Books, Old and New!

Some day I'll compile a complete list of all the vague Black Books references contained on this site. The number will probably resemble a mobile telephone number.

Anyways, having been tagged by surfing queen Aunty Helpful Dictator, Here is a rundown on some of the most important books in my life.

One Book That Changed Your Life.

The Dalkey Archive by Flann O'Brien. The beginning of two things; my lifelong obsession with Dublin and its peculiarities, and my desire to write. Neither have abated with age. Not the great man's best book by any stretch of the imagination - Karl and I will be very, very old and grey before we reach agreement on that question - but unquestionably my favourite. In many ways it made me who I am today. And it's very very funny.

One Book You've Read More than Once

On the Road by Jack Kerouac. The bible of the hobo soul. The older you get the more you long to be the sixteen year old that read it and that made a solemn promise to himself never to settle down. Ah, the folly of youth! Personally I'm not the best at re-reading books, but I do think it's a good idea.

One Book That You Would Want On A Desert Island

Ulysses. Never, ever will I tire of the challenges that it throws at us. If I could bring two, probably Crime and Punishment or Lost Illusions, the latter being a very similar book to the former except without much redemption for the protagonist. Great book though.

One Book That Made Me Laugh

The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien. Raw comedy smothered in darkness. Some parts are so funny it's just plain wrong. It kind of bugs me that Lost is linked in many people's head with this book. For me, the comparison is like comparing the streets of Haussmann's Paris with the dogshit that can be found on it's pedestrian walkways

One Book That Made Me Cry

No book has ever made me cry. Many books have made my stomach churn - Maribou Stork Nightmares by Irvine Welch, Poor Souls by Joseph Connolly, Exodus by Leon Uris, while Lost Illusions made me collapse in a melancholy heap of despair. But no tears. I did cry as a child while watching Boxer being taken off to the knackers yard in the animated version of Animal Farm. Does that count?

One Book You Stayed Up All Night To Finish

The Barracks by John McGahern. When people think of existential Irish writers, Beckett always gets the nod. But McGaherns early work is rich in the tradition, questioning the subjectivity of human experience and churning at the mediocrity and sadness of it all. Great Book.

One Book That Took You Too Long To Read

Anything by Hemingway. Always worth it but always takes forever.

One Book You Are Currently Reading

Candide by Voltaire. The opening passage must have inspired the Four Yorkshiremen in Monty Python Such a catalogue of disasters!

I tag Shane. Every other blogger I know has already been tagged.

Outdated but Fun

While trawling the web looking for articles by Con Houlihan, I came across this gem of a site. It's a little old, but some of the ranting is so funny that at work yesterday and old women asked me what was wrong. The reason? My face was lost in a monsoon of tears. I haven't laughed so hard in years. I think it was Hatebomb #1 that finally caused the floodgates to open. Also good are the reviews of Hogans and especially Brogans. For anyone that's lived in Dublin, the characters are well drawn and the analysis in places is spot on. Flann O'Brien fans won't be disappointed, particularly with the review of Buskers. Please check it out

Nice to see you, to see you Nice

It's good to be back. Spent July in South America with A. and most of August feeling maudlin. What a continent. We were there for nearly a month and even then only sampled but a tiny glimpse of this awesome carnival of humanity and nature trapped in an endless tango with each other. I'm not really down with going into intense detail regarding holidays, but here are a few tips based on my own experiences south of the equator.

1. Eat lots and lots of steak. It's cheap and does things to your pallet that really, really should be against the law. The wrongly-beefed up(geddit??) Irish steak can go and fuck rrrrrrrrrrrright off. Had 9 in my 8 first days in Argentina, after which I apparently rolled around in bed approximating the actions of someone having a stroke mumbling 'No more steak, no more steak'. Am seeking help.

2. Learn to Tango. The exuberance of Riverdance delivered in a sleazy, arrogant dockside container. If Tom Waits was a dance, he would be a Tango; the dance of lost souls and tawny whores.

3. Bring your own music. Aside from attending a German folk festival - had me begging for the Hoff - the music in South America is possibly the worst I've ever experienced. Think Ricky Martin jammin' with the Gypsy Kings. Not a pretty sight.

4. GO TO RIO; Undoubtedly the most captivating city in the world. It's an urban carousel wrapped around a rainforest, protected by proud, incredible hills and worshipped by golden beaches and the beautiful people that fill them. And go to a match in the Maracana. I have an article appearing soon in the Mayo News on said subject which I'll link to when it's published. Truly unforgettable.

5. Read the Buenos Aires Quintet by Manuel Vasquez Montalban and Futebol; The Brazilian Way of Life by Alex Bellos. Ideal pals for those night long buses. Also read At-Swim Two Birds again, Bound for Glory by Woodie Guthrie - if you ever want words to resemble the wispy freedom of the wind tumbling through your hair, then this is the book for you - and The Pavilion on the Links, a wonderfully atmospheric novella by Robert Louis Stevenson. To re-cap, bring lots of books, you'll be travelling over huge distances. And finally........

6. Go to Iguazu Falls. You'll know why when you get there.

In my absence, the obvious occurred. Inconsolable Royston lovers, incredulous that their leader would vanish into the murky tropics, organised themselves into a charming cult.
Based in Glasgow - I visited there a few years ago and delivered an inspiring performance from a soapbox on George Square that marked the beginning of a close relationship with the city, and my inevitable veneration - the cult is gaining in popularity and rightly so. Although I distance myself from the more extreme elements within the sect, in particular those bent on flaggelation, I must admit that I am touched that my views and spiritual candour have finally been recognised. And just for the record, despite the setback of someone having published in my area of historical investigation, research is proceeding apace. Rapture will come. You have been warned!!