Boy seeks girl; boy meets girl; boy gets mixed up in IRA bombing in London orchestrated by girl’s slightly unhinged brothers. An interesting concept, if you can pull it off. However, Zane Radcliffe’s first novel is one that tries, with limited success, to be all things to all men.
On the cover of the book, Colin Bateman declares, ‘I laughed until I stopped’, which immediately puts me on my guard. I have always been sceptical when someone tells me a book made them laugh. I can count the numbers that have had the same effect on me on one finger. London Irish, sadly, did not see me uncurling another digit.
One of the reasons for this is because the book is part thriller, part love story and part comedy. Any one of these aspects could have been left out, preferably the clichéd love story, where the Gaelic charm and extrovert behaviour of the Irishman soon sees him winning the girl over. The basic premise, at least at the beginning, is credible enough as we are taken in by the main character, Bic. We follow his efforts to find a nice Irish girl to take back to Ireland and settle down with, albeit on an ostrich farm.
In keeping with numerous writers of Irish descent, humour is never far from the surface here, be it dry, dark or plain farcical. But it struggles to find its place amongst the other two perspectives. Radcliffe could learn from the McCourt brothers or Roddy Doyle when it comes to maintaining a consistent level of humour in his work.
However, the main problem with this book is its predictability. It’s not long before the story becomes transparent with Radcliffe planting seeds in the text so blatant, the words ‘PAY ATTENTION – STUFF HAPPENS HERE’ at the beginning of a chapter would have been more subtle. The ‘inadvertent’ comments Bic makes, which are ultimately the source of his problems, are so obvious they border on insulting. All the leads are firmly established in the first half and come together too neatly, one after the other, as the story reaches its climax. It’s as if Radcliffe was ticking them off as he went. The hackneyed ‘boy gets girl’ aspect is clumsily handled and a little rushed towards the end.
Overall the book is a passable debut which initially draws the reader in intriguingly. But the situations become contrived and the writing a little clichéd later in the book. I did find myself wondering how much better it could have been if Radcliffe hadn’t reverted to doing it by the numbers.
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
Book - Long Way Round, Ewan MacGregor & Charley Boorman
(Originally featured on the 'BBC Collective' website - 29 March 2006)
'The Long Way Round' was a book that passed me by when it was first published. I saw the trailers for the accompanying Sky programme on TV but again it didn't really appeal. Then I bought the DVD for my mum for Christmas and my Uni tutor lent me the book. Now I wish I'd latched onto both incarnations earlier. I decided to read the book first as it was related to my Final Year Project (i.e. travel writing). I was expecting a glossed-over depiction of a round-the-world journey. I couldn't have been more mistaken.
From the outset it is clear that both authors, McGregor in particular, have very personal reasons for undertaking the trip. It seems, even with all the trappings of fame and fortune, a childhood dream is a childhood dream and that's that.
It's very rare that I find a book 'unputdownable' but this came mighty close. It had all the potential to become a boring and sentimental account of how much the two actors missed their wives and blah blah blah. What we get is clearly two friends with a common goal who will seemingly go through hell to achieve it.
The highs and lows are dealt with with equal amounts of emotion and the characters they meet along the way, especially in Eastern Europe's mafia-ridden countries, are described so lucidly it's difficult not to become worried for the writers. A ridiculous thing to say, I know, but it's really that good. Their appreciation of the world around them as they motor east into Russia, Kazakhstan and Mongolia is obvious and they are never too busy to stop and take it all in. Even when their bikes are mired in bogs or in danger of being swept away in raging rivers, they never lose focus of their ultimate goal, to get to the end, to say they'd done it-they'd biked around the world. Despite all the wild animals, the ticks, the gun-toting natives, the bribe-seeking local police, there were those who balanced it all out. The native people who had almost nothing to offer the two strangers but invited them into their humble 'gers' and fed them and gave them shelter, nonetheless. Moments and people who burnt themselves into the authors' memories for obvious reasons.
The more personal aspects are dealt with honestly and surprisingly unguardedly given the people describing them. I can't think of many Hollywood stars who would have put themselves through the ordeal in the first place, let alone consign it to film and put it down in writing, warts and all. These two friends risk life and limb at points and argue daily about admittedly trivial things. But they come out of it with a friendship stronger than before, Boorman actually declaring McGregor 'the brother I never had' at the end of their trip.
As the book and the journey reach their climax, I, like McGregor, didn't want it to end. I knew exaclty how he felt though. All the emotions of ending a trip so personally significant can be so overwhelming it's hard to put them into words but both McGregor and Boorman do sterling jobs here. I can't wait to see if the TV programme matches up to the images they planted in my head.
I spent over a year on the other side of the world a few years ago and am itching to up sticks again in search of more challenging environments, as soon as uni is put to bed. This book did nothing to dissuade me. In fact I might just drop out now and hop on a plane...
'The Long Way Round' was a book that passed me by when it was first published. I saw the trailers for the accompanying Sky programme on TV but again it didn't really appeal. Then I bought the DVD for my mum for Christmas and my Uni tutor lent me the book. Now I wish I'd latched onto both incarnations earlier. I decided to read the book first as it was related to my Final Year Project (i.e. travel writing). I was expecting a glossed-over depiction of a round-the-world journey. I couldn't have been more mistaken.
From the outset it is clear that both authors, McGregor in particular, have very personal reasons for undertaking the trip. It seems, even with all the trappings of fame and fortune, a childhood dream is a childhood dream and that's that.
It's very rare that I find a book 'unputdownable' but this came mighty close. It had all the potential to become a boring and sentimental account of how much the two actors missed their wives and blah blah blah. What we get is clearly two friends with a common goal who will seemingly go through hell to achieve it.
The highs and lows are dealt with with equal amounts of emotion and the characters they meet along the way, especially in Eastern Europe's mafia-ridden countries, are described so lucidly it's difficult not to become worried for the writers. A ridiculous thing to say, I know, but it's really that good. Their appreciation of the world around them as they motor east into Russia, Kazakhstan and Mongolia is obvious and they are never too busy to stop and take it all in. Even when their bikes are mired in bogs or in danger of being swept away in raging rivers, they never lose focus of their ultimate goal, to get to the end, to say they'd done it-they'd biked around the world. Despite all the wild animals, the ticks, the gun-toting natives, the bribe-seeking local police, there were those who balanced it all out. The native people who had almost nothing to offer the two strangers but invited them into their humble 'gers' and fed them and gave them shelter, nonetheless. Moments and people who burnt themselves into the authors' memories for obvious reasons.
The more personal aspects are dealt with honestly and surprisingly unguardedly given the people describing them. I can't think of many Hollywood stars who would have put themselves through the ordeal in the first place, let alone consign it to film and put it down in writing, warts and all. These two friends risk life and limb at points and argue daily about admittedly trivial things. But they come out of it with a friendship stronger than before, Boorman actually declaring McGregor 'the brother I never had' at the end of their trip.
As the book and the journey reach their climax, I, like McGregor, didn't want it to end. I knew exaclty how he felt though. All the emotions of ending a trip so personally significant can be so overwhelming it's hard to put them into words but both McGregor and Boorman do sterling jobs here. I can't wait to see if the TV programme matches up to the images they planted in my head.
I spent over a year on the other side of the world a few years ago and am itching to up sticks again in search of more challenging environments, as soon as uni is put to bed. This book did nothing to dissuade me. In fact I might just drop out now and hop on a plane...
Book - Playing The Moldovans at Tennis, Tony Hawks
(Originally featured on the 'BBC Collective' website - 24 January 2007)
Until a week or so ago, I had avoided Tony Hawks' books. The reason for this was because I liked his humour when I saw him on television (a sort of hybrid of schoolboy toilet humour and educated wit) and I was sure that reading any of his books would just disappoint me. There are no books that have made me laugh out loud (well, maybe Frank Skinner...once) and I just couldn't face being let down on the same front by a man whom I found genuinely funny. So it was with not a little trepidation that I finally cracked open 'Playing the Moldovans at Tennis', which had been bought for me over 18 months ago. As with most things in my life, it seemed I had worried about nothing and hence deprived myself of a very good book.
The result of a bet taken up with fellow comic Arthur Smith, Hawks' trip to the depths of Eastern Europe in pursuit of 11 illusive Moldovan footballers is described with all the wit for which Hawks has become known on the small screen. From the scene of the original wager to the stomach-churning consequences on Balham High Road 18 months later, the 'adventure' is recounted in a 'no holds barred' way. Nothing is beyond description, be it the initial all round misery Hawks encounters in Moldova, a bout of 'tummy troubles', rubbing up wealthy local businessman the wrong way or just the frustratingly slow process of actually locating and securing his prospective opponents.
Hawks, while explaining the myriad difficulties in holding up his end of the wager doesn't become so blinkered in his pursuit that he is blind to his surroundings. Like all good travel writers, his observations and interaction with the local people come shining through all the amusing narration. There is a sense as the book progresses that Hawks warms to the coldest of countries (meterologically and socially) and as the stories of his quest spread, the people he encounters in Moldova finally begin to warm to him. This is a story not only of one man's determination to succeed in a 'frivolous' bet and to see the positives in almost everything but also to break down barriers of language and culture. Staying with a Moldovan family whose primary english speaker is an 11 year old girl was always going to be hard work but Hawks is soon taken in by them through, if nothing else, his personality and what must have been his infectious positive attitude which was in stark contrast to those of seemingly the entire population of the country he was visiting.
The book is written with a traveller's hand in that everywhere he goes there is an obvious appreciation for what he is seeing, if indeed there IS anything worth seeing! He manages to relate it back to his own situation and is humble enough to reflect that in the midst of all this abject poverty, misery and institutionalised corruption there is an englishman running around trying to fulfil the terms of a pub-generated bet. He never loses sight of the fact that he is lucky to be able to just hop on a plane to do such a thing, to go to a country where the average monthly wage would struggle to pay for a weeks groceries in England.
I found the book entertaining and, if not 'unputdownable' then addictive to say the least. It's very rare that I can sit and read a book for more than an hour without wanting to get up and do something else. I spent most of yesterday glued to this book and before I knew it, the last page surprised me and disappointed me at the same time. It's one of those rare things...a book that you just don't want to end.
Hawks comes out of the whole thing having met 11 footballers who between them speak about a dozen words of English but who would doubtless recognise 'Tony the Tennis' as soon as look at him. In a country where the struggle of getting through one day is rewarded only by the promise of the same the following day, making such an impression on the people is surely a feat in itself.I resolve never to deprive myself of Hawks' work from now on.
Until a week or so ago, I had avoided Tony Hawks' books. The reason for this was because I liked his humour when I saw him on television (a sort of hybrid of schoolboy toilet humour and educated wit) and I was sure that reading any of his books would just disappoint me. There are no books that have made me laugh out loud (well, maybe Frank Skinner...once) and I just couldn't face being let down on the same front by a man whom I found genuinely funny. So it was with not a little trepidation that I finally cracked open 'Playing the Moldovans at Tennis', which had been bought for me over 18 months ago. As with most things in my life, it seemed I had worried about nothing and hence deprived myself of a very good book.
The result of a bet taken up with fellow comic Arthur Smith, Hawks' trip to the depths of Eastern Europe in pursuit of 11 illusive Moldovan footballers is described with all the wit for which Hawks has become known on the small screen. From the scene of the original wager to the stomach-churning consequences on Balham High Road 18 months later, the 'adventure' is recounted in a 'no holds barred' way. Nothing is beyond description, be it the initial all round misery Hawks encounters in Moldova, a bout of 'tummy troubles', rubbing up wealthy local businessman the wrong way or just the frustratingly slow process of actually locating and securing his prospective opponents.
Hawks, while explaining the myriad difficulties in holding up his end of the wager doesn't become so blinkered in his pursuit that he is blind to his surroundings. Like all good travel writers, his observations and interaction with the local people come shining through all the amusing narration. There is a sense as the book progresses that Hawks warms to the coldest of countries (meterologically and socially) and as the stories of his quest spread, the people he encounters in Moldova finally begin to warm to him. This is a story not only of one man's determination to succeed in a 'frivolous' bet and to see the positives in almost everything but also to break down barriers of language and culture. Staying with a Moldovan family whose primary english speaker is an 11 year old girl was always going to be hard work but Hawks is soon taken in by them through, if nothing else, his personality and what must have been his infectious positive attitude which was in stark contrast to those of seemingly the entire population of the country he was visiting.
The book is written with a traveller's hand in that everywhere he goes there is an obvious appreciation for what he is seeing, if indeed there IS anything worth seeing! He manages to relate it back to his own situation and is humble enough to reflect that in the midst of all this abject poverty, misery and institutionalised corruption there is an englishman running around trying to fulfil the terms of a pub-generated bet. He never loses sight of the fact that he is lucky to be able to just hop on a plane to do such a thing, to go to a country where the average monthly wage would struggle to pay for a weeks groceries in England.
I found the book entertaining and, if not 'unputdownable' then addictive to say the least. It's very rare that I can sit and read a book for more than an hour without wanting to get up and do something else. I spent most of yesterday glued to this book and before I knew it, the last page surprised me and disappointed me at the same time. It's one of those rare things...a book that you just don't want to end.
Hawks comes out of the whole thing having met 11 footballers who between them speak about a dozen words of English but who would doubtless recognise 'Tony the Tennis' as soon as look at him. In a country where the struggle of getting through one day is rewarded only by the promise of the same the following day, making such an impression on the people is surely a feat in itself.I resolve never to deprive myself of Hawks' work from now on.
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