captainfez's reviews
1052 reviews

Groupie is a thinly-disguised survey of the late '60s London music scene from the point of view of Katie, a girl who claims to not want to be a groupie, but who acts a hell of a lot like one.

It's pretty easy to decode which bands are which (if you've a little knowledge of the scene of the time). While the references to Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd are the easiest to interpret, nothing's particularly elusive.

As far as the book goes, it's a fairly trashy page-turner about a girl who takes a lot of drugs, sleeps with 11 men (and one woman) and who doesn't really care much about anything. The slang is hilarious ('plating', 'hanging up', etc) and Fabian is very much at pains to namedrop the period's literature heavyweights - Koestler, Leary and Canetti - to try and communicate that there's much more to Katie than meets the eye.

It's unsuccessful, however; she seems like a fashion-obsessed starfucker. And that's probably the point.

You'll power through Groupie in a couple of hours. It's rock-n-roll airport literature, with lots of freaks and freak-outs, and is perfectly acceptable as such. It doesn't illuminate why Katie acts as she does - but by the end, that's not so much of a problem.

In Rising Sun, Crichton takes a step back from the science world to give his thoughts on the world of business. It's not a usual topic of his - superbugs and mechanics and illness being his forte - but it is a subject that the author really seems to take to.

I'm certain that there's been criticisms of this book here as racist. Indeed, Crichton's feelings about the need to protect America's businesses from Japanese takeover are addressed in a final, nonstory chapter. However, the subtlety of understanding of the Japanese character the author shows through his work indicates that he's more interested in the national identity in terms of how it interacts with the US, rather than straight-out bashing.

It's difficult to read this book without picturing the film's leads speaking its lines. Connor will always feel wrong if imagined (by me, at least) as Connery. But that said, it's a slightly flabbier affair than the film. Where some plot turns were tightened in the film, though, a feeling of quiet observation was lost.

Fortunately, there's enough business-as-war, Japanese-against-gaijin drama here to forgive the occasional sloppy prosework. This isn't the greatest book ever, but as a quick excursion into Japanese business in the US in a particular timeframe, it's really worth your time.

Magnus Mills' Three to See the King isn't what you'd call a trying read. I finished it in the space of two brief train journeys. It's less than demanding, I suppose. Enjoyable, but no more so than reading one of those newspapers that are handed out at the station.

It's not a long work, nor a particularly interesting one. I understand that it's essentially a meditation on the role of faith in group dynamics, and I'm sure that it can be read in a much broader way than I've probably taken it... but it just seems to be a little too knowing. That's fairly offputting.

I found it difficult to think that there was any weight to the actions of the characters when they appear to have been thrown together without any real reason. I know it's meant to free them from any history, to allow the reader to focus on the task at hand - but I found it more annoying than anything else.

Certainly, this isn't as good as Mills' other works.

Though this is essentially meant to be a children's book (well, young adult), it's something that you shouldn't miss an opportunity to read. It's the story of a deeply disturbed child, his search to discover who killed his neighbour's dog - and the family dramas that come with his investigation.

The tone of the book is astounding. It's written from the perspective of a child with behavioural problems - Asperger syndrome, a form of autism - and a photographic memory. It's an excellent device which allows Haddon to render scenes with a level of specificity that would seem out of place otherwise. The monomaniacal narrator's enthusiasms and totems come through clearly, and it's not uncommon for the narrative to be broken up by illustrations or mathematical problems.

The novel is particularly good at prompting thoughts on how society handles disability, though the reader isn't bludgeoned with it. Instead, we're drawn into the world of a child with deep emotional problems, and are pained at the state of the family surrounding him.

Ignore where this is shelved and pick it up. It's just brilliant.

E.L. Doctorow's 'World's Fair' is amazing. It's easily one of the most evocative expressions of childhood that I've read.

The story - largely autobiographical - takes place in the 1930s, at war's brink. The World's Fair is taking place in NYC, and young Edgar, a Jewish kid, is desperate to attend. What unfolds between the start of the book and the inevitable trip to the Fair is nothing short of brilliant.

Keenly-felt explanations of what it meant to be a youth in the 30s (and a Jew) are offered with just enough detail. The sense of a new world being born is palpable, and the fears of same are expressed subtly. Doctorow's own life appears in both Edgar's story and that of his brother Donald, a few years older, and it's enough to make me, at least, want to return to NY.

I really don't want to spoil any of the joy of this book. I had appreciated Doctorow's writing before: The Waterworks'' and 'Ragtime', specifically, but I haven't felt as if a text was a secret discussion between reader and author until reading 'World's Fair'. It really is that good.

I left the reading of Life of Pi for some years after it had come out. Like a lot of books, I was leery of checking it out while the hot glow of critical acclaim was in effect; I find that naught but relentless enthusiasm for something often makes me feel bad if I don't think it's as fabulous as everyone else, immediately.

Thankfully, it seems that there was no real chance of me disliking this book. Ostensibly a book about a shipwreck, a castaway boy named after a swimming pool, it's also a story about faith and perception. The mechanics of survival are minutely detailed within, but the malleability of worldview is the more important lesson here - and that's without touching upon the examination of syncretism in personal development.

Put simply, Life of Pi is a pleasure to read. It doesn't rigidly push an agenda as such, but it's definitely successful in terms of challenging the reader to consider their moral standpoint.

Even if this collection of stories existed as an idea only, it would still be the greatest idea in the history of humanity.

A DOCTOR WHO IS ALSO A NINJA. AN IRISH DOCTOR-NINJA. Does it need to be spelled out? It's great. The premise alone would, you would think, be a one-trick-pony, but it's ably fluffed out here with the judicious application of mustachioed gangsters, breaking glass, pirate feuds, velociraptors and gorillas.

Throughout these stories - which helpfully reproduce the image alt-text, so important to its online origin - the reader has the feeling that the author can't really believe that so many people are actually digging his idea. It's refreshing, given the amount of assumed knowledge that exists in some other graphic novels.

Really, this review is not going to do any good. I'm not going to convert anyone. I mean, if you didn't start jumping up and down at the thought of an IRISH NINJA DOCTOR, then you probably would never want to read this, ever.

But if you did... enough said.

I found this in a charity shop and wondered how it ended up there. I mean, it was only published last year, came from a reputable academic press and discussed something that's particularly important to our lives today.

Then I read it.

There's not anything wrong with this book per se. As an overview of privacy and of the possible ramifications of technology on our privacy, it's fine. But it seems to never really become much more than an overview.

The authors are unquestionably knowledgeable about the subject of privacy, and about how communication and browsing behaviour on the Internet affect personal (and community) privacy - but it seems that they are hamstrung by the book's attempt to appeal to as wide an audience as possible. The chapters on case-studies of other nations' handling of the Net seem particularly light-on, in my view.

There's some interesting thoughts provoked by this book; the exploration of Moore's Law and the ramifications on personal surveillance, and the possible ways of ensuring government transparency on surveillance are discussion-starters. But on the whole, the book left me feeling a little unsatisfied.

That said, I suppose this is a rapidly moving area; perhaps this work would be better served in an online, easily-updated format? It's funny - something printed last year can already seem out of date, so quickly are privacy and censorship debates moving.

More of the same, only with a rather dapper Death, clones of Ben Franklin and some Danish action cheese.

It's good for what ails yer, though, I must say.