Old Friends

As I’ve doubtless kvetched about already, I’ve been feeling unsuccessful in finding just the right never-before-read-by-me escapist literature. Ya know, something desperately imaginative, funny or, at the least, immensely witty.

What’s a book addict, in deep need of great balls of rollicking, imaginative reality evasion, to do? Why…revisit the classics, that’s what! There’s comfort to be had in knowing how a story turns out—I get to consume and enjoy the hell outta every well crafted sentence, paragraph and chapter having already accepted that Maggie (but NOT Jane) will die (in John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War).

I’ve reread all Martha Wells’s Murderbot books, novellas and short stories, reread Carl Hiaasen’s anarchic Florida tales and Vivian Shaw’s Dr. Greta Helsing series and so many of Tom Holt’s wild stories. I’ve reread Old Man’s War so many times, I could recite it from memory. Past favorites, Simon Green, Charlaine Harris and Christopher Moore’s writings no longer trip my trigger.

I’d reread Kurt Vonnegut but, incredibly, he’s a bit too heavy for me right now. Or maybe that’s not it. The Amazing Bob and I, between the two of us, had everything he wrote. Possibly I’m reluctant to break open Slaughterhouse-Five and The Sirens of Titan because I’m afraid they’ll reignite my TAB grief?

So then, what to do, what to do?

A HAH—Jasper Fforde’s The Eyre Affair series! It’s been such a long time since I first read this that I clean forgot about the riot between the neosurrealists and the Renaissancers.

This evening several hundred Raphaelites surrounded N’est pas one pipe public house where a hundred neosurrealists have barricaded themselves in. The demonstrators chanted Italian Renaissancer slogans and then stones and missiles were thrown. The neosurrealists responded by charging the lines protected by large soft watches and seemed to be winning until the police moved in.
~~~
Grubb continued his broadcasts he intercepted a policeman marching away a youth with a faithful reproduction of the ”Hand of God” from the Sistine Chapel tattooed on his face.”
~~~
“People say we’re just Renaissancites causing trouble, but I’ve seen Baroque kids, Raphaelites, Romantics and Mannerists here tonight. It’s a massive show of classical artistic unity against these frivolous bastards who cower beneath the safety of the word ‘progress.’”

One chapter features a long running production of Richard III that’s done a la Rocky Horror—lots of utterly irreverent, hilarious audience participation.

The insane arch-villain of the story, Acheron Hades, really hates to be considered crazy: “I'm not mad. I'm just ... well, differently moraled, that's all.“

Also, our hero, Tuesday Next, has a pet dodo.

Ahhhh…just what I needed.

Pam, in comments yesterday, reminded me of Mr. Penumbra's 24-hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan. She’s also recommended his book Sourdough (speaking of sentient sourdough starter and all) which I've just placed on my BPL hold list.

Also, I’d forgotten all about Jonathan Lethem. LOVED Motherless Brooklyn and Gun,With Occasional Music. Must look into his latest The Arrest.

This is a dystopian novel in thrall to its own genre, full of knockabout comic book bravado, with regular knowing nods to literary and cinematic history. It is, in short, a blast.

OK, OK, I think I'm good for reading matter now BUT if you've recommendations, PLEASE, I welcome them!