I love Agatha Christie and I love Poirot. And my favourite of all the Poirot novels is ‘Murder on the Orient Express’. I will defend this story to the death and I will be incredibly pedantic about any adaptation.
And look what Kenneth Branagh has just delivered!
My thoughts…
It looks like an mystery/thriller movie. Which is all wrong, in my humble opinion, because this story is about the fine line between what is right and what is the truth. But trailer’s do lie so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.
Everyone is in this movie. Literally everyone. But because this plot had a large supporting cast, all of whom play a key role in the story, that’s to be expected. The 1974 movie had an all-star cast too (but I’m pretty pissed that Johnny Depp is still getting amazing acting gigs despite the wife-beating allegations.)
There was some attempt at diversity by including a POC but it’s not enough to offset the crime of including Johnny Depp.
I’m glad Kenneth Branagh didn’t attempt to replicate the looks of David Suchet’s Poirot. He’s done his own interpretation of the infamous moustache but besides that I didn’t see enough of him to really get a sense of what kind of Poirot.
The scenery is stunning I’ll give them that.
And I need to know the song
I’ve seen the 1974 movie which I know was a classic with a thousand Oscar nominations but I didn’t like Albert Finney’s interpretation of Poirot. I thought he was too hammy and he’s no David Suchet. I did enjoy Lauren Bacall but she’s always a stand out.
I’m currently re-watching Suchet’s ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ and let me just say, Branagh’s got a hard act to follow, but I’ll be glad if the newest adaptation gets more fans and exposes a new generation to Agatha Christie.
You borrow from the library where it’s free, or you simply sell any book that you’ve already read because what are the chances of you re-reading it again, and that way you can live that minimalist life that Marie Kondo seems to love?
But books are expensive.
To make books your hobby, it’s not just the reading. You want to own, collect, display, interact. Reading isn’t enough.
Book fans want to own it. We hoard them on our shelves. We love that new book smell and creating the spine ourselves.
We probably want specific editions too. If there’s an edition with a revised afterward, we are all over that bad boy. If there’s a limited edition released on the anniversary of the author’s birthday with a fancy cover, it’s going straight onto our wishlist. If there’s a hardcover collector’s edition, we covet it like we don’t already own a copy anyway.
And it’s not just the books we buy. We are an insatiable market for all the pop culture merchandise like little figurines and plushies. Which we then artfully arrange on our shelves because #bookstagram is a hashtag that we flock to.
Book fans also want to go to author signings and writer talks. We wait in line for authors to sign newly purchased books that we just had to buy at the festival because hey, it’s part of the experience. We need to take a picture with them too. And writer events aren’t free; the ticket is $20 (and if you bought online, the processing fee is $5 for some unfathomable reason) and lunch is another $20 and the book was probably $35, so all up, just under $100. For one event.
And even though reading is a solitary activity, books are a community event. We need to discuss about our feelings. We join book clubs. We write reviews. We may even start up blogs dedicated to books. And this costs money. If you upgrade your blog, it’ll cost you. If you join a book club, hosting the meeting will cost you in food expenses. If you want to meet up with other book aficionados anywhere, the travel expenses will get you.
Reading doesn’t cost a cent, but if you want to immerse yourself in the whole experience, books are a hobby that drains your wallet.
It was hard deciding which talk to attend; we always complain when there aren’t sufficient options to cater for everyone but I always seem to get overwhelmed when there are too many options. I was flip flopping between Roxanne Gay or John Safran but in the end decided on Safran since I’ve actually read one of his books ‘Murder in Mississippi’.
(I even brought my copy of ‘Murder in Mississippi’ for him to sign, which, by the way, is hilarious I highly recommend it, it’s like a modern day ‘In Cold Blood’.)
It was a beautiful day, it’s Sydney weather at it’s finest (you can even see the Harbour Brdige from behind, so this cannot be more Australian).
The atmosphere was buzzing and the event was well organised, so for someone that’s as anxious and Type A about punctuality as I am, it made my day way more relaxing.
(Also I’m not going to lie, the demographic was very white, very middle-class and very middle-aged so I felt like a child playing dress-up, but you know what, I enjoy these things and I have every right to be here too.)
The bookstore Gleebooks even partnered up with SWF to be the sole provider of ny books discussed at his festival because that’s how you do business damnit.
And because there is no point attending a book discussion without actual ownership of the book talk, I succumbed to the event atmosphere and purchased my own copy of ‘Depends What You Mean By Extremist’.
It cost me $35 and because I live off second-hand books, that is a lot of money, but it’s part of the experience. Just like you go to a concert and buy an overpriced t-shirt, you go to a writer’s event and buy their book brand-spanking new.
But what about the actual talk you ask?
Safran rambles before he gets to his point and there were so many times that I wanted him to dig deeper because I felt he was just skimming the surface. He does exactly what I do which is give people him and his dog’s entire life story instead of just answering the question but the topic itself is probably too difficult to to be answered nicely in a few sentences without some context.
I also wanted him to make some neat succinct remark about the nature of extremism and the people it attracts. But the topic is too complex to be wrapped up neatly and even Safran points out that this book is just him recounting his adventure with extremism, it’s hardly an academic essay and he’s just had to accept the cognitive dissonance in the rationale of extremists.
The talk was delivered in typical Safran humour; I liked that he was offended when one of the extremists he interviewed had been arrested by the police and he wasn’t interrogated as a key witness (“The newspaper said the police collect over a hundred statements, which means I didn’t even make the Top 100, even though I loved with the man for a year!” Safran indignantly points out to a laughing audience).
I wish I’d come pre-prepared with some questions but I’ll know for next time. I wonder if I would have had a different experience had I read his book beforehand, like would I have found the talk boring because Safran just reiterates everything he’s written about or would I have been able to get more involved.
But overall, I loved the event and I’m so glad I dragged myself out of bed for this, I’ll definitely be going again next year!
Art galleries never sell it for any cheaper, mind you, only ever at the retail price, but I adore their selections.
I was at the Art Gallery of NSW to look at the Andy Warhol exhibition and I did the obligatory walk through the gift store. And even though they didn’t have a large variety, they had a very good collection. An indie book store in a hipster town (like Newtown for you Sydneysiders) would be proud of their selection.
I especially love their coffee book selections, the books contain such exquisite photography (even f I don’t understand half of it).
When I get my own place, I want to have a couple of fashion photography books lying on my coffee table; that is definitely part of the dream.
This is the fifth installment of the Phryne Fisher series and to date, I honestly think this is Greenwood’s best one so far. She’s finally found her stride and rhythm.
It seems that Greenwood has a template that she sticks to, yet her stories never feel repetitive. Picking up a Phryne Fisher novel, it looks like I can expect the following:
Crimes that require attention to detail to solve, rather than brute force and luck.
Realistic assistance from the supporting cast like her loyal maid, Dot.
A variety of characters that do not feel repeated in any way.
Beautiful descriptions of 1930s fashion and style.
Steamy sex scenes conducted by a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid of to get it.
Greenwod has established everything she needs to for a solid and reliable series; we know all her key supporting characters, and we have a realistic understanding of her star detective’s capabilities, so now we can finally focus on Miss Fisher’s ingenuity and her adventures.
She has found the perfect blend between realism and fantasy. Greenwood understands that this world she’s created is essentially a fantasy world; one where rich socialites with gumption and good sense can pursue careers they would never have been able to in the 1920s.
Yet none of her characters are cartoonish or flat; they almost seem rooted in someone real that Greenwood has encountered in her legal career. From the controlling matriarch her murky motives that Phryne never truly understands, to the vivacious buxom singer that hits Phryne right in the ego, there is never a character that gives me a sense of déjà vu.
This novel seamlessly blends two crimes together but doesn’t make the story feel disjointed or crowded. And the story ends on a realistic note, one that doesn’t make Phryne feel like an all-knowing persona with no vulnerabilities, and again, this helps grounds the series.
If all her installments are roughly this quality, I can see why the Phryne Fisher series has lasted as long as it has.
On Another Note
I think once I polish off about ten installments, I’ll start watching the ABC ‘Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries’ series. I don’t want to give myself any spoilers but I’m honestly not waiting till I catch up to all 20+ books.
I also have five unread books in this series so I’m debating whether I should independently review them or do a joint one since I worry I might be writing about the same issues in each one.
This was an enlightening read. Not only in the behaviour of a conman but in his exploits.
The memoir details his youth and his exploits as a Pan Am pilot, a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, but most importantly, as a cheque forger. It spans over his entire career before ending at his final escape, right before he’s caught for the final time.
It’s a fast-paced, adventurous read. If I didn’t know it was based on true events, I would have thought it was a highly entertaining but very improbable story. If this autobiography had gone on for any longer, the boasting would have gotten tiring but it ends at exactly the right place. Abagnale knows how to control his story for the audience and when to end it before it goes too far, and I expect nothing less from one of the most daring American con artists.
Abagnale thinks highly of himself. Like, really thinks he’s the bee’s knees. He even admits in the opening paragraph that “Modesty is not one of my virtues”. But even from the most damning critic, you can’t deny that he was a bright, talented, young man with a desire for wealth and beautiful women. Here was a man who could understand medical journals, pass the bar exam and teach himself the inner workings of a bank, all before the age of 21. Abagnale was, for all intents and purposes, a force of nature.
And like any arrogant young man, Abagnale humble-brags. For example, he points out his own inexperience and lack of contacts in counterfeiting but quickly points out in the next paragraph that this autonomy prevented the police from finding him for years since they didn’t know anyone who knew him. He also emphasised that he “shunned any place that smacked of being a criminal haunt”, like he was above the common riff raff.
But there is absolutely no doubt that he knows his stuff, and whilst his crimes are unbelievable, his knowledge and character make it believable that he could have committed all of this. Abagnale takes care to outline the detail behind his crimes, like discussing the serial numbers on each cheque, almost as if to remind his audience that he didn’t just coast by on his good looks and personality.
His writing style is not that of a trained author though, but I don’t think a ghost writer was in play, or at the very least, Abagnale wrote 99% his autobiography himself, and it’s because too much of his personality shines through. The writing feels a little cheesy at times but I feel like that’s part of the charm; Frank never downplays his confidence or his intelligence and I can see why so many people fell for his act. For example, he refers to himself as the “Prince of Philanderers” which is a title even Don Juan would not have called himself. But it works.
He even drops little gems of wisdom that, if written by any other author would have made me roll my eyes but really fits in with his charm. When explaining to his audience how he can get away with the occasional mistake in his forgers, or con experienced colleagues into forgiving his mistakes, he explains:
… A thrift-shop dress is usually mistaken for high fashion when it’s revealed under a mink coat.
There were two additions to the memoir that I liked: a third person recount of what happened to Frank after his final escape and an interview with Stan Redding. Abagnale writes his adventures as nothing more than hijinks that spiralled into something out of control, and that he never intended to let it get so far. But these two elements grounds his memoirs, so it’s reads less like Abagnale is bragging about his wonderful brain and I was reminded that the events weren’t charming antics of a young man, but rather a criminal act.
It’s fascinating and audacious and everything you expect a conman to be. I highly recommend this.
On Another Note
I watched the movie before I read the autobiography so I was surprised by some of the events written because, shockingly, Spielberg has to make a few concessions to cram a 300 page book into a two hour movie. For example:
The portrayal of his parents greatly deviated from the movie, for example, Movie!Dad was a conman who encouraged Frank to pursue a life of crime as a means of revenge against the US Government vs. Book!Dad who was, by Frank’s accounts, an upstanding man.
Amy Adam’s character, Brenda Strong, was comprised of several of Frank’s girlfriends and is a much, much more sympathetic character.
Spielberg really played up Abagnale’s tragic past and just how big of an impact the divorce had on him. Even by Frank’s own admission
But I’m glad the main events were actually rooted in truth like Abagnale’s encounter with a high-class call girl and swanning into Miami airport with a bunch of women. Those were my favourite cons in the movie and I’m happy they weren’t exaggerated. Spielberg did the autobiography justice.
I try to be in the city on this day so I can wonder off to Kinokuniya and soak in the atmosphere. Either that or trek down to smaller comic book stores where they won’t be so stingy with the free comics.
But I really love going to Kinokuniya, it reminds me so much of my high school days when I was openly into anime and manga. Sadly I’m feeling the burden of adulthood so my love of anime is a guilty pleasure that I can’t help indulging, so seeing everyone get so excited makes me a little nostalgic. To any hardcore fan out there, don’t give in; you’re going to have wonderful memories of these moments so don’t hesitate to embrace your nerdiness.
And of course, here’s my obligatory haul. My favourite was ‘Attack On Titans’. The story had depth and could stand on its own. But I liked the drawings in Buffy.
Is there a certain book that your future partner must love or cannot love? Would it be a deal breaker to you?
Finding out about someone’s book preferences is essentially a proxy for their intelligence and interests, so it doesn’t surprise me people take the question ‘What are your favourite books?’ so seriously on dating web sites.
They had an article on it in ‘ The Guardian‘ and some of the results were surprising.
Like more women found reading to be an attractive hobby in men than men liked a woman reading. Which is so misogynistic that I had to put my phone down and look away for a bit to recover.
There were some interesting thoughts on the hypocrisy of so-called “feminist men” who never read a book written by a woman. And I agree, any man who claimed to be a feminist but read books where women were an accessory and not a critical force in the story was someone to watch out for.
Of course Harry Potter came up as a deal breaker (both as a lover and a hater). If Harry Potter didn’t come up, I wouldn’t have taken the results seriously.
Can we also stop referencing ‘Twilight’ and ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ please? Men didn’t like it if women liked either of those books which was a huge surprise, so shocking. I am honestly so bored with the analytical pieces highlighting the sexism in these books, we get it now.
But this quote from Paul Farrell, sums up just how important reading, or hobbies, in general should be in a partner:
But it’s best not to be too snobby about it. It’s a strange thing that we place so much romantic stock in the shared love of a pastime that is really such a solitary activity.
I wrote about this in an earlier post. Like it’s nice for my partner to like reading but it’s not a necessity; I just hope he understands and appreciates my love of reading. I don’t care what he reads, but I hope he’s got a varied interest.
Because if people get too hung up on certain books, it starts to feel pretentious. A friend insisted his perfect woman would love Les Miserablé and Anna Karenina as much as he did, which was impressive but a little eye-roll inducing after the eighth time.
To be fair, I’d be a little nervous if he was too into ‘American Psycho’ or if he thought that ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ was the modern day rock star, but all in all, I’m not as hung up about book preferences as I would be had you asked me five years ago.
Do you have any preferences? Firstly, does your partner need to love reading, and secondly what books do they need to love or cannot love?
I know good and well what to expect when I pick up a Robert Langdon novel. I know what to expect from the plot structure, the character development, the plot twists. And although this doesn’t deviate from the usual model, it was probably Brown’s weaker entry in the Robert Langdon series and it’s because he tried to appear more high-brow than he actually is.
Generally speaking, when I read a story, and by a story I literally mean any story, I don’t need some fancy-pants meaningful literature for it to be enjoyable. I just want some semblance of a plot, character interaction that makes sense (not necessarily character development, although that’s a bonus), continuity, and a conclusion that answers most questions raised in the story.
If you expect any of the above, do not read this book. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
First things first, reading a Dan Brown novel requires certain suspension of disbelief. You can’t start nitpicking at the first flaw you read, or the whole house of cards fall. You have to accept and be entertained by his novels for what they are: a Sunday afternoon of mindless fun.
You have to accept that a Harvard Art History Professor has that kind of connections and wealth and influence. You have to accept that there are apparently multiple secret groups out to destroy the world. You have to accept that these secret groups constantly use special codes a person with an understanding of Art History could crack (Kate Middleton has an Art History degree, could she technically be featured in the next Langdon novel theoretically? But I digress with my usual sarcasm).
But even with the above caveats, there were still multiple problems with ‘Inferno’.
The plot’s pacing was uneven; it crawled at a snail’s pace at the beginning and then Brown just started firing off multiple plot twists towards the end, releasing information intended to make so-and-so to be the bad guy but was obviously not the Big Bad because it wasn’t close enough to the conclusion. It made it difficult to take revelations seriously as plot twists were less shock-inducing and more like another piece of information I had to digest, but most likely didn’t need, to understand the ending.
Furthermore, none of the characters were probably developed, but the character that angered me the most was Sienna. That’s no fault on Sienna, it was simply how she was written. Brown went to a lot of trouble to create Sienna; most of his other characters were given cursory background dumps but Sienna was given entire chapters dedicated to her perspective and history. And the more background you share with your readers, the more you focus and relate to that character. And the more that character doesn’t seem to make sense, the more frustrating it is for readers.
The only person whose behaviour made any sense was Robert Langdon and that’s because Robert is basically Dan Brown 2.0.
Compounding to this problem, Brown has a very weak understanding of how people who are not art historians employed at fancy universities interact in the real world. The conversations don’t seem to flow right, unless Langdon launches into one of his many art history lectures. I cringed when I watched Sienna flirt with some teenagers because no teenager would be impressed by her flirtations. I also had to skip the sex scenes, not because I’m a puritan, but because they were so awkward and stupid.
And I hated how it ended. Brown is trying to make transhumanism more grandiose and important than it really is, but that’s classic Brown to blow things out of proportion and using information as it suits him, not in its correct context.
And apologies for spoilers but this was also the first ending where Brown almost justifies what the Big Bad was doing, which I assume he did to give his book grey morality and depth. However, this in itself failed horribly. It really cheapened the story and when you force readers to think more critically about ‘Inferno’, it just served to highlight all of his additional writing flaws. If he had simply stuck to his usual routine of ‘Good versus Bad’ with a healthy dose of Good Triumphing, this book would have been less painful.
But here are some things I did like.
I liked the art history lessons, and they are one of my favourite things about the Robert Langdon series. I know they come across as self-absorbed and just an opportunity for Brown to show off how much he really knows. They’re also overly exaggerated to emphasise certain points but I treat them like a jumping board to other points of interest for me, for example, I wouldn’t mind learning more about Dante’s Divine Comedy.
And I know everyone mocks Brown’s writing style but I’m exceptionally fond of his bemused social commentaries on his surroundings; I think it’s here that’s he’s being most honest about his opinions:
After listing the vast array of famous composers, artists, and authors who had created works based on Dante’s epic poem, Langdon scanned the crowd. “So tell me, do we have any authors here tonight?”
Nearly one-third of the hands went up. Langdon stared out in shock. Wow, either this is the most accomplished audience on earth, or this e-publishing thing is really taking off.
And this sharp jab at modern technology:
Langdon had no idea what language the woman spoke, but the global proliferation of iPhones, iPads, and iPods had resulted in a vocabulary as universally understood as the male/female symbols that graced restrooms around the world.
And for some reason, I can’t stop laughing at the end of the following sentence, because I can almost hear the slight pause and the perfect comedic timing in my head:
Sienna gave Langdon a surprised look, but Langdon had toured enough churches worldwide to know that baptismal fonts almost always afforded their priests easy access to emergency swaddling cloths – the unpredictable ability of infants’ bladders a universal risk of christening
But here is where Brown has infused his idiosyncrasies completely and wholly into the story and into his protagonist:
As they approached the train station, the passed the Grand Hotel Baglioni, which often hosted events for an art conference Langdon attended every year. Seeing it, Langdon realized he was about to do something he had never before done in his life.
I’m leaving Florence without visiting the David.
The reason why I keep coming back to the Robert Landgon series despite Brown’s glaring faults as a writer, is that I like that Brown doesn’t take the whole thing seriously. But he’s hurt himself by pushing an ending where the antagonist isn’t condemned. If you don’t like Dan Brown’s writing style, don’t read this because it will not change your mind. If you do like this series, I’d still read it but I wouldn’t buy it new.
On Another Note
I was getting worried for a second because I was past halfway and I still hadn’t encountered any descriptions of Langdon’s appearances. And then I got to Chapter 61:
Langdon was a tall man, with urbane good looks and a deep voice. His clothing at the moment, Sinskey had to assume, was his classroom attire – a tweed jacket, khaki slacks, and loafers – which made sense considering the man had essentially been scooped off his campus with no warning. He also looked younger and far more fit than she’d imagine, which only served to remind Elizabeth of her own age. I could almost be his mother.
Just to remind everyone, this is what Dan Brown looks like:
I will never, ever, ever be bored of this indulgent self-insertion fanfiction writing. It is my sole motivation for reading the Robert Langdon series.
Look it’s all in good fun. And who amongst us hasn’t imagined themselves saving the world with our highly obscure knowledge in improbable situations? Even XKCD has dedicated some cartoons to this:
A Bookkeeper's Notes 