Let's Put Our Heads Together, And Start A New Country Up - Nation by Terry Pratchett

I go back a long way with Terry Pratchett, all of 23 years now. Back when Caldicot Library was a portakabin on the school grounds and I was still in the early stages of being allowed to explore the adult section at last. Not that the thrill of having the half of the library on the other side of the issue desk suddenly open stopped me from sampling the wit and imagination of the children's section, with the likes of the Doctor Who novelisations of Nils Olof Franzen's Agaton Sax books. In fact the adult section wasn't that wonderful, Caldicot being a tiny library at that point. And a lot of the adult books I might've contemplated taking out I'd already read - the likes of Douglas Adams or Tolkien. So I'd mainly confined myself to football autobiographies (where the deeds of heroes are so much more epic and grand in scale before you grow up and realise they're only human) and the odd interesting looking book. In 1987 I found a very odd, interesting looking book indeed. It hadn't been taken out that much if the stamps in the front were to be believed, and I was too young to know what horrors 'comic fantasy' usually entailed. Despite the unpromising element of it having a couple of female leads, I still checked it out. And I was glad I did, because Equal Rites introduced me to the wit, wisdom and comic timing of Terry Pratchett.

In retrospect Equal Rites was a fine place to start. It's where the Discworld novels as we knew them really started to form, where Pratchett moved beyond the more simplistic fantasy parodies of The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic, but before any sort of predictability could set in. It's where Pratchett begins to really underlay his stories with vicious satire, but could still almost be taken for a simple fantasy author. Just ahead of when his popularity exploded, just before he really got into his stride with Mort. And I've largely stayed with him ever since, even when I thought the books were perhaps becoming a little predictable and seemed almost churned out rather than inspired (around the turn of the millennium). I'm sure they weren't, but that was how it felt.

I say largely as I'd taken something of a sabbatical from his books whilst expanding horizons elsewhere - I'd read Thud!, but a copy of Making Money still lies in one of the vast, teetering to read piles. It took the resolution to clear the books I'd got for Christmas or bought second hand to bring me back to him. I'd found a copy of Nation in the local Oxfam shop, and snapped it up along with Colin Wilson's biography of Alister Crowley and Christopher Brookmyre's Quite Ugly One Morning. And Nation was first off that particular pile.

It's always a pleasure to return to Pratchett, a writer who's always had the ability to tell a strong story clearly and beautifully whilst layering it with themes and meaning. That warmly exasperated tone is like an old friend, effectively communicating humanity's potential and failure to achieve it, inextricably meshing his main theme into his work. It's a voice that I can always match to writer when I see him interviewed, and one that's clearly still well honed, seemingly ever sharper as the years pass and books pile up. Reading Nation, I could at times almost hear that exasperation tip into anger.

Nation sees Pratchett taking on big themes, religion, science and how they help (of have helped) us deal with the world and, inevitably, religion vs science. It'd be simple for him to simply encapsulate them in his main characters, Mau (tribesman) and Daphne (shipwrecked aristo) but, creditably, he never descends to that level of simplicity, that simply wouldn't fit with what he's trying to say at all. Pratchett comes to definite conclusions about the uses of religion and science in dealing with the world (specifically and fairly obviously that the best way to deal with the world is to think about and understand it in whatever terms), but it never feels force fed and merits of both positions are examined. It's noticeable, as ever, that the characters who end up worst off in a Pratchett book (largely dead in this case) are the ones who can't adapt, and those that do end up triumphant at the story's end. It's Darwinism played for laughs. The tackling of a religious theme, where the existence of gods is left indeterminate, doesn't lend itself to the deity ridden Discworld. Pratchett locked that world into having deities way back in The Colour of Magic, the need to be deliberately vague about the supernatural explains why he's writing outside the confines of a recurring series for the first time in a long time.

Pratchett's experience and natural aptitude for a good story means these themes aren't anywhere near as dull as they'd be in other hands. As much as the topics he's discussing this is a fine adventure story in the classic sense, about two msimatched people rebuilding a society following a natural disaster. While there's jeopardy aplenty, the story's got just enough room to breathe and provide us with character moments and little narrative twists you don't expect. Pratchett's always understood the journey of a good story will take you places you didn't expect, and he's also understood the best stories leave you somewhere you didn't quite expect (but ends up being exactly where you want to be). He refuses to bend the logic he's set up to provide a cosy, conventional happy ending. Because, as he points out, life isn't like that.

It's refreshing to return to an old favourite after so long away, and even better when he's encountered in less familiar surroundings. Nation maintains my love of Pratchett as one of the smartest yet least didactic writers out there, one who's always conscious of never cheating his audience, nor talking down to them. The Radio Times was almost apologetic when previewing Radio 4's current adaptation of Small Gods, with the usual caveat of 'if you thought Pratchett was for 40 year old men still living with their mums'. The thing is, his work is not and never has been. Nation's simultaneously as smart an allegory, and gripping an adventure as what's perceived as more literary fiction. Being outside his other series may mean it comes to be regarded as an oddity, but it shouldn't be, because, in a quieter way, it's as strong as any of his previous work.

I'd Like To Stay Here And Be Normal - The Smaller Sky by John Wain

Here's irony for you. In his fine blog Paul Magrs had recommended Susan Hill's 'Howard's End Is On The Landing'. I'll deal with that in another post, but in short tt's a book about Hill's decision to abandon buying new books for a year and explore her own collection instead. A fine idea, and one my tottering to read piles suggest would be a good idea for me too. Instead of heeding Hill's words though, I did my usual and ended up thinking 'that sounds interesting'. Actually, Hill's words must have sunk in to some extent as I managed to restrict myself to ordering just two.

The Smaller Sky was the first (and currently only one) to make it through Britain's current Ice Age. I'd never heard of Wain before, a man who'd been on the fringes of the Inklings, the 'Angry Young Men' of the 50s and 'The Movement', a group including the likes of Kingsley Amis and Philip Larkin. But all the details I could find all line indicated he was a peripheral figure to all that, one of those dragged in the wake of others and destined to be half-remembered at best. If his potted autobiography at the front is anything to go by that's a shame, it's witty, considered and indicates a prolific if dilettante mind. My favourite type of writer.

The story's all about Arthur Geary, a middle-aged scientist who's left his job and family to live on Paddington Station, spending his nights in the station hotel. Paddington's fairly cavernous roof is the smaller sky of the title, a haven and retreat for Geary which stops the sound of drums he can hear in his mind. It's a place he can lose himself in the crowds. We never really learn if the drums in Geary's head are driven by events in his past; there are vague hints of work he couldn't talk about under the Official Secrets Act but there's no real indication that Geary's work and domestic pressures are any greater than normal for the time. Essentially, it's dealing with the issue of stress decades before it became a common topic. We're not given any insight into the reasons as to his decision bar the absolute basics needed for the story. It's obviously deliberate, as it keeps the question as to Geary's sanity fairly open - he's clearly not sane by the standards of a society that doesn't understand his actions, but each passage from his viewpoint indicates that he's thinking rationally. You can subscribe to either viewpoint depending on your sympathies for his actions.

Wain's take is definitely a 60s one though, his apparent penchant for social realism leading him to examine how it impacts on his family. It's arguable the whole issue at the centre of the novel is rooted in the Sixties though, although in this case the man 'dropping out' isn't a counter culture steeped hippy but an older man who's almost the most unlikely person to drop out . I wasn't quite sure if Wain was ridiculing the whole notion of 'dropping out,' although that's a valid reading. It seems to me to be more to be an early tackling of the issue of people who find themselves trapped by the straitjacket of everyday life, and lacking a release, rebel against it - Geary fits in a line including the more flamboyant likes of Reggie Perrin or Blur's Tracy Jacks. Wain's oh so Sixties realism marks this out as a different approach to most other takes though. Instead of concentrating on the heroics of Geary's small act of rebellion, he also shows how it might be judged by others; family, friends and even how it might be exploited by the media. And Wain's not afraid of taking that to the logical conclusion, turning the book into a tragedy as his protagonist finds there is no real peace as he's hounded to his death; his desire to go unnoticed sacrificed on the altar of another's need to be noticed.

Wain's writing in itself is lovely, at times acutely and acidly observant, particularly on character. He's particularly good with the young characters, perfectly capturing their yearning for to grow up, but that they lack the tools to properly deal with the adult world.

It has small imperfections - Swarthmore is a little too much of a black-hatted bad guy (although well drawn and motivated) and Elizabeth Geary's connection is perhaps tenuous enough that you can feel narrative gears grinding. They're minor flaws though, Wain's dealing with issues still relevant today and his take on it is still eloquent and cutting.

Oh, and one final point; the image on the cover? Was the artist trying to suggest Tony Benn's sanity as questionable or just that Geary missed out on an easier career as Benn's double?

C*nts Are Still Running The World - No Logo by Naomi Klein

In many ways this is a left wing equivalent of all those right wing columnists who tell us doomsday is nigh. The difference here is that Klein actually uses thorough research to back herself up rather than base her opinion on isolated incidents. As a result it's a fairly depressing overall read, from this you'd think that the corporate drive for profit during the 1990s were completely undermining not only Western society, but also the poorer parts of the globe. Which, to an extent they are. Klein charts how large corporations are systematically divesting themselves of their base earthbound corporeal form (in terms of jobs and goods) and are attempting to ascend to a higher corporate plane, where all they have and sell is their own identity. Even if you disagree with Klein's ideological position it's a fascinating account of how corporations and society are changing. If it has a major flaw it's that it seems to be hankering after a utopian past, where corporations and branding were less pervasive. Despite that, Klein seems to want this to be an intelligent call to arms, pointing out the problems of rampant capitalism and how, even at an individual level, it can be checked.Like the opening quote of the book, on the surface No Logo is simply a document of corporate practice. But undeneath that it's an angry polemic positively seething with anger at the sweatshops, job cuts and invasive advertising. It might be overly reductive to say this, but No Logo is an anti-corporate wake up call whose theme is even more relevant today, even if some of the details aren't.

From the Fields of Anfield Road - Compendium & The Dynasty Companion by Paul Tomkins

If you've got Tomkins' other books this one's inessential but if you're looking for an introduction to one of the smartest football writers around, particularly on the subject of Liverpool, then this is an excellent place to start. As the title might suggest it's a sort of greatest hits and doesn't quite hang together as his other, more focused, books do. As ever though, Tomkins near unique combination, which conveys his passion for his team and the game without clouding his more rational judgement, more than compensates. The final section might prove tough going for those without a head for statistics and I'm uncertain as to whether trying to mathematically prove who were the best and worst signings actually proves anything or tells us anything we didn't know already. Fascinating as ever but probably the least of his books so far, still miles ahead of most other football writers though.

Give Me Your TIred, Your Poor, Huddled Masses... - The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama

(Note: this was originally written around the time of Obama's inaugration last year).

Or as it should probably be known, Barack Obama's first election manifesto. Obama is unquestionably the most exciting political figure in the Western hemisphere in my lifetime. Rather than the tired dogmas that have dragged down previous election campaigns he ran on a platform of positivity and hope, summed by his simple and brilliant slogan 'Yes, we can'. It was inclusive and challenging to the electorate, invigorating.The hook here is to see what we can divine of Obama's possible actions as President. It's clear from the book that he's genuinely unaffected by the cynicism that often develops in politicians, but that his enthusiasm is tempered by intelligence and thoroughness, setting forth what he sees as the major issues facing modern America and possible solutions.And instead of rendering politics a dry, dead subject, as professional politicians often do, Obama makes the subject engaging. Policy is never talked about in abstract terms, he always gives a human dimension to the issues and has a gift for striking imagery that encapsulates the ideas he's trying to get across (speeches to an empty Senate chamber, the stunning view from a jet). And the prose itself is beautiful, although occasionally becoming flowery. It's a book you couldn't imagine any of his recent predecessors (particularly the immediate one) having the sincerity, compassion or way with words to write. Whereas the previous regime tried to link compassion with conservatism, one read of this book should show them what compassion truly looks like, and in this case it isn't just a hollow word.Obama himself comes across as a man of rare perspective, probably due to his eclectic, catholic (the small c is crucial there) upbringing. He seems open to ideas and genuinely thoughtful as to the wide ranging effects policies may have. His beliefs and conclusions are based on thoughtful analysis tempered with human compassion - almsot too good to be true. I actually finished the book even more fascinated by the possibilities of Obama's term. If he is a man of deeds as well as words, and he's alllowed to follow the guidelines he sets down here, then his Presidency may live up to the hope and expectations placed upon it.

The Jesus Lizards - Doctor Who: The Creed of the Kromon

It's a fairly good job that Gary Russell asked Philip Martin to make the titular monsters insectoid rather than reptilian, otherwise this would seem even more of a retread of Martin's 80s TV scripts. Rapacious aliens, companions transforming, a Doctor pretending to cooperate with the enemy while encouraging a rebellion and a lot of corridor running? It's definitely been done before. This time though, there's no particular depth, lacking the sort of moral question Varos (TV violence) and Mindwarp (genetic engineering) posed.It's saved to a degree by one of the best thought through and realised races to appear in the Big Finish range, writing, acting and sound design combining to present a convincing alien society. Martin's script is at times overly focused on the Kromon society to the detriment of the story. He also doesn't quite seem to have the hang of writing audio drama, falling into melodrama and the trap of having the characters tell us things we can't see. The acting rescues this to a large degree though, Dan Hogarth and Steven Perring being particularly good in multiple roles. If you want a Doctor Who story that fairly slavishly evokes what the series was remembered as, Kromon is ideal. Not bad, but appropriately for a stereotypical story, fairly average.

Remembering Auld Acquaintance - A Night Out with Robert Burns: The Greatest Poems

I’m particularly fond of John Carey’s theory regarding the British and their relationship (or lack of) with the arts. I’ll oversimplify grossly to keep it brief, but it’s essentially that a lot of British people have been put off engaging with art due to the way it’s been taught and regarded since the Second World War, as elitist trophies to be admired rather than works to be engaged with and actively enjoyed, works which may still have vital ideas, maybe even something to say about our own time. He further argues that if this attitude were to be changed in the teaching and presentation of art, more people would find works of art accessible rather than offputting. Essentially, he’s passionate about trying to bring art to the people by democratising it. It’s best expressed in his book Pure Pleasure , which selects books not for perceived literary merit but by how much enjoyment can be derived from them. Professor Carey struck a chord with me there, particularly with some of my own reading experiences and as such A Night Out With Robert Burns looked like an ideal book for me. It seeks to take Burns from the cosy nostalgic tomb in which he’s generally been sealed, and reposition him as still vibrant and relevant today.Introductions for each poem are provided by Andrew O’Hagan. For much of the book I wasn’t quite sure O’Hagan was the ideal man to write and select the introductions, dropping names such as Seamus Heaney’s into these paragraphs comes across as a tad elitist. Various poems in the first three sections occasionally raise the spectre of that whisky fuelled nostalgia. While that might seem offputting, there was occasionally a certain element of that to Burns’ work, so their inclusion is valid. As I progressed through the book though, it became more and more clear how much thought had been put into both the selection of, and the introductions to, the poems, how they were designed to complement rather than tell what the poems are about. O’Hagan selects the poems not because of perceived greatness (although his most famous works are present and correct) but for the pleasure that can be derived from them and to give a good overview. The introductions generally bring out an aspect of the poetry without directly telling or patronising the reader, the occasional mention of famous friends is a small price to pay there – I was particularly fond of the use of one of the Mail’s more hysterical pieces.Where I found this collection scoring highly was in the final section, dealing with the more political poems. The relevant passages accompanying the poems are immaculately selected and really bring out the obvious anger and frustration that course through Burns’ words. It’s this section more than the other three which gives cause to re-evaluate what you think you know about Burns.In the end O’Hagan proves a fine advocate for Burns (although bracketing him with Shakespeare may be taking things a touch too far). As a perfect host, he only intrudes on proceedings when necessary, remembering Burns is the star of the show and not he. The rough energy and vibrancy of Burns’ words are allowed the space to speak for themselves whilst being given a relevant modern cultural context. It may not entirely bring Burns out of the Scottish dialect ghetto, but as an exercise in trying to correct historical misperceptions of a great figure it’s hugely successful.