Manny Rayner's book reviews

For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, The Annotated Alice (6) versus The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (27)

"Let us hear the evidence!" said the King. The White Rabbit opened the letter and began reading aloud:

The Knave of Hearts, he killed some tarts
And kept them in his cellar...

"Stuff and nonsense!" interrupted Alice loudly. "That's not how it goes at all!"

"Silence in court!" said the King. "And you, young lady, will go and sleep with Mikael Blomkvist right now!"

"I shan't!" said Alice stubbornly.

"Rule 42," said the King in a trembling voice. "Every attractive woman has to sleep with the Mary Sue character. It's the oldest rule in the book."

"If it were the oldest rule in the book," said Alice, "then it would be number one. And I'll sleep with whom I please."

There was a collective gasp, and all the members of the court threw themselves at Alice. But she was now so tall that she didn't feel the least bit worried, and simply brushed them off.

"You're just a pack of cheap thriller clichés!" she said, and then she woke up.

Why does Jules Verne often remind me of Monty Python? I mean, it's not funny or anything. Perhaps I was struck by the fact that Robur-le-conquérant doesn't just feature a flying machine called the Albatross, but also gives you a precise figure for the speed of a swallow. Anyway, with further apologies:



Me: I wish to register a complaint about this novel, which I purchased not 45 years ago in this very boutique.

John Cleese: Oh yeah? What's wrong wiv it?

Me: The title is A Journey to the Center of the Earth.

Cleese: And?

Me: Well, they never get to the center of the Earth.

Cleese: They almost do.

Me: They don't.

Cleese: They get more than halfway there.

Me: Excuse me, what is the radius of the Earth?

Cleese: Well guv, couldn't say offhand...

Me: I'll tell you what it is. It's 6,378 kilometers.

Cleese: Could be.

Me: And do you know how far down they get?

Cleese: I'd have to look that up...

Me: Their maximum depth is about 320 kilometers.

Cleese: I don't see your point.

Me: They get about 4.7% of the way there.

Cleese: Look guv, there's dinosaurs...

Me: My good man, I don't care how many dinosaurs there are! The story simply doesn't correspond to the title, that's all. Here, let me give you an example. Take this DVD, Anal Gangbang Slut 8. If the only thing that happened was that the woman removed her gloves, would you say I'd got my money's worth?

Cleese: She takes her shoes off as well.

Me: She does?

Cleese: Yeah.

Me: Can I swap?

Cleese: If you like guv. No skin off my nose.

Me: Done.

[Huge animated foot comes down and squashes both actors. Silly music, followed by announcer's voice]

Announcer: And now for something completely different. The All-England Summarising Proust Competition.

Contestant: Proust in his first book, talked about, talked about...

This book, which I'm surprised to see isn't better known, was one of my favourites when I was eight or nine, and features an original twist on the Bad Fairy Godmother routine. As usual, the prince has just been born, and all the fairy godmothers turn up to bestow blessings.

"He'll be handsome!" says one. "Strong!" says another. "Rich!" says a third. And so on, and so on, until we get to the penultimate fairy, who says "Clever!"

Enter the Bad Fairy, who adds: "Yes. In fact, a little too clever!"

And indeed he is, though his excessive and infuriating cleverness turns out to be both a good and a bad thing in the end. The way he defeats the Firedrake is in particular very memorable...

For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Pride and Prejudice (1) versus Mary Poppins (32)

NARRATOR: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an impecunious father with four unmarried daughters is in urgent need of a magic nanny. And so it came to pass that Miss Mary Poppins took up residence in the Bennet household...

Scene 1

[Breakfast at the Bennets. The four sisters are laughing, talking loudly, reaching after toast etc]

MARY POPPINS: Lydia, don't slouch! Slouching is generally regarded as unbecoming in a young woman. Kitty, elbows off the table. And Lizzie, Mr. Collins is here and would like to speak with you. Alone.

The rest of this review is in my book What Pooh Might Have Said to Dante and Other Futile Speculations

The other day, I thought of this little-known novel, which I read when I was about 10. The heroes, a string quartet, lose their way one evening near the waterfront. They can't figure out what odd part of town they've somehow wandered into! It turns out that a huge ship, in effect a mobile island, has made a brief stop and picked them up.

Please refrain from pointing out the logical problems: this is a Jules Verne story, and, as is often the case, a social satire. The inhabitants of the island are all multi-zillionaires and living lives of the most unbelievable luxury, but don't imagine that makes them happy. No, far from it; the two rival factions of the Starboardites and the Larboardites each spend their time frantically trying to take full control of the island, simultaneously denigrating their political opponents in the bitterest terms and claiming that they are going to destroy their society.

Unable to agree on anything, relations between the parties deteriorate further as the story progresses; in the end, each group picks an independent course, turning their propellers in opposite directions. The island breaks up under the strain and sinks. A few survivors, including the heroes, are picked up by passing boats.

Now what could have reminded me of that?

"You must read this book!" the Reviewer cried,
As he searched for a suitable rhyme
But as long as he stole more than half of the words
He was sure he would get there in time.

The rest of this review is in my book What Pooh Might Have Said to Dante and Other Futile Speculations

I read this book when I was 9 or 10, and I really enjoyed it. Like most kids that age, I didn't notice it was Christian propaganda... I just thought it was a great story. The bit about Aslan allowing himself to be killed, and then coming back to life, seemed, I don't know, illogical... was all this stuff about the Deep Magic and the Emperor over the Sea necessary? It didn't seem to add much to the plot. But the tear-drenched scene with Susan and Lucy keeping guard over Aslan's dead body was effective, as was the resurrection. And it felt good to see how surprised the Witch was when he unexpectedly turned up at the battle. So maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The book certainly had many strong points. Finding a magic doorway in a wardrobe was cool, as was the idea that time would pass at different rates in different worlds. I loved the preposterous tea-party at Mr. Tumnus's house. Even at age 9, I could see that the sardines and cake needed a lot of explanation, but it was funny. I had similar feelings about Mrs. Beaver's sewing machine and Father Christmas and his sack of presents. (Come on. How is hiding their breakfast tray in there?) The White Witch was a satisfactory baddie, as was Maugrim. And the Turkish Delight. Everyone enjoys the bit with the Turkish Delight. My own kids were fascinated by it when they were small, and disappointed when they tried real Turkish Delight and found it was nothing special.

I still sort of like the book, even though I now feel a bit annoyed that he is trying to manipulate me. But enough of the time he's forgetting to preach and just having fun letting the story go where it wants to go, so I forgive him. Maybe he did teach me some Christian virtues after all :)

"Good gracious!" said Alice, "I do believe I'm inside a review!"

She turned to the Hatter and the March Hare.

"Well, let me see. Here is the title, and here is the date I read it. That must be today. Now I need to explain the plot and the overall point."

"There is no plot," said the March Hare disagreeably.

"And there is no point," agreed the Hatter.

He poured a little hot tea on the Dormouse's nose, making it wake with a start.

"The book breaks new ground," it said rapidly in a high, sing-song voice. "Intentionally eluding easy assignment to any traditional category, it anticipates the twentieth century's fascination with the relationship between the signifier and the signified, and wittily deconstructs the primacy of meaning and the rationality of thought." Then it went back to sleep again, and began to snore gently.

"Whatever did that mean?" asked Alice, surprised.

"Why is a Derrida like a derrière?" replied the Hatter.

"I don't know," said Alice.

"I don't know either," said the Hatter triumphantly.

"It would be reasonable", said Alice, in the grown-up tone she had sometimes heard her sister use, "It would be reasonable for you to explain what the book is about, so that I could put that in my review."

"It would be reasonable," said the Hatter, "to expect hot premarital sex in a Stephenie Meyer novel. But don't imagine you'll find any."

Alice couldn't think of anything to reply to this, so she turned away without another word. When she was almost out of earshot, she thought she heard the Hatter shout something after her that might have been "Foucault!"

This review is in my book What Pooh Might Have Said to Dante and Other Futile Speculations

I can't remember anything about it, except that it was the first Biggles book I read. It must have been good, because after that I read virtually the whole series.

Something about helicopters and kidnapping prize bulls? I do recall being a little surprised later on to find that Biggles had served in WW I. Bull came out in 1967, shortly before I read it, so he would have been about 70. You know, nearly as old as James Bond...

I love the feeling of connectedness you get when you've wondered about something for a long time, and finally discover the answer. I had a great example of that yesterday. As I said in my review of The Lord of the Rings, for me Tolkien is all about language. I must have read The Hobbit when I was about 8, and even at that age I was fascinated by his made-up names. They sort of made sense, but not quite.

Then, when I was 21, I learned Swedish, and suddenly there were many things in Middle Earth that came into focus! Of course, the Wargs get their name from the Swedish varg, wolf. And "Beorn" is like björn, bear.

But I never figured out why Bilbo was teasing the spiders in Mirkwood by calling them "attercop". Now I know. It's an archaic English word related to the modern Norwegian word for spider, edderkopp. The Swedish word, spindel, comes from a different root. I've thought about that for over 40 years. See how much fun it is to acquire a new language?

I read this book when I was about 8, and for some reason I didn't like it much. I never re-read it, as I did with all my favorite books, and I recall very little about the story.

But I remember it better than some people, as I discovered when I posed what I thought was the easiest Quiz question in the world. Apparently, not everyone is sure how many men there are on a dead man's chest...

For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, Heart of Darkness (25) versus The Complete Tales and Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh (24)

In which the animals go on a Second Expotition, and Pooh discovers that Not Everyone Likes Hums

There was a corner of the Hundred Acre Wood that the animals rarely visited. Even Eeyore found it too Sad and Gloomy, and it had more than its fair share of annoying insects. Owl, in his grand way, sometimes called it the Forest's Heart of Darkness, and that always made Piglet shiver and say, thank goodness, he wasn't going to go there soon, no thank you! So as you can imagine, not all the animals were pleased when Christopher Robin told them they would undertake a Second Expotition to find out what was in the Dark Patch.

"I'm not going there, no thank you!" said Piglet, trying to sound as firm as possible. "I'm very busy, any number of things to do, like, like..." But Christopher Robin just laughed.

"Don't worry, Piglet!" he said. "We'll all look after you. Just stay next to Pooh and you'll be quite safe." And before Piglet knew what had happened, they were all walking towards the Dark Patch in a long line, with Christopher Robin and Pooh and him at the front, Rabbit's Friends and Relations at the end, and the other animals in the middle.

The Dark Patch was even Darker and Gloomier than they remembered, and strange noises came from the trees. The further in they got, the worse it became. The ground turned wet and marshy, and one Friend and Relation had to be pulled out when he started to sink. Piglet clutched Pooh's hand as tightly as he could and tried not to look around.

"I'm scared, Pooh," he whispered. "You don't think there are Heffalumps here?"

"What I think," said Christoper Robin, who had overheard, "is that Pooh should give us one of his Hums." And Pooh, who had been thinking the very same thing but had been too shy to say so, cleared his throat and began:

On Monday, when the jungle's hot
I wonder to myself a lot
Now is it true or is it not
That what is which or which is what?

Piglet released his grip on Pooh's hand a tiny fraction, so he continued.

On Tuesday, when there's gnats and fleas
And pythons slither through the trees
Then very readily one sees
That these are whose - but whose are these?

"There aren't really any Pythons?" asked Piglet in a terrified voice.

"Well," said Pooh, "I only put them in because they Came To Me. I'm going to take them right out again." And he continued

On Wednesday...

But the animals never found out what happened on Wednesday, because at that moment a loud, groaning voice came from the forest right in front of them.

"The Hummer! The Hummer!" it said.

"Oh Pooh!" said Piglet. "It is a Python! Or a Heffalump! Oh, what shall we do!"

"I don't know," said Pooh. "Whatever it is, it Doesn't Like My Hums." He wondered if he should feel offended, but before he could decide they suddenly came out in a remarkably pleasant clearing. The sun was shining brightly, there was soft grass to sit on, butterflies were flitting between the flowers, and a charming little lake just seemed to call out to the animals to paddle their tired feet in it.

"What a lovely place!" said Kanga in surprise. "Who could have imagined it would be right in the middle of the Dark Patch?"

"I shall call it Pooh's Pond," said Christopher Robin firmly. "And now I think it's time for lunch."

So they all unpacked their food and had a perfectly wonderful picnic. And from that day on, no one was ever again scared of the Dark Part of the Forest.

I'm not completely sure, but I think this is the one with the fatal love story. I read it when I was about 8, and I had never read a fatal love story before. It made a lasting impression on me.

So Biggles, who's in his late teens, is a dashing WW I fighter pilot in France, and one day he makes a forced landing at this little French farm. "My mag stopped," he explains to the beautiful mademoiselle who comes out to see what the biplane's doing in their orchard. "Your bag?" she asks, not quite understanding what he's talking about. But apparently it's just the phrase to win a gorgeous French chick's heart, because he's invited back. On the third or fourth visit, he kisses her. "I think my bag stopped..." she sighs. Awwww! Biggles is in lurve. He's never been so happy in his life.

Then... tragedy! He discovers that, oh no, the lovely mademoiselle is really a German spy! She only wanted top-secret information about his Sopwith Camel, which I suppose was the Stealth Bomber of its time. Biggles turns up for a rendezvous, and she's already escaping in a car together with her shady accomplice.

Foolish girl. How could a car ever outrun an airplane? Biggles pursues, his heart full of rage and grief. The shady accomplice pushes the gas pedal all the way down. And, on a sharp bend, they come off the road. He and the treacherous French chick are both instantly killed.

I saw the films much later, but in my memory this scene is inextricably linked to the beginning of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the end of On Her Majesty's Secret Service. ("All the time in the world", if you remember). They're both by Ian Fleming. Maybe he also read it? I never thought of that before!

I was looking for a Christmas present for my nephew the other day when I noticed an edition of Aesop's Fables in Blackwells. I had a copy myself when I was a kid, and it was one of my favourite books. I can't guess how many times I read it.

Thinking about it now, it surprises me to realise how fresh and up-to-date it still feels. Most of the stuff from that period is starting to slip away; most people don't read the Bible any more, or Homer, or Euripides, or Seneca. Obviously, they're still acknowledged as timeless classics, but an effort is required. Our culture has moved on, not necessarily in a good way. But Aesop's Fables doesn't require effort. It could have been composed yesterday. I can easily see him as a Goodreads contributor, posting a story every now and then and picking up plenty of votes. He'd fit right in and be one of the most popular people on the site.

At age eight, I got nearly all the stories, but there were a couple that puzzled me. If you happen to be a precocious kid, I'd be curious to know what you make of the following, which I only figured out much later:

The Woman and the Wine-Jar

A woman is walking along one day when she finds an empty wine-jar. She picks it up and sniffs it appreciatively.

"Ah!" she sighs. "What you must have been in your prime, when the very dregs of you are so lovely!"

I think it was my kid sister who liked this book when we were little. I thought it was too babyish, but I had to listen to it a fair number of times.

The tagline is "Who's my little honey bunny?" If you use of those words as pet-names for your own child, you may want to check it out.

The author of the Thomas books was a clergyman, and I'm torn between two thoughts. On the one hand, it's very tempting to believe that they are intended as Christian allegory. On the other, an interpretation along those lines almost inevitably ends with the conclusion that the Fat Controller is God. I'm not a Christian, but even I find this a little blasphemous. Or perhaps it just shows that I will never be a Really Useful Engine.

Surely someone has done a detailed exegesis? I'll confess that I am, indeed, very curious about the details. For example, the episode my kids liked most when they were at the appropriate age. They unwisely fill Thomas up with water from the river. He comes over feeling all funny, so they look in his storage tank.

"Inspector, can you see fish?"

My kids just loved that line, and they used to imitate Ringo Starr's pronunciation endlessly. But what does it mean? Christianity... fish... there has to be something there! Why can't I see it?