So yeah, I’ve been pretty slack finishing that thar book over yonder.
Sorry Markus Zuzak. Your style just aint grabbing me. I’m vaguely reading a number of other books that also aren’t grabbing me much either.
In fact, my personality has changed somewhat over the past couple of months. Seems I’ve turned into a jock, spending every spare second I get running on the treadmill, thrashing it out to the beats of Springsteen’s “Born to Run” and the Beastie Boys “Sabotage” and AC/DC’s “Hells Bells”. Running til I’m drowning in a lathering sweat. Running til I get stomach cramps. Running til I can’t breathe. Running til…well, running til Britney starts on “Toxic”, cos I know that’s my cue to give up the ghost and remove my testosterone fuelled aggression from the lavender scented ladies gym I go to where the motto is “Thou shalt exercise moderately. A lady never sweats; she glistens.”
But with much exercise comes nagging injuries (fucking useless hip, what do we need em for?) and being back to square one, ie. sitting reading a goddamn book.
A fatal flaw in my personality – and something I’d like to change – is my tendency to pigeonhole people based on their musical and literary preferences.
It’s not even a conscious thing.
But anyone who says “Sting is sooooooo talented” nearly causes my brain to haemorrhage.
Likewise I tend to avoid authors based on the type of people who read them on the train.
All the women who read Paulina Simmons, Marian Keyes, Helen Fielding and Katie Fforde project a pathetic treadmill running, cottage cheese consuming, Days of Our Lives watching, Mr Big syndrome suffering kinda existence for me that holds no attraction whatsoever. I wanna shake em and scream “Get thee some Margaret fucking Atwood!!”
Ditto with guys on trains who read Clive Cussler, Jeffrey Archer and Dean Koontz. They project a very boring, analytical, almost obsessive personality that only has the ability to form deep and meaningful relationships with women called Ljuba. Via webcam. From Latvia. I would shake em and scream at them but I think the dandruff would kill me.
These people may all be wonderful authors, but I’m a highly opinionated, totally judgemental and utterly prejudiced mofo and believe it would be hard to change my mind.
Much to my dismay, shock and horror, last week I agreed to read a book called “Intensity” by Dean Koontz when the owner of the book said after I went on this diatribe “Go on. Shut up. And read that. I dare ya.” I can’t believe I said with a straight face “Yeah, I’ll read it.”
And I have to say at page 296, I am getting it.
Must be all that jogging.
And slamming down cans of solo. Fast.
And standing up to pee.
Dean Koontz aint soooooo bad, is he???
I used to think people just liked saying his name.
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I tried to read Koontz once, and my eyes started to bleed.
Maybe he’s improved, but the book i struggled with read too much like… well, really awkward hack pulp.
PS Born to Run and Hells Bells are two of the greatest songs of all time. Welcome to the bogan side.
Storyline wise, DK of the 80’s and 90’s was much better than the DK of the 2000’s, if you’re in to that kind of horror/suspense novel. Now, for me anyways, it takes a good 100 to 150 pages to get into his books, assuming I make it that far. A lot of times I give up by page 50.
The older ones aren’t really not meant to be deep reads, just suspenseful.
i think Markus Zuzak is fun to say. haven’t read him though.
i giggled aloud at: Get thee some fucking Margaret Atwood!
Booyah!
lol at standing up to pee. Dean Koontz is aight but after a bit his stuff is way predictable.
and listen up. I don’t watch Days, never heard of any of those women authors, got no cottage cheese … B U T … you’d best believe I could work me some Chris Noth but good given the chance. note – Chris Noth. not Mr. Big.
drool.
I’ve never read any of those authors, but I’ve seen Sting in concert 3 times (once w/Police). For the record I’ve also seen AC/DC and the Beastie Boys.
gullybogan: I agree, but I was finding some of the bad writing amusing. Most particularly when he writes quite seriously about female characters talking about their orgasms. What a hoot.
staci: Hi. He’s good on suspense – it was a pageturner for sure. And even, quite strangely, humour at the oddest times where I would find myself laughing when he’s talking about something quite horrific like the main character topping his grandmother when he’s 11 cos she wouldn’t keep the bathroom clean. There’s no plausible explanation as to why that was funny, but it was.
diva: Booyah!
Kim: Chris Noth had something at one stage – before he started talking. Would be a very attractive man if only he were mute.
Whit: Oooh, the pain in my left temple is killing me….
I laughed so hard when I got to the bit where you write:
“Get thee some Margaret fucking Atwood!!”
I could feel a rage behind it…
One of my fave authors too.
I agree though, it is hard not to sometimes pigeonhole people based on music, books or appearance for that matter. One of your funnier posts though.
and what is so terribly wrong with mute?
Thankyou Ed. Glad you felt my wrath!
Kim: Mute is great. Was wishing Chris Noth was a mute. But alas, the man opens his mouth and ruins the illusion.
I reckon I’d confuse you. On any given day you might find me reading Margaret Atwood (have you tried her poetry, out of interest?), Marion Keyes, Charles Dickens or Clive Cussler.
I tend to pick a serious or weighty book and then a light trashy one for a break. I can’t read two Cussler books in a row though. It’s painful.
And I’m guilty of judging people by musical taste. I can’t be friends with you if you like Backstreet Boys or Britney. I’m sorry, I just can’t.
Funny thing is, I married a man who has the most awful taste in music – country and western, teeny bopper pop crap and, the ultimate worst, Afrikaans sokkie treffers. Gag.
Thank goodness he’s gorgeous and mows the lawn