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Books

Reg Dwight Vamps It Up!

Ah. So Elton John is making Anne Rice’s Vampire Lestat into a Broadway musical. Almost nothing Mr. Dwight does these days sparks my interest, but this sounds particularly dreadful. At least he isn’t taking the lead role himself. That would require an extra five or six vertical inches, major liposuction and weight-training, plus a different species of cranium-hugging beastie. (Then again, the vertical discrepancy didn’t stand in Tom Cruise’s way…)
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Looking for Stephen King?

Current reading = old reading I never quite made. Mom bought me Stephen King’s Bag of Bones in hardcover back in Christmas ’98. I’m not sure why I never read the thing. I dug it out a few nights ago and when mom saw it she remembered she’d bought it from Asda—where it had been proudly displayed on a stand that proclaimed it King’s Latest (which, at the time, it was).

I’m just over halfway through, and I can say that I’d deprived myself! It’s a really great book. Not very fast-moving, really, but rich in character with lots of intriguing detail. For another opinion, read Kevin Quigley’s review. I’m giving it a big thumb’s-up (of course, if the ending disappoints me, I might go back on this).
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Favourite Fiction

Yep, another top ten. Which I might have posted earlier, but I had something to do (more later), plus I didn’t finish writing the list out until around noon. And so:

TOP TEN BOOKS (fiction)

01. The Complete Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle, 1887-1927) Fiction’s greatest detective. Over a span of 56 short stories and four novels, the quality is a mixed bag—the worst can be quite dull, the best simply magnificent. Almost all of them have great moments. Doyle was the reluctant creator of a true legend.

Favourite Fiction
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Bombing for Freedom

Today’s war news: the coalition aces have bombed Mansour, because Saddam ‘might’ have been there, and blitzed the Palestine Hotel where numerous journalists were based. We don’t know if they got Saddam or not, of course, but we do know they blasted another bunch of civilians (you know, the ones they’re ‘liberating’) into the next world based on their so-called ‘intelligence.’

I’ve said it before: I just want it to end…
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Christmas Entertainment

No updates over Christmas period. I couldn’t be arsed. Actually, I have (yet again) been wondering what purpose this Web site serves at all, and I’m lost for answers. It is something to do when all else fails, yes. I enjoy fiddling with it sometimes. But it doesn’t really say much or do much. It’s just there. Hmmm.

Christmas was quite boring. The television was generally rubbish, so no surprises there. The Only Fools and Horses special was pretty good—somewhat better than last year’s weak effort, anyhow. I OD’d on the soaps a bit, and they were, uh, full of shocks… Jamie died in EastEnders (wow, big surprise), Ray was the stalker in Emmerdale (wow, even bigger surprise), and Richard didn’t kill anyone in Corry (actually, that was a surprise).

The Hound of the Baskervilles film (mentioned here) was fairly good. It wasn’t quite as faithful to the original as had been implied, but I did like it. Although, Richard E. Grant being in it (as Stapleton) made me realise what an absolutely perfect Sherlock Holmes he’d make. Richard Roxburgh’s Holmes was okay, but Grant could have been genuinely great. A missed opportunity.
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Retail Therapy

Today, being out shopping (for food, not pleasure, alas), I passed a book store and I of course succumbed. Some people buy shoes; some people can’t pass a novelty shop without buying some little cuddly toy; but me, I guess it’s books. It used to be comics more than books, but books are better value for money these days, and comics don’t have many Jack Kirbys out there anymore. (*sigh* I might get nostalgic.)

It was a close one. This store had several copies of Stephen King’s Cycle of the Werewolf, with wonderful illustrations by Bernie Wrightson. I wanted this so much when I heard about it maybe 17 years ago, but amazingly, I have never seen it for sale anywhere. I didn’t even know it was still in print. Anyway, that’s earmarked for purchase v.v. soon. I passed it today.
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The Big Sleep (1939)

I’ve written a few book reviews recently. Here’s one of them:

The Big Sleep (1939)
by Raymond Chandler

This was Raymond Chandler’s first of seven novels, written at the not inconsiderable age of fifty. It introduces the famous PI Philip Marlowe, a character whose virtual twin, Carmady, had appeared previously in a number of Chandler’s short stories.

The Big Sleep (1939)

Chandler has somehow come to embody the genre of hard-boiled detective fiction, although he didn’t (as some people seem to believe) create it. His critical stock, as far as such things are meaningful, has climbed steeply over the years, whereas many of his peers remain in relative obscurity. The Big Sleep is arguably his finest hour, and does much to explain why his work is so highly regarded.
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Creativity Redux

More on creative stuff (see May 26th). It’s hard to express my feelings on it, since they’re so changeable. But I think the basic thrust is that when I try to pressure myself into writing with the purpose of making money in mind, the enjoyment factor does drain away, completely… so that it’s no longer so easy for me to see how I feel about it at all… the money thing confuses the issue, confuses my feelings, and compounds my cynicism about the whole thing, not to mention my sense of being a failure.

*sigh* I think it’s far too complicated to unravel properly, to be honest.

Whatever the case, I seem to be not even trying at the moment. Maybe something will come to me, maybe it won’t. But I reckon I should let it come naturally.
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Uninspired

I have been doing a bit more writing, but it’s in small bursts. I revised a story I wrote about a year ago, and I have four other new items in various stages of not being complete. I think I’d feel a lot more inspired if I felt better generally… but at least what I have written seems to be less crippled with infantile mannerisms than it used to be. I might even get a bit of self-belief back eventually.
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