Anna read and liked Michael's review of The Graveyard Book:

"Sometimes you can remember where you were when you bought a book. I will always remember where I was when I bought The Graveyard Book.

On Hallowe'en last year, I went to a reading from the book by Neil Gaiman at the LSE in London. Afterwar...more Sometimes you can remember where you were when you bought a book. I will always remember where I was when I bought The Graveyard Book.

On Hallowe'en last year, I went to a reading from the book by Neil Gaiman at the LSE in London. Afterward, as is the great man's wont, he stayed to ensure that everyone who wanted their book signed would get it signed. I queued with my girlfriend for a couple of hours. Just as I approached the stage, my mother called to tell me that my father had just died.

My father had been ill for some time, it wasn't entirely unexpected. I'd been with him that morning. But it was still hard to take the call. I didn't say anything - it seems such a surreal experience, standing in a queue behind a girl dressed as Death to get a book about graveyards signed, after hearing its author read about the dance macabre between the dead and the living. Neil was a bit grumpy by the time I reached him. I would be to if I'd had to sit still for two hours, signing an endless stream of books for London's quirkier denizens, some of whom had brought their poetry to present him, or wanted to pose with him for a treasured photograph. I took up as little of his time as possible, before shambling out of the hall, calling my mother back, holding back the emotion until we'd exchanged the necessary information, and collapsing against the wall outside the theatre in a tearful heap.

With that background, it's not really too much of a surprise that I wasn't keen to read the book for a while. It sat in a stack of books to be read, being passed over for less interesting novels, but ones which offered less of an association.

Finally, a few days ago, I approached it. It's a lovely book. Touching without being cloying, and beautifully illustrated by Dave McKean. It's a wonderful story of a boy, orphaned when the rest of his family are killed by a mysterious figure, who is raised by the occupants of a nearby graveyard. The boy, dubbed Bod (short for Nobody), is a well developed character - the sort of adventuresome youngster that all boys were once, keen to learn about the world, and explore its wonders.

But I can't say that the book was perfect, for all its charms, the underlying story seems weak, and the central third of the book (which Gaiman reveals in the acknowledgements was written first) is highly episodic. Gaiman acknowledges that the book owes a significant debt to The Jungle Book, and the book follows the same general formula. But this does mean that we are taken on a series of mini-adventures which don't really advance the plot. They're fun, don't get me wrong... but it felt a little disjointed to me.

I feel harsh criticising it, The Graveyard Book remains a thoroughly enjoyable story - but I strongly suspect that if I were 15-20 years younger, I would love it infinitely more.

I'm glad to have quelled my demons by getting around to reading it. And I'm glad that I enjoyed it as much as I'd hoped.(less) "

Anna read and liked Adam's review of The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet Is Killing Our Culture and Assaulting Our Economy:

"On the one hand this is a very ranty and kind of confused argument about how there's lots of crap on the internet. Which is kind of an obvious statement and which ignores the fact that there's lots amazing stuff online as well. On the other hand it m...more On the one hand this is a very ranty and kind of confused argument about how there's lots of crap on the internet. Which is kind of an obvious statement and which ignores the fact that there's lots amazing stuff online as well. On the other hand it makes some good points about the consequences of over-estimating the worth of user-generated content.

Keen's "beware the amateurs they make everything shit" argument is initially directed against Web 2.0 (and I should point out that he's an insider when it comes to the online stuff, so it is an expert opinion, however ranty it may be), but then the book broadens its scope to include things like online piracy, porn and gambling.

These things seem to me to be distinct from Web 2.0 and the problems inherent with amateur content. It's like he's trying to come up with as many reasons as possible that the internet is bad, and he comes across as a bit of a shrill and histrionic luddite - which he obviously isn't - as a result.

There are good points made, though, about things like the economic impact and cultural flow-on of things like file sharing and free classified listings. Newspapers and record companies will indeed have to come up with ways to deal with the new playing field, and this will impact on writers and musicians (as well as other creative types), but it feels like Keen is simply railing against change more than anything else.

It made me think of the Douglas Adams quote about technology whereby any tech that exists when you're born is perfectly natural, and any tech that is developed after you turn thirty is an abomination.

The last chapter is the best of the book. It presents a "where to now?" scenario that is optimistic, engaging and hopeful in a way that the rest of the book is not. It's a nice counterpoint to the shrill complaints and soapboxing that come before. You have to wade through some cranky stuff (as in "that guys's a crank!"), but it's sort of worth it.

I'm not saying this book was a waste of time - it got me thinking about some interesting stuff, and it did make some good points about making sure that creative people are rewarded for their efforts so that they can go on being creative people. I just didn't like the vaguely elitist line he drew between "experts" and "amateurs".

If nothing else, this is a good book for anyone who loves reading the letters to the editor so that they can scream at their partners about how this guy is such a freakin' idiot!(less) "