Spring Extracts.

May —

Attachments |  Rainbow Rowell

from the 'Annie Spence Recommends' list.
I liked it; it grew on me. And, importantly, the one-sided origin of the attachment was addressed outright, otherwise the snooping would've felt even more awkward. 

Lincoln still thought about Beth. All the time, at first.

He subscribed to the newspaper so that he could read her reviews at breakfast and again at lunch. He tried to figure out how she was doing through her writing. Did she seem happy? Was she being too hard on romantic comedies? Or too generous?

Reading her reviews kept his memory of her alive in a way he probably shouldn’t want. Like a pilot light inside of him. It made him make sometimes, when she was being especially funny or insightful, or when he could read past her words to something true that he knew about her. But the aching faded, too. Things get better — hurt less — over time. If you let them.  [339]

Rowell, Rainbow. Attachments. 
Orion Books: London, 2012

 _____________

February —

My Name Is Lucy Barton|  Elizabeth Strout

This, I read after talk of a staging so I thought I'd best acquaint myself with the text.

It was ... okay. 
In a nutshell, the quote below encapsulates the shifting narrator that put me in mind of Ishiguro. Strout's fragmentary style and narration meant I didn't warm to the childlike Lucy.  

I am still not sure it’s a true memory, except I do know it, I think.
I mean: It is true. Ask anyone who knew us.  [119]

I began to feel like the novel had hit its stride in the plot around the workshop with Sarah Payne. A shift came in the storytelling with the directive: 'go to the page'  being followed through & a declaration now of 'abuse', putting a wholly different slant on the childhood detailed thus far [120 / 135].

Other elements recalled Plath's Esther Greenwood: 
the clinical recovery setting post-breakdown; talk of trash & awards  [112]. 

______

... as though they were silently saying You are not one of us, as though I had betrayed them by leaving them. I suppose I had.  [162]

Strout, Elizabeth. My Name Is Lucy Barton
Penguin | Random House: London, 2016.

About a book

"Marcus was right, of course, but being right was no use if the rest of the world was wrong"

Oh how many teenagers end up in that special place, which society forces you to leave if you don't want to end up an outcast! Watching Skins on E4 last night - coincidentally starring Nicholas Hoult, who also played Marcus in the film version of About a Boy - I couldn't help but think of my teenage years, when anything seemed possible as long as your parents didn't know about it.

I only got cautioned once in secondary school. We were in our maths class - typical - and the window was open. A wasp flew in and thanks to some genetic fault from the paternal side of our family, I jumped up and squealed like a pig. No wonder me and my classmate next to me ended up laughing, but our teacher wasn't too amused. An argument with the head teacher didn't prove very fruitful, and we ended up having to clean the back steps of the school.

It was my first experience of the cruelty and immobility of society, and Nick Hornby can tell us a lot more in his classic About a Boy. Before I force myself to steer clear from it, let me immediately compare it to the film: there is no notice of Hugh Grant in the book. Although Marcus and his mom are rather similar in both media, the character of Will is more of a boy in the book, and more of a snob in the film. There are several plotlines which I don't remember from the film, and which are definitely worth reading. I'd like to see the film as a welcome addition to the story of Marcus' life, rather than a perfect rendition of the book.

The book is actually about two boys, Will and Marcus, both convinced the world is an odd place that should be avoided at all cost. They end up forming a somewhat surrogate father-son relationship, and help each other become part of society - though Marcus' help is unintentional.

Nick Hornby achieved two impressive feats in this novel. Contrary to High Fidelity, it doesn't need numerous references to pop culture to be a sign of the times yet timeless. Of course, the references are still there, but since the main characters don't own any record stores, the references are attributive rather than scene setting. The second achievement concerns the most obvious pop reference: the death of Kurt Cobain. The miracle here is that the death - possibly the most significant event in the 90s history of pop - doesn't lead to a soppy teen drama story, yet it plays an integral in the plot evolution.

Finally, the book is incredibly funny, especially towards the end. Where the film remains sweet - though never too sweet - and mainly is a Hugh Grant vehicle, the novel involves a natural transformation of both Will and Marcus. Both boys form a successful double act, making me laugh with their sarcasm - again unintended in Marcus' case. About a Boy is definitely not the best book I've ever read, but it must be one of the most amusing ones.

Plot: ****
Fun: *****
Novelty: ***
Overall: ****