Rachael Eyre's Blog - Posts Tagged "books"
Rereading
The literary establishment has traditionally had a sniffy attitude towards rereading books - rather like the old boot of a librarian who snipes, "You're borrowing that again?" They trot out a list of stale arguments: it's lazy, unimaginative, means you're missing out on a life changing experience, intellectually dishonest etc.
When you think about it, none of these sweeping statements hold water. Can you imagine making them about any other art form? "No, you can't listen to Hey, Jude more than once?" "Don't look at Daffodils, it'll ruin you for other paintings?" Surely the mark of something decent is you want to return to it time and time again, like your favourite film. It'd be awful if you could only see one performance of a Shakespeare play, for example.
Okay, these stubborn blighters might persist, but what about stories with twists? Eh?
At first this sounds like a checkmate - but on further consideration, it doesn't need to be. If you allow yourself sufficient time to forget, say ten years or so, you're experiencing that shock revelation all over again. If you're like me, and cursed with a near photographic memory for every book you've read, it can be fun to follow the clues. A twist shouldn't be the equivalent of a lion bursting out of a lift; the smart writer leaves hints in plain sight, only clicking once we have all the facts.
Why does Mr Wickham say love for Darcy Sr means he'll never slander the son, but the instant Fitzwilliam leaves the county, slags him off to all and sundry? If Miss Havisham is Pip's mystery benefactor, why does she act like she can't stand him? Not knowing any better, we take this puzzling behaviour at face value.
Anybody who's gone through the educational system knows you have to read a set text whether you like it or not. Although there are books I heartily detested at school, and do to this day (Lord of the Flies springs to mind), others have grown on me. I have quite a friendly relationship with Nineteen Eighty Four nowadays, for example, and The Crucible. In the former instance I was too young to appreciate it; in the latter, any enjoyment was sucked up after studying it two years in a row.
In some cases, you might not have strong feelings for or against but feel you ought to give it a second chance. Perhaps it'll read differently now you're older; perhaps somebody's spotted something you'd never have noticed in a million years. Returning to books I read as a kid, I'm frequently amazed by how well they hold up to adult scrutiny. Sophisticated intertextual references, jokes that are still funny, compelling characters and relevant themes. The Winnie the Pooh books don't sound as though they'd be repositories for wit but believe me, they're hysterical, particularly the deliciously deadpan Eeyore. (Though watch out for Rabbit. That's one bunny who deserves to be boiled).
Snobbery aside, the best rereads are the books we've turned to when we're bored, lonely or sick, and never found wanting. I call these hot water bottle books. Looking over my favourites, they're too edgy and weird to offer much comfort, but there are two I like to snuggle up with: I Capture the Castle and The Wind in the Willows. In some twenty four years as a voracious reader, I've yet to find anything as funny as Rose being mistaken for a bear, or Toad's conceited odes to himself. Possibly I've missed out something earth shattering the twenty or so times I've read either - but frankly I don't give a damn.
When you think about it, none of these sweeping statements hold water. Can you imagine making them about any other art form? "No, you can't listen to Hey, Jude more than once?" "Don't look at Daffodils, it'll ruin you for other paintings?" Surely the mark of something decent is you want to return to it time and time again, like your favourite film. It'd be awful if you could only see one performance of a Shakespeare play, for example.
Okay, these stubborn blighters might persist, but what about stories with twists? Eh?
At first this sounds like a checkmate - but on further consideration, it doesn't need to be. If you allow yourself sufficient time to forget, say ten years or so, you're experiencing that shock revelation all over again. If you're like me, and cursed with a near photographic memory for every book you've read, it can be fun to follow the clues. A twist shouldn't be the equivalent of a lion bursting out of a lift; the smart writer leaves hints in plain sight, only clicking once we have all the facts.
Why does Mr Wickham say love for Darcy Sr means he'll never slander the son, but the instant Fitzwilliam leaves the county, slags him off to all and sundry? If Miss Havisham is Pip's mystery benefactor, why does she act like she can't stand him? Not knowing any better, we take this puzzling behaviour at face value.
Anybody who's gone through the educational system knows you have to read a set text whether you like it or not. Although there are books I heartily detested at school, and do to this day (Lord of the Flies springs to mind), others have grown on me. I have quite a friendly relationship with Nineteen Eighty Four nowadays, for example, and The Crucible. In the former instance I was too young to appreciate it; in the latter, any enjoyment was sucked up after studying it two years in a row.
In some cases, you might not have strong feelings for or against but feel you ought to give it a second chance. Perhaps it'll read differently now you're older; perhaps somebody's spotted something you'd never have noticed in a million years. Returning to books I read as a kid, I'm frequently amazed by how well they hold up to adult scrutiny. Sophisticated intertextual references, jokes that are still funny, compelling characters and relevant themes. The Winnie the Pooh books don't sound as though they'd be repositories for wit but believe me, they're hysterical, particularly the deliciously deadpan Eeyore. (Though watch out for Rabbit. That's one bunny who deserves to be boiled).
Snobbery aside, the best rereads are the books we've turned to when we're bored, lonely or sick, and never found wanting. I call these hot water bottle books. Looking over my favourites, they're too edgy and weird to offer much comfort, but there are two I like to snuggle up with: I Capture the Castle and The Wind in the Willows. In some twenty four years as a voracious reader, I've yet to find anything as funny as Rose being mistaken for a bear, or Toad's conceited odes to himself. Possibly I've missed out something earth shattering the twenty or so times I've read either - but frankly I don't give a damn.
The Bookworm Meme
I'll be honest with you, I've never cared for memes. Every time one dollops onto my Facebook page, I heave a tremendous sigh and think, "Again?" Before I know it, I'm concocting a supervillain's name from the name of my first cat and the last place I had a hangover. Memes are compulsive!
So I thought I'd invent my own. The rules are simple: 10 personal facts to do with your reading habits. They can be funny, serious or plain weird - all that matters is they're true.
1) The first "rude" book I remember reading was The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, where our hero spends an inordinate amount of time measuring his 'thing'. Me and my mate Bart got told off for reading it - so why was it in the school library?
2) I firmly believe that your favourite Wind in the Willow character is very revealing - and I was startled to see this appear word for word in Upstairs at the Party. For the record, I'm a Ratty.
3) Although I don't rule long books out altogether, anything over the 300 page mark's a bit of a slog.
4) The three books that have had the greatest impact on me are To Kill a Mockingbird, Brighton Rock and The Handmaid's Tale. They all have their flaws but have touched me like nothing else.
5) I cried most over the ending of Watership Down. As for film adaptations, I wept buckets over The Thorn Birds. There goes my street cred!
6) Rereading is a compliment; choose your rereads carefully. I return to I Capture the Castle once a year; it's never disappointed me.
7) I will never trust someone who doesn't like Paddington. I love Tintin but can see why others might not be enthusiastic - but dissing fiction's most famous dufflecoat wearer is beyond the pale.
8) My first fictional crush was Jo March. I never forgave her for spurning Laurie and choosing creepy old Professor Bhaer instead.
9) The phrase is comic, not graphic novel. Even though I'm an Alan Moore fan.
10) The character I'd most like to bitchslap is Holden Caulfield. Sorry to his fans.
Now it's your turn!
So I thought I'd invent my own. The rules are simple: 10 personal facts to do with your reading habits. They can be funny, serious or plain weird - all that matters is they're true.
1) The first "rude" book I remember reading was The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, where our hero spends an inordinate amount of time measuring his 'thing'. Me and my mate Bart got told off for reading it - so why was it in the school library?
2) I firmly believe that your favourite Wind in the Willow character is very revealing - and I was startled to see this appear word for word in Upstairs at the Party. For the record, I'm a Ratty.
3) Although I don't rule long books out altogether, anything over the 300 page mark's a bit of a slog.
4) The three books that have had the greatest impact on me are To Kill a Mockingbird, Brighton Rock and The Handmaid's Tale. They all have their flaws but have touched me like nothing else.
5) I cried most over the ending of Watership Down. As for film adaptations, I wept buckets over The Thorn Birds. There goes my street cred!
6) Rereading is a compliment; choose your rereads carefully. I return to I Capture the Castle once a year; it's never disappointed me.
7) I will never trust someone who doesn't like Paddington. I love Tintin but can see why others might not be enthusiastic - but dissing fiction's most famous dufflecoat wearer is beyond the pale.
8) My first fictional crush was Jo March. I never forgave her for spurning Laurie and choosing creepy old Professor Bhaer instead.
9) The phrase is comic, not graphic novel. Even though I'm an Alan Moore fan.
10) The character I'd most like to bitchslap is Holden Caulfield. Sorry to his fans.
Now it's your turn!
When Updating Works: Paddington
I must confess, I was dubious when the Paddington movie was announced. Our childhood loves are often our deepest, and so it is for me and Paddington. He's clumsy but well meaning, like me; hates rudeness and unfairness, like me; takes everything literally, like me. (Perhaps on some level I thought I was Paddington. It'd explain a lot, like my penchant for huge coats. I never liked marmalade, alas).
Time to backtrack. Paddington is the hero of a series of books by British author Michael Bond; they're a childhood institution. He lives in a timeless London with his adopted family, the Browns, and constantly lands himself in scrapes. He is indefatigably polite, upbeat and charming. Practically every British child owns a Paddington toy at one stage: a small brown bear in a blue duffle coat, floppy hat and scarlet wellies. Oh, did I mention that? Paddington's a bear, though everyone takes it in their stride (apart from Mr Curry, his miserable git of a neighbour).
This is why I worried about it being made into a film. I didn't want him to be yet another funny cartoon animal; anyone who has seen the films of Scooby Doo and Garfield knows how gruesome that can look. Nor did I want him to be a teddy bear brought to life (the chief reason why I've never warmed to the stop motion animation). There's a tendency for filmmakers to change likeable characters into snide wisecrackers in the mistaken belief it's more appealing to audiences. I had nightmarish visions of him burping, farting and making non stop bear puns.
Last weekend I took the plunge. I was cheered by the unanimously positive reviews; it was on sale in Asda at a reasonable price. (Another Paddingtonish trait: I have an eye for a bargain). I popped it into the DVD player and prayed it would be alright.
It was more than alright. It was delightful. A funny, engaging, big hearted family film - the sort of write up that sounds like sappy advertising copy until you actually watch it. It cleverly met the expectations of fans while establishing that this was its own creature and would tell the story in its own fashion. Like the books, it's set in present day but could equally have happened ten years ago or decades into the future. It has all the ingredients for a classic, and I don't use that word lightly.
The opening attempts to answer perhaps the biggest mystery of all: why did Paddington come to the UK and why is he so terribly British? By introducing a kindly explorer who befriends Paddington's aunt and uncle and teaches them English, it solves that puzzle as well as setting the film firmly within a world where anything can happen, and where a young Peruvian bear can grow up with an English gentleman's code of conduct.
A earthquake hits Darkest Peru, destroying Paddington's idyllic existence. His uncle dies - a genuinely moving moment despite the character's limited screen time. Aunt Lucy believes the time is right for him to go to the mythical city that has featured so heavily in this family's hopes and dreams: London. (Sticking two fingers up at the anti immigration lobby - by now we're very much on Paddington's side and all for him settling here).
Which brings us to the main action of the film. One: can Paddington become a loved and valued member of the Brown clan, and two: can he escape the clutches of Nicole Kidman's slinkily evil taxidermist? Though we know the answers to both these questions, it's the ride that's important.
Updating the Browns is possibly the key to the film's success. In the books they were always the nice, bland, tolerant backdrop to Paddington's wacky antics, with only Mr Brown and Mrs Bird emerging as separate personalities. Here care has been lavished upon each one, making them interesting in their own right.
As in the books, Mr Brown is the hardest to win round. He's reimagined as a risk analyst who's stagnated over the years to become a dull stick in the mud, damaging his home life in the process. In fact, if we regard the film as a spiritual successor to Mary Poppins, you could almost subtitle it The Redemption of Mr Brown, as he rediscovers how to be a loving husband and father. When we meet him, he warns the children not to look at the strange bear on the platform, saying he's probably selling something, and makes loud and cynical remarks throughout Paddington's story of how he came to London. Barking, "No, thank you" when a stranger accosts you - such a British response!
Fortunately for the kids, Mrs Brown is nowhere near as dour and unbending. An emotional free spirit who believes in cuddles and nicknames, you can tell she looks at her husband sometimes and wonders what on earth happened to the man she married. Characteristically, she is the first to offer Paddington help - and to support him later, when his future is in doubt. Unlike her book counterpart, she has a career as an adventure story illustrator (which results in one of the funniest gags in the film).
With Judy and Jonathan, the film had more or less blank canvases to work with, so was free to invent. Here Judy is a perfectly realised sullen teenager, mortified by her parents and desperate to fit in with her new school, not to mention her new boyfriend. When all you want is to be like everyone else, the last thing you need is for your family to adopt an accident prone bear! A miniature edition of her father, her defrosting foreshadows his.
Speaking of mini mes, Jonathan is definitely his mother's son. Perky, precocious and boisterous, he's one of those kids who excel in making ginormous working models and longs to be an astronaut one day. Tellingly, he likes Paddington from the start. The message is clear: the sensitive and young at heart take to him off the bat; the screw ups take longer.
The family unit is rounded off by Mrs Bird. Their live in housekeeper in the original, she's been promoted to a relation, but retains her affection for Paddington and no nonsense attitude in a part custom made for Julie Walters. If Paddington seems exotic to them, he's equally intrigued by their quirks.
One screw up who was never destined to like Paddington was Millicent, the film's villain. She does have a motive for her perfidy, which I won't divulge here, but she obviously loves her macabre hobby and will do anything to indulge in it. Opinion may vary but I thoroughly enjoyed Kidman's Cruella de Vil style turn, clad head to toe in snakeskin. It shows how she would have played Mrs Coulter, had they continued making His Dark Materials. Fans have protested at her inclusion, but they need to consider the medium. The books are gentle comedies; while you'd happily consume several chapters of slapstick and misunderstandings, it wouldn't translate well to film.
Millicent becomes unexpectedly involved with Paddington's real, actual bad guy - none other than Mr Curry. The prototypical sitcom neighbour, he's notorious for dropping in on the Browns and borrowing Paddington for errands, oblivious to the fact none of them can stand him. Here the subtext becomes text: he's a socially inept, curtain twitching, racist old loon, and when an attractive woman voluntarily speaks to him for probably the first time in years, the inevitable happens. He's smitten.
The scenes that follow give us an unsettling glimpse into his psyche. Looking around his squalid Seventies bachelor pad, complete with ogee decor and squashed flies, you find yourself wondering: is this why he's so horrible? Is he so twisted, dysfunctional and lonely, Paddington is the nearest he has to a friend? It almost made me feel sorry for him (but then I'm a huge sucker for Peter Capaldi). You expected to see a message scrolling at the bottom of the screen: 'UKIP, this is your target demographic!'
We can't mention Mr Curry without mentioning another stalwart: Mr Gruber, antiques dealer on the Portobello Road and Paddington's best friend. He only has a cameo, not having overmuch to do with the plot, but Jim Broadbent conveys the geniality of the man despite his iffy Hungarian accent. His scene helps do away with those idiotic "Mr Gruber is a Nazi!" speculations - he's confirmed to have come here on the Kindertransport.
But what of Paddington himself? The film could have had all of the above but still failed due to mediocre special effects or a misinterpretation of his personality. Thankfully they stuck as closely to the source as possible. Their Paddington is courteous, inquisitive, unfailingly nice and utterly genuine. He never shouts or shows off. The one time he's angry, it's via his famous 'hard stare' - hilariously recreated. You can see every strand of his fur; he doesn't have the glassy eyed constipated look so common to animated characters. I soon forgot I was watching a computer graphic and accepted him as Paddington; this is doubtless due to Ben Whishaw's vocal performance. He's youthful and naive, but intelligent and no pushover - in other words, Paddington.
In this instance the praise was richly deserved. Next time you want to see a family film, or just a warm, uplifting one, I recommend that you watch Paddington.
Time to backtrack. Paddington is the hero of a series of books by British author Michael Bond; they're a childhood institution. He lives in a timeless London with his adopted family, the Browns, and constantly lands himself in scrapes. He is indefatigably polite, upbeat and charming. Practically every British child owns a Paddington toy at one stage: a small brown bear in a blue duffle coat, floppy hat and scarlet wellies. Oh, did I mention that? Paddington's a bear, though everyone takes it in their stride (apart from Mr Curry, his miserable git of a neighbour).
This is why I worried about it being made into a film. I didn't want him to be yet another funny cartoon animal; anyone who has seen the films of Scooby Doo and Garfield knows how gruesome that can look. Nor did I want him to be a teddy bear brought to life (the chief reason why I've never warmed to the stop motion animation). There's a tendency for filmmakers to change likeable characters into snide wisecrackers in the mistaken belief it's more appealing to audiences. I had nightmarish visions of him burping, farting and making non stop bear puns.
Last weekend I took the plunge. I was cheered by the unanimously positive reviews; it was on sale in Asda at a reasonable price. (Another Paddingtonish trait: I have an eye for a bargain). I popped it into the DVD player and prayed it would be alright.
It was more than alright. It was delightful. A funny, engaging, big hearted family film - the sort of write up that sounds like sappy advertising copy until you actually watch it. It cleverly met the expectations of fans while establishing that this was its own creature and would tell the story in its own fashion. Like the books, it's set in present day but could equally have happened ten years ago or decades into the future. It has all the ingredients for a classic, and I don't use that word lightly.
The opening attempts to answer perhaps the biggest mystery of all: why did Paddington come to the UK and why is he so terribly British? By introducing a kindly explorer who befriends Paddington's aunt and uncle and teaches them English, it solves that puzzle as well as setting the film firmly within a world where anything can happen, and where a young Peruvian bear can grow up with an English gentleman's code of conduct.
A earthquake hits Darkest Peru, destroying Paddington's idyllic existence. His uncle dies - a genuinely moving moment despite the character's limited screen time. Aunt Lucy believes the time is right for him to go to the mythical city that has featured so heavily in this family's hopes and dreams: London. (Sticking two fingers up at the anti immigration lobby - by now we're very much on Paddington's side and all for him settling here).
Which brings us to the main action of the film. One: can Paddington become a loved and valued member of the Brown clan, and two: can he escape the clutches of Nicole Kidman's slinkily evil taxidermist? Though we know the answers to both these questions, it's the ride that's important.
Updating the Browns is possibly the key to the film's success. In the books they were always the nice, bland, tolerant backdrop to Paddington's wacky antics, with only Mr Brown and Mrs Bird emerging as separate personalities. Here care has been lavished upon each one, making them interesting in their own right.
As in the books, Mr Brown is the hardest to win round. He's reimagined as a risk analyst who's stagnated over the years to become a dull stick in the mud, damaging his home life in the process. In fact, if we regard the film as a spiritual successor to Mary Poppins, you could almost subtitle it The Redemption of Mr Brown, as he rediscovers how to be a loving husband and father. When we meet him, he warns the children not to look at the strange bear on the platform, saying he's probably selling something, and makes loud and cynical remarks throughout Paddington's story of how he came to London. Barking, "No, thank you" when a stranger accosts you - such a British response!
Fortunately for the kids, Mrs Brown is nowhere near as dour and unbending. An emotional free spirit who believes in cuddles and nicknames, you can tell she looks at her husband sometimes and wonders what on earth happened to the man she married. Characteristically, she is the first to offer Paddington help - and to support him later, when his future is in doubt. Unlike her book counterpart, she has a career as an adventure story illustrator (which results in one of the funniest gags in the film).
With Judy and Jonathan, the film had more or less blank canvases to work with, so was free to invent. Here Judy is a perfectly realised sullen teenager, mortified by her parents and desperate to fit in with her new school, not to mention her new boyfriend. When all you want is to be like everyone else, the last thing you need is for your family to adopt an accident prone bear! A miniature edition of her father, her defrosting foreshadows his.
Speaking of mini mes, Jonathan is definitely his mother's son. Perky, precocious and boisterous, he's one of those kids who excel in making ginormous working models and longs to be an astronaut one day. Tellingly, he likes Paddington from the start. The message is clear: the sensitive and young at heart take to him off the bat; the screw ups take longer.
The family unit is rounded off by Mrs Bird. Their live in housekeeper in the original, she's been promoted to a relation, but retains her affection for Paddington and no nonsense attitude in a part custom made for Julie Walters. If Paddington seems exotic to them, he's equally intrigued by their quirks.
One screw up who was never destined to like Paddington was Millicent, the film's villain. She does have a motive for her perfidy, which I won't divulge here, but she obviously loves her macabre hobby and will do anything to indulge in it. Opinion may vary but I thoroughly enjoyed Kidman's Cruella de Vil style turn, clad head to toe in snakeskin. It shows how she would have played Mrs Coulter, had they continued making His Dark Materials. Fans have protested at her inclusion, but they need to consider the medium. The books are gentle comedies; while you'd happily consume several chapters of slapstick and misunderstandings, it wouldn't translate well to film.
Millicent becomes unexpectedly involved with Paddington's real, actual bad guy - none other than Mr Curry. The prototypical sitcom neighbour, he's notorious for dropping in on the Browns and borrowing Paddington for errands, oblivious to the fact none of them can stand him. Here the subtext becomes text: he's a socially inept, curtain twitching, racist old loon, and when an attractive woman voluntarily speaks to him for probably the first time in years, the inevitable happens. He's smitten.
The scenes that follow give us an unsettling glimpse into his psyche. Looking around his squalid Seventies bachelor pad, complete with ogee decor and squashed flies, you find yourself wondering: is this why he's so horrible? Is he so twisted, dysfunctional and lonely, Paddington is the nearest he has to a friend? It almost made me feel sorry for him (but then I'm a huge sucker for Peter Capaldi). You expected to see a message scrolling at the bottom of the screen: 'UKIP, this is your target demographic!'
We can't mention Mr Curry without mentioning another stalwart: Mr Gruber, antiques dealer on the Portobello Road and Paddington's best friend. He only has a cameo, not having overmuch to do with the plot, but Jim Broadbent conveys the geniality of the man despite his iffy Hungarian accent. His scene helps do away with those idiotic "Mr Gruber is a Nazi!" speculations - he's confirmed to have come here on the Kindertransport.
But what of Paddington himself? The film could have had all of the above but still failed due to mediocre special effects or a misinterpretation of his personality. Thankfully they stuck as closely to the source as possible. Their Paddington is courteous, inquisitive, unfailingly nice and utterly genuine. He never shouts or shows off. The one time he's angry, it's via his famous 'hard stare' - hilariously recreated. You can see every strand of his fur; he doesn't have the glassy eyed constipated look so common to animated characters. I soon forgot I was watching a computer graphic and accepted him as Paddington; this is doubtless due to Ben Whishaw's vocal performance. He's youthful and naive, but intelligent and no pushover - in other words, Paddington.
In this instance the praise was richly deserved. Next time you want to see a family film, or just a warm, uplifting one, I recommend that you watch Paddington.
