so yes i have, since the last post on a similar (as in exactly the same) subject, i have read two (2) further novels, look you see. books, if you will, but i do like to say "novels" (i think) as it would be rather rare for me to read non-fiction. i take it as something of a given that i am reasonably far from being alone, in an unusual change of how it normally is, in wishing to avoid the realities of life as much as possible.
for those of you have not ever (never) read one of my posts on books and are, for some reason, still reading this after the rather convoluted opening paragraph, a pretty standard pattern shall follow. just now there should be a pic of the books what i read, and then a bit of a "good or bad" comment for anyone in a rush or, importantly, wanting to avoid 'spoilers'. the likelihood of someone opting to read a book on my say so is rather limited, but here we are.
going left to right, since that is the order in what i gone done read them, Close To Death off of Anthony Horowitz is outstandingly, absurdly funny and a sheer joy. next is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins, and this was one truly exceptional novel. judging or ranking things of subjective, artistic nature is quite the folly, but i would suggest this is the equal of her (up to now) masterpiece, The Girl On The Train.
right, then. i shall try and limit such of this as much as i can, but do be warned, for safety i shall go ahead and put a *** SPOILER WARNING *** in place for the remainder of this post.
plot? it's another episode featuring a (hopefully) fictionalised version of the author working with detective Hawthorne, writing the story of another investigation to the delight of the publisher if not the author himself. a bit different in this instance, for with no current case being investigated and a demanding publisher's deadline looming the writer has little choice but to delve into a case from long before the two of them met. Hawthorne does not want him to write it, the author does not want to write it, but onwards they go......
it truly is comedy gold, this one. the funniest part (or parts) is (are) when we get breaks in the the decidedly half hearted attempt Horowitz is making to write the novel to get criticism from those who have read it to tell him how awful and wrong it all is. somehow being told just how bad the book you are reading it makes it all the more enjoyable. bonus points for pulling off the remarkable act of "breaking the 4th wall" in a novel, when ostensibly all of a novel should do such. from memory, and i am not checking, the only time i can think of an author directly "speaking" (or writing, i suppose) to the reader outside of the context of the novel (in the midst of it) was The French Lieutenant's Woman. likely it has been done before and since, and sorry if it was not in that novel. risks come with my memory.
doing comparisons is always a bit dodgy, but all the same these Hawthorne novels by Anthony Horowitz are of the same quintessentially English comedy genius of the likes of Monty Python, Douglas Adams and Peter Cook. the mixture of a really good, compelling "whodunnit" detective story with frequently self-depreciating humour is just jolly well splendid. i strongly recommend reading all of these books, preferably in the order they were published.
we (or just me if everyone has stopped reading) go on, then, to the second of two novels. that, then, if you have forgotten, is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins. no, you are not mistaken, in quite rare circumstances this is a hardback what i gone done read. usually i wait for the paperback, as generally i find it cumbersome to read the hardback edition. and the paperbacks are cheaper. the reason for the change is very much to do with book provenance. i was in that there London (innit) place, having dinner (lunch, if posh) at a Tesco. with parking being a premium in the city it was so that Tesco had a £5 minimum spend to qualify for free parking. my meal deal cost £3.60, i wasn't in the mood for browsing for something costing precisely £1.40, noticed this on the shelf for £8.50 (or possibly £8.75) and figured yeah, sure, go on, i will take it rather than wait for the paperback.
plot? my thoughts are it is deceptively simple when seeming complex, yet also i am struggling to phrase it all in such a way that i don't give much of anything away. essentially, i suppose, it all revolves around a deceased artist and some of her works of art apparently being missing. which leads to a stand off between the Estate which has inherited them and the impromptu friend / doctor of the artist who has assumed a kind of quasi curatorship over them.......
i really, really liked just about every aspect of this novel. well, ok, yeah, the straying into what one might (or possibly) call Jilly Cooper territory with "relationships of the rich and shameless" felt somewhat unnecessary, yet i suppose critical to one character's particular motivations. again, sorry if that's a clumsy sentence and says little, but i am doing my best to keep thoughts on this magnificent novel spoiler free.
a favourite aspect of it all was the "art for art's sake" stuff. well, you know what i mean. there's a bit where one work left by the artist might need to be examined by the constabulary, which prompts all sorts of questions (with good or bad intentions) about if this desecrates, demeans or even destroys what the artist left behind. further, the author clearly had fun p!ssing about with the nonsensical, flamboyant and whimsical phrases "art critics" are so prone to use. people what make a living as art critics are just, rather like "wine experts", just really, really good at conjuring up outlandish phrases.
both of these novels, then, were outstanding. no, i don't think i will go the hardback road again, thanks, whilst reading this one wasn't all that uncomfortable. probably as i am just chilled at lodgings in my place of exile these days, rather than travelling around. if for some reason you want a form of guidance of me, then of course the one from these two to go for immediately is the Paula Hawkins one, for you need not have read any other books to "get" or understand this. the joys of a standalone, not part of an expanded universe thing novel are to be embraced. yet yes, it is most decidedly so that all of the Anthony Horowitz books featuring his fictional self and detective chum (of sorts) are all quite wonderful reads.
once again, or as usual, absolutely no idea if anything in this sort of post (books) what i gone done is of any interest, but i suppose the same could be said of all posts. no matter, thank you very much indeed for reading. or just looking at the pics.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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