After reading Tolstoy and the Purple Chair by Nina Sankovitch – a reading memoir by someone who reads a book a day for a year – and then watching Madame Bibliophile do ‘Novella a Day in May‘ – I’ve decided I’m going to try something similar myself.
I’ve done a few weekends where I read as many novellas as I can, just to whittle down my tbr piles. And now I’m going try… 25 Books in 25 Days. Basically a book a day, though I may end up finishing off some I’ve got on the go. And sometimes those books will be SUPER short, depending on what else I’ve got on. But it’s a fun challenge, especially to see if I can fit it around my job etc., and will help me read some of the books I’ve got waiting for me.
And I’m going to write really quickly about all of them, as they happen, at least until I fail. OPTIMISM. I’m just going to go with where/how I got the book, a quotation, and quick general thoughts.
A Way of Life, Like Any Other (1977) by Darcy O’Brien
I bought this in April 2012, in Barter Books up in Alnwick, presumably because it’s a lovely NYRB Classics edition – though I do also seem to remember seeing it around the blogosphere.
It’s told as though a memoir by the child of Golden Age Hollywood actors (who are now a bit down on their luck). The main character negotiates a life dominated by his temperamental mother, but also filled with larger-than-life and slightly surreal other characters. The tone is heightened, but extremely engaging – and I really enjoyed it as a quirky, disruptive, often disjointed view of Hollywood. I’ve not read the introduction yet, so I don’t know how much Darcy O’Brien had to base on his own life.
“Stand there a minute,” he said. “I think I see a resemblance to your father.”
“I’m tired, Mr. Pines.”
“Please call me Peter. It’s in the mouth. You have his mouth. He was a very handsome man. You love him, don’t you.”
“Every son loves his father,” I said, getting into bed.
“You’re very young. It’s very hard on you, isn’t it? I know. I went through it myself. My father walked out when I was five.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear about Mr. Pine’s father. He meant well. We all do.
“I think your mother deserves better than that cretin, don’t you?”
“He’s all right,” I said. I felt like crying all of a sudden. I turned my face to the wall. Poor Mother was going to be alone again. And poor Anatol, what would he do? Go on at Disney till he dropped? I felt sorry for everybody. What was I going to do? I wished people could stay together. I thought about baseball.