Fibro Book Club: The Rosie Project

It's fair to say that The Rosie Project is one of those word-of-mouth novels for good reason. There's a lot to talk about! For me, the book had the stamp of screenplay all over it, and not to the novel's detriment. As author Graeme Simsion revealed in his Facebook chat with the Fibro Book Club last week, the story began as a screenplay, morphed into a novel and has now been optioned as a screenplay again. Personally, I'd love to see it played out on the big screen - though we might need to have long conversations over who would play Don.

I thought the dialogue in the book was one of its absolute cornerstones. As a reader, I really enjoyed the interchanges, the different patterns of the voices, the zing of it all. As a writer, I just want to know how Graeme does it (I asked him in the chat whether he read it out loud, but, alas, he told me that after many years of screenwriting it just comes as second nature now - at which point I made a note to do a screenwriting course...)

It's a lovely, lovely book on so many levels - gentle humour, terrific pacing - but at the heart of it all is, of course, the inspired character of Don Tillman (who has his own Twitter handle if you'd like to say hello). For me, it was all driven by Don - what would he say next, what would he do next - and that made a relatively fanciful story feel real.

I'm happy to join in the general babble of happy, positive word-of-mouth that's driving this novel's success. I look forward to reading everyone else's thoughts here or over at the Fibro Club Facebook page (if you haven't joined us, come and say hello!)

PS: What do you think of this cover from the UK version of the book? 

Who do you think should play Don in the movie?

Why I don't like book clubs - and yet I'm starting one (allegedly)

Sometimes it doesn't pay to be on Twitter. There I was, minding my own business, sending out pithy (to me) tweets about this and that, when suddenly I found myself inveigled in a conversation about book clubs.

I don't like book clubs. I get that people love them, and I must say that I did have an enjoyable time in one a few years ago - but that had nothing to do with books. Mostly we got together, drank beers and talked about men. Even so, because I am a nerdy wordgirl, I had to endure reading many, many books that I did not like at all. Because they had been set as the text for that month and I am nothing if not diligent when it comes to doing my homework.

So I'd wade through someone else's choice of literature, feeling physically itchy about it at times, and then turn up on the night to find that I was the only one who had. Even the person who had set the book hadn't read it. Or, if they had, they wanted to tell us that they 'liked it' or 'didn't like it' and then move on to beers and men.

Leaving me there, alone, with my carefully prepared thoughts on theme and narrative devices.

Hmmmph.

Anyhoo, back to that fateful Twitter conversation. Somehow, thanks to @ClaireyHewitt, I have found myself head prefect of a newly formed online book club. Only I'm not going to call it a book club, I'm going old school, with Reading Club. Much more refined.

Despite my best efforts to delegate the whole exercise to @HelloMaxabella (you can't say that without hearing Seinfeld sneer "hello Newman", now can you?), here I am. With my Fibro Reading Club. Membership of one.

The Rules of Fibro Club:

1. You do NOT talk about Fibro Club (okay, not really, but how could I resist?)

2. The book for each month will be announced in my newsletter on the 15th of each month. The Fibro Club post regarding that book will go up on the first day of the following month. That gives us about two weeks to read the book. Long enough?

3. If you want to participate in the discussion, it would be great if you read the book. But if you don't like the look of the book, feel free to simply bypass that month and pop back another time. Or read something else and tell us what you think of that instead.

4. No shirts, no shoes. Pyjamas and beers are, however, perfectly acceptable.

At this stage, I'm still deciding the best place to hold our discussion. We can just do it in the comments here. Or we can shift to Twitter. Or I could even get all excited and start a Facebook page. All suggestions welcome. 

There you have it. My prefect badge is all shined up and ready for the announcement of the first book in next week's newsletter. Feel free to sign up if you'd like to join in!

Have you ever been in a book club? Tell me what you love and/or hate about them so that we can avoid the same mistakes?

image: a small portion of my current to-be-read pile

Suffer the dragons... they're worth it.

If there's one thing that has suffered in the last few years of combining family, work, writing, blogging and, now, weeding, it's quality reading time. I'm fortunate in that I'm a quick reader, so I'm still getting through books, but I no longer get those long blocks of time in which to get lost in a story.

In the last six months, I've worked my way through the first five books of George RR Martin's A Song Of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) series. And when I say work, I do mean work. It's war, adventure, mayhem and politics on an EPIC scale and the plotting has me in absolute awe. How the man kept track of all those characters and managed to create so many memorable ones in the mix is beyond me. I'll even suffer the dragons to find out what happens next.

To explain, I'm not a major fan of dragons and other mystical weirdness in my book. I don't mind them in a Lord of the Rings, peopled by Hobbits and Goblins. There they have context. In a book based so heavily on human nature, though, I struggle a little. But when the plotting and politics in a story are so good, I can overlook them. Very large elephants in the room, I know, but there you have it. And don't even get me started on the White Walkers...

Which brings me to my lesson of the day: don't start a series until you know it is complete. Having got to the end of book five, I have discovered that Mr Martin is still working on book six. And, given that he has taken up to four years in the past to create each one, I may be waiting some time. That's a long time to be on the edge of your seat...

In fact, I am faced with the prospect of having to read the whole lot again once book six comes out. Just so I can keep track of what's happened.

Good. Grief.

What was that I was saying about having no quality reading time anymore...?

Best I start now.

What are you reading at the moment? Do you love it?

[image from here]

Are you living a 'wild' life?

"What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" - The Summer Day, Mary Oliver

I read this quote today. It's from a poem. I do not read a lot of poetry. I spent many hours with the Norton Anthology of Poetry during my first year English Literature studies at the University of Sydney. I didn't love it. I spent many hours with The Canterbury Tales during my year 12 English studies. I didn't love it either (though I confess the Wife of Bath sounded like good fun at a dinner party).

I do love this quote. Though I confess that, sitting here in my study, wrapped in my Slanket), I connect with the 'precious' aspect of the quote moreso than the 'wild' at the present time.

How many of us live 'wild' lives, I wonder? What constitutes a 'wild' life? I suspect that it doesn't involve suburbs, school runs and vacuum cleaning. Or does it? Does a life need to be 'big' to be 'wild', or is there wildness in living small?

Poetry is designed to make you think. So what do you think? What makes a life 'wild'?

[image: tiny porcelain house beads from lofficina/etsy]

What's the best book you've read recently?

With the school holidays upon me, my thoughts turn to life before children, when a holiday meant a complete break and, probably, a lovely pile of two or three new books to read. I'm thinking there won't be much of that going on in the Fibro in the next few weeks...

But, just to torture myself, I'm going to compile a reading list. With your help. So tell me, what's the best book you've read recently?

[image: from one of my favourite websites bookshelfporn.com]

All about books: The Distant Hours

I finished reading Kate Morton's new book The Distant Hours today. I bought it a couple of months ago and then put off reading it, savouring its presence on the To Be Read pile. I am an unabashed fan of Ms Morton's writing, having devoured both The Shifting Fog and The Forgotten Garden. I find her particular combination of storytelling and beautiful prose, overlaid with a whiff of family saga, quite compelling.

The Distant Hours did not disappoint. But now it is over. As with the best stories, I never wanted to leave the world that had been created. This time, however, I'm taking a little something extra with me.

"She says there are stories everywhere and that people who wait for the right one to come along before setting pen to paper end up with very empty pages. That's all writing is, apparently, capturing sights and thoughts on paper."

That quote really resonated with me. It sums up much of what I've said before about 'waiting for the muse'. It reminded me that writing is about capturing what goes on around us. Bringing our own particular spin to the everyday.

It stayed with me as I watched Mr6's Christmas concert tonight. The pinched, anxious face of a child looking for Mum and Dad in the crowd. The wide smile that lights that face as he spots the hands waving wildly in support. The tall blonde sprite wearing the 'Elves Gone Wild' t-shirt, completely deadpan throughout the whole performance. The unabashed joy of the Kindy kids in their Santa hats and Angel halos, beaming as they work through their 'choralography', contrasted with the excruciating group self-consciousness of the sixth-grade class.

Small moments every one of them. Each a family saga in itself.

{image: katemorton.com/journal}

Wild about Harry

Mr6 and I are reading Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone together. Last year, I read it to him. He loved it. Could recount every detail. Then someone from school lent him the DVD. I warned him he wouldn't like it. This is a kid who has nightmares at the slightest provocation. Somehow I felt that Voldemort was large provocation. But he was not to be dissuaded.

So I let him watch it. With these words ringing in his ears: "I will let you watch this so that next time I tell you that you are too young for a movie you will believe me."

Five nights of waking up screaming later, he believed me. "I thought Fluffy was soft and purple," he said of the three-headed doberman depicted in the film.

"I wish you still did," I answered.

The unfortunate side-effect was that he wouldn't even read the second book with me. We'd begun it, he was enjoying it. Post-movie, it was pushed so far to the back of the book shelf that we have yet to find it again.

No-one was more surprised than me when he bought out the first book again last week. "Let's read this," he said. "I've forgotten what happens."

This time, we're taking it in turns to read. I love Harry Potter. I do. I read them all before I even had children. They're just fun. A rollicking good read. Say what you like about J.K Rowling's literary prowess, the woman knows how to write a great story.

So far, so good. No sign of nightmares or even unsettled dreams. Then again, no sign of Fluffy yet, and only the slightest mention of He Who Shall Not Be Named. I have my fingers crossed we'll get to the end and he'll want to go on to Book Two.

Then we'll just have to find it...

Speaking of reading, don't miss your weekly dose of quality blogs at Lori's Flog Yo Blog Friday.

The mystery of my Blyton voice

Tonight I realised that I have an Enid Blyton voice. It is terribly proper, pitched slightly higher than my usual speaking voice, and rounded at the edges. Perfect for talking about lashings of ginger beer and the importance of being polite.

It's been creeping up on me for a little while, this realisation. As Mr6 and I worked our way through books one to five of the Famous Five series, with its references to Anne's love of keeping house and the thrill of hard-boiled eggs, right through books one to six of the Secret Seven with its jolly hockey sticks overtones and its terribly privileged young protagonists, I wondered why my throat hurt if I read more than one chapter. It's the strain of my Blyton voice.

It only really came to the fore this evening, thanks to a rapid switch between reading one of Dav Pilkey's haphazard Captain Underpants books and a quick adventure in the Wishing Chair with the Terribly Polite Goblin. Captain Underpants demands a sort of 'Cor Blimey' excitement - quite the contrast with the tea, scones and Sunday Best vibe wheeled out for any Blyton.

It's quite specific, the Blyton voice. I can't think of any other books we read that require it. Not Zac Power, that's for sure. Not Harry Potter. Not even the 27th Annual African Hippopotamus Race. Anne of Green Gables or The Secret Garden might be candidates for it, but there's likely to be little call for those in a house full of boys.

I read recently that Enid Blyton's books have been 'sensitively' updated to include mobile phones. Julian even calls his maternal figure 'mum', not 'Mother'. Shudder. I will have to stick to vintage editions as there would be no call for the Blyton voice in such books.

Still, it's good to know that I can pull it out when I need it. I've been asked to do a reading at the school mass on Friday. I think this is a cunning plan to ensure my attendance. I can't think of a better outing for the Blyton voice, though, can you?

Does Enid Blyton bring out the 'terribly English' in your reading voice? Perhaps you have another secret voice that only appears when you read certain things? Please share. It would be good to know that I'm not alone in sounding like a complete pillock.

What did you talk about this week?

It’s that time of the week when I share some of the wide variety of topics of conversation that came up through work or play in the course of life in a pink fibro. This week, the game of Chess has infiltrated the Fibro and Mr6 is hooked.

Chess, writing, reading, permission notes, the car's brakes, peeling 100kg of potatoes, pies, sore throats, temperatures, doing business in the bush, Beautiful Malice, the water cycle, bike riding, pitching, changing editors, fundraising, moving house, aged care finance, free money, feeding the fish, rooks, pawns, the all-powerful Queen, 20,000 words, allowing enough time, car service, subtitles, raffle tickets, yoga, meetings, visiting the Big Smoke, cruising, bunting, recycling, castling, Luke Skywalker's Landspeeder, Zac Power, and how Alla Hoo Hoo can do anything and be anything - in 'big shoes'.

{image: fileguru.com}

All about books: Going cuckoo with the Classics

If I were at school right now, I’d be failing English. I set myself a goal this year to read more classics. I started well with Cold Comfort Farm, but have gone steadily downhill since then. I got two chapters in with Love In a Cold Climate, before being distracted by a Scandinavian crime novel.

Then I watched The Wire and decided that The Great Gatsby might be the go. D’Angelo Barksdale had very good things to say about it during his brief time in prison. I managed half of that. Before being distracted by a cheap American thriller.

So far I’d have one A and two Fs for not finishing the book. (Mind you, I could probably still write you a pass essay on both of those novels, without ever finishing the book. I am sure I am not the first person to have done that during their academic career. A handful of quotes, some decent notes in class and, hey presto, move on to the next one. Though if my mother is reading this, I never actually tested this premise.)

I’m not sure why I’m struggling so much with this challenge. These are Good Books. They have been Good Books by Great Writers for many years and will no doubt remain so. Penguin thinks they’re good enough to warrant the orange-and-white cover.

And yet I’d rather read crime fiction.

I know why I’m so addicted to crime. I love a good conclusion. All the loose ends tied, the questions answered, the problem solved and wrapped in a bow. Even the gore doesn’t bother me. Me, who closes her eyes during RPA to avoid any sight of a knee operation, reads lengthy descriptions of decaying bodies and insect activity (crucial to the time line) without batting an eye. Because I can be certain that it will all work out in the end. If only life were so accommodating.

The Great Gatsby offers no such promise. This is the third or fourth time I have started this book and not so much given up, but faded away. I know Gatsby wants something he can’t have. So do I. I want to finish the book.

Demoralised by my inability to read Good Books, I have come up with a cunning plan for my next foray. My lovely guitar teacher B is doing One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest at school (year 11) and has asked me to help her with her assignments. I said yes (despite misgivings about just how much help I will be), and in a show of leadership and grown-up-edness, I have begun to read the book.

I am four pages in. Last time I tried this book I got halfway through. I’m aiming higher this time. I need to be able to talk knowledgeably about the nature of the individual and the beauty of Nurse Ratched’s name in two weeks time.

Now all we have to hope is that a must-read Scandinavian crime novel doesn’t hit the shelves in the meantime.