m actually becoming too mature for his twisted and once tantalizing banter.

After realizing that people and preferences clearly change as we get older, I’m becoming slightly hesitant to start reading Murakami again. Will his surrealism still have the same affect on me as it used to or will it be another passing twenties fad? Who knows? I’m just dying to read his new novel 1q84.

Thursday's trailer

The Year of the Flood

This weekend I finished The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood, the sequel to Oryx and Crake which is one of my all time favorite books. I’ve been a fan of Atwood’s work for quite a while, ever since I read her mesmerizing Alias Grace but although some of her novels are utterly brilliant like Oryx and Crake (which should be mandatory reading material for everyone!) and The Blind Assassin, others are boring to mediocre at best such as The Handmaid’s Tale (average), The Robber Bride (went on and on) or The Penelopiad (just don’t go there). I may love and loathe her work in equal measures but she’s still one of my favorite authors because when she’s good, she’s damn good!

And The Year of the Flood was good. As I said, it’s a sequel to her dystopic masterpiece Oryx and Crake in which Snowman, who lives in a tree, must take care of the Children of Crake, peaceful little green people who are the only survivors of an experiment gone wrong. It’s actually quite difficult to summarize this novel because so much wacky stuff happens in this strange and sensational tale that is as entertaining as it is thought-provoking and without a doubt one of the most original stories I’ve ever read. Needless to say, the heat was on to make the sequel equally good and it is, almost.

The story is gripping and funny, just like the characters who have to make the best of a world that has been genetically altered and obliterated. There’s some drama, a touch of honesty and humanity, a tad of evironmental awareness and lots of excitement in a terrifying yet completely realistic sci-fi setting which makes her works a little out there but still very plausible and easy to relate to. Even if you don’t like sci-fi, it will lure you in and devour you. The only reason why it’s not as good as its predecessor for me, is because I was already familiar with this weird world that completely blew me away the first time round but other than that, all hail queen Atwood.