SHORT BOOK REVIEW

   

STEPHEN KING

THE INSTITUTE.

I'm happy to confess that I am one of Mr.King's 'constant readers'.  His books have played a huge part in my life for about as long as I can remember.  For me, the man is a genius and one of only a few authors whose new books I will buy in Hardback as soon as they are released.

But.  And it's a big but..recently he seems to have lost something?   Maybe it's age or a reaction to the awful accident he had a few years ago or something else but his last few have left me with a distinct disappointment.

This one I'm sorry to say is another one of those. 

No spoilers as per usual but the plot involves a secret organisation who are kidnapping kids with latent physic abilities.  They are being taken to 'The Institute' where these abilities are being enhanced and are then used to carry out various nefarious tasks including murder.  Needless to say The Institute isn't the most pleasant place to reside and the kids are routinely tortured and discarded once their usefulness is over.  One group of kids decide to rebel.

You may think it's all very Firestarter   and you'd be absolutely correct.  It is VERY Firestarter.  

He always writes children well and does here to but there is just something missing.  I'm usually gripped by a new SK from paragraph one on page one but here I wasn't.  I found myself not really caring about any of the main characters and some of the others like The Institutes 'ferocious' head was about as threatening as a bowl of vegetable soup.

It all ends very much as expected.

I didn't enjoy it.  It was a chore to read.  I've felt a similar way to his last few I'm extremely sad to say.  He just seems to have ran out of ideas?

Still be a 'constant reader' and will still read everything the man ever writes but I can't really recommend this one at all.  Go back and re read 'The Stand'.  You'll be glad you did. 

 

SHORT BOOK REVIEW

 

12 MONKEYS 

ELIZABETH HAND.

Movie tie in.

12 Monkeys (The Movie) and 12 Monkeys (The Series) are two of my favourites.

This one is based on the Movie only as it was published at that time when the TV Series was only on someones 'what if' wish list.

Written by someone called Elizabeth Hand who i'd not heard tell of before or since. It's pretty short at just over 200 pages for this paperback edition.

It doesn't veer too far from what occurs in the Movie at all and that would be a pretty huge problem for anyone reading the book without first watching the film.

It's not the easiest movie to follow.  Full of time travel puzzles and paradoxes that require the watchers full concentration.  The book is similar.  You won't have much of a clue of what is going on unless you've watched the movie.

It's fairly typical for a tie in Novel.  Nothing special but reasonably well written. 

I finished it fairly quickly which is unusual for me.

Hard to recommend if you don't love the concept of the film.  If you do you may get something out of it or you may not.

That's about all I can say about it really?

 

So here's the thing - On Lough Foyle

Ahh...Lough Foyle.

For those that don't know Lough Foyle sits in between County Londonderry in Northern Ireland and County Donegal in the Republic of Ireland (ROI).  Ownership of said lough is in dispute between the UK Government and their counterparts in the ROI.  It's be going on for awhile now and a conclusion doesn't seem to be getting any closer.

However, on TV tonight in Northern Ireland on a program highlighting the details of this, one of the commentators, i can't remember which one unfortunately, stated that this dispute had been going on for 'hundreds of years'.

Ummm...strange.  Consider this.

The Island of Ireland was split in 1922 after violent insurrection against British control.  Subsequently the Republic of Ireland was also formally formed then. The six counties that form  Northern Ireland remained a part of the UK. Before that the entire Island of Ireland had been under British control for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Now even considering my appalling mathematics that is 96 years ago.

So who then was disputing ownership of the Lough, as the commentator stated, for hundreds of years?
Before 1922 the entire Island of Ireland was a part of the United Kingdom so the lough was also part of the United Kingdom?

Therefore before 1922 ownership of the Lough wasn't disputed by anybody?  So where the commentator gets hundreds of years from is lost on me.  I do wish someone had asked him but unfortunately no one asked him to clarify his ridiculous comment.

And before someone starts nothing political here just simple geography (and a bit of History).
Personally i couldn't really care less about Lough Foyle.  Never been there and probably never will but still....i do like to nit pick about these sorts of things.

SO HERE'S THE THING...ON SYRIA

TEXT TO FOLLOW

COLLECTION ADDITION.

Hard Playstation Vita games are pretty difficult to come across these days so i was really pleased to get hold of this one recently.
It's actually a Chinese Official release with a English language option which makes a pleasant change.
I know that Limited Run Games have also released a very limited hard copy of Ys Origin too but it's different from this one (Box Art etc) and like most LRG releases it's now impossible to find unless you are willing to pay a lot for it.

I haven't tried it yet, so many games so little time, but i do like some of the Ys series of games so i'm hopeful that i'll appreciate this one too.

On Plagiarism and Katniss Everdeen.

I read a lot of the old so-called 'Pulp' Science Fiction and Fantasy magazines mainly from the 1950's and 1960's.  They go back much longer than that and some are still going today but that's another story for another day.

Anyway, at the minute i'm about half way through the May-June 1974 issue of Worlds of IF.
It contains a short story by Fred Saberhagen  called Berserker's Planet and the plot seemed somewhat familiar to me.

Part of the back story in the first chapter goes something like this -

'The God was pleased to grant to humankind the privilege of fighting for a seat at his right hand, the competition being open to the sixty-four finest heroes of the age.  To accomplish this purpose the inhabited world had been arbitrarily divided into 64 districts, and the local rulers of every district where invited to send - the details of the selection process being left largely up to them-their mightiest warrior.  All but one of the contestants was expected to die in the Tournament, and that one, the winner, would be granted the status of a demi-god and would take his seat at God's right hand'.

Ummmm...
Yep.  Me too.

TOO OLD TO DIE YOUNG.

There are many things that irritate me about growing older.  Loosing my hair and having to urinate much more often than i used to are just two of them.
The other one is death.
When you're younger all there ever seems to be is engagements, weddings and babies being born. Nowadays the only things i seem to hear about is someone dying.

An old friend of mine died this weekend.  I use 'old friend' for want of another, more appropriate description.
I never really liked the guy that much and always got the feeling that he felt a similar way about me, but i did spend a fair few of my formative teenage years in his company.  I haven't seen or spoken to him in probably over 30 years but it's still upset me (just a little).

The newspaper obit said he had 4 children and I'm obviously sad for them.
There is something intrinsically unfair about this whole living business it seems.
Here's me, drifting along day by day with, in reality, no sort of life whatsoever and the chances of ever having a family more or less gone and this poor bloke dies at an early enough age.  I think, if memory serves me correctly, that he was a few years younger than me.  I've no idea how he died.  He might have been ill for years for all I know.  It's just not right somehow?

If i feel like it I may even pop along to his funeral on Tuesday but I probably won't.  That would mean getting up during the day and I don't do that much these days.

So there you have it.  Another one bites the dust and I'll still probably wake up in the morning.
Ummmm.................

SHORT BOOK REVIEW

THE QUEEN'S PROMISE

LYN ANDREWS

I must confess that this novel was purchased solely on it's subject matter.  I have never previously read anything by this author and am led to believe that this is her first in the Historical fiction genre.

Considering that it's a reasonable enough effort and an enjoyable read.

I would imagine that most admirers of the late British Queen will read almost anything with her name or image on it.  I am as guilty of that as anyone else  i'm not ashamed to admit.

The novels real focus is not, however, solely based upon Anne.  She is, obviously, a principal character but it's more on the life of Henry Percy and the author's fictional character Will Chatton who becomes the Earl's manservant and friend. 

The author's writing style has some irritating faults as does the novel in general - 

1.  She spends way to much time and appears to have an unhealthy obsession with what her characters are wearing.  It seems that every other page there is a lengthy and very dull full description of her characters outfits.

2.  I found Chattons meteoric rise from servant to a prosperous businessman somewhat hard to believe although i did generally like the character.

3.  Some of the language she uses is also a little difficult to comprehend.  Does the author really believe that two people, in the comfort of their own homes, had private conversations in such a formal manner?

4.  The ending is very, very rushed.  It almost seems as if Ms.Andrews simply got fed up and rushed off the last few chapters just to be finished with it.

It may seem that i'm being a little harsh which is not my intention.  I did enjoy it but it's nothing special.  I won't read it again and would find it difficult to fully recommend. 

It's stunningly average in every possible way.   

FAMICLONE UPDATE #11

text to follow

I KNOW MY RIGHTS...IT'S IN THE CONSTITUTION!

TEXT TO FOLLOW.

ON ANNE BOLEYN

Those that know me will know that my lifelong obsession with Anne shows no sign of dimming even after all these years.
I never tire of reading her story time after time after time.  It's still as new to me now as it was about 40 years ago when i first heard it.
Nevertheless, i still do get irritated once and awhile when there is a new book or a documentary that gets it wrong.

Recently, a new book cover boasted of the story of the 'infamous' Queen of England.  Now, obviously,   the Queen of England thing is wrong but if i had a pound for how many times supposed 'Historians' got that one wrong i'd be a multi millionaire by now.  She was the Queen of England, Wales, The Island of Ireland, parts of Scotland, Parts of France etc etc which, if truth be told is a bit of a mouthful to say or write every time and many writers use England as a convenience. It's still wrong though.
I did email the author to ask her just how and in what way she considered Anne to be infamous but she declined to reply unfortunately.

I also disagree strongly that Anne was Mary Boleyn's younger sister.  The truth is that there is no solid evidence left now to prove or disprove it either way but for me what evidence there actually is points very strongly to the exact opposite.
We know very little of Mary Boleyn.  What we do know is that, in Tudor times, the first born was usually the only one in wealthy families that received a substantial education.  Therefore, it only makes sense that if Mary was the first born they it would have been she who received grooming and education.  We know that Mary didn't and the evidence shows that she was uneducated and a rather frivolous individual.  Anne was the daughter who was sent to France and Austria to receive a first class education. It only stands to common sense then that Anne was indeed the elder daughter.  We'll probably never know for 100% certainty that that was the case but you know it makes sense?

I'm also drawn back to a comment on an old school report of mine from when i was about 13.  I had a horrible History teacher who's name i've long forgotten.  On this report she wrote 'Kenneth is experiencing difficulty and clearly has no interest in this subject'.  If only she had taken the time, then, to realise that it was the only subject that i had any interest in.  An interest whose flame still burns brightly over 40 years later.

THAT OLE BLACK DOG AGAIN....

Sometimes he hides in the background only to rear his unwanted head just when you least expect him.
Most days he's there but some days he's more visible than others.
Today's been one of those days.  There he is front, left and centre.  Even a few episodes of The Waltons didn't help.
The loneliness is hard to get around.  On days like this when you don't see or speak to another member of the human race.  No enthusiasm even for EFUK and i always find some enthusiasm for that somewhere.
So what to do about it?  Not a lot unfortunately.
As a old shrink used to say 'Nobody can click there fingers and give you a life'.
How true is that.
I often wonder what i've actually done to deserve this?
Who knows?
Who cares?

WHEN GOOD NEWS IS BAD NEWS?

TEXT TO FOLLOW

ON FACEBOOK.....AND LAURA ROBSON.

I watch ladies tennis.  I like ladies tennis.
Not for the reason you might imagine that they are a lot of really hot ladies tennis players and they wear skimpy outfits.  That helps but it's not that difficult to find footage of hot ladies wearing skimpy outfits if that's the sort of the thing you are interested in?

The men's game leaves me cold.  It's all about power.  The harder the serve the shorter the game.  It's different for the ladies.

My favourite is our own Laura Robson.  She's done very well over the last few years and it's been great to watch her progression.  On and off the court she behaves impeccably, never does anything even remotely controversial and appears to be a sports star that can be looked up to as an example.

I follow Laura on Facebook.  It's a depressing experience.
She frequently gives us, her fans, a brief glimpse into her private life.  Show's us how her training is going and does her best to provide a little bit of news and commentary on things she is interested in and passionate about.

Laura's page shows some of the true negative side of Facebook and the whole social media thing in general.
Yes, she's an attractive girl but every single time she posts something there is a deluge of crude, sexual comments posted by many who seemingly get some sort of a thrill out of that sort of thing.
You can probably imagine the sort of thing i mean without having to repeat any of it.

It's sad that some people live such pathetic lives that they would do such a thing.
It's not big and it's not clever.
Not by a very long way.

L.O.L.I.T.A.

They say there is no fool like a old fool (whoever 'they' are).
They are right.
It's Christmas Day apparently.  In Junkmale world it's Wednesday.  Much the same as any other Wednesday only more shit.
Last year i spent most of the day waiting for a message from the only person i actually really wanted to get a message from.  It didn't arrive.
This year i did exactly the same thing with the same negative result.
How sad am i?
The only thing i know for sure is that i won't be doing the same next year if I'm unfortunate enough to still be here.

YESTERDAY. TODAY. TOMORROW. FOREVER.

One of the things i find missing from Medical Science is the actual physical pain from both grief and a broken heart.  Both lessen a little over time but never leave and can jump up and bite you at the most inappropriate times.

Back when i had a life, many years ago, i had the usual 'boy meets girl' moment.  Swiss Chalet in Glengormley at the late, much missed, Friday night disco.  I was 20.  Usual thing in those days.  Guys waited patiently for the slow ones to arrive and then made every effort they could for a dance and maybe a quick snog from some unsuspecting girl.

Anyway one Friday night, really late on it worked.  And very nice she was too.  Telephone number on the back of my hand for later.  I didn't call her the next week as i'd forgotten her name (in those days my bowels were still healthy and i could have some alcohol).  As well as that i wasn't working, couldn't drive and hadn't really much to offer.

She wasn't there the next week but one of her friends was and i got a big telling off for not calling her. Apparently she'd been waiting all week for me to do so.

So i did.  And eight years later it all came crashing down around me.  They were 8 good years.  Ok the last few weeks of them was pretty unpleasant but hey...it can't all be roses.  I had known from the first few weeks that this was the girl i wanted to spend the rest of my life with and for a very long time it seemed that that was the way it was going to end.  The split wasn't my fault but if i had the chance to do it again i'd do things a lot differently.  With age comes wisdom (or so i'm told).

Problem was i was now 28.  All 'our' friends suddenly became 'her' friends and i didn't really want anyone else. Stupidly believing that it would all be all right in a week or two.  It wasn't.  It felt like i'd lost my right arm. My lover, best friend and everything else just gone in an instant.

The last 21 years have been a bit of drought where interaction with the opposite sex have been concerned. That's probably understatement of the year.  It's not just about the physical aspect but i haven't had anything even remotely connected with sex this century.  It's about that closeness.  That feeling that someone needs you as much as you need them.  That feeling of being loved just for who you are.
The important point is that even 21 years later it hasn't gone away.  Every night when i close my eyes she's there.  Every morning when i open them again she's still there.  One of the things that i really missed at the time was that i didn't have anyone to tell....it's important.

I still get the ridiculous feeling that someday the telephone will ring.  Someday the doorbell will ring and there'll she be.
It won't happen ever but it's nice to have that dream.
My sell by date on the shelf has expired many years ago but that's just how it is (or so i'm told).  Somedays it's not so bad.  Today is not one of those days.
Maybe in another life?

ON AUSCHWITZ......MAY 2013

I paid a visit to both the main Auschwitz and Birkenau camps whilst in Poland in May of this year.
Before i write an account of my impressions of it, i'd like to make two points abundantly clear.

1.  I'm not a Nazi.
2.  I'm not a Holocaust denier.

I would ask that you keep those very important points in mind before reading this report.
If nothing else i'm a History Geek.
For me History is an ever changing topic.  Until a few months ago no one was 100% sure that Richard III had a deformity of his back.  Now the facts clearly show that he did.  History is about just that: FACTS.  And facts are only confirmed by compelling evidence in support of them.

I resent the fact that 'questioning' certain aspects of the Holocaust tends to lead to accusations of being a 'denier'.  That is simply not the case.  It's not wrong to question Historical evidence  but unfortunately the Holocaust is a taboo subject.  Any questioner is often labelled unfairly and unjustly as something they are not.  How can we ever learn without asking the 'why's' and the 'but's'?  If there are certain things you have questions about how can it be wrong in any way, shape or form to ask for answers.

I have my view on the Holocaust and on the 'camps'.  Some of the views i hold i'm not entirely comfortable with and one of the reasons i went to Auschwitz was to see if actually being there might change my opinion.
In most cases it didn't.  I left with many more questions that i had found answers to which was pretty disappointing on a purely personal level.

(to be continued)

DON'T GET SICK...DON'T GET OLD?

Never a truer word said methinks.  Sometimes my life revolves around Jim's lyrics way to much.  It's a failing on my part or perhaps not? He is a genius and many a time i've considered that he was actually thinking of me, personally, before putting pen to his Tesco Value notebook.

Today i've been thinking about how refreshing it would be to have an actual friend.  I used to have lots back in the day but no more.  Someone to talk to would be nice just once in a while.  To complain to, to mull over the minutae of everyday comings and goings.  What's going on in the world, what's on TV, the new Dollyrots album whatever?

I often wonder what's happened to them all?  Most have lives , have all done the 'normal' thing, went off, got married and had children.  I didn't unfortunately.  Although i was close, once, a long time ago. It happens and it's always the one who's left behind that suffers.

So, what is there to do about it?  Not an awful lot.  I don't get invited to things any longer.  Even if i did i probably wouldn't go.  Spending an evening in a room full of couples is not my idea of fun.  But it does hurt.  I'm safe in the knowledge that if the situation was reversed i wouldn't desert them.  I'd do my best to at least make something of an effort even once in a while.  It's not difficult to pick up the phone....is it?

There comes a time when the reality kicks in, you reach the grand old age of 48 and recognise that this is actually it?  The way it's going to be?  Recently someone told me that the way to cope is to convince yourself that the way your life is was your choice.  Why any sane person would choose this is another matter but it, kind of, makes sense.

Who knows?  In the meantime i'll have a quick chat with the Degu's.  They never judge.

Hello...good evening...welcome and goodbye?

One of the latest ideas from my Shrink is that i should look in the mirror every morning and then make a list of all the things i like about myself.  It's a pretty short list.

There's actually only so much a bloke can take until the elastic snaps.  Or only so many straws you can thrash a camel with before it's back breaks.  There's a point when you say 'no more' and actually mean it.
My latest bout of depression has been going on and steadily getting worse for the last few months.  It's always there, sometimes in the background but more often than not slap, bang, front and centre.

This time i've really tried.  Tried to find a way out of it.  Sought professional help and prepared myself for the actual horribleness of attempting to have an 'actual' life.  Prepared myself for the let downs, the hurts and the normal fucking awfulness of having to communicate with some fellow human beings. To being disappointed.  To feel the cruel twist of rejection and to experience, once again the very real pain of a broken heart.

Should have known better.  But then i never really do.

Enough is enough.  No more.  Bollocks to it.
It's just one kick in the balls after another and this balding, old punk has finally decided to throw the towel in.  I'm not going to force it any more.  Not going to go out.  Not going to speak unless i'm spoken to and sincerely doubt if i'm ever going to attempt to 'do the right thing' ever again. The only person i'm going to try and please is myself.
The good guys really do come last and fuck all comes to those who wait.

It's sort of refreshing in a bizarre sort of way.  The pressure is well and truly off now.  Not giving a fiddlers will be difficult but i'm determined to make it work.  My selfishness will know no bounds.  I can treat others as they treat me.  It might even be fun.

I'll continue to go to bed at night with the hope that morning doesn't come.  Continue to buy books ill never get around to reading, movies i'll never watch and games i'll never play until finally and mercifully oblivion comes.

But then again.  The football season starts again next Saturday.  The Crues away to Coleraine.
Maybe i'll go and see it?

My defeatist attitude?

As yet another day goes by without any direct communication with another member of the human race it got me to thinking.....
I wonder if i died tonight whilst asleep how long it would take before my body was found?  Would the Postman (or Postperson..i have a lady Postman!) wonder that my mail was stacking up?  Would my neighbours report a strange smell? The window cleaner might need paying?  Maybe stray dogs would gather out side my front door or hundreds of Blue bottles would be happily laying some eggs on my mortal remains?
All the possible scenarios might take a while....
I might even make the local newspapers.....'The body of a man was found etc. etc.' Instead of telling the truth  the neighbours and members of my so-called 'family' would all gather to say 'he was a quiet bloke.  Kept himself to himself'.  'How would we know.  we've ignored him for the last 30 years' would be more appropriate.
My Facebook and various Forum friends might wonder where i've gone if i'm away for a few days?  Who knows a lot of them might even be genuinely sorry.
So what would happen at my funeral?  Who would arrange it.  I haven't got a will so who would actually know that i want to be cremated and that i want my ashes spread on the terraces at Seaview, where i've spent some of my happiest hours?  Would anyone know that i want Kenickies Acetone played as my coffin went into the pyre.
Who would speak at the service?  Who would actually go?  What would they say?  Does anyone actually know anything about my life and how miserable it has been for the last 25 years or so?  How i go to bed every night not wanting to wake up in the morning.  How, sometimes i study the bottle of Seroxat and know that it would only take a few to do the job?  How sometimes the urge to pull my car into an uncoming truck is almost unbearable?  It's pretty unlikely, i would imagine.
Still out of the woodwork they would all come.  My coffin would be carried by some relative i hadn't seen in years.  Old work friends would gather and reminisce about the 'good old days' and i'd imagine that most would be sorry that they hadn't made more of an effort.  Someone might even put a notice in the newspaper, some might even see it, sigh for a few seconds before getting on with their lives.
My house would be cleared by some unknown stranger.  All my crap would be binned or taken to the nearest Charity shop.  Bob and Tailor would be put up for adoption in Pets at Home.  The house would be sold and someone would use the money to pay off my fairly substantial Credit Card debts and the rest would go to my next of kin.  No one would know that that my Stranglers collection is worth 10's of thousands of pounds and some one in the Cancer Research shop would have the luckiest day of their life.
My Minister often tells me that life is all part of God's plan.  That everyone has a purpose and that things are meant to be?  Someone up there is clearly having a laugh.
I wonder what my legacy would be?  How i'd be remembered?  What would people say when they thought about me?  He was in  band once?  He liked some foreign singer?  He watched the Crues?  He was good to his Mum?
Or maybe...just maybe i'm having a bad day?