Best of the year, with salt.

Sara Crowley7 Comments

MUSIC/SINGER/WOMAN/VOICE/BAND/ALBUM OF THE YEAR.

Without question (Beth Ditto)/Gossip for “Standing in the way of control”.
What an awesome voice. Strong, clear, gorgeous. And she’s a gloriously fat, feisty beauty. The whole sound is stripped down, bare of frills and unnecessary twiddles. The songs all have unbelievable hooks and a sing-a-longa quality too. One track even has anthemic pauses for one to clap along with! Perfect.

Oh yeah, thanks Matt!

BOOK OF THE YEAR.

This is difficult. There have been books that I have really enjoyed reading this year, but I honestly can’t think of one that outshone the rest. There are 4 books that I eagerly waited for so I’ll list them instead;

Helen Simpson “Constitutional”
Derren Brown “Tricks of the mind.”
Courtney Love “Dirty Blonde.”
Yehuda Koren, Eilat Negev “A lover of unreason.”

I have yet to read the Derren Brown one, having received it for Christmas, but it looks fascinating. Helen Simpson I have raved about previously. Courtney’s book is an arty scrap book of jottings and pics. It is a fan girl buy as opposed to a biography in which one will learn anything. I will attempt a review of the Assia Wevill bio soon.

TELEVISION OF THE YEAR.

Soprano’s.
Ace as a very ace thing. From the opening episode I was, cliche style, sat on the edge of my seat. I can’t wait for the next batch of this last ever series, but I want it to go on forever. Christopher Moltisanti remains my telly crush, I mean who wouldn’t go all wibbly at the sight of a crack addicted murdering misogynistic alpha male like Chris?

Veronica Mars.
I was delighted to be advised to watch this by the very fab team over at http://lowculture.proboards34.com/index.cgi? They said it would be gripping and it was. Teen snappy wise cracker Veronica assists her private eye dad solve the many layered mysteries in her home town. It rocks.

Neighbours.
Always Neighbours. It’s my safe place, my chill out and mellow zone. With added morality tale too!

POET OF THE YEAR.

Les Murray has published “The Biplane houses” this year. It is astonishing, simple, truthful and wondrous.

FOOD OF THE YEAR.

Marzipan has made a comeback for me. Having not eaten much of it for a few years I have rediscovered the almondy squishy joy of it.

Toast is always great, usually I have it with marmite.

CUSTOMER OF THE YEAR.

I am going to award this prestigious accolade to the man who on the 23rd December (ie/ the frantic busy Saturday just before Christmas) pointed out that the book he was buying said “£6.99 in the UK only” on the back.
Our exchange went something like this;
“Yes, that’s the price.”
“But it says in the UK only?”
“Yes?”
“So what happens when I take it to the States? Will they confiscate it?”
“…Erm…no.”
“They confiscate all sorts though, food, drugs, liquids.”
“It’s just a book, it refers to the price that you have to pay here when you buy it. It won’t affect anything in the U.S.”
“ARE YOU SURE? IS THAT FACT OR JUST YOUR OPINION?”
“Fact. I think…” goes red and feels a bit strange and unsure.
“Ahh, thanks for your help.”
“K, Bye.”
AAARRRGGGHH etcetera.

That’s all folks…

I wish you a new year full of love, light and happiness.

Helen Simpson makes me cry!

Sara Crowley1 Comment

Yesterday was a busy blur of a day. I had to get up as if it were a school day despite it being the first day of the Christmas holidays. We stuck to our routine and were out of the house by 8.30 to catch the one bus an hour to take us to hospital. The bus jolted and bumped us around several villages, turning what can be a 15 minute car trip into an hour and 10 minutes. I dropped the boys off at their O/T arts and crafts group and went into town. It was a freezing day, and I felt ill. I am on antibiotics for a chest infection, and have other tedious health issues too. There was no point going home, it’d have taken too long, so I pottered around the shops. I tried on various unflattering garments, bought some last minute Christmas bits and bobs and generally tried to waste time not money.

In Boots my vision became blurred and gold ribbons seemed to streak across my eyes. When I looked at the words on products I lost the first half of them. This has happened before, I think it’s an eye migraine or something. I felt sick and exhausted. I went into a cafe and ordered some toast and a bottle of water so that I could swallow my tablets. It was noisy in there, and smelly. Fried food lingering in the air made me feel queasy. I sat at the only available table, squished into the wall with a branch from an artificial Christmas tree prickling my head. I pulled out my book; Helen Simpson “Constitutional”. I have read the stories before at work as I couldn’t wait. Now my friend has sent me the paperback for Christmas and I slung it into my bag because it is lighter to carry around than the hardback I am currently reading. I opened it to a story called “Early in the morning.” and read. It is a small tale about the car journey to and from school that a mother makes with her son and yet it encompasses so much; marriage, love, mothering, what it is to be a woman, disappointments and desires, and it opens up and out and becomes enormous. Sitting in the stuffy cafe, chomping on food that I didn’t want, I blocked out the world, and really immersed myself in her words. I even got tears in my eyes at the end of the story.

She is an amazing writer who translates the passion, needs and hope beneath the mundane. These are stories of life and death and much of the in between bits too!

http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=3779244

The only negative I have to say is that I don’t think these stories blew me away in quite the same way that “Hey yeah right get a life” did. If you are coming to her work fresh I have to recommend them over this latest collection.

http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=5459083

Teeny weeny fiction.

Sara Crowley3 Comments

There’s a great competition at DBA Lehane’s site;

http://shortshortfiction.blogspot.com/2006/11/short-short-short-short-short-short.html

The challenge is to write a complete short story in just 6 words. As someone who has been struggling to flesh out my stories it is really good fun to try and pare it down this much. It is inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s story “For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.” which succeeds astonishingly well.
Only one entry per person allowed, I have emailed mine which is a very obvious one, but once it popped into my head I could think of no better.

Arse.

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Got nowhere in the Cadenza competition. Fuck. I thought my entry was strong. I am baffled sometimes, last time I made the short list with an old story that I thought good but not great, so this time I entered a new piece that I considered much better. Fuck. Maybe I have lost my way. Perhaps I can’t tell if I am writing well or not.

Rejections (a pep talk from me to me).

Sara Crowley2 Comments

Last week I heard back from Mslexia that my submission had not been picked, however it had made the short list of 60 that then had to be cut to 15 by the guest editor. I am trying to take that as a positive, but it’s hard. I am rubbish at submissions; lazy and very blah about it. Too precious as well, easily hurt by not being thought good enough. I always think of Sylvia Plath and her relentless sending out of her and Ted Hughes’ work, and vow that I will do the same and constantly resend stuff. In fact Mslexia rejected the first story that Pulp Net published of mine, and a piece that was long-listed for the Douglas Coupland comp went on to get 2nd place at Kate Mosse’s site. So I should keep going. OK. Fine.

Ho ho ho.

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Christmas in the bookshop, ooh what larks. Trolleys heaving with yet more stock, Dr Who mugs and gizmo’s bleeping and whirring, piles of gift sets to stack somewhere, and customers, blooming hundreds of them.
This was the weekend after the work “Do” so most staff muttered apologies about being shit faced or denied any memory of the event at all. The uber bookish management colleague who transformed herself from nerd to shouty slut in the manner of a filmic librarian taking off her glasses and unpinning her hair was the funniest. She asked if I could remember much and I replied that yes, I am blessed with total recall and then watched her squirm. Not only was she flirtatious to the point of sexual harassment, she was also incredibly rude about some of our colleagues. This coupled with her heckling and dictatorial approach to a Christmas Party has made her the talk of the store. Ho hum.

CUSTOMERS

A woman asked a colleague for a book on camp-fire cookery. My colleague was chuffed to recall just such a book, and quickly plucked “Campfire cookery” from the shelf.
“No,” said the woman “That’s not the sort of thing I’m after.”

A man asked me for suggestions for his eight year old niece. (My bright red top emblazoned with an invitation to ask me to help you choose a perfect present is working a treat.) He wondered if Harry Potter was suitable. I explained that the writing is a bit dense and that eight year old readers could manage the words but would perhaps struggle with the amount per page and the tiny text. I do know a bit about eight year olds as I have two of them myself and have spent a year teaching 2 classes of eight year olds how to read plus of course I have, 7 years experience selling books. I offered him 10 alternative titles which he exclaimed happily about before, yup, buying Harry P and only Harry P. Le sigh.

I did have the perfect customer though who asked for contemporary literary recommendations and bought all that I suggested. Jeez I felt triumphant.

To any of you who are pondering a gift for a friend or lover I must recommend once again Andrew Kaufman’s “All my friends are superheroes”…seriously you can’t go wrong with it.
http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=5002543

Books

Sara Crowley2 Comments

I just finished Curtis Sittenfeld’s follow up to Prep. It is called “The man of my dreams” which I think is an appalling title, and the jacket cover pictures a frog with a crown on. Blerch. I wouldn’t usually touch such a book, but knowing how astonishingly good her debut was I was full of gleeful anticipation.
Oh. It is rubbish. How sad. I know that she is a very talented author, she has to be to have written Prep, but this is mulch, it’s a nothingy story with none of the wry observations that made Prep such a thrill.

My newest book is Courtney Love’s “Dirty Blonde.” I am sceptical that these really are notes and scribbled bits of this and that, kept for years and unearthed now, but it’s so gorgeously arranged I don’t really care. It’s a beautiful book, very enticing. My lovely colleague Kate went to the book signing in Piccadilly (as did Mr Bookseller to the Stars), and got the book signed to me. Yay! Courtney did the anarchy sign on the last A of my name which I think very old school punk and sweet.

Fuck! Have just seen that it’s now half price…
http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=5004467
How can you resist?

She does seem to polarise opinion tho’, so many people have said disparaging things about Ms Love to me. I honestly think she’s ace as a very ace thing, and I do resent the way that she (in her own words from the Jonathan Ross show)”…has been defined by her relationship to a man.” I am so sure that without Kurt we would still all know her name. So there. Plus, whoo, she full on rocks.

Bookseller confessional.

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A middle aged couple came to the counter with three books. They were all of the “How to pleasure your woman” variety. I scan and bag as professionally as always. It would be unseemly to allow even a flicker of acknowledgement to cross my face. I want people to feel comfortable buying whatever they want.

Don’t for one moment think that I haven’t noticed though, I notice every single title I sell. And yes, I do judge people on their purchases. It’s wrong, but I do it, and so do all the other book sellers I know.

When we put a Dan Brown in a bag, we pity you for your lack of taste. When the generic thug lite guys come in and buy their books on football hooliganism and gangster porn, we mock. When the spotty, greasy boys buy the 2nd part of some improbable futuristic trilogy we honestly don’t give a shit about it, but will smile politely as you bore away a few of our minutes raving about how great it is.

Please don’t recommend your favourites to me, I don’t care. If you want me to recommend to you I am happy to do so. I am never as pleased as when somebody asks my opinion, which I will always offer truthfully. So yeah, sorry to the guy who was rather surprised by my horror when he attempted to pick good quality fiction for young girls and I made him put back all the ones he had so far chosen. I am sure though that the titles he did purchase will be appreciated more. Just because a cover is pink and has a bit of glitter on does not mean that a girl will love it. Similarly putting a dragon or a football on the cover of a boys book does not guarantee enjoyment or quality.

I feel sorry for everyone who buys a self help book along the lines of “How to win the heart of that twunt.” I feel sad for anyone buying a book about dealing with a disease. I haven’t heard of most sports men and women, so sorry for the blank looks when asked for “…that book on Gary Tillitt, you know?” Nope, I don’t. Oh, he once played football for QPR in the seventies zzzzzzzzz.

I think that most people who buy true crime books are voyeuristic creeps. (Even though in the past I have read one or two and am exempt from the creep accusation, as is anyone I know and like.)

I like all poetry purchases, because I am delighted to see people pay for it. Yeah, keep poetry alive, I don’t judge at all. Although you would get 1,000 bonus points for buying any Les Murray.
I don’t judge music books either, for some reason I think everyone should like anything and that’s cool. But whoo, biography is a mine field.
Anyone who buys Kerry Katona/Fran Cosgrave/Chantelle etc…fuck right off please.

There’s loads more prejudice, but I don’t have the time right now…

Submissions and waiting and that sort of thing.

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I am trying to write something for a competition that has a deadline of the end of the month. I am not sure that I am even half way there. Sigh. I remember the good ol’ days when I actually had a stash of decent short stories to submit as and when.

I am waiting to see if I make the long list of the Cadenza competition. I entered last time and then forgot about my submission. I happened upon the results by googling my own name in an attempt to locate something else I had written and discovered I had gone from the long list to the shortlist, and then not made the final 5. It was painless. This time I keep anxiously checking for news, stupidly I don’t know when the results are meant to be announced.

Next year I am going to write my novel. I am. I will. Oh cripes.

Erasure by Percival Everett

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I bought this in one of Waterstone’s “buy this for 99p” offers. The hope, I assume, is that by selecting very good books and selling them ultra cheaply one will read author’s that one wouldn’t usually, and then be persuaded by the quality of the work to purchase more from that writer’s back catalogue.
Worked on me!
This book is fabulous. I am shit at book reviews (and everyone at work always says “But you write fiction, you should be great at doing them.” Not true, I am rubbish and repetitive. So apologies.) The story is (roughly) that of a black American author whose works are at the high end of the literary market and thus don’t sell. He works as a literary professor and seethes at the Oprah culture that he feels betrays his race by hawking ghetto tales of poor, violent, ignorant black people. When a novel written in ghetto slang becomes a best seller he writes his own parody entitled initially “My pafology” and then simply “Fuck.” This is included within the book “Erasure” alongside a story of family and death and the search to belong. It is funny, witty, clear and smart.
You should read it.