There's no way around it. There are three weblogs worth of book posts to write, and this first one has been gathering dust since April. Oh, the shame, the infamy, the dawdling while mildly sick...
'The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You' (Stainless Steel Rat) (1978) by Harry Harrison
On this occasion, Slippery Jim DiGriz and his now grown family have to save the known galaxy from an invasion of non-humanoid aliens. Yes, they do exist! However, there may be an even more nefarious threat behind the aliens, and even more special Corps than Jim's own Special Corps. This latest instalment in the series is as entertaining as the previous entries, and is a touch more substantial as we get to grips with the true story behind the sinister Grey Men. It's still funny, still some of the more fantastic science fiction that you might easily find, and still completely daft.
'Galileo's Daughter' (1999) by Dava Sobel
This is an interesting read. Apparently almost all of Galileo's correspondence was lost, but the letters from his daughter to him still exist, which are reproduced and translated here in relation to his story. The description and title of the book are rather deceptive, though, as this is almost entirely about Galileo at its heart. Yes, there is some information about Virginia, and life in her convent and local area, but there's no doubt who the star of the history is. Still, if you want a primer on Galileo without diving deep in a more serious account, then this is a good place to start. Superficially, Galileo was certainly a genius, but he definitely seems to have partly destroyed himself by playing games with his own religion in an era when that Church utterly dominated his land. He did poke the bear. Never poke a bear without a pressing need.
'Right Ho, Jeeves' (Jeeves And Wooster) (1934) by PG Wodehouse
Back in the Wodehousian lands, we reach 'Right Ho, Jeeves', in which Bertie first becomes entangled in the romantic web between Madeline Bassett, the bringer of insipid chaos, and Gussie Fink-Nottle, the king of newts. Oh the horror and confusion that ensues when Bertie decides that Jeeves has lost his touch, and opts to tackle the tangled webs himself! Tuppy Glossop and Cousin Angela torn asunder, Aunt Dahlia separated from her prized chef Anatole, the dreaded Basset turning to past (imagined) loves when Gussie stumbles, strange faces leering in through windows, and even more strife. This is not quite as good as 'The Code Of The Woosters', being a bit more forced in its contrivances, but the first appearances of the Bassett and the Fink-Nottle surely raises it to a higher level. Oh, the stars really are a bit like a god's daisychain, aren't they. I shall retire now, to wax poetic.
'Rumpole Of The Bailey' (Rumpole) (1978) by John Mortimer
This first set of short stories, adapted from the first series of the television series, is very interesting. Despite being rooted in a time long ago, the misadventures of John Mortimer's loquacious barrister are still shockingly prescient, and his ability to speak truths (and sometimes other things) without being hampered by what we now call political correctness can be shocking. Without having viewed the episodes in advance, it is impossible to write about the amount of adaptation necessary to get from screen to page, but you can still hear Leo McKern wandering around in his signature role. Good old Leo.
John Mortimer covers a lot of ground in these six stories, ranging from criminal dynasties and children being allowed to choose their own destinies, to alternative societies being allowed to flourish in their own little bubbles, via a quandary or two for Rumpole in rape cases and his own marital life. More words will be reserved for the television series, when it finally gets here. If it's even only comparable to this prose version, then it will be excellent. Come to us, McKern, come to us. Bring your quotations with you.
For now, you should definitely read this first set of stories, and see what you think.
O.
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