Being a book reviewer is a tough gig, which is why I’m glad don’t do reviews on this blog. But because I spend so much time shouting and roaring all over the interweb about booky stuff, people often ask me for recommendations. It never ends well. Once it ended up in tears, recriminations, and a mud-wrestling pit. Who knew bookish types were so volatile? Well, actual book reviewers, for a start. And they’ve known for a while.
What makes a comedy black? And why are black comedies so black these days? Is life itself a black comedy? Is there any comedy left in black comedy? Is this excerpt getting too repetitive? Am I asking too many questions? Don’t expect any answers, but you might get a (slightly choked) laugh.
Dear Mister Publisher, I have written the best book. My book will be bigger than the bible. It will make cynics laugh, optimists cry, and toast. Before he died, David Bowie said he wished he had written it. Anyone who does not want to read my book is a potential terrorist.
Why is Young Adult Fiction pigeon-holed into a daftly narrow age category? If so-called General Fiction is a mirror held up to society which helps us to cope with what we are – how better to do this, than to look at ourselves while we are becoming what we are? But don’t worry, it’s not all serious. Or perhaps it all is, except for that last sentence. Hmmmm.
Who likes the social media ‘Like’? Nobody, that’s who. It would be like appreciating a poor phone line, or an alarm clock that worked at least every other Thursday. Some things are woefully inadequate, but we put up with them anyway. Please stop, and lend me your ears.
Did you know that Facebook is reading your WhatsApp messages? Or that it’s scanning all the apps on your phone? Did you think that internet browsing histories were only good for crime thrillers? Think again. Because Facebook has written the book on you.
Why do so many female comedians struggle to be taken funnily? Is your mother to blame? Do you like broad beans? And why is there an ‘X’ in First Person?
Why is everybody writing personal stuff these days? Do we have to talk about ourselves in order to get cultural traction? How much do you really want to know about somebody, and have you read personal things you wish you hadn’t?
When we mourn famous people we’ve never met, we’re also mourning the people we once were. And that’s okay. Because there’s a lot of feeling wrapped up in all that.
Ten years ago we could never have envisaged a situation where we could be personally insulted by lots of people we’d never even met. Aren’t we the lucky generation to have all these opportunities, and more? What upsets us most on the internet? Is it trolls? Contradictions? Or simply someone who doesn’t agree with what we’re saying?
Tara Sparling writes 