Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Jitterbug Schmitterbug

Sorry I took ages to log my thoughts on this book - to be honest I just really didn't like it and didn't want to put a damper on things after the enthusiastic praise from Jen and Iso. However, in response to accusations of laziness and lack of commitment to the site I hereby offer up my thoughts on Jitterbug Perfume.

To give Jitterbug its due, I concede that the language was beautiful, albeit unnecessarily flowery at times (why use words of one syllable when you can use an almost-appropriate four-syllable word that will make the author sound intelligent, and who cares if the narrative flow - what little of it exists - gets disrupted in the process?), and there was some lovely imagery (and I'm not just saying this, some of the ideas really did make me stop and smile in appreciation). Overall, however, the characters remained purely one-dimensional and I just couldn't get into the story, such as it was. I think if I had read it in my teens I'd have loved this book and would have considered it groundbreakingly original. Now, however, having read reasonably widely, including a few stream-of-consciousness novels written by much more talented authors, I find I require certain basic elements, such as a plot, and characters I can get to know and empathise with, both of which were lacking in this disappointingly jejune effort.

Sorry guys, I just didn't think it was very big, or very clever. I didn't manage to finish it before we met to discuss it and frankly I can't be bothered to wade through the pretentious meanderings to try and finish it now. Ah well!

Good god, mun

What's going on? No action in the whole 2 weeks I've been away? Dear me. No reviews from Anne and Kate on the last book either? Shame on you both!
Aberystwyth tonight. Welsh sort of venue. Will get right on it.
Iso. x

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Roll on part 2

Blimey, you can really tell that Isobel is away!!!!
Thought I'd alert your attention to this interview with Malcolm Pryce:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/mid/sites/bookshelf/pages/malcolm_pryce.shtml

Not sure if it is any good, haven't read it yet as I don't want to spoil the book.....which I haven't quite picked up yet, been struggling through a nasty Deaver. Bad taste, very bad taste. Anyway, I've heard mixed reviews so far, looking forward to Tuesday!

Jx

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I love this cover....


...even if it does remind me of Jasper Fforde, which makes me shake with rage....

Aberystwyth here we come...

The books have arrived. Hurrah! Can't wait to read it, but I'll have to because otherwise I won't finish the other 15 books now piled on my bedroom floor. Reading books we don't publish is somehow becoming rather a habit...
Ah, but I'll have lots of time to do so, because I'm off on holiday on Friday. Yippee! During which time - may I point out - I expect a great deal of blogging action from y'all.

Friday, August 05, 2005

A happy combination of contradictions

The perfume to beat (or, erm, beet) all other scents is comprised of three ingredients. It is called K23 and it's the key to eternal life.

The top note is Citrus. It's cold, sharp, clean smelling. Then the middle note is Jasmine. Which grabs you so strong that it makes the bees swarm and you feel sick-dizzy from its headiness. And the crucial base note is the Beet ("the beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot... Rasputin's favourite vegetable, you can see it in his eyes..."). Well, more specifically - the scent is in the pollen of the beet, blown across from Bohemia.

These ingredients are key to the novel: through them we also get a sense of the places therein: Seattle (cold, clean, bluey-green), New Orleans (with its strong flavoursome food, wild dancers, bee-hatted flowerselleers), and ancient Bohemia (the beet of course, no more need be said). And the characters too: Priscilla and Wiggs, Lily and V'lu, Alobar and Kudra. They are the future, present and past... all muddled up in a bottle.

The only criticism I can level at the book is that it's thin on plot. But so heavy on description, and the language is so divine, that I found myself unusually not caring. Life's too short (however immortal you are) to worry about things like that.

I want to smell the perfume. But, after reading the book, I think I may already have done...

Jitterbug Perfume – A road novel at heart, but a million beets away from the likes of Jack Kerouac

It would be a great injustice to dismiss Tom Robbins, as many have, as merely another writer of 60’s nostalgia. Although reading a Robbins novel is like going on the biggest hallucinatory trip of your life, the lyrical beauty of his prose is what shines through from the base of his plots and although at times his writing may seem completely and utterly bizarre, it is always wholly coherent.

Jitterbug Perfume is no exception. Never before have I digested a novel in its entirety without once having to go back and reread a sentence. In fact, I didn’t feel I was reading it at all; the poetic elegance of Robbins’ prose seemed actually to be speaking (and at times even singing) to me. I was swept along effortlessly by a momentum as steadfast as a heartbeet (see what I did there?) while insights and epigrams dispersed like sparkling diamonds amid the text provided intermissions in tempo where I was literally forced to stop for a moment and contemplate the meaning of life.

At its most basic, Jitterbug Perfume is a celebration of scent, a nod to the romantic ideal of the poetic art of perfumery. It is a novel overflowing with unadulterated romping, where sex and spirituality are explored so inseparably the reader is left utterly befuddled; unsure whether to reach for a bible or the Kama Sutra. With all this comes the rampant eroticism of a god suffering the blues, the search for the secret ingredient of the most successful perfume in the world and the quest for eternal youth. Along the way we are introduced to a veritable menagerie of unforgettable characters; an immortal custodian, his Indian wife, a bisexual waitress, a French odour tycoon, his barmy relations, and an obese Creole bayou beauty. These characters, with seemingly nothing in common at the beginning of the story, save for a love of fragrance and the appearances of unexplained beets, in the end all find their ostensibly different agendas united in a mutual search for inner tranquillity.

The cogs of the plot are driven by a road narrative that begins in ancient Bohemia and ends in Paris, 9pm, in the back of a black limo. The story follows Alobar, an ancient king who narrowly escapes death a number of times, on his 1000 year odyssey across Asia, Europe and the Americas with his beautiful wife Kudra. Embarking on a quest to uncover the secrets of immortality they learn that everlasting youth can be achieved through breathing, bathing and bonking. (If only!) However, while Kudra and Alobar manage to maintain an amazingly harmonious relationship for six centuries, they do not see eye to eye on the value of extended life. For Alobar, “longevity for longevity’s sake is enough;” while Kudra believes “new worlds grow old” and seeks some greater purpose, a home and a place where she can belong. Their disagreement brings them to settle in Paris in the 1600s.

Some years later, in an effort to escape the threats of society in Paris, they attempt ‘dematerialisation’ and while Kudra is successful, Alobar is not. Over the next three hundred years Alobar travels with the less than ambrosial smelling Pan to the New World, where he continues, companionless, through a new series of escapades that include owning a spa in Montana, becoming janitor to Albert Einstein and bombing a laboratory in MIT. However, without Kudra, Alobar begins to deteriorate and eventually comes to realise that he must place Kudra above his desire for everlasting life.

It was at this point in the story that I became totally convinced that the secret of true immortality lies not in the longevity of physical life but in the timeless immaturity of love. Jitterbug Perfume is evidently then, a fantastic love story. Alobar and Kudra’s love is beautifully written, Robbins has a delicious way of making love in the old seem as young as the day they met and not once was I disgusted to realise the rampant sex scenes being described where those of two 1000 year old cronies!

Jitterbug Perfume is a story of epic proportions that has everything you could ever desire from a novel; Robbins will have you laughing out loud on one page and underlining passages of exquisite philosophical wisdom the next. Wrapped up in all the sparkling metaphors, sexy romps, beetroots and throwaway puns, you'll find a stench with an insatiable sex drive, spirituality with a sense of humour and everything you need to inspire you once conventional religion proves insufficient.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

The Cork and Bottle

Blink and you’d miss the entrance to this little wine bar, whose entrance is flanked by twin pillars of excellence – the ubiquitous discount-ticket sellers and a sex shop - and is right near London’s Leicester (for any Americans out there – that’s pronounced Less-ter) Square.

Redolent of a Parisienne brasserie (ah, how appropriate), this is an unlikely delight, especially considering its setting. Low ceilings, good food, an enormous wine list (many available by glass or carafe), and not too crowded. You have to go to the bar to order though, which is annoying, as that rather interrupts things. And there are things growing in the toilets. But I liked it though, I think. And I’d maybe even go again, if I wanted to meet somewhere central, but realistically I’d say it’s not a destination bar.

For me this month, all in all, I'd say that the book was far superior to the bar, although both were v. well chosen. However, next month I’ll be living back in London, and so drinking properly, so perhaps this dynamic will change...

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Don't put Descartes before de horse...

So, today, first Tuesday of the month, and we're meeting to discuss 'Jitterbug Perfume'. Very exciting. The bar has been selected (more on that later) and it's all looking good.

And, although it's a little strange to be thinking about the next book before we've even discussed this one, I'm selecting, and time is of the essence because I'm off on holiday in a week and a half, and will need to order them before I go. Was going to do 'The Poisonwood Bible' until a giant TV screen in Canary Wharf randomly announced to me that it was voted the most popular bookclub book of all time. We don't jump on bandwagons, so will have to read it in our own good time.
Here are my options for the September book (meeting on the 6th)... Let me know if you've read any of them. And then I'll decide...
iso. x

Aberystwyth Mon Amour

Mother London

The Kite Runner

Monday, August 01, 2005

A beet is a beet is a beet is a beet?

My best friend has dematerialized (on an aeroplane, to Costa Rica), and there is no hope of her rematerializing for over a month. I have mostly spent this weekend lamenting the loss and reading Robbins. I seriously considered setting fire to one of her shoes and blowing smoke rings in the shape of her left breast but eventually came to my senses when I realised that she would probably be pretty pissed off when she returned to find her favourite pair of shoes one short. I’ve also spent this weekend thinking a great deal about beets. I love beetroot, I always have, but I have to admit that the beets I indulge in are of the pickled in a jar variety. Do you think Alobar would consider me flawed? Do pickled beets count for anything?

Bringing the book to life...

I've had a lovely, quite wild weekend. But, in the midst of it (albeit more by coincidence than by intention) I found myself doing things jitterbug-perfume-inspired...

1. When I was very very drunk, I decided to practise circular breathing, like Alobar and Kudra. It made me dizzy though so I stopped. But I think if I'd been sober it would have been more effective.
2. In the salbriuous environs of London's worst nightclub, I think I remember doing a version of the jitterbug which would have put Morgenstern to shame. It would have also put me to shame, was I not surrounded by unattractive, sweaty sloanes, who still danced worse than me.
3. My Saturday hangover was cured by a very hot bath. My Sunday hangover took more than merely a bath to kill, but I definitely came out younger. The fact that the hangover had previously rendered me looking/feeling about 250 years old may be the reason behind this though.

What have you all done Jitterbug-perfumey? And how were your weekends? Best to communicate by blog today as I've almost totally lost my voice. But still - I'm not too bothered about that. Life's too short (or is it?) - erleichda!