War Child gig in Camden

Went to a War Child gig at Koko in Camden. Portia's doing an internship with them, but unfortunately being on the guest list meant I still had to make a £5 donation.

With bands such as These New Puritans, Late of the Pier and Fear of Flying it was one of those nights that "says nothing to me about my life". Koko, on the other hand, was a really stunning venue to which I will be hopefully returning soon.

Dicklit: Twenty Something

Twenty Something (subtitle: The quarter-life crisis of Jack Lancaster) sees Ian Hollingshead's debut novel tackle the dicklit genre (chicklit for men/dicks).

This book first came to my attention when it was mentioned in a BBC news article on having won the worst sex scene in fiction award. That should have sent alarm bells ringing.

The dicklit genre is aimed at your average FHM reader, so it's safe to say I wasn't expecting a literary masterpiece or even the "great depth" and "emotionally satisfying" experience that one Amazon reviewer mentioned. However, Twenty Something has really taken dumbing down to another level.

Essentially it's the story of 25-year-old Jack Lancaster going through what he calls a quarter-life crisis (read: he's dumped his girlfriend and isn't getting any sex). He's a City boy - which is where I instantly lost all sympathy - and leads a life of alcohol, excessive masturbation (yes, Hollingshead touches on masturbation... how risque) and lusting over his female colleague.

As the novel progresses, Jack's sensitivity and insecurities are, I presume, supposed to make the reader warm up to this creature, but it only makes the reader wish he would just die of a masturbation overdose.

The problem with this novel is also that its written in a diary form, which doesn't make sense at all as the amount of detail and conversations are unlikely to feature in anyone's diary. The format also implies extreme laziness on the author's part as he has not had to think about chapters, transitions etc.

The book can be read in four hours max, but compared to Dutch writer Ronald Giphart's books - also readable in a few hours - it really lacks substance. There is no character depth at all and although there are some comic moments, it will not be enough to rescue this pathetic excuse of a book when the toilet paper runs out in my house.



Like this, try:

Phileine zegt sorry, Ronald Giphart
Ik ook van jou, Ronald Giphart

Quiz

What album?

Fiesta: It's like oh my god!

Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway

It's about some rich Americans who hang out in Paris and think it's all so cool because they're allowed to drink and they can't in the US because of the prohibition. They're so bored it's the only thing they do, until someone decides it's a cool idea to go to Pamplona.

So then they get there and they drink more wine and do some fishing and then it's that bull fiesta thing where more wine is drunk and then they watch a couple of bull fights and oh what great fun that is.

The main character, who we are supposed to sympathise with but who is so unappealing that even the bull's testes have more character, thinks he's like really cool coz he speaks Spanish and the locals take him seriously (or so he thinks). He has a crush on some rich British girl who can't go out with him anyway because he's too ordinary ... well boohoo. She ends up screwing the slightly gay bullfighter anyway. There's also a Jew in it.

In the end, when the reader has realised that nothing has happened, there is no other conclusion to draw then that these useless people are the 1920s equivalent of the too-loud American tourists blocking my way on the escalator at Kings Cross this morning.