Robert E Howard wrote gripping, suspenseful short stories, bringing the character of Conan and the primitive, physical and eerie world he inhabits to life. This collection of short stories suffers somewhat from the contributions of L. Sprague De Camp and Lin Carter, but remains an enjoyable introduction to Conan and the Hyborian Age.
I read the 1976 Sphere edition of Conan, a reprint of the
Lancer/Ace collection of short stories, that first introduced the UK to the
character of Conan.
Isabel Hardman’s Why We Get the Wrong Politicians offers a clear and lively explanation of the parliamentary system’s working in both theory, and in practice. I recommend it for all those with an interest in why our system seems to be mired in crisis, regardless of existing levels of knowledge: she offers clear explanation of the systems workings for those unfamiliar with the detail of our parliament, along with insider knowledge and accounts of how it actually works, and why.
The Peterborough by-election depressed me. The top two candidates were so patently unfit
for public office that it really made inescapable the growing feeling I’ve had
that our political system is in crisis.
I turned to Isabel Hardman’s wellreceived
2018 account of Why We Get the Wrong
Politicians. This had been sitting
on my shelf for a few months, seemingly awaiting just such a moment of total
loss of confidence in the system from me, so I note here I have the first
edition hardback. It has since been updated
and issued as a paperback, with an updated Brexit section and preface on ‘how
it’s just got worse’, and I would like to read these further thoughts from
Pnin is a complicated, but mild and melancholy character. It is perhaps a sad reflection that he seems inherently less interesting as protagonist than another, roughly contemporaneously written, middle-aged academic, Lolita’s sexually predatory Humbert Humbert.
Pnin is a rather sad quiet account of a Russian émigré academic, scraping his insecure living as an untenured assistant professor. The tone is often lightly comic thanks to Pnin’s idiosyncratic English, and various set pieces and anecdotes showcasing Pnin’s ineptitude. The core of the novel though is the effect of Europe’s tragic twentieth century history on those who fled from it to the US.
From these memoirs Clive James comes across as a dynamic and interesting guy, always in danger of becoming insufferable. Having only ever known of him previously from his TV work, the memoirs make clear that his is a serious mind, worth engaging with, even through the thick shell of often funny, but equally often wearyingly distracting and unnecessary, wit.
Always Unreliable is the omnibus edition of the first three
volumes of Clive James’ memoirs (he has since written two more):
Unreliable Memoirs (1981)
Falling Towards England (1986)
May Week Was In June (1990)
This is a lot of James’ company to keep, and while largely fun and interesting, the faults magnify through repetition. It makes it harder than it should be to say I really liked this book, or James as revealed within it. He is though almost always interesting, generous to others in his assessments, and fundamentally honest, and for that I can forgive a lot. James is amusing, even laugh out loud funny at times, but from the experience of reading this, I would say his style suits shorter forms, where his wit runs less danger of becoming monotonous.