Bill Bailey sells out arenas, but prefers to play theatres. Lucky for us. This sold-out show at the Royal Concert Hall might be on the last leg of a long tour (the DVD comes out in November) but still feels fresh. There’s no arrogance about Bailey, who introduces himself as being from the West Country. “I didn’t keep the accent because I wanted to get on in life.” He’s very clever, but never makes his audience feel stupid. His running gags work whether or not you know who Alberti or Chantelle is. The latter provided some of his best running jokes, like the question about the name of the upper part of the foot. I wonder if the guy who immediately shouts out the answer was at the…
We’ve just had a full two weeks away in Croatia. I took a pile of books plus a Kindle with me, planning to leave several of the books behind. How many could I bring myself to dump? Wait and see. On the plane, I read Loren D Estleman’s nine year old Amos Walker novel Retro. This was the first Estleman I’d read in twenty years, picked up for 20p in my local library, and I don’t know why I’ve been denying myself the pleasure of his hard boiled, tightly plotted, satisfying novels. I’ll be back for more. On our first full day in Babin Kuk, I donated it to the hotel library, where I couldn’t resist picking up a much fatter volume, the much discussed…
I’m not much given to reading memoirs, unless they’re by writers I already like a great deal, but this book’s subject matter appealed to me (and it’s still only 99p on Kindle) as it covers territory that I’ve written about in two of my novels, Denial and Love Lessons (eBook edition coming soon). In each, an underage girl sleeps with an older man: 23 in one case, nearer forty in the other, and the man’s exploitative behaviour is demonstrated, then skewered. There’s a moral element, of course, in that YA fiction is for emerging adults and the novel acts as a warning to young people tempted to have sex with an unscrupulous teacher (or, for that matter, university lecturer). Not long after I wrote Love Lessons, the law…
About three years ago, I heard mention of a novel with an intriguing title that had an introduction by one of my favourite writers, John McGahern. I got it and read a couple of pages. It looked well written but, rather… ‘a masterly portrait of a truly virtuous and dedicated man’ says The New Yorker on the cover. Sounds dull, doesn’t it? And the opening pages, about a Missouri farm boy heading to agricultural college, aren’t gripping. Then I read this article about how Stoner, while little known in the US, was steadily gathering readers all over Europe (a selection of the translation covers above) and thought, I’d better give this another go. I finished it in 48 hours this bank holiday weekend. The novel…
An extended version of my review as it appears in today’s Nottingham Post. Thanks to TV and film roles, Eddie Izzard has become a household name. A documentary series about his ill-fated Mandela marathons begins tonight. He’s so popular that a second date was added at the Capital FM Arena. Confusingly, it’s the day before the first Force Majeure show. Last time he performed in the city it was for 220 people at Lakeside. I tried to get tickets but missed out by a minute. Did get to see him at his next appearance, at this arena, when he was warming up for the then new Labour leader, Ed Miliband. Odd occasion. The other well known warm-up/microphone handerouter was Joan Bakewell. Eddie says he…