The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon - Richard Zimler

I started this book when I was on holiday at the end of April, and it's taken me until today to finish it. This wasn't because it is particularly long (313 pages) or dull, just that for some reason I just didn't connect with it. The story is a murder mystery set in sixteenth century Lisbon, supposedly written by the protagonist many years later as he tries to understand the context of his uncle's murder.

I think part of my problem with this book was my unfamiliarity with Jewish customs and kabbalah, and though there was a helpful glossary I didn't actually discover this until I was over halfway through. There were also an awful lot of characters who popped up for one scene and then disappeared for 150 pages only to have a critical role in the denouement, which I did find confusing. I had to do a far bit of flicking back to work out who was who. The writing was generally very poetic and evocative, conjuring up an era of intense uncertainty, where the Jews (or 'New Christians' as they were dubbed following their forced conversion by the Portuguese authorities) lived an utterly precarious life, never knowing who to trust. I have Richard Zimler's next book, 'The Seventh Gate', and I will be interested to find out if I am drawn more easily into a story with a modern setting.

The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl - Belle de Jour

I have followed the Belle de Jour blog for a while, though over the last few months it seems to have petered out. I ordered the first book by Belle to make up for this lack of blog, and received it from amazon on the same day that she posted for the first time in months. Nice coincidence. I whizzed through the book, mainly because an awful lot of if was very familiar. I'd read it in the blog. Now I'm sure there were some sections that had been updated, lengthened, titivated, primped and plumped, and there may even have been some completely new material (I wasn't going to go through the blog and match up entries with the book), but I did keep thinking 'I remember this..'. I do love her writing though; it's charming and whimsical but not afraid to say the things that just sometimes do need to be made clear (though are usually left unsaid). 'The Intimate Adventures' is definitely worth reading even (especially?) if you haven't ever seen her blog. Not for the faint-hearted though...

The Prestige - Christopher Priest/Christopher Nolan

I read the book a while ago, and have been meaning to see the film since then. We don't watch as many films as I would like, mainly because S finds it so difficult to stay awake during anything longer than about 40 minutes. I suppose he works quite hard... Anyway, he's in London living it up with the Bank of America so I was free to watch a Proper Film. How exciting! Having read the original novel and marvelled at its twists and turns (like in nature to the proverbial 'twisty turny thing') it is reasonable to say that my expectations were high. Although the film does remove an entire section of narrative, it does it in such a way that I couldn't tell that it was missing until I racked my brains a bit. The brain-racking was slightly hindered at the time though, as I spent a good proportion of the film going 'Was that really David Bowie?!'. It was.

And now for the really geeky bit... I have a weird thing about accents. No, not a fetish, I just get really irritated when accents aren't consistent or are badly researched. Hugh Jackman kept it together most of the time, only slipping in a bit of Aussie elongation and flattening during his death scene, which I suppose is permissible. Scarlett Johansson was most impressive, getting the English vowels and (harder) consonants perfectly, though her speech rhythms were sometimes still a bit American. I was slightly confused by Christian Bale's accent, which seems to wander around all over the place, that is until I watched the extras. He really talks like that...

The saddest thing

I saw a pigeon fall over while I was walking home from work today. It was weaving across the pavement in front of me, and seemed to trip, then fall on its side. After this little mishap, it recovered fairly quickly but it seemed so sad. The sight of this nearly made me cry, which with hindsight is rather strange - I don't like pigeons really, and I'm not the slightest bit pre-menstrual.

Confession...

My name is Ellie, and I'm an addict. A facebook addict. I cannot leave the damn thing alone, even when it is being silly. A recent quiz I did told me that my name, when used as an adjective, means 'Like in nature to a kangaroo'. Hmm. Look at me swimming!

Blessings duly counted

As I was walking through the carriage trying to find a seat on my train to work this morning, I passed a guy knocking back a can of lager in much the same way as many other passengers were enjoying their morning coffee. It made me grateful that, so far, the thought of going to work hasn't driven me to drink on my journey there, although occasionally it does lull me back to sleep so Macclesfield appears as a bit of a surprise...

Bank Holiday Intake

Over the bank holiday weekend a planned camping trip (well, suggested would be more accurate...) was cancelled due to downpours and gales, as should only be expected for the last weekend in May. So instead of outdoor pursuits, or at least the pursuit of a good pub, we had to make do with indoor activities - our chosen pastime? Rediscovering films! HMV has a great deal on at the moment (3 DVDs for £20) and within it we managed to pick up a 3-pack of Merchant Ivory ('Howard's End', 'The Remains of the Day', 'The White Countess'), and two other films ('Amadeus' and 'Shakespeare in Love'. I know...). So we saw 'The Remains of the Day' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's', which S gave me for Christmas but we hadn't got round to watching. On Monday, I did suggest another Merchant Ivory, but S decided he'd rather do some cleaning while watching 'The High Life'...

I must confess that before Saturday I had somehow never seen 'The Remains of the Day' - what a masterpiece of repression and denial. I did find it interesting that in the '20 years later' sections everyone had been aged except for Emma Thompson (who I suppose did have slightly more grown-up hair, but was unchanged other than that) and Anthony Hopkins, who looked exactly the same as in their glory days.

'Breakfast at Tiffany's' is an old favourite for an afternoon in, especially if feeling a little 'dehydrated' following a night out. Dehydration was mainly due to the late night involved, but that was not the only reason considering some of the conversations (probably the only discussion of the correct chemical symbol for Tungsten on Canal Street last Friday, probably not the only discussion about whether the blonde girl in the corner with the gynaecologically short skirt was in 'Girls Aloud'). So we relaxed with a piece of cake and S managed to stay awake for at least 60% of the film (a real achievement!).

Due to tiredness and dehydration, I also had a weekend off from proper reading, and picked up 'The Sign of the Cross' by Chris Kuzneski. This is in the 'Da Vinci Code' vein, good for a long journey or weekend where you don't want to think too much. There's absolutely no subtlety in it, and a feeling that Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Finland are just a homogenous Scandinavian blend of pine trees, saunas and Hamlet. I enjoyed it, even if I felt like giving most of the 'characters' (2D and utterly stereotypical) a good shake once in a while. All in all, a satisfying weekend, although a bit of sunshine wouldn't have hurt...