Peter O’ Toole acting his camels off.
The Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T E Lawrence (the man himself)
This beautiful book is on this list because quite a lot of it is about the care and maintenance of camels.
Sunk in the sofa, squirrelling away my life, the street had gone quiet. But then this was South Dublin, it was traffic or nothing really. I listened for the familiar sounds of people driving around and around enjoying their lives, nothing. It was circa the discovery of sun dried tomatoes, peak breakfast roll, garages all emporia to delicious grease, chicken and stuffing was the code word of the day, everyday.
Like the television show that allows brain inactivity, the child’s blanket drenched in sleep, the old body battered sofa, I have books I like to lie back into once a year like a good thin
A Writing Mind, a Racing Mind
Vroom vroom. Pit pit, neuerommmm, neurommm. Gasp gasp.
The first small drip drip of consciousness every morning means I’m up. I have a racing mind. I can’t stop it. It gets faster throughout the day. A siesta after lunch helps some, slowing and tightening the flailing tethers, but not for long.
My Reading life Part 3: War Books, Russians and Non-Fiction Tear Jerkers.
I escaped the destructive force of living in a nice house with food in the fridge for a vagabond life eating foods which later transpired to give people Mad Cow disease. I no longer had the steady stream of books being flung my way. I began to buy my own second hand books. The best thing about second hand books in those days was it was a fantastic pick and mix of titles and you pretty much took what you could get. I forced myself to read Underworld by DeLillo a book that has been lauded fore and aft that I have since returned to and found to be a touch staid.
Americans Bombing Paris is a classic romantic thriller skewered with humour and geopolitics. An intoxicating mix of food, lust, Paris and misguided youth. Click Here to go to Your Local Amazon For Johnny and Naya trouble was unavoidable and in truth they never tried...
My Reading Life Part 2
Entering into my teenage years, swerving to avoid the hormones, I upped my reading and started in properly on a subject which would take me through the next few years: Northern Ireland. Glory Boys, a thriller by Gerald Seymour, a writer I don’t think about that often anymore but who in the late eighties was my everything.
As a neurotic maniacal child I always had a strong desire to use bad language. I was the eldest child, so as any other eldest (best) child can vouch for I grew up with rules the equivalent of a gulag’s. In this gulag of the mind (ahem) bad language was seen as the worst of all sins. I was only young so there really were not that many sins available yet. Swearing was the obvious one, stealing and of course lying. But swearing was my forbidden fruit.
My Reading Life Part 1
Getting Sick and Getting Stuck In
I grew up in a house with hundreds of books so first off, and full disclosure, there were always books around. But that alone was not enough, my brother never read a single page until he met Jack Reacher years later. My sister only took it up long after leaving home despite her being offered money per book as a child. Nowadays she reads like she is being paid per book but alas it is too late.
When I was seven or eight I got measles alo
I have ghosted two books thus far. One published and one to be published. This is what I have learnt.
You are the ghost.
The author is the author.
I was born before I died maybe thirty years ago
Saturday November 9 2002
I stood on the balcony as the first planes came screeching and screaming in. Flying lower than they needed, to get a better look. The view must have been amazing. Plunging low, then high, undulating at something around the speed of sound. Even American Air Force pilots were unable to resist the allure of Paris. Le Top Gun.
“Let us not pretend any of us care one jot for the other. Let us not continue with that conceit. Let them not stand there and say they noticed the blood on my sleeves.” Johnny