Split Pediment

The musings of a Brighton-based architecture dweeb and town planner in training.

Category: Books

Ness wins award

So as you know I’m a big believer in coincidence – I believe that sometimes, often in fact, two or more things that are otherwise related happen near each other, temporally speaking. Like when the phone rings and you’re thinking about Auntie Joan and OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY it’s Auntie Joan on the phone and not only that but JUST THAT MORNING Auntie Joan sent you a text message saying she was going to call later!!!!!! I mean, it happens.

So there I was, merrily reading my new drunken book purchase and enjoying it a great deal. It’s called The Knife of Never Letting Go and it really is very good – the second in a short line of books that I’ve read recently that were written for the Young Adult readership, which really means teenagers, after Summerland, by Michael Chabon which I discussed briefly here. Anyways, TKoNLG is by a Mr Patrick Ness, who has a website and a disarmingly cute smile and now – as of last night, to be precise – a shiny new Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize.

Uh huh. Yep. See? I was reading Mr Ness’s book and he won an award for it! That, my friends, is a coincidence.

Just think about that for a minute.

Done? Really? Because I think you just kept on reading. Well, suit yourselves. Anyways, I’ll post a proper review once I’ve finished the book. I can, by the way, recommend Mr Ness’s other two books as being both Very Good Reads.

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I know, I know…

I’m a dreadful blogger. I blog and then FOR AGES I don’t blog. And it’s not because I don’t love both my readers, rather that my camera has lost all enamour with my company and decided to stop taking decent photos of anything at all. The fact that I’ve left it silently encased in the dark depths of some courier-type bag for a week I think may have had something to do with its miserablist attitude.

So – sod the camera. Who needs the grumpy bastard when armed with the full force of the English language? Dante never used a camera. Nor Voltaire. Or Confucius for that matter. And just look what they accomplished with this marvellous bastard-hybrid of a lexicon. Oh, hang on a mo. I think I may have made a mistake there….

[Never mind, McNicol! Plough on! This is no time to de doubting yourself in front of your brave and elegant readers!]

….I mean, yes. So. Words are nice. And utilising said power, I shall write one of those “Huh, well, like, this is what I’m doing today” sort of posts.

Read the rest of this entry »

Poetry’s bad for you

So, having read this article, I’m wondering just whether keeping this blog was actually such a good idea. Oh, god – I’ve just remembered that I reference Shelley with my motto! Well at least I’ve never written proper, honest-to-goodness, full-blown verse. For which you should be truly thankful. What’s that – you don’t believe me? Pah! Take this:

A healthy young man from Dubai

Took up poetry – no-one knows why.

His rhyming was awful,

His syntax unlawful.

Thankfully he’ll most likely die.

Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m tired and haven’t had any licorice today.

Chabon strikes again

My most very favourite makes-me-gooey author writes lyrical about lycra.

And a thank-you to Marissabidilla for the unwitting signpost. She likes Sondheim but don’t let that put you off.