English Reformation and early printing

For a great blog on a summer tour/seminar of early printing and the Reformation, check out this blog: Reformation of the Book by a Special Collections librarian. If anything, there are beautiful photos and interesting tidbits of book history.

Fry me up a Hippo, you Liar

I am nearly done with Stephen Fry's The Hippopotamus. I know, reviews are usually done after the book is fully read, but this is more a review on the author.

This is the second book I have read by Stephen Fry
, one of my favorite actors. The other is The Liar. And yes, that is precisely why I wanted to read him. I saw that he had written a number of books, not just some lame memoir with six ghost writers feeding him words and grammar. And what I found was that he is actually a legitimate writer. Who knew. The whole search was spawned by my buying the DVDs of A Bit of Fry and Laurie. Hugh Laurie is also a writer of fiction, and pretty good as well.

But I have a bone to pick with Mr. Fry. He has me hooked and bemused, damnit. I cannot for the life of me figure if he's a good writer or not. Sure, I could read reviews by professionals and all that, but that takes away all the fun. What do professionals know, anyhow?

I can never figure out what the hell one of his books is about. The title is certainly no help. The Liar became clear about midway through, but I'll be damned if I can see the relation to hippos in the other. I'm probably missing something. It could be the whole stubborn personality of the main character (who I cannot for the life of me get to sound like anyone BUT Fry in my head). He's all quiet and drunk-like then bites your head off and charges. Or something. BUt even title aside, the style of narrative jumps around from character, POV and even chronologically. Both The Liar and The Hippopotamus take the scenic route through a story. There is a story, however. It's slow to appear, but there is a story to be had. But slow doesn't equal boring. That's the thing! I can hardly put the books down! The jumping to and fro is confusing sometimes, but more often intriguing. The storyline is either complex or weird enough to keep attention. The characters are incredibly delicious, and I find myself willing to put up with all of Mr. Fry's literary mishigas just to see what the hell happens to them all.

So, what does this all mean? Besides, of course, that I will likely continue to read his books until I figure it all out. Maybe whether or not he's any good doesn't matter. I enjoy reading him, so isn't that enough? But I'm a snob and I've seen so many terrible books that are better drooled upon than read.
I am also concerned about my biases. Of course all readings are subjective. However, are my opinions of him as an actor clouding my opinions of his writing? I have been a fan of his since I first set eyes on Jeeves as a child. I have sought out his movies, and bounced on the couch with glee when he shows up in something I'm watching. Despite my thoughts on actors writing books (which is usually a horrible mistake) I sought his out. Perhaps it is even the sound of his voice narrating in my head that sways me (I had the same exact issue with Hugh Laurie's The Gun Seller).

I also wonder if it is the British. I am not ashamed of admitting that, like many Americans, I have long been a fan of many things British. Having no cable as a I kid I grew up with many Brit-coms on PBS. Despite my efforts I have many "Britishisms" in my vocabulary. (Cursing in public goes much more smoothly when it's just a 'bloody hell' or 'bollocks' and no one really know s what you are saying. They tend to think the Brits sound posh, so it must be ok.) While traveling in Manhattan the other day, reading my Fry on the subway and ferry, I noticed just how much I was enjoying the main character's style of thought. It is so terribly British in a way that I really cannot put into words. I found myself playing with this style in my head - describing the city around me as curmudgeonly and pessimistically as Ted Wallace would. It was fun to then flit between that and the v. American 'urban beauty around me' style. It's a matter of the subway being either 'a wretched stinking box filled with all flavors of wretched stinking people who are just trying to get from one part of their wretched stinking lives to another' or 'an unique microcosm of the world with a million stories, lives, and experiences all crossing paths at that one glorious moment, never to be repeated' or something like that.

Oh well. ::shrugs:: I guess I am doomed to merely enjoy his movies, tv shows, AND books for all time, never quite knowing why.