Since I started university, I often haven't had the time or brainpower to sit down and finish a novel. I've therefore got much more into short stories - my dad gave me a copy of Borges' Fictions just before I went to university and I fell in love utterly and completely. Since then I've read some fantastic collections - including the one I'm reading at the minute, Diving Belles by Lucy Wood - but I've also got into reading short story magazines. Partly this is, ahem, market research; I've started writing short stories myself, since I realised that I enjoy writing fiction but can't sustain a novel-length plot for shit. But short story magazines, especially those with a SFF/speculative fiction focus, are having a bit of a renaissance.
I was very excited when I found out that you can submit your short stories to these magazines and get paid! And pretty well - the "pro" rate is 6 US cents a word or more. It's also common practice for these magazines to release their short stories online, where I've been devouring them. I love short stories about magic and ghosts much more than short stories about divorce and middle-aged problems. ;)
So, here's the short stories that I've really enjoyed! I hope you do too - they're easy to consume in a single sitting, perfect for busy people like me who've been promising themselves they'll get to reading War and Peace for, oh, two years now...
An Index of How Our Family Was Killed, Matt Bell
This is a strange and rather heartbreaking story, using the alphabetical format to tell you all the details in the wrong order. You slowly piece together the story, and although the writing itself is beautifully bleak and evocative, the greatest satisfaction comes when everything you've read comes together and you realise "how our family was killed".
Dustbaby, Alix E Harrow
The descriptions in this story are just - I'm open-mouthed. They're vivid and almost hallucinatory in the picture they build up of this alien, dustbowl landscape. This story is an apocalyptic tale set during the Depression in the US South (I think? My American geography is not great). There are tons of specificities which make this story come alive - the pamphlets issued by the federal government about how to stop the red dust that's rising everywhere, the preacher, the nosy neighbours that are an inevitablity of rural life, and of course the dustbaby herself.
The Earth and Everything Under, K. M. Ferebee
This is one of the first online short stories from the "establishment" of US-based SFF magazines I wrote, and it remains one of my favourites. It's a beautiful narrative of death and grief, with a dual POV between the man who's dead and wandering around the underworld in confusion, and the woman who's left alive, grief-stricken, and avoided by her neighbours because they think she's a witch. I still think about the images from this story sometimes.
Help Me Follow My Sister Into the Land of the Dead, Carmen Maria Machado
I adore Carmen Maria Machado! I still haven't read the stories she's most famous for ("Descent" and "The Husband Stitch"), but I've read a lot of others, and I think this is one of the more accessible and also maybe a little fun? It's in the form of a Kickstarter campaign, with the story taking place in updates from Ursula, whose sister has gone to the land of the dead for a laugh. It's funny and wry and a little heartbreaking.
Pocosin, Ursula Vernon
A possum god, a Pratchett-esque witch (so other people have told me), and the Devil and Death and it's so lovely. It has a very strong sense of place, of the land and what it feels like and represents, and I love that in, well, anything really, but especially short stories. It is very sad, but the witch is fantastic and no-nonsense and she's an utter delight.
Cat Pictures Please, Naomi Kritzer
After all these rather depressing stories, I'll end with a fun, light-hearted one. This is about a benevolent AI (they explicitly dismiss all the sci-fi examples of AIs going evil) who just wants to help people, by finding them different jobs, making them meet potential partners; all of which sounds very nice until you realise that, as an AI, they don't have a great grasp on appropriateness, and sometimes their well-intentions don't turn out so well. However, there is a happy ending! And cat pictures.
I hope you enjoy at least some of these; let me know what you think of them!
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Friday, 8 April 2016
Sunday, 20 December 2015
Review | The Pet Hawk of the House of Abbas, Dmitry Chen
Studying Latin translation has given me a new appreciation for literary translation. Before this point, I didn't really think about how books are translated from one language to another, but now I'm familiar with the process of deciphering the work on a word-by-word level, producing a rough "translationese" draft, going back over it and clearing it up, working on drawing out the implications of the original text... Literary translators of this world, I salute you!
And yet there really isn't enough translation being done. I have a friend who is doing a degree in German and has to translate a contemporary German novel (which hasn't been translated into English yet) as part of her coursework. She has an enormous choice; there's tons of fantastic untranslated German literature out there, as there is for every country. What makes The Pet Hawk of the House of Abbas interesting on the level of translation is that it wasn't published conventionally; it was crowdfunded by a Kickstarter campaign and published by Russian Life. The trilogy it's part of, the Silk Road Trilogy, was a massive hit in Russia, but no Anglophone publishing house has picked it up. (The same goes for the cult hit Дом, в котором... by Mariam Petrosyan which still isn't available in a language I can read!) Could this represent a new way to get translated fiction out into the world?
Musings about translation aside, this definitely deserved to be translated. It's an excellent book on an unconventional subject: the fall of the Umayyad dynasty and the rise of the Abbasids. It further subverts expectations by not taking place in the centre of the action in Syria/the Levant/Mesopotamia, but in the trading cities of Central Asia: Samarkand, Bukhara, Merv. Peripheral and yet entirely central to these pivotal events, the people of Central Asia - the conquered peoples of Sogdia and Iran - live under uneasy Arab Muslim rule and are experiencing a sea change not only in the dynasty that rules the Islamic empire, but in their own countries and cultures. More people, such as the protagonist's brother, are converting to Islam out of genuine conviction or the chance for an easier life or both. Although the Islamic conquest of Central Asia is a century old by the time this book takes place (749-50 AD), a strong miasma of loss and dislocation permeates this book.
The main character, Nanidat Maniakh, is a wealthy silk merchant from Samarkand who is caught up in murder, mystery, and intrigue when he returns from two years in China and is the victim of an attempted assassination in his own home. He then journeys from Samarkand into Iran to try to uncover the truth, and finds himself part of a great tangle of alliances, plots, and secret organisations. Nanidat did not exist, but most of the people in this book did, and are huge figures in early Islamic history: Abu Muslim, al-Mansur, al-Saffah, Marwan II, and many more. This book relies heavily on real and imagined history, and as such it can be difficult to keep track of everything that goes on. Many reviews on Amazon and Goodreads have highlighted this problem; personally, I had very little difficulty following the narrative, but I did study early Islamic history which gave me a big head start! Reading a little on the Umayyads and Abbasids, as well as some basic Central Asian history, would go a long way in enriching one's enjoyment of this book.
The style of this book is somewhat grandiose and epic, which is suitable to the story and is not particularly distracting or irritating once you get absorbed in it. Unlike some historical fiction, it doesn't try to translate an older experience to modern understandings, and there's very little slangy, casual dialogue. To come back to the translation - I haven't read the original Russian, but Liv Bliss' translation is superb. It's fluid and eloquent, and doesn't have any of the dull, stiff quality that translated prose can sometimes have (God knows most of my translations are overly stiff and unnatural...). I commend both Dmitry Chen for writing this book (if the other two books of the trilogy come out in English I will definitely be buying them!), and Liv Bliss for producing such a distinguished, readable translation.
And yet there really isn't enough translation being done. I have a friend who is doing a degree in German and has to translate a contemporary German novel (which hasn't been translated into English yet) as part of her coursework. She has an enormous choice; there's tons of fantastic untranslated German literature out there, as there is for every country. What makes The Pet Hawk of the House of Abbas interesting on the level of translation is that it wasn't published conventionally; it was crowdfunded by a Kickstarter campaign and published by Russian Life. The trilogy it's part of, the Silk Road Trilogy, was a massive hit in Russia, but no Anglophone publishing house has picked it up. (The same goes for the cult hit Дом, в котором... by Mariam Petrosyan which still isn't available in a language I can read!) Could this represent a new way to get translated fiction out into the world?
Musings about translation aside, this definitely deserved to be translated. It's an excellent book on an unconventional subject: the fall of the Umayyad dynasty and the rise of the Abbasids. It further subverts expectations by not taking place in the centre of the action in Syria/the Levant/Mesopotamia, but in the trading cities of Central Asia: Samarkand, Bukhara, Merv. Peripheral and yet entirely central to these pivotal events, the people of Central Asia - the conquered peoples of Sogdia and Iran - live under uneasy Arab Muslim rule and are experiencing a sea change not only in the dynasty that rules the Islamic empire, but in their own countries and cultures. More people, such as the protagonist's brother, are converting to Islam out of genuine conviction or the chance for an easier life or both. Although the Islamic conquest of Central Asia is a century old by the time this book takes place (749-50 AD), a strong miasma of loss and dislocation permeates this book.
The main character, Nanidat Maniakh, is a wealthy silk merchant from Samarkand who is caught up in murder, mystery, and intrigue when he returns from two years in China and is the victim of an attempted assassination in his own home. He then journeys from Samarkand into Iran to try to uncover the truth, and finds himself part of a great tangle of alliances, plots, and secret organisations. Nanidat did not exist, but most of the people in this book did, and are huge figures in early Islamic history: Abu Muslim, al-Mansur, al-Saffah, Marwan II, and many more. This book relies heavily on real and imagined history, and as such it can be difficult to keep track of everything that goes on. Many reviews on Amazon and Goodreads have highlighted this problem; personally, I had very little difficulty following the narrative, but I did study early Islamic history which gave me a big head start! Reading a little on the Umayyads and Abbasids, as well as some basic Central Asian history, would go a long way in enriching one's enjoyment of this book.
The style of this book is somewhat grandiose and epic, which is suitable to the story and is not particularly distracting or irritating once you get absorbed in it. Unlike some historical fiction, it doesn't try to translate an older experience to modern understandings, and there's very little slangy, casual dialogue. To come back to the translation - I haven't read the original Russian, but Liv Bliss' translation is superb. It's fluid and eloquent, and doesn't have any of the dull, stiff quality that translated prose can sometimes have (God knows most of my translations are overly stiff and unnatural...). I commend both Dmitry Chen for writing this book (if the other two books of the trilogy come out in English I will definitely be buying them!), and Liv Bliss for producing such a distinguished, readable translation.
Tuesday, 22 September 2015
Review | What We Do in the Shadows
It's always a risk watching a comedy film based on the trailer. However much you might laugh at the trailer, it's very possible that those clips were the only good parts of the film and the rest of it is an unfunny slog. So even though I was able to buy the DVD of this film for £4, which isn't much lost if it turned out to suck, I still had a feeling of trepidation when I sat down to watch it yesterday. What if it just wasn't that funny?
Fortunately, that wasn't the case. What We Do in the Shadows is hilarious. It's from the creators behind Flight of the Concords, and is a mockumentary detailing the daily lives of four vampires who share a house in Wellington, New Zealand. There's the 800+-year-old Vladislav, who looks disturbingly similar to Gary Oldman's Dracula in Francis Ford Coppola's film and possesses a truly medieval torture chamber and attitude; the Romantic-with-a-capital-R Viago, who has beautiful sideburns and very tight trousers; the "bad boy" of the group, Deacon, who looks more like a rock star than any of the others and fled to New Zealand because post-WWII it was bad news if you were a Nazi vampire; and Petyr, who is 8000 years old and practically mummified.
 |
| Let me introduce you to my crew. |
These vampires walk the line between old-fashioned blood-drinking creatures of the night and more modern, deconstructed portrayals. There's been some interesting, creative portrayals of vampires in TV and film over the last few years - Being Human, Let the Right One In, Only Lovers Left Alive, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, Byzantium - and while the vampires of What We Do in the Shadows don't bring anything particularly new to the table, they're also tons of fun. A lot of the scenes in the trailer become even funnier in context, and there are plenty of side-splitting moments that didn't make it into the trailer. There is, I think, a time and a place for serious meditations on vampires as a symbol of death and immortality; sometimes you just want a fun fantasy about melodramatic immortal creatures who worry about what to wear to the Unholy Masquerade, and bemoan the fact that they can't eat fish and chips without spewing blood.
While vampires are the focus of the film, there's also a local werewolf gang which plays a small but substantial role in the plot. Mostly they're your typical werewolves, although their leader has some puritanical opinions regarding swearing which he imposes on the rest of the group - they have to be reminded a few times that they're "werewolves, not swearwolves".
The trailer is fairly accurate with regards to the tone and feel of the film, so I recommend you watch it:
If it seems to your taste, I promise the actual film is even better!
Saturday, 12 September 2015
Mini Book Reviews
I read a load of books while I was in the US! I was doing an internship for most of the time, so I couldn't read 24/7, but not having a smartphone with me (it wasn't unlocked; I had to take an old, non-internet-enabled phone) helped immensely with reading a lot. Rather than checking my email and Facebook on my bus ride to work, I read on my Kindle instead - and I got through a fair amount of books! I was there for nearly six weeks, and I wanted to do some book reviews but I thought since I read quite a few in a short space of time I'd just bundle them all together and do little reviews for each one.
A Madness of Angels, Kate Griffin
The first book in the Matthew Swift series, an urban fantasy series set in London. It takes a while to understand what's going on - the opening is very much in media res and you get very little explanation; you have to figure out what's going on as you read. Still, once the initial confusion wears off, it's a great book. Written in a very breathless, slightly overwhelming style that absolutely fits the feeling of London. I also appreciate that, unlike a lot of urban fantasy, this magic is really connected to the city and the urban experience - magic users get their power from things like Oyster cards and graffiti, the last train on the Underground on the Circle Line will take you to places you can't otherwise go...
The Midnight Mayor, Kate Griffin
So I liked the series so much I read the second one! This one features the truly chilling appearance of the "death of cities", whose role should be fairly obvious, and it much more of a mystery - why have the Ravens left the Tower of London? Why is "GIVE ME BACK MY HAT" seen in graffiti all over the city in different languages? Who or what summoned the death of cities? What I like is that in the climax, when they find out who's responsible for summoning the death of cities, it's solved not with fights as in the last book, but with understanding and human kindness, and it still manages to make sense and be a satisfying ending.
A Free Man of Color, Barbara Hambly
After a while of hearing good things about the Benjamin January series, I decided to pick up the first one. It's a mystery series set in 1830s New Orleans, and the titular character is a free black man who plays the piano, trained as a surgeon, and solves murders. Hambly clearly put a hell of a lot of research into these, because New Orleans at all levels of society - French Creoles, American incomers, the free colored community, and the black population both slaves and free - is vividly laid out. There's a very strong sense of place and time here. The book does go into serious issues like racism, sexism, etc. but it's also a lot of fun and very readable. I will definitely be picking up the next one.
Gorky Park, Martin Cruz Smith
My mum and granddad both love the Inspector Renko series, so I got the first one (as you can see, reading the first book of a series is a theme here!). Being hugely ignorant on Soviet Russia (it's set during the 1980s) I have no idea how accurate this is, but it's an enjoyable read. The narrative voice is fun and distinctive - the descriptions of the people Renko meets are always telling! - and for someone who has the typical detective novel clichés of a failing marriage and unsympathetic bosses, I found Renko himself a very interesting character. The central mystery is actually solved about two-thirds of the way through; what was, for me, the most interesting part of the book was the last quarter, which takes places in the USA. Renko and his friend/lover/case suspect Irina end up "guests" of the FBI in NYC for reasons, and it's really interesting to see the ways they adapt - or don't - to being in America. Irina is, and has been for a while as demonstrated throughout the book, strongly anti-Soviet and sees America as the promised land. Renko isn't the USSR's biggest fan but he doesn't like America much and would prefer to go home. There's some good stuff to ponder in that section about becoming American, and how it's done.
Open Veins of Latin America, Eduardo Galeano
OK, this was probably my favourite book I read on this trip. It's a nonfiction account of "the pillage of a continent", as the subtitle says, taking us from the first conquistadors landing in the Caribbean to the neocolonialism and exploitation of Latin American countries in the early 1970s (when Galeano wrote this book). What this absolutely isn't is a dispassionate account - it's partisan and makes no shame of it, and Galeano passionately argues in favour of things like nationalised industry and protectionism, and against the neoliberal free market. I agree with Galeano most of the time, so I don't really mind! It's certainly a hell of a read. Bittersweet, certainly, considering it was published just before the assassination of Salvador Allende and the subsequent string of right-wing dictatorships across the continent. But it's an interesting read today considering the current trend of left-wing governments in Latin America, described by some as a "Pink Wave".
Typhoon, Joseph Conrad
This is a fairly short Conrad story, and I don't have much to say about it. It's well-written, like most Conrad I've read, it's full of boats... The descriptions of the typhoon are a lot of fun! My copy came with a preface in which Conrad complained about the literary critics that tried to find deep meaning and analysis in his character of Captain MacWhirr, and how he didn't intend him to be symbolic of anything much. This certainly made me feel more justified in finishing it and thinking, well, I'm not sure what the point of that was.
Persuasion, Jane Austen
I'm an Austen fan, but until now I hadn't read Persuasion. A lot of Austen fans I know absolutely love it, and now I can say I definitely agree with them! The incredibly vain Sir Walter Eliot and his daughter Elizabeth, intensely focused on social standing and external beauty, are hilarious, the whole cast of characters feels very developed and real, and I adore Anne Eliot and Captain Wentworth. Anne's sense that despite being twenty-nine and plain she is still worth something, the long slow realisation by both parties that they can be together... It's one of the most satisfying romances in an Austen novel, in my opinion.
Gomorrah, Roberto Saviano
Well, there goes the last of my belief that manufacturing industries in Europe tend to be more humane and with fewer human rights violations. Ayup. Gomorrah takes you through the workings of the organised crime of Naples (and the surrounding suburbs and countryside), who are called the Camorra by antimafia activists in Italy but don't call themselves that. Parts of it are almost novelistic, especially when it comes to focus on the drama of individuals and clans, but this is most certainly nonfiction - to the point that Saviano has had several threats to his life by Camorristi. In general it's more dispassionate than Open Veins of Latin America, but later in the book Saviano goes on to talk about the ramifications for ordinary Neapolitan people, and people in southern Italy in general, and the injustice that continues to be perpetuated, and the enormous degree to which institutions in southern Italy are infected by criminal groups... He himself is from Casal di Principe, a commune infamous for being the birth of the Casalesi clan, which features prominantly in the book. It ends with a furious invective to do something about the state of affairs in Naples and in Calabria, and the powerlessness he feels - as do most antimafia organisations, because it's like fighting the hydra.
Royal Wedding, Meg Cabot
...Okay, massive genre whiplash! The Princess Diaries was one of my guilty pleasures as a young teen, and when I was in Barnes & Noble in DC and saw there was a book in the series I hadn't read, I sat down and read it right there in the store. Fun in a fluffy sort of way, fairly predictable, but I never read The Princess Diaries looking for great literature or unexpected plot twists, you know? The pop culture references - BuzzFeed, Snapchat, etc - felt like they'd date the book rather quickly, and I'm trying to remember the degree to which the earlier books did that. I'm not sure they did; the characters used IM, email, commented on popular movies, and so on, but I don't remember specific websites and brands and apps being mentioned quite so much. Overall, though, still a fun little read and made me think to dig up the series and have a reread, because I really did used to enjoy them a lot.
The Prisoner of Zenda, Anthony Hope
This book was the first in the genre of Ruritanian romance, which I haven't read much of, but I love fictional countries (the Syldavia albums always ranked high in my list of favourite Tintin comics) and nineteenth-century adventures, and it was free on Project Gutenberg, so I picked it up. What I liked most about this was that it's essentially about someone whom everyone thought was incompetent having to take on a huge amount of responsibility (impersonating the King of Ruritania...!) and turning out to actually be very competent! That character, who is the narrator, is fairy likeable in a dashing rogue sort of way, whacky hijinks take place, and it's overall a fun read. I've been recommended the Graustark novels for more Ruritanian romance, which are also available on PG, so we'll see where that takes me...
The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman
Not impressed with this one, to be honest. I generally like Neil Gaiman but this fell flat. The plot was stretched out and I absolutely wasn't surprised to find out it had started life as a novella, because it really didn't have enough substance for a novel. The main character was irritating, which can be a problem with a lot of Gaiman's books as he likes to write himself into them, but the main character of Ocean was infuriatingly drippy, and his friend Lettie was far more interesting. In general, I think this suffered from the problem that it had some very interesting ideas and intriguing mythology, but we saw very little of them. They were tantalisingly out of reach throughout the novel, and as it is I wish Gaiman had written a different book to the one he did.
The Tigers of Mompracem, Emilio Salgari
Okay, now this was tons of fun. Typical nineteenth century swashbuckling adventure, except it stars an exiled Malaysian prince who has sworn revenge on the European colonisers who destroyed his home, and his Portuguese sidekick who's devoted to him (I'm pretty sure they're in love, and Marianna the love interest is just a decoy). I started reading this on the day I flew back home, and I tore through it during my time in the airport and on the plane. It definitely encourages devouring all at once!
Well, there you go. Phew. I love getting back into serious reading habits!
A Madness of Angels, Kate Griffin
The first book in the Matthew Swift series, an urban fantasy series set in London. It takes a while to understand what's going on - the opening is very much in media res and you get very little explanation; you have to figure out what's going on as you read. Still, once the initial confusion wears off, it's a great book. Written in a very breathless, slightly overwhelming style that absolutely fits the feeling of London. I also appreciate that, unlike a lot of urban fantasy, this magic is really connected to the city and the urban experience - magic users get their power from things like Oyster cards and graffiti, the last train on the Underground on the Circle Line will take you to places you can't otherwise go...
The Midnight Mayor, Kate Griffin
So I liked the series so much I read the second one! This one features the truly chilling appearance of the "death of cities", whose role should be fairly obvious, and it much more of a mystery - why have the Ravens left the Tower of London? Why is "GIVE ME BACK MY HAT" seen in graffiti all over the city in different languages? Who or what summoned the death of cities? What I like is that in the climax, when they find out who's responsible for summoning the death of cities, it's solved not with fights as in the last book, but with understanding and human kindness, and it still manages to make sense and be a satisfying ending.
A Free Man of Color, Barbara Hambly
After a while of hearing good things about the Benjamin January series, I decided to pick up the first one. It's a mystery series set in 1830s New Orleans, and the titular character is a free black man who plays the piano, trained as a surgeon, and solves murders. Hambly clearly put a hell of a lot of research into these, because New Orleans at all levels of society - French Creoles, American incomers, the free colored community, and the black population both slaves and free - is vividly laid out. There's a very strong sense of place and time here. The book does go into serious issues like racism, sexism, etc. but it's also a lot of fun and very readable. I will definitely be picking up the next one.
Gorky Park, Martin Cruz Smith
My mum and granddad both love the Inspector Renko series, so I got the first one (as you can see, reading the first book of a series is a theme here!). Being hugely ignorant on Soviet Russia (it's set during the 1980s) I have no idea how accurate this is, but it's an enjoyable read. The narrative voice is fun and distinctive - the descriptions of the people Renko meets are always telling! - and for someone who has the typical detective novel clichés of a failing marriage and unsympathetic bosses, I found Renko himself a very interesting character. The central mystery is actually solved about two-thirds of the way through; what was, for me, the most interesting part of the book was the last quarter, which takes places in the USA. Renko and his friend/lover/case suspect Irina end up "guests" of the FBI in NYC for reasons, and it's really interesting to see the ways they adapt - or don't - to being in America. Irina is, and has been for a while as demonstrated throughout the book, strongly anti-Soviet and sees America as the promised land. Renko isn't the USSR's biggest fan but he doesn't like America much and would prefer to go home. There's some good stuff to ponder in that section about becoming American, and how it's done.
Open Veins of Latin America, Eduardo Galeano
OK, this was probably my favourite book I read on this trip. It's a nonfiction account of "the pillage of a continent", as the subtitle says, taking us from the first conquistadors landing in the Caribbean to the neocolonialism and exploitation of Latin American countries in the early 1970s (when Galeano wrote this book). What this absolutely isn't is a dispassionate account - it's partisan and makes no shame of it, and Galeano passionately argues in favour of things like nationalised industry and protectionism, and against the neoliberal free market. I agree with Galeano most of the time, so I don't really mind! It's certainly a hell of a read. Bittersweet, certainly, considering it was published just before the assassination of Salvador Allende and the subsequent string of right-wing dictatorships across the continent. But it's an interesting read today considering the current trend of left-wing governments in Latin America, described by some as a "Pink Wave".
Typhoon, Joseph Conrad
This is a fairly short Conrad story, and I don't have much to say about it. It's well-written, like most Conrad I've read, it's full of boats... The descriptions of the typhoon are a lot of fun! My copy came with a preface in which Conrad complained about the literary critics that tried to find deep meaning and analysis in his character of Captain MacWhirr, and how he didn't intend him to be symbolic of anything much. This certainly made me feel more justified in finishing it and thinking, well, I'm not sure what the point of that was.
Persuasion, Jane Austen
I'm an Austen fan, but until now I hadn't read Persuasion. A lot of Austen fans I know absolutely love it, and now I can say I definitely agree with them! The incredibly vain Sir Walter Eliot and his daughter Elizabeth, intensely focused on social standing and external beauty, are hilarious, the whole cast of characters feels very developed and real, and I adore Anne Eliot and Captain Wentworth. Anne's sense that despite being twenty-nine and plain she is still worth something, the long slow realisation by both parties that they can be together... It's one of the most satisfying romances in an Austen novel, in my opinion.
Gomorrah, Roberto Saviano
Well, there goes the last of my belief that manufacturing industries in Europe tend to be more humane and with fewer human rights violations. Ayup. Gomorrah takes you through the workings of the organised crime of Naples (and the surrounding suburbs and countryside), who are called the Camorra by antimafia activists in Italy but don't call themselves that. Parts of it are almost novelistic, especially when it comes to focus on the drama of individuals and clans, but this is most certainly nonfiction - to the point that Saviano has had several threats to his life by Camorristi. In general it's more dispassionate than Open Veins of Latin America, but later in the book Saviano goes on to talk about the ramifications for ordinary Neapolitan people, and people in southern Italy in general, and the injustice that continues to be perpetuated, and the enormous degree to which institutions in southern Italy are infected by criminal groups... He himself is from Casal di Principe, a commune infamous for being the birth of the Casalesi clan, which features prominantly in the book. It ends with a furious invective to do something about the state of affairs in Naples and in Calabria, and the powerlessness he feels - as do most antimafia organisations, because it's like fighting the hydra.
Royal Wedding, Meg Cabot
...Okay, massive genre whiplash! The Princess Diaries was one of my guilty pleasures as a young teen, and when I was in Barnes & Noble in DC and saw there was a book in the series I hadn't read, I sat down and read it right there in the store. Fun in a fluffy sort of way, fairly predictable, but I never read The Princess Diaries looking for great literature or unexpected plot twists, you know? The pop culture references - BuzzFeed, Snapchat, etc - felt like they'd date the book rather quickly, and I'm trying to remember the degree to which the earlier books did that. I'm not sure they did; the characters used IM, email, commented on popular movies, and so on, but I don't remember specific websites and brands and apps being mentioned quite so much. Overall, though, still a fun little read and made me think to dig up the series and have a reread, because I really did used to enjoy them a lot.
The Prisoner of Zenda, Anthony Hope
This book was the first in the genre of Ruritanian romance, which I haven't read much of, but I love fictional countries (the Syldavia albums always ranked high in my list of favourite Tintin comics) and nineteenth-century adventures, and it was free on Project Gutenberg, so I picked it up. What I liked most about this was that it's essentially about someone whom everyone thought was incompetent having to take on a huge amount of responsibility (impersonating the King of Ruritania...!) and turning out to actually be very competent! That character, who is the narrator, is fairy likeable in a dashing rogue sort of way, whacky hijinks take place, and it's overall a fun read. I've been recommended the Graustark novels for more Ruritanian romance, which are also available on PG, so we'll see where that takes me...
The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman
Not impressed with this one, to be honest. I generally like Neil Gaiman but this fell flat. The plot was stretched out and I absolutely wasn't surprised to find out it had started life as a novella, because it really didn't have enough substance for a novel. The main character was irritating, which can be a problem with a lot of Gaiman's books as he likes to write himself into them, but the main character of Ocean was infuriatingly drippy, and his friend Lettie was far more interesting. In general, I think this suffered from the problem that it had some very interesting ideas and intriguing mythology, but we saw very little of them. They were tantalisingly out of reach throughout the novel, and as it is I wish Gaiman had written a different book to the one he did.
The Tigers of Mompracem, Emilio Salgari
Okay, now this was tons of fun. Typical nineteenth century swashbuckling adventure, except it stars an exiled Malaysian prince who has sworn revenge on the European colonisers who destroyed his home, and his Portuguese sidekick who's devoted to him (I'm pretty sure they're in love, and Marianna the love interest is just a decoy). I started reading this on the day I flew back home, and I tore through it during my time in the airport and on the plane. It definitely encourages devouring all at once!
Well, there you go. Phew. I love getting back into serious reading habits!
Sunday, 21 June 2015
Review | The Murdstone Trilogy: A Novel
Philip Murdstone is washed up. He is known as a writer of serious, quasi-literary children's fiction about sensitive, disabled boys, but his star is waning and he is behind the times when it comes to what the reading public wants. Fantasy - specifically, epic fantasy - is what sells, and Philip's ruthless agent is determined to get her client on the bandwagon to save his sinking career.
So begins The Murdstone Trilogy. Philip is not a fantasy reader, and does not enjoy or appreciate the genre, but help comes to him in the form of Pocket Wellfair, a gnome-like creature who narrates, in a distinctive and earthy style, a book that comes to Philip in a vision when he passes out drunk at a local tor. This book, Dark Entropy, catapults Philip to the top of the bestseller list and brings him fame and fortune. But it comes at a price - he makes a Faustian bargain with Pocket to acquire the novel, transmitted into his consciousness, and as he gets more desperate for additional books, he becomes more entangled in the dark business of Pocket's world.
This book is skillfully written; the narration style is arch and sardonic, though also vividly descriptive, frequently breaking out into inspired metaphors. When things take a decidedly darker turn in the second half of the novel, Peet manages to segue his narration into an uneasy, claustrophobic atmosphere - and I commend anyone who can make the vast expanse of the Himalayas seem cramped and terrifyingly hemmed-in. The parody of epic fantasy tropes, while more present in the first half of the novel, is amusing enough, although I've seen it done better by Diana Wynne Jones, who (unlike Peet) actually writes fantasy, in her books such as The Tough Guide to Fantasyland and Dark Lord of Derkholm.
The main failing of this book is the misanthropic contempt for humanity that is present in the narration. No one, from Philip to a community of Tibetan monks to the big cheeses of the publishing industry, is respite from scorn and disdain. I have happily read novels in which every character is unlikable, selfish, and not someone you would want to meet in real life, but the utter contempt for just about everyone in the book is a troubling undercurrent in this otherwise enjoyable satire. It gets particularly bad regarding the people of Devon, where Philip Murdstone lives in splendid isolation in a stone cottage on Dartmoor. I live in Devon myself (my town even got a mention in the book!), and I enjoyed the familiar names and places and feelings from the parts of the book set in Devon, including the hilarious scene in which the Tower Building of Exeter College, where I studied for two years, becomes the burning College of Thaumaturgy from the fantasy world Philip draws his books from. But the author seems to find the local people inherently stupid, small-minded, and worthy of derision. He writes out local accents and dialect phonetically, which almost never works in published fiction unless the author is someone like Irvine Welsh, and there is not an exception here in The Murdstone Trilogy. Every quirk of the local dialect is drawn out, exaggerated, and mispelled as though Devonians were speaking a foreign language. The neutral, RP-influenced Southern English of Philip Murdstone and his agent Miranda Cinch is, of course, left in correctly spelled English. But when it comes to the population of Flemworthy, Philip's adopted village, there is no such courtesy. Not only do they speak in phonetic dialect, but they are what Batman would refer to as a cowardly and superstitious lot. Late in the novel, Philip returns from several months of global travel to find that his fence is covered in various objects to ward off evil, including voodoo dolls, rosaries, and wooden crosses. They are, furthermore, so stupid that various characters cannot properly say "condensation" or "exorcism", the latter of which they demand the local priest perform on Philip's house. There is room for criticism and satire of rural England, but here, it is bitter enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth.
Having said that, The Murdstone Trilogy is an enjoyable read, and it's quick to plough through - I finished it in a few hours. The first half, at least, is a hilarious and sardonic take-down of contemporary epic fantasy - there's even an expy of Christopher Paolini - and anyone who has found themselves slogging through an uninspired Swords and Sorcery doorstopper will find some wry familiarity in it.
So begins The Murdstone Trilogy. Philip is not a fantasy reader, and does not enjoy or appreciate the genre, but help comes to him in the form of Pocket Wellfair, a gnome-like creature who narrates, in a distinctive and earthy style, a book that comes to Philip in a vision when he passes out drunk at a local tor. This book, Dark Entropy, catapults Philip to the top of the bestseller list and brings him fame and fortune. But it comes at a price - he makes a Faustian bargain with Pocket to acquire the novel, transmitted into his consciousness, and as he gets more desperate for additional books, he becomes more entangled in the dark business of Pocket's world.
This book is skillfully written; the narration style is arch and sardonic, though also vividly descriptive, frequently breaking out into inspired metaphors. When things take a decidedly darker turn in the second half of the novel, Peet manages to segue his narration into an uneasy, claustrophobic atmosphere - and I commend anyone who can make the vast expanse of the Himalayas seem cramped and terrifyingly hemmed-in. The parody of epic fantasy tropes, while more present in the first half of the novel, is amusing enough, although I've seen it done better by Diana Wynne Jones, who (unlike Peet) actually writes fantasy, in her books such as The Tough Guide to Fantasyland and Dark Lord of Derkholm.
The main failing of this book is the misanthropic contempt for humanity that is present in the narration. No one, from Philip to a community of Tibetan monks to the big cheeses of the publishing industry, is respite from scorn and disdain. I have happily read novels in which every character is unlikable, selfish, and not someone you would want to meet in real life, but the utter contempt for just about everyone in the book is a troubling undercurrent in this otherwise enjoyable satire. It gets particularly bad regarding the people of Devon, where Philip Murdstone lives in splendid isolation in a stone cottage on Dartmoor. I live in Devon myself (my town even got a mention in the book!), and I enjoyed the familiar names and places and feelings from the parts of the book set in Devon, including the hilarious scene in which the Tower Building of Exeter College, where I studied for two years, becomes the burning College of Thaumaturgy from the fantasy world Philip draws his books from. But the author seems to find the local people inherently stupid, small-minded, and worthy of derision. He writes out local accents and dialect phonetically, which almost never works in published fiction unless the author is someone like Irvine Welsh, and there is not an exception here in The Murdstone Trilogy. Every quirk of the local dialect is drawn out, exaggerated, and mispelled as though Devonians were speaking a foreign language. The neutral, RP-influenced Southern English of Philip Murdstone and his agent Miranda Cinch is, of course, left in correctly spelled English. But when it comes to the population of Flemworthy, Philip's adopted village, there is no such courtesy. Not only do they speak in phonetic dialect, but they are what Batman would refer to as a cowardly and superstitious lot. Late in the novel, Philip returns from several months of global travel to find that his fence is covered in various objects to ward off evil, including voodoo dolls, rosaries, and wooden crosses. They are, furthermore, so stupid that various characters cannot properly say "condensation" or "exorcism", the latter of which they demand the local priest perform on Philip's house. There is room for criticism and satire of rural England, but here, it is bitter enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth.
Having said that, The Murdstone Trilogy is an enjoyable read, and it's quick to plough through - I finished it in a few hours. The first half, at least, is a hilarious and sardonic take-down of contemporary epic fantasy - there's even an expy of Christopher Paolini - and anyone who has found themselves slogging through an uninspired Swords and Sorcery doorstopper will find some wry familiarity in it.
Tuesday, 21 April 2015
A Little Love, A Little Chaos
Today is my last day at home before I head back to university. The weather has continued throughout April - blue skies, sun, and heat every day. It hasn't rained for weeks. So yesterday was a good day to hang out with my best friend Danielle one final time, and we spent a lot of it down at the old bowling green (now essentially a park) in my town, with Coke and burgers and the sun. However, we also went to see A Little Chaos, because Danielle has an enormous crush on Alan Rickman, so I might as well write about it.
As far as period dramas go, I've seen better. I feel like something set at the French court should have been more unashamedly sleazy; a lot of pro reviewers have called A Little Chaos too sedate for the setting it's portraying, and I'd agree with that. It's also much too slow, with a beginning that goes on for ever (we know Le Notre is going to hire Sabine de Barra to do the landscape feature in Versailles, it really doesn't need to be dragged out) and a middle that could have been cut down a bit. It's not bloated so much as slow, which is at least something, because I still get angry sometimes about all the pointless, pointless filler in the Hobbit films.
There are lots of things that worked for me, though. Kate Winslet is wonderful as the widowed gardener Sabine de Barra. This film has a good cast in general, although I retain a special fondness for Stanley Tucci's flamboyant bisexual dandy, and Jennifer Ehle was enjoyable as his good-natured wife. The music was good, too - I'm tempted to get the soundtrack, which was just right for this film and really elevated some of the scenes. In terms of the plot, while I criticise the beginning and a lot of the middle, the last half hour was worth the price of admission alone. There's an absolutely marvellous scene when de Barra arrives at the court in Fontainebleau and she ends up being taken to a "secret space" where the women of the court gather; a few of them are familiar faces, such as Jennifer Ehle's character, but most are not. One of the women asks her about her marital status and she says she's widowed and had one child (who is dead now). It's something that's been hinted throughout the film, and we'll hear the full story later, because de Barra can't bear to tell it now - it's too painful. But that's OK - as we go round the circle of women, a lot of them admit that they've lost children (and a few husbands as well), and they're happy to say it out loud even though "the King doesn't allow death to be spoken of at court" (I have no idea if that's the actual line, but it's something like that). They reassure her that even though she might not be able to talk about it yet, some day she'll find the strength. It's an incredible, emotional scene that makes you feel it without being exploitative.
Anyway, it's not my favourite film but it was overall fun to watch, and what it lacked in plot and setting-appropriate sleaze it made up for in great acting, fun characters, and some genuinely touching scenes. Sadly I have no screencaps, because the costumes in this film were to die for.
As far as period dramas go, I've seen better. I feel like something set at the French court should have been more unashamedly sleazy; a lot of pro reviewers have called A Little Chaos too sedate for the setting it's portraying, and I'd agree with that. It's also much too slow, with a beginning that goes on for ever (we know Le Notre is going to hire Sabine de Barra to do the landscape feature in Versailles, it really doesn't need to be dragged out) and a middle that could have been cut down a bit. It's not bloated so much as slow, which is at least something, because I still get angry sometimes about all the pointless, pointless filler in the Hobbit films.
There are lots of things that worked for me, though. Kate Winslet is wonderful as the widowed gardener Sabine de Barra. This film has a good cast in general, although I retain a special fondness for Stanley Tucci's flamboyant bisexual dandy, and Jennifer Ehle was enjoyable as his good-natured wife. The music was good, too - I'm tempted to get the soundtrack, which was just right for this film and really elevated some of the scenes. In terms of the plot, while I criticise the beginning and a lot of the middle, the last half hour was worth the price of admission alone. There's an absolutely marvellous scene when de Barra arrives at the court in Fontainebleau and she ends up being taken to a "secret space" where the women of the court gather; a few of them are familiar faces, such as Jennifer Ehle's character, but most are not. One of the women asks her about her marital status and she says she's widowed and had one child (who is dead now). It's something that's been hinted throughout the film, and we'll hear the full story later, because de Barra can't bear to tell it now - it's too painful. But that's OK - as we go round the circle of women, a lot of them admit that they've lost children (and a few husbands as well), and they're happy to say it out loud even though "the King doesn't allow death to be spoken of at court" (I have no idea if that's the actual line, but it's something like that). They reassure her that even though she might not be able to talk about it yet, some day she'll find the strength. It's an incredible, emotional scene that makes you feel it without being exploitative.
Anyway, it's not my favourite film but it was overall fun to watch, and what it lacked in plot and setting-appropriate sleaze it made up for in great acting, fun characters, and some genuinely touching scenes. Sadly I have no screencaps, because the costumes in this film were to die for.
Sunday, 15 March 2015
Review | Ko To Tamo Peva
Down a dirt track that winds across the rolling green fields, under a chalky blue-and-grey sky, a dilapidated pink van rattles along, accompanied by a jaunty tune. Inside, several mismatched passengers are eager to reach Belgrade, even if it means travelling in a falling-down bus driven by a reckless young man who is perfectly willing to drive blindfolded to prove that he's as good a driver as he claims.
It's April 1941, and as the opening frames say, the scene is "somewhere in Serbia". The fact that the country is facing imminent German invasion is obvious, as complaints about the army appear in one of the very first scenes, where a motley group of travellers stand by the side of a field track waiting for the bus. Ko to tamo peva (released in English as Who's Singin' Over There?) is undeniably a WWII film - but it's also hysterically funny. The long, rickety, trying journey from rural Serbia to Belgrade is marked by many obstacles, including a broken bridge, an obstinate farmer who has ploughed over the road and insists on a payment of 100 dinars before he lets them pass, a funeral, and the driver's recruitment into the army.
The disastrous and chaotic journey is all in the name of comedy: the owner of the bus, Krstić, refuses to let a passenger on because "the stop is 200m downhill", despite the fact that they're driving in a wasteland with no sign of life anywhere; during a funeral the young married couple sneak off to the woods, and end up being spied on by the rest of the passengers, who only realise when a consumptive passenger's hacking cough becomes too loud to hide; the pompous Germanophile falls off a bridge and seemingly drowns, only to reappear some time (and several kilometres) later, and having stripped off his sodden overclothes, ends up chasing a hare across a field in his underwear.
This film is an absurd comedy in the best possible way, bringing together a very disparate group of people and seeing just how ridiculous their situation can get, in a sort of demented roadtrip movie. While these people are in a Europe that is being swallowed up by Nazi forces - indeed, the Nazi invasion of Belgrade ends the film - most of their concerns are far more pedestrian. The moustachioed singer wants to get to Belgrade in time for his audition, and later on makes it his mission to seduce the young bride away from her incompetent husband. The bride, for her part, dreams of going to the sea, although her husband seems far less enthusiastic. The old veteran, who considers his war history to be a source of great pride, wants to see his son, who has joined the Artillery, again. The oncoming war is a shadow over the whole film, but it is not the be all and end all; these people don't live in constant fear, and mostly just want to get on with their lives. It's a refreshing change from the sort of unrelenting grimness that permeates many American WWII films, and a reminder that just because something is set during a war, doesn't mean the war is all there is.
Ko to tamo peva is considered a classic in the ex-Yugoslavia, and one of the most quotable films to come out of the Balkans. It's not an undeserved title; this film is utterly hilarious, with many brilliant lines as well as physical comedy. Eastern European cinema is frequently associated in the West with depressing realist films that make quite sure to hammer home how much of a forsaken slump life is east of the former Iron Curtain. It's hard to get a balanced picture of Eastern European cinema when most of what gets released in the West tries to be relevant - which of course means bleak and miserable. But this 1980 Yugoslav film is brilliantly, absurdly funny, and an excellent antidote to the stereotype of Eastern European cinema in the West.
If you want to watch Ko to tamo peva, you can do so here, with English subtitles:
Ko to tamo peva
It's April 1941, and as the opening frames say, the scene is "somewhere in Serbia". The fact that the country is facing imminent German invasion is obvious, as complaints about the army appear in one of the very first scenes, where a motley group of travellers stand by the side of a field track waiting for the bus. Ko to tamo peva (released in English as Who's Singin' Over There?) is undeniably a WWII film - but it's also hysterically funny. The long, rickety, trying journey from rural Serbia to Belgrade is marked by many obstacles, including a broken bridge, an obstinate farmer who has ploughed over the road and insists on a payment of 100 dinars before he lets them pass, a funeral, and the driver's recruitment into the army.
The disastrous and chaotic journey is all in the name of comedy: the owner of the bus, Krstić, refuses to let a passenger on because "the stop is 200m downhill", despite the fact that they're driving in a wasteland with no sign of life anywhere; during a funeral the young married couple sneak off to the woods, and end up being spied on by the rest of the passengers, who only realise when a consumptive passenger's hacking cough becomes too loud to hide; the pompous Germanophile falls off a bridge and seemingly drowns, only to reappear some time (and several kilometres) later, and having stripped off his sodden overclothes, ends up chasing a hare across a field in his underwear.
This film is an absurd comedy in the best possible way, bringing together a very disparate group of people and seeing just how ridiculous their situation can get, in a sort of demented roadtrip movie. While these people are in a Europe that is being swallowed up by Nazi forces - indeed, the Nazi invasion of Belgrade ends the film - most of their concerns are far more pedestrian. The moustachioed singer wants to get to Belgrade in time for his audition, and later on makes it his mission to seduce the young bride away from her incompetent husband. The bride, for her part, dreams of going to the sea, although her husband seems far less enthusiastic. The old veteran, who considers his war history to be a source of great pride, wants to see his son, who has joined the Artillery, again. The oncoming war is a shadow over the whole film, but it is not the be all and end all; these people don't live in constant fear, and mostly just want to get on with their lives. It's a refreshing change from the sort of unrelenting grimness that permeates many American WWII films, and a reminder that just because something is set during a war, doesn't mean the war is all there is.
Ko to tamo peva is considered a classic in the ex-Yugoslavia, and one of the most quotable films to come out of the Balkans. It's not an undeserved title; this film is utterly hilarious, with many brilliant lines as well as physical comedy. Eastern European cinema is frequently associated in the West with depressing realist films that make quite sure to hammer home how much of a forsaken slump life is east of the former Iron Curtain. It's hard to get a balanced picture of Eastern European cinema when most of what gets released in the West tries to be relevant - which of course means bleak and miserable. But this 1980 Yugoslav film is brilliantly, absurdly funny, and an excellent antidote to the stereotype of Eastern European cinema in the West.
If you want to watch Ko to tamo peva, you can do so here, with English subtitles:
Ko to tamo peva
Thursday, 27 November 2014
Recent Purchases
I have been spending far too much money this term. But mostly on pretty nice things, so I'll flash-review them all.
Too Faced Shadow Insurance Eye Primer (£17)
I have very, very oily eyelids. I'm not talking just a little bit of shine, we're getting into 'I could harvest this and sell it' territory. Consequently, any eyeshadow I put on my eyelids creases within about half an hour, and for the rest of the day I have deeply attractive murky lines all over my eyelids, not to mention the charming way my eyeliner slides down my face and ends up under my eyes rather than along my upper lashline. Anyway, my point is, I am one of those people who desperately need eyeshadow primer to look even vaguely put together. I picked up the Too Faced primer mostly because it was there, and the packaging was really nice. I am very superficial when it comes to beauty products. Anyway, having purchased it, it seemed to do OK on small amounts of matte eyeshadow and not all that much for shimmery or glittery eyeshadow, until I wondered whether I wasn't waiting long enough for it to dry before I started slapping on the eyeshadow. So, for once, I was patient and waited until the primer seemed well and truly dry before I put the eyeshadow on. Result!
Urban Decay Vice3 Eyeshadow Palette (£42)
UD eyeshadows are raved about up and down the internet, which was pretty much my whole impetus for buying this palette. I don't care about neutral eyeshadows so I ignored the possibility of getting a Naked palette, and I went for the Vice one since it has some very nice jewel shades in it, and also offered the most value for money. Seriously, £42 for 20 shadows? That's good! Having said that... These shadows are nice. But they haven't changed my life in the way that many beauty bloggers assured me they would. They're also massively prone to fallout, so I end up having to make up my eyes before my face to cover up stray eyeshadow powder. Also, you need a fair amount of product to get a good colour. Considering UD's reputation for wild, bright colours, I'm not sure why they made a palette where the shadows come out so dull. My Body Shop eyeshadows are brighter than these. I don't get it. So overall, it's OK and I have a nice range of colours, but I wouldn't buy another one. Maybe I'm using it wrong, I don't know, I wear makeup but I'm not very good at it.
The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde (£8.99)
I really like this book. The worldbuilding is incredibly intriguing and delightful - people commit crimes with a literary basis, Britain is still at war with Russia in the Crimea (I realise this was published way before the Ukraine crisis, but reading it now - ouch); it's a really interesting world which I definitely want to find out more about. Lucky for me, there are several more books in the series!
M&S Black Faux Fur Snood (£13.49)
I love this. I bought it on eBay and thank god for that - if I'd bought it new it would have set me back at least £30. I could probably have got a similar one for cheaper, but I don't care because this is amazing. It's very cold here in Oxford, and this snood is perfect for that. It's so big and furry it feels like wearing a hug, quite honestly, and it sits nicely to warm my neck, parts of my lower face, shoulders, and chest. Initially I thought it was way too bulky, but having got used to it I think it's perfect. Also now I'm another item closer to being able to stealth cosplay Anna Karenina.
Accessorize Plain Capped Gloves (£10)
It was cold and I needed gloves. These are good for wearing when I'm on my bike, since I obviously need more freedom of movement when I'm cycling, but they're not so warm when I'm just walking around. If it gets much colder I'll need to take my Latvian mittens with me in my bag and wear them in the city centre. Other than that, I don't have much to say about these gloves. They do what I want them to. That's about all I can say.
MAC Lipstick in Russian Red (£15.50)
Another excellent buy. This is my first MAC lipstick, bought because I was missing a good red lipstick in my life (despite how many of these products are makeup, believe me when I say I don't actually wear makeup that often...) and has now stolen my heart. It wears so well; the first time I wore it it lasted through two meals and only disappeared after I'd sunk around eight glasses of wine. A lot of people complain that MAC's matte lipsticks like these are too drying, and I sort of agree, but as long as I wear lip balm underneath I'm usually fine. I do get highly unattractive traces of lipstick in the dead skin on my lips, though. Classy, huh?
Pia Molten Drops Silver Earrings (£10)
This is my first piece (or, pieces) of Pia jewellery! I was in their shop in Oxford browsing and these earrings were way too pretty not to buy. They are my new favourite pair of earrings; I love the design, and how bright the silver is, and being able to fiddle with them (I'm a chronic jewellery fiddler; I could sit here fiddling with my nose ring for hours). They're lovely for everyday wear or giving some elegance to an evening outfit.
That's about it, I think, other than a few items like replacements and makeup removers, about which I could say exactly nothing that wasn't, "This is a makeup remover. It removes your makeup."
Too Faced Shadow Insurance Eye Primer (£17)
I have very, very oily eyelids. I'm not talking just a little bit of shine, we're getting into 'I could harvest this and sell it' territory. Consequently, any eyeshadow I put on my eyelids creases within about half an hour, and for the rest of the day I have deeply attractive murky lines all over my eyelids, not to mention the charming way my eyeliner slides down my face and ends up under my eyes rather than along my upper lashline. Anyway, my point is, I am one of those people who desperately need eyeshadow primer to look even vaguely put together. I picked up the Too Faced primer mostly because it was there, and the packaging was really nice. I am very superficial when it comes to beauty products. Anyway, having purchased it, it seemed to do OK on small amounts of matte eyeshadow and not all that much for shimmery or glittery eyeshadow, until I wondered whether I wasn't waiting long enough for it to dry before I started slapping on the eyeshadow. So, for once, I was patient and waited until the primer seemed well and truly dry before I put the eyeshadow on. Result!
Urban Decay Vice3 Eyeshadow Palette (£42)
UD eyeshadows are raved about up and down the internet, which was pretty much my whole impetus for buying this palette. I don't care about neutral eyeshadows so I ignored the possibility of getting a Naked palette, and I went for the Vice one since it has some very nice jewel shades in it, and also offered the most value for money. Seriously, £42 for 20 shadows? That's good! Having said that... These shadows are nice. But they haven't changed my life in the way that many beauty bloggers assured me they would. They're also massively prone to fallout, so I end up having to make up my eyes before my face to cover up stray eyeshadow powder. Also, you need a fair amount of product to get a good colour. Considering UD's reputation for wild, bright colours, I'm not sure why they made a palette where the shadows come out so dull. My Body Shop eyeshadows are brighter than these. I don't get it. So overall, it's OK and I have a nice range of colours, but I wouldn't buy another one. Maybe I'm using it wrong, I don't know, I wear makeup but I'm not very good at it.
The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde (£8.99)
I really like this book. The worldbuilding is incredibly intriguing and delightful - people commit crimes with a literary basis, Britain is still at war with Russia in the Crimea (I realise this was published way before the Ukraine crisis, but reading it now - ouch); it's a really interesting world which I definitely want to find out more about. Lucky for me, there are several more books in the series!
M&S Black Faux Fur Snood (£13.49)
I love this. I bought it on eBay and thank god for that - if I'd bought it new it would have set me back at least £30. I could probably have got a similar one for cheaper, but I don't care because this is amazing. It's very cold here in Oxford, and this snood is perfect for that. It's so big and furry it feels like wearing a hug, quite honestly, and it sits nicely to warm my neck, parts of my lower face, shoulders, and chest. Initially I thought it was way too bulky, but having got used to it I think it's perfect. Also now I'm another item closer to being able to stealth cosplay Anna Karenina.
Accessorize Plain Capped Gloves (£10)
It was cold and I needed gloves. These are good for wearing when I'm on my bike, since I obviously need more freedom of movement when I'm cycling, but they're not so warm when I'm just walking around. If it gets much colder I'll need to take my Latvian mittens with me in my bag and wear them in the city centre. Other than that, I don't have much to say about these gloves. They do what I want them to. That's about all I can say.
MAC Lipstick in Russian Red (£15.50)
Another excellent buy. This is my first MAC lipstick, bought because I was missing a good red lipstick in my life (despite how many of these products are makeup, believe me when I say I don't actually wear makeup that often...) and has now stolen my heart. It wears so well; the first time I wore it it lasted through two meals and only disappeared after I'd sunk around eight glasses of wine. A lot of people complain that MAC's matte lipsticks like these are too drying, and I sort of agree, but as long as I wear lip balm underneath I'm usually fine. I do get highly unattractive traces of lipstick in the dead skin on my lips, though. Classy, huh?
Pia Molten Drops Silver Earrings (£10)
This is my first piece (or, pieces) of Pia jewellery! I was in their shop in Oxford browsing and these earrings were way too pretty not to buy. They are my new favourite pair of earrings; I love the design, and how bright the silver is, and being able to fiddle with them (I'm a chronic jewellery fiddler; I could sit here fiddling with my nose ring for hours). They're lovely for everyday wear or giving some elegance to an evening outfit.
That's about it, I think, other than a few items like replacements and makeup removers, about which I could say exactly nothing that wasn't, "This is a makeup remover. It removes your makeup."
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