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[icepixie]

British novels always, always, always contain a character having a cup of tea, which inevitably makes me want tea, which consequently leads to me going to the bathroom every half hour because caffeine is a diuretic. Sigh. But it does taste good.

Speaking of British novels...Ellen, how does it feel to be a book addiction fairy? 'Cause I remembered you mentioning Nick Hornby, and I happened to be in the "H" section of the library the other day, and somehow About a Boy found its way into my hand. I seem to remember something similar happening with the first Bridget Jones book. Are you trying to take over my brain with snarky British chicklit?

At least, I think this was chicklit. Chicklit for boys? Chicklit for girls but from a male POV? Not chicklit at all, despite concerning many of the same themes and types of character? What was it? I'm trying to categorize it, but I think it might be uncategorizable. It was good, anyway; I very nearly pulled a book allnighter last night after starting it around 10 PM, but in the end decided to quit half-way through and get some sleep.

I particularly liked the bit where Will is going on and on to himself about how very good he felt after buying the cool shoes for Marcus so the kid wouldn't get beat up at school, how it was a natural high, how it was totally changing his life, not to mention Marcus's, and then Marcus comes by the next day and the school bullies have stolen the shoes. Hornby, I think, is a man who probably feels a deep kinship with Marvin the Depressive Android. Or perhaps Murphy. Or, I dunno, any nerdy kid ever.

The fact that it wasn't a traditional love story and wasn't so girly and self-consciously life-affirming were big points in its favor, particularly as I just suffered through Practical Magic, for got knows what reason. Hoffman describes things beautifully, and for all I know writes great things outside of this book, but wow, the sugar. I was hoping for more witchcraft, less glurge. I think that might have been what kept me reading to the last freaking page, despite getting disgusted with the whole thing around page fifty.

Hmmm. What shall I read next, I wonder? Or maybe I could actually finish this neverending chapter I'm writing. That would be nice.

Comments

[alto2.livejournal.com]

My love for Nick Hornby knows no bounds. Well, okay, it probably knows one or two (like the bounds that, if crossed, would turn me into a stalker), but you know what I mean. About a Boy was my first Hornby, and is also the book/movie that taught me I should always see the movie first, then read the book--the movie itself was a fine film, but it necessarily lacks the wonderful witty narration, and therefore I couldn't help but be disappointed. I also liked How to be Good, which was written from the wife's point of view--a first for Hornby, I think.

I never would have thought to compare it to chick lit, so you've got me thinking. I just thought of it as a modern British novel that happened to be especially witty. I don't think I'd want to try to categorize it as anything more than that; I suspect my brain would start to hurt quite a lot.

I've had a copy of his newest, A Long Way Down, for a few months and really need to get off my arse and read it. He also edited a book of short stories a few years ago, one of which is by Colin Firth. I think the collection is called Speaking with the Angel, but don't quote me on that!