Which is why this isn't a top five:
1. Jayne Eyre, one of the Brontes: Period drama and not in manner of menstruation (boom-boom). It’s good, the language has gone the distance and better yet, is free (and free).
2. My Booky Wook, Russel Brand. This is rags to riches tale of sorts... RB starts life as a very weird, very chubby kid that nobody likes/you feel sorry for/want to beat up and goes on to have eight-somes with models and goats. It's pretty scandalous. He's smart and entertaining but completely lacking in humility. My negativity could be tainted by the fact I still begrudge him the two hours and twenty bucks he robbed me of when I say ‘Get him to the Greek’. Which was my own fault.
3. The Hare with the Amber Eyes, Edmund De Waal. This is a book about carved little figurines. It is a true story. Dull to the max.
4. Home: A History of Private Life, Bill Bryson. Bookshelf worthy. I could print this onto gloss but I'd prefer to just buy the hardcover.
5. Ghostwritten, David Mitchell: I have a love/hate relationship with Mr Mitchell. He does this thing where each chapter is basically a short story written from one persons point of view and all the chapters in the book are inter-twined and sometimes reference other books he’s written (which is awesome and never so awesome as when it occurred in Ally McBeal/The Practice circa 1997 - [someone else liked it too]). When the person/chapter are good they’re great, but there’s a couple of duds that tend toward excruciating. 'Bat' the radio DJ ushering in the end of the world is a case in point, my God that went forever.
Next up my ma is giving me Top Cop with Christine Nixon, whom I have a spot for (of the soft variety).
Anyway, I'm fishing for recommendations... See this comment for what not to write.Kitty
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