Happy New Year!

I hope everyone is having a great time at the end of 2011. Thanks to all those who have read Excelsior since it was launched only four months ago. It has been great fun to do and there will be much more to come in 2012.

Meanwhile enjoy this tour of some of the world’s most inspiring bookstores. As it says, these stores will make you re-think your kindle, if you do indeed have one – I certainly don’t!

Have a great 2012 everyone!

You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead – Marieke Hardy (2011)

Rating: Excellent

During the chapter entitled – ‘Down the Hatch,’ Marieke Hardy asks where are all the female writers who write like Charles Bukowski? After reading You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead I have to conclude that Hardy herself is attempting to inspire a female Bukowski writers movement single handedly. Hardy has filled her memoir with frank admissions of living an unconventional and drunken life in the public eye and all the complications and adventures that come with it. Oh, and it’s also poignant, funny, insightful and clever - Bukowski would have been proud.

For those of you who have no idea who Marieke Hardy is, and there’d be at least some of you, think journalist, broadcaster, confessional blogger , child actor (see 1.46 minutes into this abomination), writer of screenplays  and a regular panel member of the ABC First Tuesday Book Club. Hardy is only in her mid 30’s, so why a memoir now? When I first heard about this book that’s exactly what I thought, in a rather cynical fashion I have to confess. Mind you the fact that she is a total literate babe and that I’m one of those viewers of First Tuesday Book Club who aren’t just in it for the panel’s viewpoints about their latest read – she looks great with a flower behind her ear and she knows it. I didn’t need much more enticement to give her book a go.

The title of this book is apt. Hardy herself and her writing style can irritate people, but ultimately her charm makes her easy to warm to. The book is entertaining in a guilty kind of way. It’s like a well-written car crash - you can’t look away and you kind of feel bad that you don’t. Hardy reveals details about her life that most people would keep as deep dark secrets. There’s the small matter of attending a swingers night out of curiosity. The ensuing tale is cringe-worthy and wildly entertaining and I’m glad she didn’t leave it out. Hardy also didn’t leave out her obsession with prostitutes, which influences her adventures with one particular boyfriend with bad-boy qualities.

Before you start to think that this book is just about drinking and weird sex, Hardy brings some balance to proceedings with a chapter about a close friend’s battle with cancer. There are also chapters about a Young Talent Time obsession and an examination of what it’s like to be a twenty something with a clique of friends, which is aptly titled ‘The Bubble’. There’s also a hilarious chapter devoted to Hardy’s Bob Ellis fandom and how they end up meeting. In some ways though, Ellis ends up upstaging Hardy. Throughout the memoir a nice touch comes in the form of a right of reply at the end of some chapters, offering a significant player in proceedings a chance to respond. What could be seen as an indulgence works well and brings balance to the outrageousness. However, Bob Ellis’s reply is even more outrageous than what had preceded it, and as if she knows this we hear nothing more from Hardy and the book ends with an afterward from one of her significant ex-boyfriends.

There is something fascinating going on here. You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead is more than just another memoir. I believe that this book directly reflects the influence of online culture with Facebook, Live Journal and blogs that allow people to live their lives in the public eye without a thought to privacy. Revelations simply emerge online, into the light, blinking and wondering what all the fuss is about. You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead is partly a product of this culture, and it is in some way an extension of Marieke Hardy’s own blog that is sadly on a hiatus at the moment. A book of this sort may be beyond the pale for some people. Hardy has certainly left herself open to judgment from both male and female readers. Personally I think that she is a brave trailblazer, especially considering that Hardy often paints herself in an unflattering light.

They’ll be more memoirs written in this style by people other than rock stars (they are a natural at this game) and in the ensuing years there’ll be no avoiding them. Of course there are precedents, with Julian Cope’s memoir Head On (1994) being a great example of an individual letting it all hang out. Head On is perhaps the greatest book about the music industry ever published. But I digress, safe to say that this book represents a refreshing approach to the memoir and I admire Hardy for her audacity.

In that previously mentioned chapter, ‘Down the Hatch,’ a judgmental viewer sends Hardy a Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet and warms her to stop drinking to excess and that it’s obvious that she is out of control due to her demeanour on the First Tuesday Book Club. I’m going to suggest no such thing. Keep living your drunken and adventurous life Marieke, and above all continue to write about it. Marieke, you can be my female Bukowski anytime. 

And now for a female point of view from guest reviewer Elizabeth....

For fear of sounding like a sycophant, I must say Marieke Hardy’s first book affected me profoundly. Her prose is clear and honest, and she shares touching and laugh-out-loud funny stories of love, sex, boozing, loss and laughter. Hardy has guts. She shares her truth boldly and unpretentiously, seemingly unafraid to expose her fantasies and insecurities. This is a book that shines due to its sheer ‘humanness’ – she’s delightfully imperfect and the reader can relate to her self-doubt and laugh along with her self-deprecating humour. She cleverly draws the reader in with her conspiratorial style, which is like a wink and a whisper of “just between you and me…”

It’s not Hardy’s style that affected me so deeply. Her book made me feel less alone in the world. I promise I won’t gush with snot-smeared gratitude like an addict in a self-help meeting, but I felt a rare feeling after finishing it. It felt like it was written for me (and all those who love libraries and long afternoons of intoxication). Most popular offerings for women entreat us to swoon helplessly under the power of dashing vampires or yet another contemporary version of Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy. With all the popular ‘chick lit’ written these days, there’s little written about the interior life of the modern woman that explores beyond our romantic yearnings.

I loved this book, as Hardy had the courage to write about herself – her past, her hopes, ideas and preferences. The focus of the book is not her romantic relationships, though they are discussed. In the first chapter, she shares her adventures with prostitutes and three-ways – hardly conventional romance! It was refreshing to read her portrayal of female desire, which I’m pleased to report, displayed a complete absence of swooning!

Hardy asks questions I have asked myself – where are the female Bukowskis? Why won’t I pick up my clothes and put them away? How do I behave around children when I don’t have a maternal bone in my body? To me, having been a precocious ‘weird girl’ who’s grown up to enjoy all of life’s pleasures, Marieke’s bold admissions encouraged me to not only accept myself, but to revel in my tendency to be a lush and fabulous individual.

I literally squealed with glee while reading, as Marieke lived my 1980’s Aussie childhood dream – appearing in The Henderson Kids as a child star, and going on to act in, and eventually write, Neighbours. She was even clumsily kissed by one of the Young Talent Time kids! In terms of Australian popular culture, there’s plenty to enjoy in this book.

The stories Hardy shares are no less than hilarious. A word of warning – this is not a book to read on the train. Unless you don’t mind subjecting other passengers to your unladylike snorts of laughter as you read about the day writer, Bob Ellis met his canine namesake.

You’ll Be Sorry When I’m Dead is most definitely worth the read – for the humour, the honesty, the humanness. These are the adventures of a woman unafraid of adventure, doing what many of us have dreamed but wouldn’t dare attempt.

Perhaps best of all, Hardy reminds us there are stories in all of us worth sharing - if we honour truth, beauty and love. Although she slums the depths at times, this is a memoir and a woman with real class.

Crow Books (Victoria Park, Perth)

When you visit Crow Books you are immediately struck by its great layout, with its beautiful wooden shelves, ornamental rugs, funky posters and stylish leather couch. The ambience is just right, and so it should be as it is owned and managed by the same guy who set up and managed Planet Books. About a year and a half ago he left Planet and created the only independent bookstore in the Victoria Park/eastern suburbs area of Perth. Crow Books sits in the hub of the Victoria Park shopping precinct (900 Albany Hwy to be precise), an area filled with restaurants, cafes, curio shops and stores selling colourful gourmet stuff in fancy jars.

As soon as I entered the shop and found the fiction section I immediately spied a dozen books I could have easily given a good home. I ended up buying three books, but it could have easily been more. This is a shop where you will find the books you have always wanted to read and unknown books that will entice you with their weird allure. Of course there is something for everyone – a cult section, poetry (with some beautiful special editions), art, new releases, lowbrow, classics, music, philosophy, cooking and pretty much any subject your overwhelmed brain can think of.

Crow Books has extremely friendly opening hours, retailing seven days a week from mid morning till 9 -10pm or so (check the website for specific days), which is great going for a relatively small independent bookstore. They encourage extended browsing to a hip soundtrack (they were playing TV On The Radio while I was there). Crow Books would be great fun to visit at night after a meal at a nearby restaurant, which is just the right time to revel in the atmosphere of rows of books and weird animal posters containing strange aphorisms. Oh, and there’s a somewhat macabre crow overseeing proceedings as well.

Why not visit and a support a bookstore that’s pulling all the right moves? Crow Books will prosper because it understands what book lovers want and they are willing to give it to them at a decent price. They'll also give you a 10% discount if you have a RTR FM subscribers card – don’t leave home without it.

A Man of Parts – David Lodge (2011)

Rating: Admirable

A Man of Parts is a biographical novel. A much maligned blend of fact and fictional possibility that historians have generally criticised for leaving readers with a false idea of history. Fair enough, but if you start reading with an understanding that it’s not meant to be a reliable historical text then I believe that all should be fine. Lodge has undertaken a huge amount of research for A Man of Parts, consulting works written by H.G.Wells himself, including Experiment in Autobiography (1934), correspondence and also biographies of the principle characters and scholarly essays. This gives the reader some confidence in the case of H.G.Wells and his life-long appetite for the joys and resultant dysfunctions of ‘free love.’ Oh yes, and his writing.

Before reading this book I knew nothing about the life of H.G.Wells and I still haven’t read any of his novels. I guess I’m like many people who know of Wells because of his enduring impact on western culture via his early influential science fiction novels The Island of Dr Moreau (1896), The Time Machine (1895) and The War of the Worlds. (1898). The 1960 movie adaptation of The Time Machine is one of those classic Sunday afternoon films of childhood that I watched on more than one occasion. I was also exposed to Wells via the million seller concept album Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of The War of the Worlds (1978) Narrated by Richard Burton, it was disturbing stuff for a nine year old in the relatively innocent days of the late 70’s.

So, what of Wells and his sexual/romantic escapades? You’ll need some endurance, something like Wells had, in order to read this 559-page depiction of Wells’s life. Once you get through his early life then it’s onto the serious stuff of his adherence to the notions of ‘free love’. Sex before marriage, multiple partners and open relationships, all of which flew in the hypertensive face of Victorian and Edwardian morals. Wells’s amorous adventures may upset some readers though, but personally I believe it is a mistake to judge the past, in this case anyway, from the vantage point of more than a century into the future. Wells’s gift for scientific prediction is also, in some ways, reflected in his prescient private life. Wells and his lifestyle would have been right at home in modern permissive western society.

There is, of course, the small matter of Wells’s literary career. In-between relationships with the likes of Rebecca West and Edith Nesbit’s daughter, Rosamund Bland, and literally dozens of other women, you do get insights into his thinking and the many prescient ideas that ended up in his books. He had a prolific career, with more than 100 books published in his lifetime - with essays, science fiction, social realism, a best selling short history of the world (and you thought that Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything was an original idea?) and nearly everything in-between. A Man of Parts is, however, balanced in favour of his predilection for what he referred to as “recreation.” The amount of young woman that treated him like a literary rock star and threw themselves at his well-shod feet certainly helped his cause.

Heady stuff you would think, but the problem with A Man of Parts is that it has a tendency to become tedious. The narrative thrust lies in what Wells did next, who he was sleeping with, where he traveled to and how he dealt with the many problems associated with his radical lifestyle. There are also his dealings with the Fabian Society, through which he attempted to actualise his socialist ideals. These sections suffer from a distinct lack of colour. The letters scattered throughout the text become almost unbearable to read due to the era’s prose style being unbelievably florid. There is some experimentation at hand with Lodge having Wells looking inward and questioning himself with one voice and answering with another, as if he is interviewing himself. Although clumsy at first I eventually warmed to this technique and it helped that it was not overused, mainly appearing in the first section and towards the end. Lastly, Lodge’s writing style borders on the banal, although somehow he gets away with it. Perhaps he wanted the story of H.G.Wells life to speak for itself.

A Man of Parts polarised my book club members – a few detested it, whilst the others were either under-whelmed or enjoyed it but with reservations. I fall into the latter category. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this book and it hasn’t made me want to read other Lodge novels, although a few people I know who enjoy his writing have told me that this is not a good representation of his prose. What it has done is made me want to go back to the source and, as a science fiction fan, read the early works of H.G.Wells (I don’t think I’ll be reading his later work - The Bulpington of Blup though).

One endearing memory that will stay with me concerning this book is that during one of the book club sessions somehow all the men sat together on one side of the table and all the women gathered together on the other side, seemingly ready for a debate regarding Wells and his ‘legitimised’ philandering. As it turned out most of women did not judge him too harshly, preferring instead to talk about what an interesting man H.G.Wells was. I tend to agree and as Lodge defines at the onset of the novel, Wells was a man of parts: Def – 1. Personal abilities or talents. 2. Short for private parts.

Rating System and Labels/Tags

Despite initially deciding not to have any kind of rating system for the books I read and write about I’ve now completely changed my mind. I have realized that it is a useful way in which people can access a record of all books of a certain quality via the labels/tags at the end of each post. Although in the book clubs at Subiaco Library we rank each book out of ten, I wanted to move away from the scenario of curtly giving a book that an author may have worked on for years 3 out of 10 and then sending it on its way. I mostly try and refrain from being too harsh a critic. But hey, value judgments are usually made when you are dealing with any work of art. Most people usually have some idea about whether they like a book or not and compare and contrast it with others they’ve read. I’m no different really.

A label/tag is a good way to not make ratings too obvious but also allows readers a quick way to access the kind of books they may want to read or those they’d like to avoid. The rating system is as follows and is mostly self explanatory:

Sublime

Excellent

Admirable

Mediocre

Reprehensible

I do try to read what I think will be quality books, so there shouldn’t be too many reprehensible books. Although if I was writing this blog when I read The Finkler Question for the book club it certainly would have earned a reprehensible label/tag! Sorry Howard Jacobson, but your book was reprehensible (def: deserving censure or condemnation). Books that are given the sublime label/tag should also be in the minority. They really will need to be absolutely amazing to deserve the sublime label/tag. Remember that there is a certain level of subjectivity when it comes to passing judgment and you may totally disagree with me regarding the rating and what I say about a book. Be sure to let me know if you think I’m wrong.

I will also be labeling/tagging books by type or genre in order to allow easy access to particular kinds of books. There may be people who just want to know about the science fiction books I read, for example. Also look out for more unusual labels/tags – there will be some fun to be had. That’s also something else I’ve realized – labels/tags are fun.

Distant Star – Roberto Bolano (1996, 2004 English translation)

Rating: Excellent

Novelist and poet Roberto Bolano died in 2003 at the age 50. Before his death he had became known as an important writer in the Spanish-speaking world. His two huge novels, The Savage Detectives (1998, 2007 English translation) and 2666 (2004) were particularly acclaimed. Since his death the majority of his works have been translated into English and he’s become the not so obscure cult literary name to drop. His last novel – 2666 was completed in a frenzy of writing before his death and emerged in English in 2008.

After reading The Savage Detectives because it was recommended to me by an acquaintance that worked at Planet Books I immediately bought 2666. No doubt I was partly lured by the beautiful edition split into three parts with large red typography and arcane artwork. I’m yet to read it, but it sits ominously on my bookshelf, creating tension amongst my other unread books. The Savage Detectives totally enthralled me and it sits at the centre of my blog’s main picture - literature staring back at you, daring you to take up the challenge.

Distant Star is one of many novellas Bolano wrote in Spain whilst in exile from Chile. Like many Chileans with something to lose he fled the country after a brief period of imprisonment in 1973 after Pinochet’s coup. After leading an itinerant life he finally settled in Spain and undertook numerous menial jobs whilst writing at night. Distant Star is linked with another work - History of Nazi Literature in Latin America (1996, English translation 2008). Bolano refers to it in a forward to Distant Star, stating that:

“In the final chapter of my novel…I recounted in less than twenty pages and perhaps too schematically, the story of Lieutenant Ramirez Hoffman of the Chilean air force, which I heard from fellow Chilean, Arturo B…He was not satisfied with my version.”

Humorously Bolano claimed that he and Arturo shut themselves up in his house and that during the writing of this extended version his role mainly consisted of “preparing refreshments” and “consulting a few books.” As good a clue as any that Arturo is based on Bolano himself. Although the narrator of Distant Star is not revealed I believe that it is Arturo (therefore Bolano) recounting how he and his fellow poets interacted with the enigmatic Alberto Ruiz Tagle. Tagle both attracts and repulses his fellow young poets and as the book moves on his story becomes macabre and sinister. Tagle disappears and later emerges as a pilot in the Chilean air force going under the name of Weider. The narrative recounts how he attempts to create the ‘New Chilean Poetry’ by writing poetry in the sky using an old German WWII fighter plane. He goes on to become famous throughout Chile due to his sky writing exploits.

This is a deceptive book with layers of meaning and humour so black that it seems to be forged from the dark matter that holds the galaxies together. The tales of Weider spin their web and become surreal and bleakly farcical in nature. However, the book has serious intentions, although they are not immediately obvious - the mark of a quality writer. The prose is subtly compelling and I found myself drawn into the narrator’s obsession with Weider. The last part of the book becomes like a detective narrative, with the narrator himself drawn into a manhunt for Weider. 

As the book drew to its conclusion I strongly felt that I was being lead towards a certain understanding or insight. I did eventually get there, although I’m not going to elaborate simply because I don’t want to give the game away. Distant Star is one of those books that you find yourself thinking about for days and weeks later - thoughts emerging uninvited to spark ideas and then finally understanding. This is the kind of rare book that I always look for, providing an interaction that goes far beyond actually finishing the book. The Savage Detectives also had this effect on me. I felt like I lived with its characters and it stayed with me for months after.

Bolano’s critical status may be a bit over the top, but reading Distant Star has reinforced the notion that he is a significant writer. If you attempt to read Bolano and falter, bear in mind that he is worth persevering with through the tangents, the obscure concepts and his obsession with poets and poetry. He has something important to say about humanity and what he has to say is open to interpretation without suffering from being too diffuse.

It’s also worth remembering that Bolano was predominately a poet, only turning to prose to provide a more secure future for his family. As he was slowly dying from a diseased liver he invested his remaining energy into longer works and he succeeded in creating a unique body of work. Invest some time yourself, buy his books and go out on a limb. You will not regret it.

Planet Books – Mt Lawley, Perth

Ok, so I’m going to romanticize bookstores. Well, why not? Soon the good old days of taking in the atmosphere of a quality bookstore could be over right? Online buying (mainly) has already driven chains such as Borders and Angus & Robertson into oblivion, or, ironically, to online sales only.

I’m optimistic that bookstores can survive, despite the onslaught of online stores and now E-Readers such as the Kindle. They need to be smart, they need to engage and mainly they need to be independent boutique shops that offer a bit more than just racks of books that you could get anywhere. They need to foster the experience of exploring and discovering books that you’ve never heard of. They need to stock obscure authors or exclusive editions to wet your appetite. Most of all humble book buyer, they need your support. Sure you can buy most books online cheaper than at your local bookstore and I don’t begrudge you that. But what if you bought every third book from a local bookstore? (yes, you should have one to nurture). What if you enjoyed the experience of cruising down to the shop and breathing in the refined air of all those books lined up just waiting for you to take them home? Also you’ll be helping the local economy rather than your money going to a faceless overseas company that has fewer overheads and the advantage of a vastly bigger market than your local store. Online retailers can sell books for lower prices and still make more money because of the huge volume of books they ship. Why not support a local store that pays local people to work there. Actually talking to people in the store, most often big readers them-selves, can point you in new and interesting reading directions. This is what happened to me at Planet Books and led me to discover Roberto Bolano.

Planet Books is a superb bookstore and is worth supporting because they do everything right. It’s simply browsing heaven and will soon have a coffee shop as well, so you can combine two loves if you are also into coffee. Browsing online sucks in comparison to cruising the wooden shelves and rug-lined floors of Planet Books. There’s great posters wallpapered to the walls, leather couches (try before you buy is definitely encouraged) and a great pyramid chandelier – it has class, atmosphere and most importantly thousands of books. Planet stock everything, and I mean everything, from the obscure just waiting to be discovered to the latest releases you know you want, all lined and piled up in bibliographic lusciousness.  It’s tactile, it’s funky, it’s tasteful, it’s an adventure and most importantly it makes you feel good. As a bonus if you subscribe to that other Mt Lawley institution RTRFM that lives just above Planet, then you’ll get 10% off everything just by flipping them your subscriber’s card. Those of you reading this overseas have a think about what great bookstores are in your area and do yourself a favour and go and have a browse.