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Haven't been on line much either, which means I'm fanfic deprived. Fic deprived altogether, really, I've tried all the novels I got for Christmas and didn't finish a one of them because they're all crap. If anyone could recommend me a book that doesn't suck, I'd be very grateful. Preferably one by someone who isn't dead.
I've spent most of January re-reading my own small library and it's depressing how many of my favourite authors, outside fandom of course, died long before I was born. Re-read Emma, that's still a great book. So fantastic, in fact, I may have to send hate mail to the next person who compares it to anything written by a Bronte. Unless it's something like 'Austen is so far superior to the Brontes it's hard to draw comparison.'
And I re-read all my Reginald Hills. He's not dead yet, that cheers me up. A brilliant writer who I'd recommend to anyone. Well, anyone English, they're set in Yorkshire and the language might be impenetrable to an American. Great who-dun-its, but don't let that put you off if you don't like mysteries, this guy rises well above. Such a love of words. Here's a tiny little quote: It was, he acknowledged later, an attempt at comfort on a par with assuring Mrs Lincoln she'd have hated the rest of the show.
Then A Town Like Alice, which my Dad gave me when I was eleven and it made me cry for days then. Only hours, nowadays, but that's just because I can read quicker now. The guy might have had some dodgy political ideas but boy could he tell a story. If there's anybody left in the English speaking world who hasn't read Nevil Shute you should go and do that right now. (And it's nowhere near as depressing as I just made it sound.)
Skipped PG Wodehouse, read those last winter. Yesterday it was Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams, even the Even British Nuclear Fuels rushed out a statement to the effect that it was a one in a million chance there was hardly any radioactive leakage at all and the site of the explosion would make for a nice location for a day out with the kids and a picnic, before finally having to admit that it wasn't actually anything to do with them at all. No rational cause could be found for the explosion - it was simply designated an act of God. But, thinks Dirk Gently, which God? And why? What God would be hanging around Terminal Two of Heathrow Airport trying to catch the 15.37 to Oslo? of that book makes me giggle.
So that's what I like. If any of those are on you favourite author list I'd really appreciate you taking the time to recommend me something new.
My best Christmas present was a CD, the 30th anniversary edition of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, another thing my dad got me hooked on at a young age. Here's a little quote from that (Stephen Fry, I think), you have to say it out loud, and if you're American for 'Piers Morgan' read 'Condoleeza Rice'
Definitions - Countryside: The Killing of Piers Morgan
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