Raw Passion!

I would never have thought that a book I bought based on a review in The Economist would be a page turner bursting with passion, like it happened with It’s All About the Bike: The Pursuit of Happiness on Two Wheels by Robert Penn.



And as nice side effect, I learned a lot about my favourite ride, like how it was invented and the side effects of this process on economy and society. Robert Penn is a great storyteller. Lance Armstrong was so wrong with the title of his book.

The Devil's Paintbrush

Last week, Jake Arnott's brand spanking new novel The Devil's Paintbrush arrived in the mail. I just could not resist, neglected Toño and rushed through it from cover to cover in barely a day.



A book with a title that is derived from the Maxim machine gun¹ can expected to be a bit like a Roman holiday.

Briefly summarized: Major-General Sir Hector Macdonald, a paragon of Victorian military virtue, is about to be court-martialed for pederastic activities. In Paris in March 1903, he encounters the occultist Aleister Crowley, who calls himself the Beast. Together, they embark into a memorable nightly ride through the sinful city, which ends with Macdonald doing the honourable thing.

As always with Jake Arnott, his ability to drag you into the authentic atmosphere of a time is astonishing. And yes, it is a bit sordid.

¹ The Maxim machine gun has a rate of fire of 666 rounds per minute, which makes it splosh red everywhere - hence the pet name.

Johnny Come Home

Last Sunday, I was in the mood to read. I grabbed Jake Arnott's latest novel Johnny Come Home from the shelf where it had been collecting dust for almost three years.



I have no idea how it could remain there so long. I loved Arnott's gangland trilogy, consiting of The Long Firm, He Kills Coppers and truecrime, which was the sophisticated fusion of gangsterism, show business, politics and gay culture. I particularly liked that they were without this coming-out or coming-of-age thing that is often involved when there is a gay storyline. The gangster boss just happened to be a bender and nobody dared to mess with him because of this (if I recall correctly).

Whatever, I started the book on Sunday and finished it yesterday. It has turned out to be a page turner. The Guardian review covers my thoughts quite good. For the once who just want the synopsis:

It's 1972 and as the dreams of the sixties give way to anger and political unrest, the charismatic anarchist Declan O'Connell commits suicide, leaving his boyfriend Pearson and fellow squatter Nina to try to make sense of what has happened. Enter Sweet Thing, a streetwise rent boy, who has an uncanny hold over glam rock star Johnny Chrome; and in the wings lurks Detective Sergeant Walker of the newly formed Bomb Squad, who knows more about O'Connell than anyone ever suspected. The course of all their lives is about to change forever -- for better and for worse.

Jake Arnott's fifth novel, The Devil's Paintbrush will come out by the end of this month. It is set in Paris in 1903, and deals with an encounter between disgraced former British Army officer Sir Hector Macdonald and the occultist Aleister Crowley. It's ordered.

Call Me By Your Name

I'm always a bit reluctant, when a book is hyped a bit too much. Nevertheless, after both Josh & Josh had gave it a clear thumbs up, I caved in and got myself a copy of of Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman.



It has been a while since the pages of a book rushed through my fingers that fast. Reading this book was like diving into the ocean at the dawn of a hot summer day. It's ravenous. It's about love. It's emotional. I haven't been daydreaming about the protagonists of a book since I read At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O'Neill.

Josh & Josh claim that it will be even better the second time. I can't wait to jump into it again.

Manumitted

The curse is broken. I just finished the Potter saga. Now I can live happily ever after with my deriously beloved Toño.

Reading Snack

I know, being a country cousin and living in Switzerland shields me from quite some terrible things out there in the world. However, sometimes I leave this Garden of Eden where milk and honey flows and I have to face the world.

This morning, I almost let drop my coffee and muffin when I spotted this on Glasgow airport:



Yes, it's a book vending machine. Those things might be common at your sort of place. And you might think that this must be serendipity for somebody with an addiction to all printed matter. Nevertheless, for me, it was quite a dystopian experience.

Until the end of June, Switzerland's book shops were bound by a book price trust. That means that until the federal court broke the trust, competition via price was prohibited. Of course, we were paying far too much for the books, but we still have a wide variety of book shops were the staff actually knows what they are selling and can give competent recommendations.

But now I've seen Switerland's future. Thank you federal court. Will we soon can buy justice too like books, chips and soda at a vending machine?