How do you choose?

I recently (well, in April) took part in World Book Night. The idea behind it is brilliant; try get people reading again. Thats basically it. Get people reading who don't normally read, or get avid readers to try something different.

I got picked to hand out 24 copies of Audrey Nifeneggers 'The Time Traveller's Wife' , which is a fantastic novel, and I surprised myself in having managed to give them all away within a couple of days.

Anyway, I received an email this week from the WBN people (thats what us cool kids call it) asking me to choose my top ten favourite books and send them the list. This is how they choose their books each year. Book fanatics such as myself send them our top tens, they then make a top 100 of the most titles that appear most often, and then whittle it down to 25. Tough job.

But it got me thinking, how do you choose ten? Just ten? Is it even possible? The first book that came to mind immediately was Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle. I read this last November and it took my breath away. I want to buy a hundred copies and pass them out to family, friends and even strangers just saying Please Read This! Davidson's first novel (that fact also blew me away! How?) is a compelling, if slightly skew-ways story of a man with no future, and a woman who gives him a past, and in doing so creates a new future for him. I guess thats the best way to describe it. It's gruesome to begin with and there were moments when I was almost closing the book, but I couldn't. The writing was so detailed that the story of a burn victim was painful to take, but the story was so engaging that I couldn't bear to put it down.

But what about books 2 through 10? How do I choose them?

My list so far is:

1 – Andrew Davidson – The Gargoyle

2 – Patrick Rothfuss – The Name Of The Wind

3 – Raymond E Feist – Fairie Tale

4 – Mitch Albom – Tuesdays With Morrie

5 – Jim Dodge – Fup

6 – Neil Gaiman – American Gods

7 – Mitch Albom – For One More Day
8 - Suzanne Collins - The Hunger Games

Two would have to be The Name Of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Again, a first novel. (And again, How?) Never before have I waited so long for a man as I have done for Kvothe. I read The Name Of The Wind four years ago, and the second book in the trilogy was only released last March. Three years waiting nearly drove me mad. But the second installment was just as fantastic as the first. The story centres around the life and trials of one young Kvothe, a student of a university with a difference. It's hard to describe, but trust me, if you like your fantasy novels, try Rothfuss on for size.

Three: Hmm, very probably it would have to still be in the fantasy veign and be Fairie Tale by Raymond E. Feist. I read this book first when I was about 15, and it scared the bejayses out of me! And it still does. I've read it several times and it is always a brilliant read. A family move from the city into an old house in the middle of nowhere next to a forest. But what they don't realise is that the forest isn't any usual place, and the fairie folk don't take kindly to their new neighbours.

Four: I found this book through a movie, the way I do a lot of books. Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom is a true story surrounding a man who finds his old college professor years later. Morrie Schwartz was an incredible man with a lot of insight and he shared a lot of these thoughts with Mitch. It's a book that is bound to make you emotional, and to make you think about those people in your life that you have lost touch with.


Will write again soon with descriptions of the rest.

Look, I've been writing.

Dumbing Down

Sixty years ago it wasn't uncommon for some people to be unable to spell correctly, mostly due to a lack of education or the family's need for more regular incomes. You would like to think that we as a society have gone beyond that. It is not illegal to refuse anyone their right to an education but unfortunately our modern ways mean that people are still – or should that be again – losing a fighting battle with the English language.

Commonly regarded as the most complex language to master for those coming to it later in life, I believe it should be given the respect it deserves by those who call it mother tongue. But modern technology is gradually degrading it. With the invention of text messages and instant messaging services our communication age rounded a corner – leaving half of the alphabet behind. Words have been shortened, others replaced by symbols or numbers and even vowels removed – all in an attempt to save space and time. Even sites such as Twitter constrict the amount you can write in one go, at 140 characters a turn.

Why are we all in such a hurry?

The written word is a wonderful part of our lives. Think to those well thumbed books on your shelf; letters from an old friend; an invitation to a weddings; cards on your birthday. Without these things our lives would ultimately be wildly different and without the written word none of these would be possible. One could argue that there have been entire societies and tribes who used merely pictures and images to convey messages, but none of those people have ever felt the joy of following “Once upon a time...” to its conclusion, or reading a love letter dedicated solely to them.

Number 80

It's been a while since I've written anything Huh? Truth is, I have nothing to write about. Well, I'm sure if I racked my brains I could find stuff to talk about, but is it worth writing? I'm having quite a disheartening time at the moment. Nothing seems to be working the way I want it to. I know it's partly my fault for not having more of a "go-get-'em" attitude, but I just feel like I won't be wanted by any employer. My degree is gonna be a 2.1 - I'm praying! It should be, but those last essays weren't my best work, I know it. And aside from that and the time with the ISA what have I got going for me?

People keep asking "So, what now?" And I feel like I'm 18 again, waiting for the LC results and telling people I'm not going to uni, that I don't want to. The looks I'm getting now from my peers are similar to the looks I got back then from my elders. The look of shock at the fact I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself or my life is similar to the look I'm getting now at the fact I have no real solid plans. I have a few vague ideas, but they are all dependant on other vague ideas being successful or falling through. People ask where I'm going to be and my answer is along the lines of "Somewhere in the south of Ireland or north of England." Because to be honest, that's about all I know right now. I had an interview for a job in a small village outside Manchester but was unsuccessful. That was the only positive line I had and it got cut. I have an offer to housesit in Northampton for a few months from August onwards, but do I want to move that far away? If I stay in England I'd kinda like to be near Hull. A lot of friends are sticking around here and it'd be nice to be able to visit easily. And I'm sure Northampton would be nice and I'd meet people and all that, but this is my home now.

Speaking of leaving Hull, I am getting so upset this week. I said goodbye to one of my best friends on Tuesday, and it's the last time I'll see him for God knows how long. I may see him in July when I come back for graduation, but then he may not be around as he's not graduating himself. If I come back next year for visits he'll be top of my list of people to see, but thats only an "if" I come back. I don't see why I wouldn't, but it doesn't stop it playing on my mind. Had we not said goodbye in the middle of the street I'm sure I would have cried. And I know I'm gonna cry either Wednesday or Thursday when I have to say goodbye to the guy I've been spending all my time with since exams ended. He and I have spent a ton of time together over the year and have gotten really close. He knows way too much about me. Since we both finished essays we've hung out almost every day, doing something - generally watching movies or just talking til God knows what time in the morning. Saying goodbye to him is going to be weird. Not seeing him on an almost daily basis is going to throw me.

Packing is proving to be difficult. I keep promising myself I'm going to sort my room, decide whats for charity, whats for friends and whats for home. So far I've gone through about a third of my clothes, some of my books and thats it. The books proved problematic, I don't want to get rid of barely any of them, but I am trying. Doesn't help that I keep finding more I want. I've bought about six books since I finished my degree. Not too bad, but thats about how many I bought for pleasure in the three years I was at uni. I've read four, am on number five. My favourite was one called Fup {the authors name escapes me right now} about a grandfather, his grandson and the duck they find and raise as a pet. It's just plain silly, can be read in about an hour. But thoroughly enjoyable.

Packing - thats what I was talking about, not books. Packing! The clothes and shoes are proving difficult too. I was in agony thinking about having to sort through my shoes. I have two pairs of boots I know I should throw out, but can't help thinking that the cobbler in Waterford might be able to fix them for me. Cause I don't want to throw them. I like them too much! But then there's shoes I've never worn, or only worn two or three times, and know I should throw, but there's the "What if?" potential to each shoe that makes me rethink it.

Anyway, I'm rambling. I should stop and go read. Or sort. Or pack. Or something.
Also, post 80! Who'd have thought.