I hope you will all forgive me for not posting a Reading Journal entry yesterday. I wanted to concentrate all my efforts on finishing Neel Mukherjee’s A Life Apart (Constable & Robinson). Also, with no reading scheduled for Wednesday aside from Mukherjee’s novel, I thought I’d leave it until today so that I could sum up all of my reading over the past couple of days in one single post.

So beginning with Tuesday – my day for Chekhov – and there was a slight change to the plans. I had scheduled myself to read the next two stories in line from the usual place I grab my Chekhov stories from – James Rusk’s wonderful Chekhovian repository, but I’d disabled myself from the Internet before downloading them on to my Reader *blush*. So I decided rather than go through the rigmarole of rebooting my Mac etc., that this would probably be a good time to read a couple of Chekhov stories translated from someone other than my dearest Constance Garnett.

So the stories that I decided on were to be found in an excellent collection that’s lingered on my shelves for a while now, Selected Stories of Anton Chekhov (Bantam Books) translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. The two I chose were Vanka (a tale about a young homesick boy living away from home at Christmas time), and Sleepy (a story about a young ill-treated girl who is suffering from the effects of sleep deprivation).

As I’ve posted afterthoughts on both of these stories already (Vanka, Sleepy) I’m not going to say an awful lot about either. However I will comment on how I found it, to be reading a different translation for a change. Well, if I’m being honest then I’ve got to say that although I found the Pevear & Volokhonsky translations to be very readable, and absolutely flawless, I didn’t enjoy them as much as the Garnett translations. This surprised me. Pevear & Volokhonsky are meant to be the best in the business (and I’m sure they are). And what’s more I thought I would enjoy getting away from the often awkward translations of Garnett. But the fact is, I didn’t enjoy it that much at all. There’s something more honest, more rustic, more to the era with the Garnett translations, and, I’ve got to say, I really missed connecting with them. I’ll read a couple more Pevear & Volokhonsky translations next week, just to see if I still feel the same way, bu based on this week’s experience Garnett is just as precious to me as she ever was.

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well, I started to read the third story in Christopher Golden’s Zombie: An Anthology of the Undead (Piatkus) – Copper by Stephen R. Bissette – but sadly I ended up abandoning it after three attempts, because I just couldn’t get myself into it. It’s not often that I’ll point-blank abandon anything, but the way in which the prose for this story is presented – always in the form of very brief and snappy sentences – proved to be a real problem for me, and I couldn’t really gel with it. I did try fellow reader I really did. But in the end I just couldn’t get through it. A real disappointment, given that I found the first two stories so enjoyable. It wouldn’t be fair to give a final rating for this story, so I won’t.

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And so I come to the book that’s tied down most of my reading time over these past couple of days, Neel Mukherjee’s A Life Apart. I’ve now finished the novel and will post my afterthoughts in due course. But in the meantime what should I say about it? Well, what keeps coming into my head is the quote from Ali Smith on the novel’s cover, who not only says that A Life Apart is ‘incisive and poetic’ but also that it has ‘great breadth, heart and courage’. I think in that quote Smith nails it on the head. Incisive the novel certainly is – Mukherjee is incredibly astute with his observations – and he is able to relate those observations with such poetic resonance that one often feels the need to outwardly gasp before stopping to contemplate what one has just read. The novel’s breadth is obvious – it spans time periods and continental boundaries, and explores a number of moral issues. This is where ‘courage’ probably comes in, because quite honestly this novel is explicit in its exploration – particularly with regards to homosexuality – making it both a courageous novel for a debut novelist to tackle, and for the reader to read (trust me, it’s not one for easily offended). That’s really all I can say about A Life Apart for now, until I can get my thoughts more fully together. Look out for my official afterthoughts in the next day or two.

‘Reading Journal’ provides an unedited, on-the-fly record of the bookish highlights in Rob’s reading day.

First off I should really tell you a little bit about the book, shouldn’t I?. And probably the best way of doing that is to give you a run down on the official synopsis (because it was after all the very thing that got me hooked on wanting to read the novel in the first place):

Meet Jacob Smith. Your good-old British policeman. The sort revered around the world. But Jacob’s no ordinary ‘tit-wearing’ beat bobby. He’s a tactical firearms officer – a handsome, popular, financially secure specialist, no less. He’s also married, with two children; a connoisseur of fine cinema, who also enjoys the occasional hit from his expansive collection of do-it-yourself ‘art’ DVDs (the latest of which was ‘borrowed’ from a flat during a drugs warrant); an amateur historian, with a keen interest in the Vietnam War. And he does like to keep himself in shape, hence the rather large steroid habit – and the even larger amount of money he owes to his dealer. And did we mention he’s partial to women’s feet? That the local shoe shop is his lap-dance palace? And the girlfriend, his little Christmas treat to himself, who’s desperately trying to shrug him off now it’s the New Year? Or what about his parents – do we really need to go there?

And now the his family and friends are starting to worry about our Jake … and his police superiors are increasingly taking notice of the way he conducts himself. As you can see, Jake’s a very busy boy. And his life is about to get a lot more complicated…

So what did you get out of that then dear reader? Personally, in what must definitely be a ‘bloke thing’, the very mention of Jacob Smith being a ‘tactical firearms officer’ tends to get my juices flowing. It’s not that I’m some kind of gun crazy obsessive. Rather, I’m intrigued by the ‘exotic’ nature of such a job. A tactical firearms officer on its own may be one thing, but a tactical firearms officer who has an addiction to steroids? Can’t sustained use of those things unhinge a person somewhat? Emmm..interesting! From the synopsis it also looks like Smith may be a bit of an over confident gigolo too, and he’s married with kids? I can see a few fireworks coming from that direction. Lastly, his superiors are beginning to take notice of his behaviour? What’s he doing in order to attract their attention? And aren’t firearms officers meant to be the most level-headed of all officers in the police force, noted for keeping their minds firmly on the job at hand?

So the promise of an exciting reading experience appears to be there, as the journey forward through this novel looks to be primed with multiple ‘flashpoints’ which no doubt all contribute to Smith’s fall from grace. The blurb is definitely a winner for me but what about aesthetics?

Well of course, the first thing that strikes you when you first see Pocket Notebook, is its amazing cover. The creation of artist Willie Ryan, it’s not difficult for fans of Anthony Burgess’ The Clockwork Orange to work out exactly where Ryan got his inspiration from. The artwork may well closely resemble David Pelham’s iconic 80s cover for Burgess’ dystopian novel, but I think we can all agree that it is a fitting tribute to Pelham’s original design. As I stated in a recent Daily Bookshot, this is one book that will really stand out in the bookshop. And having now seen the book myself ’shining’ out from the shelves at my local branch of Waterstones, I can confirm that to be the case. Good job Mr. Ryan!

I mentioned at the outset that Thomas is a serving police officer, but what more do we know about him? Well, he’s married with two children (just like the main character – gulp! ) which is sure to keep him on his toes. And if you were impressed to find out that Thomas managed to pen this novel at the same time that he was keeping the streets clean of criminals, then you’ll be even more impressed when I tell you that he also managed to cram a Master’s degree in Creative Writing from the University of Glamorgan, into his hectic life. In fact Pocket Notebook was written during the course of Thomas’ studying, which if nothing else is glowing praise for the University of Glamorgan’s writing course. Talking of his degree course in a recent interview with the online magazine for the university Thomas reveals something of the juggling act that he had to adopt in order to fit the course into his busy schedule:

The framework works really well. Those rolling eight-week deadlines really give you a kick up the backside to write. I’d return home after an afternoon shift at midnight, then write until 5am. It was almost a compulsion for me.

And nestled discreetly within the above quote from Thomas, is perhaps the biggest reason why I’m choosing to pick up this novel (aside from that out-of-control gun-totting firearms officer of course ). Here is a police officer working the beat, who comes home and infuses within the pages of his novel – whether subconsciously or not – all of his working experience and insider knowledge. This compels me to to read Pocket Notebook, because if nothing else Thomas is offering us a contemporary glimpse into the world of twenty-first-century policing in the UK, and all of the stresses which can come with the job. Of course, I’m well aware that this insight is going to be a bit of a warped one – I don’t think for a minute that everyone in the police force is borderline psychotic and on the verge of a ’spectacular breakdown’ – but it is a view nonetheless, and from a uniquely embedded vantage point.

So that’s a rundown on my first impressions of Pocket Notebook. I’ll be back in a few days to let you know how I got on with it. Meantime you can follow my progress through this novel in the virtual pages of my Reading Journal.

Finally if you want to see something a little more ‘bells and whistles’ with regards to Pocket Notebook – including a few words from the author himself – then get yourself over to YouTube for a quick look at the official trailer for the novel.

William Heinemann | 04 February 2010 | £12.99 | PAPERBACK | 288 PP | ISBN: 0434020087

A note about forethoughts
‘Forethoughts’ offer an insight into what my initial thoughts and impressions of a book are before I begin reading it. Informal, and largely written as a stream-of-consciousness exercise in a single sitting, my ‘forethoughts’ capture an important stage of the reading experience for me – the anticipatory period before the book is first opened, when my excitement is piqued for the reading experience which lies ahead.

Blissfully ignorant my ‘forethoughts’ may well be, but when combined with my eventual ‘afterthoughts’, the result is a unique and comprehensive record of a very personal literary ‘journey’ through a particular book; a literary journey which will hopefully be of some value to other readers.

I remember being around on Twitter last week when Sceptre Books revealed the cover art for David Mitchell’s eagerly anticipated latest novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet. Impressed though I was with the cover design (the creation of the hugely talented Joe Wilson), I urged that nobody should show it to Mrs. Rob, because she would probably want to commission it as wallpaper. A few people laughed – including bookish friend @kimbofo – but I was deadly serious, and the subject for today’s Daily Bookshot will prove that (sort of).

Being a huge fan of Anne Fadiman’s bookish essay collection, Ex Libris (Penguin), I almost fell off my seat a couple of weeks ago when I discovered that she also published a more general collection of essays (the one you see above), called At Large and At Small (Penguin). Published in 2008 I’m a bit slow on the uptake I know, but better late than never I put in an order for a copy.

That order arrived at the weekend, and excited at the thought of clutching a brand new (to me) batch of Fadiman in my hand, I rushed through to tell Mrs. Rob. With a look of boyish glee on my face I held the book up in front of her. “Look what I got,” I said. Disinterested (because she’s used to my overly excited behaviour after the postman has called) Mrs. Rob turned to look at me. But then her face lit up instantly. “Wow!” I thought. “A book she finally likes the look of” Well, I was partly right. Taking the book in her hands and turning it over a few times, she looked at me and said, “Oh, wouldn’t that design make wonderful wallpaper?”

I rest my case!

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

*Story read as part of my Checkin’ Off The Chekhov Shorts reading challenge.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

*Story read as part of my Checkin’ Off The Chekhov Shorts reading challenge.

If you’ve been following my Bookshelf of the Week feature for a while now then you may remember back in 2008 I featured a rather odd shot of a bookcase bolted to the outside of an apartment block in Tallinn, Estonia. Well for this week’s Bookshelf of the Week I feature an equally enigmatic shot, this time taken by Joseph DelPesco on the streets of Berlin.

OK, let’s work our way through this one. What it looks like to me is that a number of tree trunks have been joined together, and then niches have been hollowed out of each trunk, in order to hold a number of wooden book boxes. Covering the front of each niche is a sheet of perspex, but I can’t work out whether the perspex is fixed or not (it looks like it may be hinged or sliding), so that the books can be removed at will. It’s a crucial thing to know really, because I can’t work out whether this bookish feature is an art installation, a public book swap point, or even part of an ‘out of shot’ bookshop. I’m going to ask Joseph if he can shed any light on the matter. But meantime, does anyone care to hazard a guess?

I know that this isn’t a particularly good shot of a particularly grubby 2nd-hand book, but beneath the grime is what looks to be a particularly interesting book. I got the ‘heads up’ on Great Books by David Denby (Simon & Schuster) last week while reading about it in some other book (the name of which I can’t remember at the moment), and I went on the hunt for copy, picking up this 1996 2nd-hand edition for only a few pence.

I liked the look of Denby’s book for two reasons. Firstly, its blurb, which will follow shortly. And secondly the fact that Denby’s return to academia slightly mirrors my own (although I returned while in my thirties, and to study history not literature). Here’s that wonderfully alluring blurb:

At the age of forty-eight, writer and film critic David Denby returned to Columbia University and re-enrolled in two core courses in Western civilization to confront the literary and philosophical masterpieces — the “great books” — that are now at the heart of the culture wars. In Great Books, he leads us on a glorious tour, a rediscovery and celebration of such authors as Homer and Boccaccio, Locke and Nietzsche. Conrad and Woolf. The resulting personal odyssey is an engaging blend of self-discovery, cultural commentary, reporting, criticism, and autobiography — an inspiration for anyone in love with the written word.

So does anybody already own this book? Is it favourite of yours? I’d love to hear your comments.

This week I’m keeping myself more off the Net than on, in order to concentrate more fully on the important soul-nurturing task of reading and writing in an undisturbed environment. That means less Twittering, less web surfing, less checking my email every 10 seconds. And although I’m sorely missing the opportunity of connecting with friends and fellow readers so readily (apologies ‘connectees’, I’m not being ignorant), my time away from the Net is beginning to pay off huge dividends. Not only am I getting through my prescribed reading a lot less effortlessly and a lot quicker, I feel more settled within myself, as though I’m keeping more to the path that I set myself on. And stepping off the whizzing roundabout that is the Internet, I’m beginning to feel already that my soul is getting a lot more of the nourishment that it needs in order to flourish. So today I’m really happy that things seem to be going in a better direction, or at least that I’m getting to the destination a lot quicker .

Of course with less time spent mindlessly surfing and more time given back to my reading, you’re probably expecting this journal entry to be something spectacular. Haha…well I wouldn’t go that far because ’spectacular’ isn’t even in my repertoire of writing skills. But hopefully, from now on, my journal entries are going to be a little more colourful, and a lot more contemplative.

So how did my Monday’s reading go then? Well, I always open the week now with Maupassant Monday (to ensure I keep chipping away at my Devouring De Maupassant reading challenge), and after a brief sidestep last week in order to sample a particular Maupassant story (you can read more about that here), I continued my journey once more through the Oxford University Press collection of Maupassant tales – A Day in the Country and Other Stories. The two stories that I scheduled were A Railway Story and Our Chum Patience, and as I’ve already written up and posted my afterthoughts for both (A Railway Story HERE, and Our Chum Patience HERE), I won’t dwell on either story, other than to say that one of them turned out to be not that enjoyable at all. Shock! Horror! A Maupassant tale that Rob didn’t like? Yep it had to happen one day I suppose .

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Determined to finally work my through Christopher Golden’s Zombie: An Anthology of the Undead (Piatkus), I took up the second story in the collection, What Maisie Knew by David Liss. All I can say is Wow! You may remember in my reading journal yesterday I proclaimed the opening story of the collection – Lazurus by John Connolly – to be something a bit special. Well, I’m happy to say that the second story in the anthology stands up as being just as good.

What Maisie Knew centres around an alternative reality where scientists have managed to preserve the dead in some pacified state of living. The reanimates, as they are called, ‘live’ to serve man. The narrator of the story is one such man and he faces a problem that comes with one of the obvious downsides of reanimating the dead i.e. bumping into someone now reanimated that was once alive. On the face of it, it doesn’t seem to be a real problem – the reanimates have no thoughts or feelings, or memories of the past – but uniquely, one reanimate in particular is showing a glimmer of recognition for the story’s main character. A real shame then that the main character has a secret to hide, and his situation isn’t helped much by the fact that a reanimate can have memories of the past flooding back to them, and these memories are projected in a very vocal way. This can happen when a reanimate is subjected to pain or sexual arousal (yep some sickos use the reanimates to satisfy certain needs and desires), and this reanimate in particular has a very sexually-orientated job.

OK enough about the plot for this story because I don’t want to spoil anything. I’ll just finish by reiterating that Liss really has turned out a very readable, and enjoyable story in What Maisie Knew, and it’s one, given the number of moral issues that are explored, that comes with a fair amount of depth. Story Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

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Thankfully I’m now motoring along with Neel Mukherjee’s A Life Apart (Constable & Robinson). I’m past the half-way point and finally I’m finding myself getting dragged along by an utterly compelling storyline. I’ll admit that it has taken me a while to hook into this one (the culprits have been Mukherjee’s overly poetic prose and an ever shifting storyline), but now I’m on the right wavelength the reading of this novel has become more of a joy than a chore. I just hope that keeps up until the end.

::Tuesday’s reading plans::

• It’s Chekhov Tuesday so two stories lined up – Love and Easter Eve.
• I keep my closet zombie fires burning with the third story from Golden’s Zombie anthology. This one is by Stephen R. Bissette, and it’s simply called Copper.
• It’s Neel Mukherjee all the way, and hopefully (and somewhat regrettably) I’ll get closer to closing the door on A Life Apart.

‘Reading Journal’ provides an unedited, on-the-fly record of the bookish highlights in Rob’s reading day.