Nobel prizes (something I never usually write about)

Usually, the announcement of the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature is another opportunity for me to think, ‘I’m something of a pretender really when it comes to the world of literature’. But because of that whole Central and South American thing the mister and I had in the nineties, I know a lot about this year’s winner.

Now, if you’re like me, and the announcement of the Nobel Prize winner makes you think, ‘Maybe I should read at least something by such and such’ and then you go to the bookstore and just pull something off the shelf, trusting that they’ve got what you need to read in stock, let me give you a piece of advice. Do not let the one thing you read be The Feast of the Goat. It contains what must be the singularly most disturbing piece of writing I have ever, ever read. It must be at least five years since I read it and more than any case study I have ever read for Amnesty, passages of The Feast of the Goat have haunted me, frightened me and made me despair for the state of the world. I’ve only read it once, but I still remember it vividly to the point that I can still pretty much see the pages in my mind and remember the chair I was sitting in when I read it. Maybe that means you should read it. I guess it made me even more grateful that my knowledge of human rights abuses has come from reading and hearing and not from lived experience.

On a lighter note, I would highly recommend Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter which is one of my Go To Books. It is great fun, and I never get bored of it. I think it was the first novel I read in Spanish. Which sort of depresses me, because there’s no way I could read it in Spanish now.

And on the way home we got rained on

Did you know that there is a Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre? Neither did I. But there is.

These dudes, Clewis Productions seem to be associated with it, and we went to their Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes which was as much fun as you would hope it would be. The more I read and listen to his work (which is a lot around these parts these days), the more I am struck by the enormity of Roald Dahl’s storytelling talents.

Also, watching this performance with my newly-formed performer’s eyes, I was in awe of their ability to take volunteers from the audience and give them such substantial roles. Unpredictability, she be frizwiggling to me.

The Rip

One of the books I took on the flight to Abu Dhabi was Robert Drewe’s The Rip.  His earlier collection The Bodysurfers is one of those books that I read whenever I need to understand how writing works. I just love it. And The Rip has not disappointed me, including as it does, the following:

“But he still looked a bit edgy. After a moment, he said, ‘Desiree has laid down some new ground rules for staying with me.’

‘Ground rules?’

‘Rules on the way things have to be arranged in future. What’s it called? Chop suey? Mah jong? You know what I mean. She’s making me do things with my shoes in Chinese.’

There was another long moment while I sipped my coffee. Eventually I had a brainwave. ‘You don’t mean feng shui?'”

It cracked me up when I read it, and it’s still cracking me up now.

The Rip. If it isn’t on your Christmas list, you have an unfinished list.

Chop suey. How funny is that?