leave it to psilk psmitha
April 29, 2011 § 18 Comments
i had to help Organise an Event a few days back, a sufficiently novel experience for me to immediately gird the old loins by making a (small) list in a notepad file and wonder how to inflate it into an impressive spreadsheet; some people have alcohol for dutch courage, i have microsoft excel. it’s not so much the striking things off of lists i enjoy so much, i just enjoy the lovely inevitability of the whole being accomplished when little parts of it are. of course, the little parts are never really accomplished, because why would the universe make it that easy? so lists are retrospectively and sneakily modified to make it look like that which was eventually achieved was what was originally intended to be achieved. nobody is fooled but everybody is kind.
a couple of weeks back i finished reading a spot of bother by mark haddon of the curious incident of the dog in the night time fame. i thought it was fantastic, really fantastic, much better than …night time. a friend did complain that it was a bore, though, so who knows. i thought it was beautiful.
i also read neil gaiman’s anansi boys, which was nice in a lukewarm sort of way. the halfhearted attempt to build atmosphere was a Fail i think, and it wasn’t witty enough to make up for it. i liked american gods better, it was tighter and better paced and all manner of things that make a novel a good blip on the mental radar, which is really all you can hope for. unless your novel is pathbreaking and brilliant, in which case, hi, my name is Your Friend. what are you doing tonight?
speaking of brilliant, someone pointed out that i say things are ‘quietly brilliant’ a lot, and that is true. i think i am capable of finding things brilliant only if they do not make a song-and-dance about being so; if they do, of course, my go-to adjective is ‘smug’. i need to be less wartime british and more russell brand in my personality, don’t you think?
while we are on the subject, i would like to point out that in terms of pacing and structure and all, leave it to psmith is a really wonderful book. i feel a golden, misty sort of affection for the blandings series, and so do not have the objectivity to tell if those books are actually very great, and the jeeves ones have all merged into a single amorphous novel in my recollection, but i am reading this psmith for the first time and i am Shock and Awe, Shock and Awe.
i was wondering idly recently if i would ever morph into an intimidatingly successful but also fatally curvy businesswoman who would take on all the guys in the industry and leave them strewn helpless by her deadly path, and so i googled ‘tamil superwoman’ (you’re making The Judgey Eyes now…) and ended up here! check it out:
‘A vast majority of her movies are softcore and a common theme is her playing a freakishly strong agent in skimpy bikinis beating up huge thugs.’
are you serious, reshma of reshma ki jawaani? look good in bikini, beat up bad men, be an ‘agent’… she was all three charlie’s angels in one – both by mass and coolness. who’d a thought?
i am halfway through dune (book one) now, which came recommended to me, and i am seriously disappointed. i once read a review of the freakishly terrible eragon which used the masterful phrase ‘masturbatory writing’ to describe it, and i have this new book to apply it to. i have never read such self-conscious, self-indulgent, smug (ooh look! here it is again!) writing in my life (eragon excepted); if this author is also not fifteen, pimply and full of adolescent obnoxiousness, he has no excuse.
i recently summoned the testicular fortitude to harness myself to a steel rope and zip between cliffs and over lakes, and would love to say that i was the soul of courage throughout. i was not. i am scared shitless of heights and fifteen minutes in, i wanted to go home. so clearly, next up is bungee jumping. name a place and a time!
Suicidal ‘R’ Us.
in one week, i will be in bangalore selling my soul for a pittance, and i CANNOT WAIT to start.
bring it, world.