It’s finished, over, once in a lifetime, never to be forgotten, never to be repeated. I’d burn it to stop it falling into enemy hands but I fear that it may take forever to finally die. With sincere apologies to the lovely chap that gave it to me all those months ago, offering it up as his favourite book, that it might keep me amused whilst trying to while away the boring hours in Iraq, I have finally finished the Magic bloody Mountain. I also offer up sincere apologies to Thomas Mann, who I’m sure meant well when he set about writing this mighty tome (it was the book that tipped the balance of the Nobel prize for literature in his favour after all). It would be wrong of me not to offer up similar apologies to whoever it was that decided it needed translating from it’s native German into English – I’m sure that they worked equally hard in the assurance that they were doing something that would make the world a better place.
I have to say though, bearing in mind that I’m not as complete an idiot as I like to make out sometimes (I have bits of thick paper in frames to prove it !), what the hell was that all about ?
Not only does it go on, and on, about very little (as far as I can tell), there’s virtually no plot (as far as I can tell), there’s a slight undercurrent (and I mean slight) of a love affair, no sex, no explosions, there are deaths but they generally occur slowly and painfully of some long since eradicated disease (tuberculosis) , and the at the end, after God knows how many months/ years (the book purposefully ceases to record the passage of time after the first year) our hero (poor bastard) finds out that he hasn’t actually got TB and is almost instantly cured of whatever it is that is wrong with him. Having unwittingly (and unknowingly) become the worlds first DJ, seen his long since dead Cousin at a séance
There are no tricky situations over a pound note, and the mother is definitely not the hero (so no interesting twists there then). There appears to be no sub-plot (unless I have missed it) and no fantastic twist at the end which leaves you demandi ng a sequel…………I don’t want to sound ungrateful, or any more rude than usual, but I think I missed the point somewhere – and a year is a long time to be trying to finish a book (there is something about me that refuses to be beaten by a book !). I have read every single word, some of them several times. I’ve even understood some of the simpler ones.
As with a number of classic pieces, I do wonder if we, the general book reading public, aren’t being looked down upon by the intellectual elite – a bit like modern art, I can see something interesting in the colours, maybe they will go with the curtains ? But I can rarely see the anguish of man as he battles with the dark forces seeking to overthrow his soul whilst he invites the casual on-looker to assess their own self loathing…….or whatever drivel some stoned, pasty faced Guardian reader comes up with to justify the astronomical price tag attached to this particular piece of artistic accident.
The best bit of the book is the last few pages where the reluctant hero is killed during the first world war (whoops, given the ending away – but to be frank, if you read the book without knowing this, you may never find out because it takes something else to get to the very end……..)
Still, we drift away from the point a little, which is, even if you get the chance at WH Smiths at the airport, don’t buy this book to take on holiday…….unless you plan to be away for a very long time……..
Some of you may have been wondering where I’ve been for the last few days ? Well the answer is nowhere. I’m afraid that my quest to become even more attractive has taken a more time consuming step forward. I’ve started using the gym in the mornings as well as the evenings (I know…….utter madness !).
Consequently I’m not getting up in the mornings after a really bad nights sleep at and wondering what to do – and therefore writing a little ditty for my blog. What happens now is that I am woken by the alarm having slumped into an exhausted sleep, fling myself out of bed and stumble around for a bit trying to wake myself sufficiently to go and work up a sweat. Intellectual activity is right out !
It does all seem an extreme way of getting a good nights sleep, and it does mean that I can eat pretty much what I like (I can’t get hold of pretty much what I like, but that’s a different story……). I must be fitter, stronger, even more attractive, likely to live longer, and all those little things which are supposed to inspire us towards a better lifestyle.
So the inventory reads:
Gym – God only knows how many times since we last spoke, but it’s loads
Money – little of note really. I have had to purchase a 3 gang socket extension cable so that I can have my laptop (knackered battery) and my Playstation plugged in at the same time as my speakers (1 socket in a hotel room is simply daft !) but otherwise nothing much has happened since the weekend.
Food – nothing really of note since last weekends BBQ extravaganza. But watch out for next weekend, there’s afternoon tea at the worlds most expensively built hotel on the cards ! Tonight, it is worth regaling you with the fact that I fell spectacularly off the diet wagon by having a huge plate of lasagne and chocolate ice cream and cake – I think I deserved it after an hour and a half on a bike with Psycho !
Cigars – 10 days without any (or well over1 14,000 minutes !)
Weather – it hit 47 deg yesterday and it’s ramping up as we get towards the summer…….
Lastly, severe apologies for the lateness of this post (not for how long it’s taken me to read a book !) We have been bereft of internet at the hotel for nearly 2 days now and my memory stick appears to be corrupted so if you’re reading this on Wednesday morning then we’ve beaten the problems somehow (or even Tuesday night), other than that, I can only keep apologising !
No comments:
Post a Comment