It is a fun little time of
year, is it not? – the time when, for some reason, critics and reviewers, both
on the television and especially on the internet, all and perhaps even sundry
decide to make these little lists of their favourite and least favourite things
of the year. This year I shall follow in suit, but rather than do a little
numerical hierarchy of things I liked the most, I shall just hand out a number
of awards in my own categories to the things that I deemed worthy to receive
them. The categories speak for themselves. The winning book will always be
underlined, like this, to avoid any confusion. And remember, whereas
reviewers generally just offer their own opinions in these sorts of things, I
promise that everything written here is objective fact.
The
Friendly Boffin Award for the Preeminent, Most Useful, but also Accessible Book
in the Realm of Non-Fictitious History Award. Edward Gibbon’s
six-volume Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire, a masterpiece of historical narrative and dry wit from the late 18th
century, does not stand a chance of receiving this particular award. It’s a
shame, but it is a fact that no-one in their right mind would read Gibbon
unless it was an integral part of their career to do so, and considering that I
myself have only read a mere fraction of the total work, I can’t really disagree.
The award then, goes to a wonderful thing that I found on the shelves of a
popular High Street bookshop, and that thing might even be the founding stone
of my future interests: Byzantium,
by Judith Herrin. An interesting parachute history of the medieval
Greek-centred Roman Empire, this book aims to bring to life a little known
subject from the mists of time. Interesting and informative, but also quick and
easy to read, it gives us a view of a world culture that few people (at least
in western Europe and the Americas) know anything about, and in the interests
of curing people of ignorance, this book goes a long way.
The
Pants-Wetting Award for Scariest Book Ever Written Award. No,
this award won’t be awarded to H.P. Lovecraft, and nor will it be taken by any
of his Cthulhu-mythos imitators or wannabes, or Stephen King or James Herbert’s
popular attempts to make people literally shit their pants out of terror for
what they read on a page. Dracula?
Don’t make me laugh! The only thing Bram Stoker achieved was to bore me stiff.
Ghouls, ghosts, vampires, zombies; all are silly infantile things whose welcome
has been overstayed for many many decades. Only one book this year has really
honestly scared me, and it’s not something that many people would describe as a
horror book. George Orwell’s Nineteen
Eighty-Four. Monsters do not exist. People, governments and
organisations who want to maintain absolute control over an overgrown human
population? They exist alright. Technology that allows them to monitor us and
suppress our individual freedoms? That certainly exists. George Orwell wrote of
a bleak near-future that seems all too possible, and maybe it didn’t happen in
the year 1984, but the threat is looking more and more likely as time goes on,
with the government and corporate spying and the erosion of democratic freedoms.
That’s what should really scare people, not ghosties and ghoulies.
The
J.R.R. Tolkien Award for the Unsurpassed The
Lord Of The Rings Award. This is a custom-made
award for a book that is deserving of its own mention, despite not receiving
the Best Book of the Year Award. Naturally this goes to The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien,
a magnificent sprawling epic set in a beautifully written world of nostalgia. A
conglomeration of fairy tales, a straight battle between Good and Evil, and a
journey all across a war-torn world. I could call it a member of the Fantasy
genre, but it feels somehow separate, as though above such an arbitrary
definition.
The
Greatest Thing Ever Written Award. There is no competition
for this one. ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ by Margery Williams. A short
children’s story about heartbreak and loss, the life of a toy rabbit who just
wants to understand what it means to be real. An ideal litmus test to see if
you have a soul or not.
The
Shameless Plug Award for Most Excellent Recent Novel Award.
Something written in
recent years by a still living author which might be worth picking up. This one
goes to Gravedigger by
Michael-Israel Jarvis. Some memorable characters, interesting premise, and
a good story.
Thank you mister Jarvis, you can hand me the cheque in the
morning.
The
Horrible Award for the Worst Book of the Year Award. When
drawing up a short-list for books I’ve read this year that I did not like, I am
glad to say that it was actually quite short. There are things I like more than
others, but even with the others I can usually find something good to say about
them; Paradise Lost, for instance,
though I could barely understand it, had its moments of brilliance, and the
subject matter and its immense role as a landmark in the history of writing
means that I would never actually consider it for the reception of this
particular award. In the end there is only one novel I’ve read this year that
could be unashamedly condemned: The
Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, by H.P. Lovecraft. When
Lovecraft’s writings are good, they’re good. Alas, his first novel-length story
contains everything that is bad about his writing style; dull, long-winded,
lacking in character, and an unrelenting dream-like narrative that only serves
to put the reader to sleep. Despite being only a very short novel, more of a
novella really, reading it feels like you’re wading through treacle, without
respite or distraction of any kind. It consists entirely of endless vague
description, and contains not one single speech mark, thought or anything that
would break up this monotonous prose, and as such it is as though the reader is
pursuing shadows in a land entirely of fog. So many vague references to
non-existent places and people, so many ridiculous names and concepts clutter
the pages and paragraphs that our minds still reeling from a difficult
narrative style are left bewildered and exhausted right from the beginning, and
even if it had some artistic merit to it, which I am not saying it doesn’t, the
fact that it is so bloody long saps any and all patience I could ever muster
for it. It must be stressed that Lovecaft has written some very good things,
but he was no super-writer who continuously spat out pure gold on paper, and at
the end of the year The Dream-Quest takes
the terrible biscuit.
The
Most Prestigious Award for the Best Book I Read During the Year of 2013 Award. This is the big one, the one that every
book is clamouring for, as it signifies their obtainment of my pseudo-divine
favour. I’m going to have to tweak my own rules for this one, because there are
actually two that are worthy of such a prize. They are Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut, and The Catcher in the Rye by J.D.
Salinger. Both are nihilistic post-war American novels, both are not too
long, and both are harrowing soul-wrenching looks at the western world from the
eyes of scepticism, and both have caused a fair bit of moral outrage from the
conservative quarters of American society and beyond.
Catcher is
a first-person account from a teenager called Holden Caulfield who is quickly
slipping down the slope of depression and loss of faith in the world. He is
aimless as he wanders around New York city, just trying to find somebody to
talk to, somebody who will listen to him. The character is there, and his voice
is there, and you cannot fail to be drawn in to his world. Slaughterhouse meanwhile is
a distant and objective third-person view of the life of Billy Pilgrim, a
prisoner of war who witnessed the massacre of an entire city. Displaced in
time, Pilgrim is at the mercy of fate, and after surviving a plane crash he
ends up meeting a strange alien race who tell him about new and peculiar ways
to view life.
Why
are these books good? It’s because they show you, without mincing words, just
how strange and cold life can be. There are no rose-tinted spectacles for you
to wear here; no rip-roaring plot, no incredible twists, no happy endings. Just
Billy Pilgrim as he is jerked through time, between being a German prisoner of
war and a then a husband, father and optometrist, and Holden Caulfield as he
wanders aimlessly through uncaring city streets, just trying to find somebody
to talk to. They are both incredibly human, remorselessly demonstrating that
life is not logical, cosy, or a plot-driven fairy tale. You must read them
both.
__________
If
you wish to know any more about any of the books mentioned here, I have reviewed
them all earlier this year - except for ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’, which I could
not do justice even if I tried. If you still wanted to know more, then you
could, y’know, actually read the book. In fact, why don’t you do that. Read
every book recommended here (except for The
Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, which is sort of an anti-recommendation),
and then see just how right I was about everything.
And
so to wrap up, have a Happy New Year and all that jazz, and keep on reading.
Biblioption
Herrin, Judith. Byzantium – The Surprising Life of a
Medieval Empire. Penguin: St. Ives. (2008 [First Published 2007])
Jarvis, Michael-Israel. Gravedigger. Taravatara Publishing.
(2012)
Lovecraft, H.P. The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath from
Lovecraft: The Dreams in the Witch House
and Other Weird Stories. Penguin: St. Ives. (2005)
Orwell, George. Nineteen Eighty-Four. Penguin: St. Ives.
(1949)
Salinger, J.D. The
Catcher in the Rye. Penguin: St. Ives. (1951)
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers:
Hong-Kong. (1991 [First Published 1954-55])
Vonnegut, Kurt. Slaughterhouse 5. Vintage: Croydon.
(1969)
Williams, Margery. ‘The
Velveteen Rabbit’. Mammoth: Musselburgh. (1989 [First Published 1922])
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