Back from 2 weeks in deepest Galicia, without wifi, phone, TV, and having not seen another Brit over the entire fortnight. Good opportunity to glut on reading whilst the kids swam in the river.
On The Road Jack Kerouac. I havent read this since about 1988, when I was an undergraduate. The Beats were quite fashionable then. No doubt it was largely an image thing, but it might have been a bit of a reaction to Thatcher and the screaming late 1980s, as well as being the sort of lit that one should have read if one wanted to hold one's own in serious discussions over a beer and a spliff. There was a bookshop specialising in Beat stuff near the top of Park Street in Bristol, and a bloke regularly used to set up on the steps of the university refrectory on a Saturday morning to sell samizdat pamphlets of Ginsberg, Thoreau etc. Quite interesting to revisit this after nearly 30 years. I enjoyed the book but got a bit irritated with it by the end. Worth rereading, and historically and stylistically interisting, but not particularly profound to me, now.
That was followed by Autobiography of a Supertramp by WH Davies, with an introduction by George Bernard Shaw. Davies was a working class lad from South Wales who ran away to sea and became a beggar and hoboe in the USA toward the end of the 19th century. Clearly very bright but entirely self-educated. This is a linear narrative without any conscious attempt at style or self censorship. Really extraordinary story. I found his casual racism and description of a lynching in the Deep South quite upsetting: he had no pretensions and just accepted that what the local white folks were telling him was correct.
A Deepness in the Sky Vernor Vinge. Great fun.
Star Island and Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen. I haven't picked up Hiaasen for a few years, and these are his 2 most recent Florida crime novels. Really funny and quite satisfying escapism. Interesting to see how shows like Dexter have picked up on the Florida Gothic vibe.
Atomic Lobster by Tim Dorsey. Another old vice, an author I have not read for 10 years or more. This series runs in a similar vein to Carl Hiaasen, equally funny but much more warped. One of the best antiheroes in crime fiction.
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running Haruki Murakami. Very interesting. Not read any of this writer's other (more famous) books but I will do so.
Rumo Walter Moers. I started to read this to my youngest son. A superb comic fantasy. Completely neglected. I have read it myself several times and it is the favourite book of my eldest son.
The house we stayed in had a really eclectic collection of books on Spain, including As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning by Laurie Lee. A favourite which I happily re-read.It describes a trip in his late teens, when his only experience of the wider world was working on a London building site, when he took a boat from England to Vigo, in Galicia, before the Spanish Civil War, and then walked across central Spain, and down to Andalucia. Stunning, luminous prose, which describes a deperately poor, remote, and now lost world. Travel writing this good provides descriptions every bit as vivid and alien as the best SF or fantasy.