Kitabı oku: «A Fucked Up Life in Books»
A FUCKED UP LIFE IN BOOKS
Anonymous
To Boy, love from Stumpy
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction
Childhood and school
Owl at Home
Mr Meddle’s Muddles
Burglar Bill
Thelwell’s Riding Academy
Flight of Dragons
Goosebumps
Grimms’ Fairytales
The Silver Brumby
The Diary of Adrian Mole
Angela’s Ashes
Stark
The Caucasian Chalk Circle
Birdsong
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Wizard’s First Rule
Liverpool Daisy
Towards Tomorrow
Teenage years and university
Beloved
A Game of You
The Princess Bride
Howards End
Stone of Tears
Wild Swans
The Dice Man
The Lord of the Rings
Trainspotting
Lolita
Smoke and Mirrors
The Da Vinci Code
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales
Confessor
Guards! Guards!
Nineteen Eighty-Four
A proper grown-up
A Prayer for Owen Meany
A Hell on Earth
The Eye of the World
A Wild Sheep Chase
Delta of Venus
Twilight
The Godfather
Beowulf
Memoirs of a Geisha
A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian
Dragon’s Gold
Brick Lane
Persepolis
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Glamorama
A Game of Thrones
The Master and Margarita
The Periodic Table
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
How To Be a Woman
A Dance with Dragons
All My Friends Are Superheroes
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
I started writing a blog because I wanted to talk about books anonymously. The reason I did it anonymously was because I didn’t, and still don’t really, think that I am at all clever or insightful enough to have decent opinions on books. If I love them, I can’t really tell you why; and if I hate them I tend to just swear a lot and get frustrated. The best and most fitting anonymous name that I could think of for me was BookCunt. I fucking love books and I have a cunt. Job done.
The first book I reviewed was The Tiny Wife by Andrew Kaufman that had been given to me by a friend. After I reviewed that I didn’t really know what else to do. I didn’t have any other new books to review, and no one really knew about the blog so I wasn’t getting sent any review copies by anyone, so I posted a story about the time that a man chased me down the street because of Isaac Asimov. People liked it, they thought it was funny. And it was easy to write because it was true. It had happened just before I left to go to university as I was hanging around in town trying to find a job to make some money so that when I got to university I had some money to piss away. So, I asked my (ten or so) followers on Twitter what they wanted from the blog; did they want book reviews or did they want stories? And they all said stories, which was fine by me because I had a fucking shitload in my head just ready to tell. I carried on with reviews, as I started to get authors and publishers sending me things to read, but every Saturday I’d post a story of something that had happened to me.
