Crossfire

Miyuki Miyabe, 1998 [Deborah Stuhr Iwabuchi and Anna Husson Isozaki, 2005]

(December 2017)

I'm branching out! (Slowly.) I've a guest review of this over at Rachel Cordasco's excellent SF in Translation site. It was an interesting, if often flawed, read. The book. Not the site, which is excellent. Did I mention that?

Spring Garden / Ms Ice Sandwich

Tomoka Shibasaki, 2014 [Polly Barton, 2017]

Mieko Kawakami, 2013 [Louise Heal Kawai, 2017]

(December 2017)

Another couple of books from Pushkin Press's lovely Japanese Novella series.

Fever Dream

Samanta Schweblin, 2017 [Megan McDowell, 2017]

(September 2017)

This is a gloriously unsettling little book; the kind you can polish off in under two hours but will stay with you for a long, long time after. It's been getting enough press elsewhere that I can't really add anything new here, so I'll content myself by saying that, for all that the underlying mystery turns out to be a touch disappointing in its mundanity, this is still an absolutely terrific (in all senses) demonstration of tone and voice. Recommended.

The Vagrant

Peter Newman, 2015

(August 2017)

I remember this book generating a fair bit of buzz a couple of years back, but it doesn’t really live up to it (or, to be fairer and more accurate, to my memory of it). There are a lot of interesting parts here, but somehow it never quite adds up to more than the sum of them.

The Wolf Border

Sarah Hall, 2015

(February 2017)

A wonderfully written book, this, but one that took me far too long to read.

Saga, Vol. 3 and 4

Bryan K. Vaughn and Fiona Staples, 2014

(August 2015)

Things Fall Apart

Chinua Achebe, 1958

(July 2015)

"Shakespearian tragedy" it says here in what passes for my notes. Clearly deserves something more substantial and less glib, but I'm equally unable to provide that right now. Not exactly beach read material, but obviously so, so much more.

Beasts of No Nation

Uzodinma Iweala, 2005

(November 2014)

Fucking hell. Not an easy read, this. Harrowing, frequently appalling, and just downright distressing, but then given it’s about a child soldier press-ganged into conflict in an unnamed African country those are exactly all the things it should be.

Summer Lovin’

Well, that was an abortive attempt at a summer. It’s been the wettest, shortest, and sickest that I can remember in a long time. And now I’m back in school.

Master of Ceremonies

The kids started nursery school a few weeks back, and so hopefully you’ll understand why things have been a little slow on the blogging front of late. You’d have thought that getting someone else to knacker them out look after them all day would have provided us with a bit more free time of an evening, but apparently not. Ah well, we always knew it was going to be an awkward period of adjustment, just not quite like this.

Silent Movies

So here’s a thing I’d like to share with you: Lupita Nyong’o is fucking gorgeous, isn’t she?

Asterix and the Picts

Jean-Yves Ferri and Didier Conrad, 2013 [Anthea Bell, 2013]

(February 2014)

  

I adored Asterix when I was a kid, so reading this involved getting smashed in the face by nostalgia with the forced of a carelessly tossed menhir (or indeed caber). I am thus utterly incapable of offering anything even remotely resembling an impartial or considered view on the matter.

Desperate Measures

So I joined twitter. I was going to write a blog post about joining twitter, but then I remembered that I still have some pride. Not much, admittedly, but I’m better than that. So this isn’t about twitter; it’s about choices.

  

There is no 'try'

One of the boys got sick and, as is now traditional, that means we all got sick. Sitting round the breakfast table this morning with everyone wheezing and rattling it felt like a particularly mucus-filled Darth Vader convention.

Which is good, because it means I can post this. I've got nothing else as I've spent all week trying to wipe snot of the faces of people who fight and scream and whine every time you try to do them a favour, even though if they just let you sort things out it'd be over in half the time. I've also been cleaning up after the boys.

What?

American Elsewhere

Robert Jackson Bennett, 2013

(September 2013)

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had,

And add some extra, just for you.

Crossing the Same River

Day One

Incheon Airport – Starbucks refusing to either give or sell us hot water for the baby’s milk because, “Environmental,” despite my observation that it’s just an Americano coffee without the coffee, and thus less work for them. This does nothing to improve my general mood. Shortly after this Son #1 pisses on the play area floor, to similar effect.

Day Two

Heathrow Airport Arrivals Hall – standing in the queue to buy the necessary sugar and caffeine loaded beverage, observe magazine promising “Exclusive: Kate’s Post-Baby Weight Loss Regime” This adds a piquant dash of novelty to the standard post-flight loathing for all humanity. (That’s right, Fucknuts, close as you can. The nearer you stand to the conveyer, the quicker your bags will arrive. It’s magic like that).

Wallowing

Having kids makes it worse, I think. It's a cliché to say that "they grow up so fast," but it's true, and that can't help but emphasise the passage of time and the long absences it entails. These are the choices we make though.

I'll get over it. Back to the schedule and everyday mini-challenges. The trick is to watch the saplings grow and also keep half an eye on the forest stretching out all around you. Anyway, here's a slightly too trite song that still manages to make my throat catch a little every time.

The Hunger Games

Suzanne Collins, 2008

(July, 2013)

The 2^nd Year students all have to read a book for their summer homework. Usually it’s one of a selection of graded readers, but there are a couple of returnees whose English is pretty decent and they need something a little more challenging. My library doesn’t really have all that much aimed at their age group, but this is apparently quite big right now and I thought it might be suitable. I just had to read it first to make sure.

Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Indistinguishable from Magic

3.    The Third Law

Close enough

I was in Hong Kong not so long ago for a friend’s wedding. I know him from uni and a few other folks had flown out from various points around the globe. It was something of a mini-reunion and was great to catch up with them all again. It was also nice to be able to walk into Marks and Spencer and buy a slightly disappointing plastic-wrapped prawn sandwich, then complain stridently about it in English. Simple pleasures.

Voodoo Chili*

Chili-less chili. I know that usually makes about as much sense as a eunuch working as a gigolo, but there’s method in my madness. Not much, but some. The eldest kid can’t handle the really spicy stuff yet, despite my best efforts to toughen him up, and I’m just too damn lazy to decant a portion of onions and mince into a separate pan prior to adding the real heat. The ‘mild’ version I’ve come up with is OK, but it’s not quite there yet, so this is a request for suggestions from the more culinary minded among you.