Clearly, as I'm no longer single, this no longer applies to me, but it was a deal breaker, back in the day.
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Saturday, December 11
Saturday, November 27
They found him guilty in the end ...
... so I guess I can tell you all about it.
And since I've only words for this story, I'll illustrate the tale with pictures of our pending tomato harvest. Yes, tomato harvest, the one I worried we wouldn't have for lack of bees. Turns out that just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there!*
And so - Hu Yang (aka Mr Frank HuYang) got himself involved with the importation of 250kg (201 when it's pure of course) of cocaine from China. Well, as we learned, originally from South America. So we'll say, via China. The North as it happened, from where Frank migrated to Australia 'lo some 20 years ago. 
The shipping container left China in a packing container and arrived in Sydney on 1 March 2008, all neatly packed into 251 Chinese tea packets of about 1kg each. Some packets were red, some were green, I cannot remember if this was significant. 
Meanwhile or earlier, whatever - it had come to the attention of AUSTRAC that rather a lot of cash was being remitted back to China in rather large lumps of $200,ooo a go. All up almost $18 million. So they notified the police who, in their turn, began to watch Frank. They also intercepted his telephone calls. 
A few months of intercepted calls later (we listened to almost ALL of them and them had them read to us in English, during the trial. This is one of the reasons it took so long), the police and customs became aware of the impending arrival of the shipping container (the one packed with drugs, keep up). 
They also became aware of plans for a cash drop off, Frank handing over a large laundry bag to another gentleman down at the Chinatown end of Castlereagh St one day. When the police pulled this other chap over and took a peek, they found $1.57 million in cash. That young man ended up spending seven months in jail as he could not satisfactorily explain where he got the money from!
The legitimate story for the shipping container was that it was full of "industrial art items" aka cheap n nasty machine-made crap. Customs and the police arranged a "controlled delivery" of the container with the drugs. That is, they unpacked it carefully, took the snorty stuff, replaced it with an "inert substance" and packed it all away again. 
And so, the 2 girls Frank had arranged to do the picking up for him (though he claimed not, that he was a dupe) unpacked the container (with the help of some removal men) picked up the boxes (10 of them) of drugs and took them to their flat, or the flat of one of them, the princessy one I recall.
But, and here's the kicker, the police were WATCHING ALL THE TIME! Yes, and taking many, many photographs as well. One of those girls is now serving 18 years in jail, the other, 15 years. Silly girls.
And so it all came to a messy end. Frank was picked up a day or two after his (new, much younger) wife had their son and, we believe, has been in remand ever since.
Turns out there was an earlier trial that didn't end up with a result (hung jury we speculated). And so it was the second trial I sat on, for 70 hearing days, in an uncomfortable chair, spending time with a man I actively disliked and another who was several sandwiches short of an adequate picnic, only to be kicked off on the last day via a rather dodgy ballot!
Sentencing next year I think. Frank should pack several toothbrushes.
*actually I've seen a few, drunk as LORDS, rolling around on their backs, waggling their little legs in the air. Fermented Jacaranda juice will do that to a bee. Makes for dangerous barefoot romping though.
And since I've only words for this story, I'll illustrate the tale with pictures of our pending tomato harvest. Yes, tomato harvest, the one I worried we wouldn't have for lack of bees. Turns out that just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there!*
And so - Hu Yang (aka Mr Frank HuYang) got himself involved with the importation of 250kg (201 when it's pure of course) of cocaine from China. Well, as we learned, originally from South America. So we'll say, via China. The North as it happened, from where Frank migrated to Australia 'lo some 20 years ago. 
The shipping container left China in a packing container and arrived in Sydney on 1 March 2008, all neatly packed into 251 Chinese tea packets of about 1kg each. Some packets were red, some were green, I cannot remember if this was significant. 
Meanwhile or earlier, whatever - it had come to the attention of AUSTRAC that rather a lot of cash was being remitted back to China in rather large lumps of $200,ooo a go. All up almost $18 million. So they notified the police who, in their turn, began to watch Frank. They also intercepted his telephone calls. 
A few months of intercepted calls later (we listened to almost ALL of them and them had them read to us in English, during the trial. This is one of the reasons it took so long), the police and customs became aware of the impending arrival of the shipping container (the one packed with drugs, keep up). 
They also became aware of plans for a cash drop off, Frank handing over a large laundry bag to another gentleman down at the Chinatown end of Castlereagh St one day. When the police pulled this other chap over and took a peek, they found $1.57 million in cash. That young man ended up spending seven months in jail as he could not satisfactorily explain where he got the money from!
The legitimate story for the shipping container was that it was full of "industrial art items" aka cheap n nasty machine-made crap. Customs and the police arranged a "controlled delivery" of the container with the drugs. That is, they unpacked it carefully, took the snorty stuff, replaced it with an "inert substance" and packed it all away again. 
And so, the 2 girls Frank had arranged to do the picking up for him (though he claimed not, that he was a dupe) unpacked the container (with the help of some removal men) picked up the boxes (10 of them) of drugs and took them to their flat, or the flat of one of them, the princessy one I recall.But, and here's the kicker, the police were WATCHING ALL THE TIME! Yes, and taking many, many photographs as well. One of those girls is now serving 18 years in jail, the other, 15 years. Silly girls.
And so it all came to a messy end. Frank was picked up a day or two after his (new, much younger) wife had their son and, we believe, has been in remand ever since.
Turns out there was an earlier trial that didn't end up with a result (hung jury we speculated). And so it was the second trial I sat on, for 70 hearing days, in an uncomfortable chair, spending time with a man I actively disliked and another who was several sandwiches short of an adequate picnic, only to be kicked off on the last day via a rather dodgy ballot!Sentencing next year I think. Frank should pack several toothbrushes.
*actually I've seen a few, drunk as LORDS, rolling around on their backs, waggling their little legs in the air. Fermented Jacaranda juice will do that to a bee. Makes for dangerous barefoot romping though.
Monday, October 11
illustration...
... and how I love it so.
My bloggy friend, Ms CookieCrumb, recently confessed she was, once upon a time, an illustrator. I love picture books, especially children's books, they get the best pictures.
So then I got to thinking about my favourite illustrator and children's book. There are too many really, but if pressed I'd have to say for illustrator, Norman Lindsay.
Now Mr Lindsay is most famous, I'd say, for this sort of thing.
Plump, sexy ladies. 
Plump, saucy ladies.
Pretty, plump ladies.
Then there's the cats.
Mr Lindsay also 'got' cats, he captured them perfectly. 
He had fun with them too. 
And then there's this, if pinned to the wall I'd have to pick Mr Lindsay's The Magic Pudding as my favourite children's illustrated book.
With picture like these, how could I not?
I have such a battered copy, a remnant from my childhood. 
How I wished I could have a tree house like that one. I'd lie on the floor gazing and gazing at that particular picture. Perhaps that's where the germ of an idea of gardening for myself first wormed its way into my little mouse brain.
In other news, something on teh Internets* has given me a massive case of shitty-give-a-dams, so I'll be taking a little holiday, leaving it alone for a bit until I simmer down. Else I may post something I'll only regret.
Cheeryby, backsoon.
*Also, in googling teh Internets I saw something that made me want to vomit and then wash my brain, erk.
My bloggy friend, Ms CookieCrumb, recently confessed she was, once upon a time, an illustrator. I love picture books, especially children's books, they get the best pictures.
So then I got to thinking about my favourite illustrator and children's book. There are too many really, but if pressed I'd have to say for illustrator, Norman Lindsay.
Now Mr Lindsay is most famous, I'd say, for this sort of thing.
Plump, sexy ladies. 
Plump, saucy ladies.
Pretty, plump ladies.Then there's the cats.
Mr Lindsay also 'got' cats, he captured them perfectly. 
He had fun with them too. 
And then there's this, if pinned to the wall I'd have to pick Mr Lindsay's The Magic Pudding as my favourite children's illustrated book.
With picture like these, how could I not?
I have such a battered copy, a remnant from my childhood. 
How I wished I could have a tree house like that one. I'd lie on the floor gazing and gazing at that particular picture. Perhaps that's where the germ of an idea of gardening for myself first wormed its way into my little mouse brain.In other news, something on teh Internets* has given me a massive case of shitty-give-a-dams, so I'll be taking a little holiday, leaving it alone for a bit until I simmer down. Else I may post something I'll only regret.
Cheeryby, backsoon.
*Also, in googling teh Internets I saw something that made me want to vomit and then wash my brain, erk.
Labels:
Art,
Books,
Good Things
Friday, May 28
O, FFS ...
... Clearly I'm getting old.
I've just gone and bought a second copy of The Penelopiad, by Margaret Atwood.
Well, paperback this time, I guess that's sort of different.
I've just gone and bought a second copy of The Penelopiad, by Margaret Atwood.
Well, paperback this time, I guess that's sort of different.
Labels:
A Story Against Myself,
Books
Wednesday, May 19
A book order arrived on our doorstop this morning ...
... a couple of Jackie Morris illustrated goodies.
And inside, a bookmark from the Book Depository's My Bookmark competition.
My one was designed by young James Woolgar (age 10).
And inside, a bookmark from the Book Depository's My Bookmark competition.
My one was designed by young James Woolgar (age 10).
Labels:
Books
Monday, March 8
Sisters ...
... Join me in a little feisty singalong?
Right, I'm off to read a little Female Eunuch (all the while wishing I could still get away with tight, black, leather trousers, sigh).
Speaking of which/whom, I actually have been rereading Ms Greer’s Female Eunuch, in the lead up to today, International Women’s Day. She and it have been in the press quite a bit lately. 
A grumpy gent, Louis Nowra, had a piece published in The Monthly, dissing Ms Greer and the book. As this piece points out, it’s all fine and dandy to criticize, but he made it a personal attack. In discussing her book, and her ideas, he chose to attack her looks, her personality, and her style. That makes him a prick. 
Anyhoo, you know how people are often asked “what book changed your life?” Well this book, this book actually did change my life. It opened my eyes, it made me think about what was accepted as “the norm”, it made me question my place, my role, in life. I was questioning anyway, being a stroppy, bolshie girl in a Catholic High School does lead to much questioning, but The Female Eunuch clarified things for me. 
I suspect it was Ms Greer who first planted the seed in my mind, the seed that girls did not have to have babies, they could, but they didn’t have to. She certainly caused me to look at my father in a different way, as well as my mother, brother and sister. Well, everyone really. The book made me a very, very angry young woman for a number of years. Or perhaps I was already an angry young woman and the book just helped me articulate all that internal rage. Perhaps I’d have exploded had it not come along. 
This copy can’t have been my first, it’s dated 1986 (yes, that’s right NOT 1786), I was 19 then, and I do recall the angry feminist days started much earlier than that, high school days. I suspect I borrowed the first copy I read, and went out and got my own copy later. The underlining and comments are, slightly embarrassing and slightly funny. Goodness I was a serious young thing. 
A serious young thing who did complicated mathematical computations it would appear. I have no idea what this is for, it appears to be birth-date related. It was my bookmark.
Right, I'm off to read a little Female Eunuch (all the while wishing I could still get away with tight, black, leather trousers, sigh).
Speaking of which/whom, I actually have been rereading Ms Greer’s Female Eunuch, in the lead up to today, International Women’s Day. She and it have been in the press quite a bit lately. 
A grumpy gent, Louis Nowra, had a piece published in The Monthly, dissing Ms Greer and the book. As this piece points out, it’s all fine and dandy to criticize, but he made it a personal attack. In discussing her book, and her ideas, he chose to attack her looks, her personality, and her style. That makes him a prick. 
Anyhoo, you know how people are often asked “what book changed your life?” Well this book, this book actually did change my life. It opened my eyes, it made me think about what was accepted as “the norm”, it made me question my place, my role, in life. I was questioning anyway, being a stroppy, bolshie girl in a Catholic High School does lead to much questioning, but The Female Eunuch clarified things for me. 
I suspect it was Ms Greer who first planted the seed in my mind, the seed that girls did not have to have babies, they could, but they didn’t have to. She certainly caused me to look at my father in a different way, as well as my mother, brother and sister. Well, everyone really. The book made me a very, very angry young woman for a number of years. Or perhaps I was already an angry young woman and the book just helped me articulate all that internal rage. Perhaps I’d have exploded had it not come along. 
This copy can’t have been my first, it’s dated 1986 (yes, that’s right NOT 1786), I was 19 then, and I do recall the angry feminist days started much earlier than that, high school days. I suspect I borrowed the first copy I read, and went out and got my own copy later. The underlining and comments are, slightly embarrassing and slightly funny. Goodness I was a serious young thing. 
A serious young thing who did complicated mathematical computations it would appear. I have no idea what this is for, it appears to be birth-date related. It was my bookmark.Friday, February 26
A grumble ...
... but in grumbling I will reveal something shameful about myself. Please do not judge me too harshly.
I read comic books. Yes, really. Not by choice so much as circumstance. I'd much rather read the adventures of Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, in novel form. But Mr Gaiman chose not to provide the story as a nice book, but as a comic book, a series of comic books. It's not as if he couldn't have written a good book, he's written several, most of which I think I possess. But no, he went for comics and I must suffer the shameful consequences of becoming a comic geek.
Calling them graphic novels does not help.
The gripe? Well, having paid $ehemm for parts 1 & 2 in a local bookshop, I chuffed off to Amazon.com and found I could get the rest of the series for half price or under. I ordered the rest, paying only $ehemm.
(Mr Brown reads this blog from time to time and even though it's my own money, earned by the sweat of my own brow there are still some things married couples do NOT need to share. How much I spend on publications is one of those things).
This morning there was a delivery, I ripped open the box while Mr Brown was in the shower, I received parts 4, 5, 7, 9 & 10.
According to the Amazon.com docket thingy parts 3, 6, 8 & 11, were sent the same day, but clearly in a different fucking box, that was not delivered this morning.
WHY, Amazon.com, of why didn't you just bung the whole lot in the same box??
Here endeth the gripe.
In other, slightly book-related news, while out scouring the CBD for lunchibles, I found this plate in a Japanese teashop window.
It's coming home with me this very evening.
I read comic books. Yes, really. Not by choice so much as circumstance. I'd much rather read the adventures of Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, in novel form. But Mr Gaiman chose not to provide the story as a nice book, but as a comic book, a series of comic books. It's not as if he couldn't have written a good book, he's written several, most of which I think I possess. But no, he went for comics and I must suffer the shameful consequences of becoming a comic geek.
Calling them graphic novels does not help.
The gripe? Well, having paid $ehemm for parts 1 & 2 in a local bookshop, I chuffed off to Amazon.com and found I could get the rest of the series for half price or under. I ordered the rest, paying only $ehemm.
(Mr Brown reads this blog from time to time and even though it's my own money, earned by the sweat of my own brow there are still some things married couples do NOT need to share. How much I spend on publications is one of those things).
This morning there was a delivery, I ripped open the box while Mr Brown was in the shower, I received parts 4, 5, 7, 9 & 10.
According to the Amazon.com docket thingy parts 3, 6, 8 & 11, were sent the same day, but clearly in a different fucking box, that was not delivered this morning.
WHY, Amazon.com, of why didn't you just bung the whole lot in the same box??
Here endeth the gripe.
In other, slightly book-related news, while out scouring the CBD for lunchibles, I found this plate in a Japanese teashop window.
It's coming home with me this very evening.
Labels:
Books,
Lovely Stuff - An Occasional Series,
Whinge
Tuesday, February 23
Monday, February 22
Somehow ...
... a late night, wine-fueled amazon.com session resulted in my buying the same book twice.
This book.
I couldn't be arsed faffing around returning it, so, anyone want a copy?
This book.
I couldn't be arsed faffing around returning it, so, anyone want a copy?
Labels:
Books
Tuesday, February 16
100 Postcards from Penguin ...
... So I ordered something on the interwebs.
100 Penguin Publishers book covers, as post cards.
They arrived in a nice little box this afternoon. They are beautiful.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to DO with them, so far I've only shuffled through them and exclaimed with delight as I happen upon a title.
Bookmarks I suspect, since I'm quite certain I won't be sticking stamps and pithy holiday messages on them.
Nope, once I've picked them up off the lounge room floor and popped them back in their box, I think I'll be carefully selecting one, from time to time, to mark the place where I've been rudely interrupted from my reading pleasure.
Labels:
Beautiful,
Books,
Good Things
Thursday, January 7
Last book purchase of 2009 ...
... Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving.
Bought at Sydney Airport on 23 December 2009, I needed something to read on the plane and John Irving has yet to let me down. I've been reading his books since the early 1980's I believe, after I saw the movie of The World According to Garp. I knew a movie that funny had to have a better book behind it, and it did.
Last Night is not his best work, some of it was a bit, meh, almost as if he wasn't really trying. But that said, it was a gripping, can't put it down book with the usual tragedy and laugh out loud moments. Lucky for me the laugh out loud bits didn't happen on the plane, that's always problematic.
Which brings us to the first book purchases of 2010 ... The Other Wind and The Left Hand of Darkness, both by the wonderful Ursula K Le Guin.
I'm not especially a fan of the science fiction genre, but I don't snootily refuse to read it either. Ms Le Guin's novels and short stories are intelligent and entertaining. You can't really ask for more in your light summer reading.
(I'm reading Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin at the moment and finding it a bit of a slog, not sure why, it's probably just one of those "must be in the mood" books as it's quite a good story - hence my need for a but of a SciFi break.)
Bought at Sydney Airport on 23 December 2009, I needed something to read on the plane and John Irving has yet to let me down. I've been reading his books since the early 1980's I believe, after I saw the movie of The World According to Garp. I knew a movie that funny had to have a better book behind it, and it did.
Last Night is not his best work, some of it was a bit, meh, almost as if he wasn't really trying. But that said, it was a gripping, can't put it down book with the usual tragedy and laugh out loud moments. Lucky for me the laugh out loud bits didn't happen on the plane, that's always problematic.
Which brings us to the first book purchases of 2010 ... The Other Wind and The Left Hand of Darkness, both by the wonderful Ursula K Le Guin.
I'm not especially a fan of the science fiction genre, but I don't snootily refuse to read it either. Ms Le Guin's novels and short stories are intelligent and entertaining. You can't really ask for more in your light summer reading.
(I'm reading Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin at the moment and finding it a bit of a slog, not sure why, it's probably just one of those "must be in the mood" books as it's quite a good story - hence my need for a but of a SciFi break.)
Labels:
Books
Wednesday, December 30
The Waltzing Mouse
Monday, December 21
I read somewhere once that a skinned bear looks like a human being ...
... a skinned human being, obvy (otherwise known as flayed, a la St Batholomew, the ghoul in me loves how he's nearly always pictured with his skin, jauntily slung over his arm).
The thought stuck in my mind, for years and years, tucked away somewhere in the back of my brainbox, filed under "possibly useful".
The wee factoid popped to the fore the other day when I bought this book, Amazing Rare Things. It's the book of this exhibition that I'd have loved to have seen, the tyranny of distance, bah.
Anyway, the point is, in the book is this picture.
An anatomical drawing of a bear foot, by the clever Mr Da Vinci.
Look closely and you tell me, if you disregard the claws of course, that, that isn't a human foot and ankle. Hell, when you consider the state of the toenails of some of the male of the species, it just plain IS a human foot.
Cool, eh?
The thought stuck in my mind, for years and years, tucked away somewhere in the back of my brainbox, filed under "possibly useful".
The wee factoid popped to the fore the other day when I bought this book, Amazing Rare Things. It's the book of this exhibition that I'd have loved to have seen, the tyranny of distance, bah.
Anyway, the point is, in the book is this picture.
An anatomical drawing of a bear foot, by the clever Mr Da Vinci.Look closely and you tell me, if you disregard the claws of course, that, that isn't a human foot and ankle. Hell, when you consider the state of the toenails of some of the male of the species, it just plain IS a human foot.
Cool, eh?
Labels:
Art,
Beasts,
Books,
Invisible Friend,
Possibly Useful
Friday, November 27
On my doorstep, this morning ...
... I am overjoyed.I've blogged this book before, I'd found it on the interwebs, but no "live" actual copies were available.
But then, by some happenstance, it suddenly was, and here it is, in my hot little hands.
First published in 1965 by the genius Edward Gorey.
How I do wish he was still around, crafting his quirky, joyful, dark and slightly naughty illustrative gems. Sigh.
Labels:
Books,
Good Things
Monday, November 23
Some very long time ago ...
... I donated a sum of money to Heifer International.
I did not do this out of the kindness of my heart, I did it because I had read if I donated a certain sum or over I would receive a special limited edition little booklet called Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with some Observations upon the segregation of the Queen by Sherlock Holmes. I'm quite the fan of Laurie R King's Sherlock Holmes/Mary Russell books you see.
Well, it didn't arrive and I figured I'd buggered up the international currency conversion or they'd run out of copies or some such, swallowed my disappointment and moved on.
Well, colour me happy, it was waiting for me on the doorstep when I got home today.
I'm tickled pink!
O, and the icing on the book, signed by the author!
I quote: "Chief among the everyday miracles within the hive is that of how the first bee discovered the means by which watery nectar, vulnerable to spoilage, might be made to keep the hive not only through the winter, but through a score of winters. Can one conceive of an accidental discovery, a happenstance that arranged for the hive sisters to be arrayed en masse at the mouth of their hive, fanning their wings so vigorously and for so long that the nectar they had gathered evaporated in the draught, growing thick and imperishable? And yet if not an accident, we are left with two equally unsatisfactory explanations: a Creator's design, or a hive intelligence."
I did not do this out of the kindness of my heart, I did it because I had read if I donated a certain sum or over I would receive a special limited edition little booklet called Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with some Observations upon the segregation of the Queen by Sherlock Holmes. I'm quite the fan of Laurie R King's Sherlock Holmes/Mary Russell books you see.
Well, it didn't arrive and I figured I'd buggered up the international currency conversion or they'd run out of copies or some such, swallowed my disappointment and moved on.
Well, colour me happy, it was waiting for me on the doorstep when I got home today.
I'm tickled pink!O, and the icing on the book, signed by the author!
I quote: "Chief among the everyday miracles within the hive is that of how the first bee discovered the means by which watery nectar, vulnerable to spoilage, might be made to keep the hive not only through the winter, but through a score of winters. Can one conceive of an accidental discovery, a happenstance that arranged for the hive sisters to be arrayed en masse at the mouth of their hive, fanning their wings so vigorously and for so long that the nectar they had gathered evaporated in the draught, growing thick and imperishable? And yet if not an accident, we are left with two equally unsatisfactory explanations: a Creator's design, or a hive intelligence."
Labels:
Books
Wednesday, November 11
A much younger Mouse ...
... say 20 or so years younger, would have bought this book and, if asked why, tapped the side of her nose in a knowing way and said ominously "know thy enemy".
Today, I bought it to give to Mr Brown, for a laugh.
See, with age DOES come wisdom.
Today, I bought it to give to Mr Brown, for a laugh.See, with age DOES come wisdom.
Labels:
A Story Against Myself,
Books,
Mr Brown
Monday, October 12
A last minute purchase, from the 
He'll stop anyone from trying to pinch my books.
Just LOOK at his stink eye!
Sunday, October 11
No, no, no ...
... No, no, no, no!
The Hitchhiker Trilogy was a defining part of my latter high school years. The books that is. I later listened to the radio series (GOLD!) and later still the television series, (OK-ish). The movie was, of course, total and utter crap, really, really terrible.
But the books, those three magnificent books, they made me laugh when nothing else did. The years between 14 and 16 or so are pretty horrible, especially when you are a girl, particularly when you are a square peg not even trying to fit into the round hold most of your contemporaries are fitting into. There's not much to smile or laugh about.
And then my friend K handed me The Hitchhiker' Guide to the Galaxy. It was brilliantly clever, funny, and a little bit poke the establishment in the eye. I loved it. I still love it. It's one of those books you return to again and again when you need a giggle. Language from the book still pepper my life, things are still, "froody", we regularly sip jinantonix, and when referring to milk, I often add the clarification, "as squeezed, from a cow".
I rushed out and bought myself The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, and Life, The Universe and Everything, and loved them too. Light was shone onto my blighted, dark and terrible teenage life.*
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish and Mostly Harmless followed. They never lived up to the first three, seemed a little like Mr Adams was just going through the motions, bolstering his bank account (who can blame him really?). Ok reads, but I've never bothered to re-read, if you see what I mean.
I will NOT be spending any of my pretty Australian dollars on Eoin Colfer's efforts. WILL NOT.
*or so it seemed at the time**, looking back, of course, I had it easy, so easy I actually feel slightly guilty about it sometimes.
** I was a teenage girl FFS!
The Hitchhiker Trilogy was a defining part of my latter high school years. The books that is. I later listened to the radio series (GOLD!) and later still the television series, (OK-ish). The movie was, of course, total and utter crap, really, really terrible.
But the books, those three magnificent books, they made me laugh when nothing else did. The years between 14 and 16 or so are pretty horrible, especially when you are a girl, particularly when you are a square peg not even trying to fit into the round hold most of your contemporaries are fitting into. There's not much to smile or laugh about.
And then my friend K handed me The Hitchhiker' Guide to the Galaxy. It was brilliantly clever, funny, and a little bit poke the establishment in the eye. I loved it. I still love it. It's one of those books you return to again and again when you need a giggle. Language from the book still pepper my life, things are still, "froody", we regularly sip jinantonix, and when referring to milk, I often add the clarification, "as squeezed, from a cow".
I rushed out and bought myself The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, and Life, The Universe and Everything, and loved them too. Light was shone onto my blighted, dark and terrible teenage life.*
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish and Mostly Harmless followed. They never lived up to the first three, seemed a little like Mr Adams was just going through the motions, bolstering his bank account (who can blame him really?). Ok reads, but I've never bothered to re-read, if you see what I mean.
I will NOT be spending any of my pretty Australian dollars on Eoin Colfer's efforts. WILL NOT.
*or so it seemed at the time**, looking back, of course, I had it easy, so easy I actually feel slightly guilty about it sometimes.
** I was a teenage girl FFS!
Labels:
A Story Against Myself,
Books,
Comment,
History
Monday, October 5
I won't be buying or reading ...
... the new "authorised by the estate" Winnie the Pooh book.
It won't be the same, it will be twee crap, and I would be cross with myself for wasting life reading a bad book.
I once made the mistake of reading a "sequel" to Wind in the Willows. A major disappointment, a mistake I will not repeat.
It won't be the same, it will be twee crap, and I would be cross with myself for wasting life reading a bad book.
I once made the mistake of reading a "sequel" to Wind in the Willows. A major disappointment, a mistake I will not repeat.
Labels:
Books
Saturday, September 26
It's banned books week ...
... in the USofA.
We don't have anything similar, that I could find with a quick Google, here in Australia.
We should.
My American friends, your mission, should you chose to take it, is to go out and buy and read a banned book. If a book is banned in your area, go to your Public Library and ask for it! Banning can lead to burning, and that mustn't happen.
We don't have anything similar, that I could find with a quick Google, here in Australia.
We should.
My American friends, your mission, should you chose to take it, is to go out and buy and read a banned book. If a book is banned in your area, go to your Public Library and ask for it! Banning can lead to burning, and that mustn't happen.
Image from here.
Labels:
Bad Things,
Books
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