Month: August 2001

Book review: Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem.
Simply put, this book is utterly brilliant. On one level, it is a fairly typical Marlowe-esque American crime novel. But there is a deeper side to it than that, a more emotional side. The principal character is an orphan and suffers from Tourette Syndrome – at first, the Tourettic ticcing appears humourous, and then is portrayed in a much more sensitive way, and becomes an intriguing plot device. As a reader, you begin to have some understanding of what it must be like to be a Tourette sufferer, the way that other people interact with sufferers, their perceptions of them.
Aside from those issues, the plot itself is fantastic – a total page-turner that makes the book very hard to put down, slowly revealed as our protagonist conducts his investigation, and not without one or two twists and surprises along the way.
Dedicated readers may recall that I have raved about Jonathan Lethem’s writing before. Well, I’m definitely on the look out for more of his writing now. He could easily be elevated to most-favoured author status.

After yesterday’s early morning fog, today Chichester has been treated to an early morning thunderstorm, quite a violent one too. But it has done nothing to ease the sultry stickiness that is all-pervading this morning.

hmm. How odd. A woman, about my age, who I couldn’t quite see because she was in silouette, has just walked up to my window, called out “bonne soir” in a sweet French accent, waved, and walked off. On her own. At 12.40am.

Beer tonight with Joel, Brenda, Greg and Donna. Yeh. Hmm.

Tom also wears his underpants on the outside of his trousers.

To quote the little black duck:
Of course, you realise that this means war.

It’s Robyn‘s birthday. Send carrot cake.

It was suggested to me last night that this site could be improved if I had an editor. hmmm.

There was thick, thick, thick fog over Chichester this morning. Add in a hint of hangover, and it makes for an arduous walk to the station. Now the sun has burnt it off, and it’s become another hot and sticky day.

places in my head:

• in a chateau in Brittany
• under a rock in Yorkshire
• at Beachy Head, eating fish and chips
• on Mount Teide
• Piccadilly Circus tube station
• the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
• at the bar
• on the seafront near Gosport
• on a bus by the Lego factory, Billund, Denmark
• Waikikamoocau, Kensington Gardens, Brighton
• Skye