The Thief. - Fuminori Nakamura

Synopsis: The Thief is a seasoned pickpocket. Anonymous in his tailored suit, he weaves through Tokyo’s crowds so smoothly sometimes he doesn’t even remember the snatch. Most people are a blur to him, the nameless faces of his victims. He has no family, friends or connections…

But he does have a past, which catches up with him when Ishikawa, his first partner, reappears and offers him a job he can’t refuse. It is an easy job: tie up an old, rich man, steal the contents of the safe. No one gets hurt.

Only the day after the job does he learn that the old man was a prominent politician, and that he was brutally killed after the robbery. And now the Thief is caught in a tangle from which even he might not be able to escape.

Review

Fuminori Nakamura’s The Thief at the heart is a wonderfully-crafted piece of work, steeped in philosophy and darkness. Translated from Japanese for the first time, we follow the journey of the Thief; a pickpocket who roams the streets, relishing the thudding anticipation of the steal as he snatches wallets and watches seemingly at will. A psychological thriller, Nakamura takes us on a fascinating exploration of the criminal underworld, while offering mediation on human nature and fate.

This is no ordinary ‘crime’ novel, if indeed that label fits the mark; instead we delve deep into the mysteries of the human mind. Our pickpocket still has his gift, stealing with perfect precision – but something is missing; there is a void, an absentmindedness that he can’t seem to shake free. It is a sense of foreboding that plagues his waking dreams; he blacks out for long periods of time, returning to reality with no memory of what he has done since. The return of an old friend is the catalyst for our protagonist’s fall from fortune; snapping the thin thread holding his life in relative comfort, and plunging him into a downward spiral of ruthless mob leaders, from which he will struggle to escape. The past, then, sneaks up on our protagonist in the way that he so successfully manages to creep up undetected to his victims.

In truth then, the plot moves slowly in Nakamura’s text. The characterisation isn’t particularly strong, and as readers we are given next to zero information about our protagonist’s past – aside from a murmured name of a previous lover. Despite this, I believe this is the point – it works. The ambiguity of the novel adds to the tension and anticipation throughout, and I for one was interested to see where it would go next. At times it is slow going, but although the philosophical musings of our narrator and indeed the criminal that holds his life in his hands are not particularly profound, they do much to infuse the story with an interestingness that makes up for the lack of plot.

Our protagonist, aside from being a talent in his field and ponderous in life, is also sympathetic. Through a sub-plot surrounding a young boy and his mother, Nakamura develops another level to his text and reveals more about the nature of our pickpocket. In a store he spots a mother and her son, poor and stealing from the shelves in order to put food in their stomach. He saves them from being caught, and as the novel progresses, reluctantly begins to take the young boy under his wing. It is interesting to watch as their relationship develops, and indeed how he comes to care for the boy. It is something that pleases him, fills the void that has begun to open; the emptiness and loneliness is replaced by a warmth when he gazes upon the boy that admires and looks up to him. I feel that throughout the text the author manages to craft a fantastic conflict in our protagonist: that blend of an introverted criminal forced to hide in the shadows of society, against the need to be a part of it. After all, even the most reclusive of people need someone in their lives.

The dénouement of The Thief is an interesting one. In some ways it feels almost unfinished; an ambiguous ending which answers no questions, and leaves the reader with perhaps a host of fresh ones. Yet in others there seems to be a strange sense of finality. Even we know not how things will turn out, in some ways whatever happens, this acts as a rebirth for our protagonist. I have heard from many that have raged against the ending of Nakamura’s novel, but I for one felt profoundly affect by it, and perhaps that was the idea: to leave the reader asking the questions hours after turning that final page.

Overall then, The Thief is cleverly written; offering a refreshing look at human nature, while at the same time providing us a glance at the seedy criminal underworld. Perhaps there will be some that will frown at the slow pace and ambiguous ending, but in my eyes it is a fantastic psychological thriller, that is more than worth a read.

4/5.

If You're Reading This, I'm Already Dead. - Andrew Nicoll

Synopsis: Sitting in his caravan, drinking what is left of his coffee (dust), Otto has narrowly escaped death at the hands of allied bombs. Convinced his luck has run out and he will not see morning, he decides to record the story of his life for the poor soul who finds his body.

And what a story it is. Years earlier, when he was in either Buda or Pest, working at the circus, a newspaper article was brought to his attention. Why? Because in it was a picture of a particular Turkish prince, called to Albania to be their new king. And this prince just happens to bear a striking resemblance to Otto.

A plan is formed, adventure is born and with the help of Otto's friends, enemies (and a camel), Albania is about to get a king it never bargained for.

Review

If You Are Reading This, I'm Already Dead, Andrew Nicoll's third novel, is at heart a joyous, rip-roaring romp of a tale, so utterly unbelievable and completely ridiculous that you can't help but be swept along by this sensational story. In many ways, though, this is far from Andrew's tale; it is that of Otto Witte, former talented acrobat, possessor of some simply wonderful whiskers, and King of Albania. All he has now, sat in his little caravan as the bombs fall around him and he awaits his death, is his memories, and a story that he is determined to tell before it is his time to go.

In what can only be described as an outrageous narrative, Otto takes us on his daring, death-defying journey from the life of a circus performer in Buda or Pest - in his old age he can't seem to remember - to the throne of Albania. It is a decision based on a whim; a photo that looks exactly like him, but surely not enough to pack up, steal a camel and a cash box, and depart from town? Apparently so, as this is exactly what he does. Sensing adventure, his friends agree to accompany him on his crazy quest; even if some are more reluctant than others.

A blind, intelligent professor; his beautiful daughter Sarah; the wild, provocative character of Tifty; Otto's best friend Max, strong as an ox and as loyal as they come. Let's not forget the camel, of course. Nicoll creates a wonderful web of characters that will help Otto on his ludicrous quest, seemingly destined to end in failure. From duelling with a maniac named Varga, who first arrests them and takes an unwelcome fancy to his best friend, to a shouting match with a stationmaster, based on impulse and improvisation. Otto reminisces of the past as the ash blows down from the sky and the flames flicker outside his home.

Otto knows he has precious little time left, and is brutally honest in his anecdotes, bringing a mixture of colourful language and many boastful hints at his youthful adventures with the ladies. Otto, ultimately, is an endearing character; the reader feels for him as he sits alone, a former shadow of his once illustrious self, and nearing death. This for me is what makes Nicoll's novel a marvellous creation: the blend of humour and of humility that is shown as the narrative switches between his previous life and the one he suffers in now.

Nicoll's writing is captivating; he engages the reader and makes you feel like your part of the journey. Swept up with Otto's journey, the incredulity that you feel at such a preposterous tale is soon forgotten as you get caught up in the vivid picture Otto, and thus Nicoll, creates. From boisterous brass bands to the strange and mysterious Arbuthnot, Otto and his friends must face many obstacles if they are to achieve the impossible aim of conquering Albania.

Then again, with a camel in tow, it should be a breeze.
 
4/5.

The Good Father. - Noah Hawley

Synopsis:
 
Dr Paul Allen is a well-respected man. He lives a comfortable life with his second wife and their family. Until the night when a knock at the door blows his world apart: a hugely popular presidential candidate has been shot, and they say the young man who pulled the trigger is Paul’s son. Daniel, the only child from his first, failed marriage, was always a good kid and Paul is convinced his quiet boy is not capable of murder. Overwhelmed by a vortex of feelings, Paul embarks on a mission to understand what happened and why. Following the trail of his son’s journey across America, he is forced to re-examine his life as a husband and a parent, and every decision he ever made.

Review

Have you ever had the sense that you truly know someone? The belief that you can identify with them deep down: their every thought and feeling. Then, in another instant the certainty is shattered, replaced by the realisation that you never knew them at all. Instead, that what you took to be a connection, an understanding, was you convincing yourself that all was well; the delusion that the relationship you held was one that was infallible.

As Dr Paul Allen lives carefree in the unspoiled happiness of his life – a perfect job, a wonderful second wife and two kids – his world is suddenly turned upside down by the arrival of the news that his son has murdered the potentially future president of the United States. Paul strives to understand what has happened, refusing to entertain the idea that his son has carried out these acts. He will go to extraordinary lengths, as far as it takes to try to prove his son’s innocence, but as events unfold and the thread which holds his comfortable lifestyle together starts to unravel, Paul must face the grim reality and make some important decisions.

Noah Hawley’s novel The Good Father is at the centre a story about journeys: a young man on a quest for identity and meaning, sprawling across the states of America, wandering aimlessly in an effort to find some answers about who he is; unable to throw of the chains of restraint clamped on him from a chaotic childhood. A father who frantically follows in race against time; his once rational, scientific mind reduced to theories and conspiracies in an effort to ignore the truth: that he was never quite the father his son needed. As a doctor he has learned to be objective, to break down the facts methodically, logically; to be emotionally detached. Yet as we all know, sometimes the emotions of the heart leave one unable to accept what is often staring you right in the face.

From a farm in Iowa, home to nice parents who are willing to give a young man a chance, to the college dorms of alcohol-drinking, drug-taking students, Hawley takes us on a sweeping journey through the United States, painting a picture with the endless pit of different characters that he has to offer. Interspersed within the plot, the author presents us with a wealth of knowledge: from information on the assassination of John F. Kennedy, to the exploits of other famous killers such as Charles Manson – facts both fascinating and thought-provoking. His writing is at times heart-wrenching, always utterly compelling, and ultimately Hawley leaves the reader asking questions about themselves and the type of person they really are.

5/5.

Lease of Life

Written in May 2012, the month I decided to start making a conscious effort to write more again.

Lease of Life

Darkness dominates the tempestuous sky

As I prepare to face another wordless day

I grind my teeth, slice open another vein,

Wistful, I dream of another way

I tear the page with silent screams,

Not a single word will spill from this pen

The entire world becomes a stage,

It plays with the hearts of men

In my hand liquid swirls inside the glass,

A whirlpool of dejection and remorse

The surface disturbed by a single splash,

A solitary tear its fateful source

Somewhere distant a bird begins to sing

As I raise my head from the ground below

The beat of my heart in time with the song,

The winds of creativity begin to blow

Dark clouds shaken, torn from the sky

Rays of frantic hope illuminate the land

The intensity builds, I have been reborn,

Once more these words I shall command

A soft smile flutters across my face,

The glass of woe replaced by the pen

That dreadful wound begins to close,

I shall craft these words once again

© Ben Johnson 2012.

Lethal. - Sandra Brown

Synopsis:
 
When her four-year-old daughter informs her a sick man is in their yard, Honor Gillette rushes out to help him. But that ‘sick’ man turns out to be Lee Coburn, the man accused of murdering seven people the night before. Dangerous, desperate, and armed, he promises Honor that she and her daughter won’t be hurt as long as she does everything he asks. She has no choice but to accept him at his word.

But Honor soon discovers that those close to her can’t be trusted. Coburn claims that her beloved late husband possessed something extremely valuable that places Honor and her daughter in grave danger. And Coburn is there to retrieve it – at any cost.

Review

A web of lies that runs deep through a family and their immediate friends. Corruption that runs deep through the police, the sheriff’s office, even the FBI. A man on the run after escaping a warehouse where he is alleged to have murdered seven people in cold blood. A four-year-old girl and her mother caught up in a whirlwind of death and deceit. An elusive, mysterious criminal mastermind called The Bookkeeper who presides over all, turning the screws in the grand plan.

From the moment Honor Gillette rushes outside to help a sick man, instead to find a gun pointed at her chest, the reader knows they are in for something special. Honor finds herself unable to trust anyone, even those around her, as she works to unravel the mysteries of her husband Eddie’s death. Coburn is menacing and ruthless, tearing apart their idyllic family lifestyle and their home to pieces – stopping at nothing to achieve his goals. Yet there is something more to this man that meets the eye and Honor soon starts to realise not everything is as it seems.

To find answers hidden by a dead man would be difficult enough, but the job becomes a whole lot tougher when you are on the run, with nowhere to hide. Doral Hawkins, tough guy and city manager searches tirelessly, while Stan Gillette – Honor’s father-in-law and ex-marine – will stop at nothing to make sure his family is found safe. It seems everyone is on their tail, as Coburn tries to remain one step ahead of the law enforcements. Then there is The Bookkeeper, the thread which weaves the characters together, remaining in the shadows, not afraid to give the order to kill in order to tie up the loose ends.

The author takes us on a sprawling journey of love and of death from a dirty swamp and a decrepit boat that threatens to sink into the muddy marshes at any given time, to an abandoned train track where an explosive meeting threatens to ruin everything they have worked towards. Stolen kisses in the midst of danger, a young man who stalks the streets with his razor in hand and a history that shows he is not afraid to use it. It seems Honor must remain faithful to her instincts, if she is to see this one through to the very end.

Sandra Brown’s latest novel is a rip-roaring, turn-pager of a thriller that has you glued to your seat, unable to move until you have seen it through to its conclusion. With twists and turns that continue to the very last page, never accept anything at face value with this intricately written, fiendishly clever tale.

4/5.

Won't Let You Go

Written on the same day as 'Lease of Life', was obviously in an optimistic frame of mind.

Won’t Let You Go

There was always something there,

Though at first we knew not where,

That extra step I should have taken,

I thought I had time, but was mistaken

I lost that chance, I’d given up,

A well run dry, an empty cup,

Against all odds, my fortunes changed,

Contact resumed, those texts exchanged

I soon realised, that this was fate,

Suppose after all, that it wasn’t too late

For us to have, what we had before,

Did I have this chance once more?

The future to all is but a closed book,

But with no more mistakes and a little luck;

I think we will last, because I won’t let go,

Perhaps we’ll be more, you never know

You understand me; not an easy task,

You understand the truth behind this mask

When I’m with you I know my mind’s at ease,

That loving glance, those chances we seize

I think it’s about time to seize the day,

Carpe Diem, my love shall never sway

As the sunshine sets in the cloudless sky,

This is my summer, and I think I know why

© Ben Johnson 2012.

Unititled

Wrote this one in February 2012 after a long break from writing.

Untitled

Frightened hope, ambitious dreams,

Unravelled slowly at the seams,

Loose threads, stilted prose,

Another glass that’s full of woes

Swirling smoke, it curls and climbs

In the distance, a church bell chimes

Faraway voices, jubilant hearts

Gravely ignorant, we all play our parts

Restless nights and weary eyes,

The gentle sound of anxious sighs

Idle liquor, a moonlit stroll,

The endless struggle for control

Constant pain, thoughts conflicted,

A grieved heart, so now inflicted

Neglected caution, foregone care,

Only so much, can one man bear

Another spark, yet darkness persists,

Drifting on upwards, it twirls and it twists

Within a few moments, lost to the clouds,

The poet’s existence, consumed by the crowds

© Ben Johnson 2012.

The Bones of Avignon. - Jefferson Bass

Synopsis: 

It’s the discovery that will make Miranda Lovelady’s career… if she can prove it. And the secret she’s unearthed is enough to convince Doctor Bill Brockton to abandon the Body Farm and fly to Avignon. The medieval city is picturesque, but deadly. When their colleague is found crucified in a ruined chapel, Brockton and Miranda become entangled in a terrifying conspiracy, far bigger than either of them can imagine. For the bones of Jesus of Nazareth would be the find of the millennium.

Review

The Bones of Avignon is the seventh novel in the Body Farm series, and is the most ambitious one to date. The writing partnership that gives its name to ‘Jefferson Bass’, Jon Jefferson – veteran journalist and documentary filmmaker – and Dr Bill Bass, a world-famous forensic archaeologist, is a fantastic collaboration, producing a wonderful blend of culture and history, juxtaposed with fiction. The result, it has to be said, is a truly thrilling tale through time.

Dr Bill Brockton, whisked from the routine of the Body Farm, arrives at the ancient city of Avignon, with no clue of what is going on. Not long after, he is wishing he had remained ignorant. Stephen, Miranda’s colleague and old flame, has a discovery which will change everything: bones that will threaten to destroy a secret that has remained hidden for two thousand years.

The reader, through terrific description and a ferociously paced plot, is taken on a sprawling journey; from the hidden dungeons of the Palais de Papes, to the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist, which holds the infamous Shroud of Turin. We move on a journey with the characters as they strive to answer questions that for a long time have gone unasked. As they attempt to unravel the mysteries, there are those that are determined to stop them; many eyes watch in the shadows of the night, each with their own agenda.

From a kind-hearted priest that takes pity on the doctor when he receives some bad news, to the delightful couple that house Bill Brockton in the charming Lumani residence, the authors weave a rich web of characters through our tale. Painters from the past, their actions shown to us in flashbacks, a dangerous fanatic that plans to bring the world to its knees. Who can be trusted in a tale where one misplaced instinct could bring disastrous circumstances?

The Bones of Avignon is a story of murder and blood, death and deception. A combination of history and fiction gives the reader a tale rich with action, each page promising to bring new twists and turns in the journey to discover the true meaning behind the bones of Avignon.

4/5.

Changes

Wrote this one in September 2011 and it really speaks for itself.

Changes

People may change with the winds of time,
Yet I still think of us, your lips upon mine.
One moment so golden, yet frozen forever,
Raindrops they fell, as we stood there together.

In a blink of an eye, the moment was gone,
From that point on, it all began to go wrong.
A sense of distress, I thought I should go,
Suspicions confirmed; it hurt more than you know.

Yet despite the pain, it never ruined the night,
It's never hard to remember, that memorable sight.
So nervous, I held my breath; I had waited too long,
It was our defining moment; the chorus of our song.

Through it all we battled, problems we overcame,
The greatest gust couldn't douse our friendship flame.
Years that with you, have been the best of my life,
At the end of the day, happiness outweighs the strife.

I sit here and think of us, and wonder what's left,
My life begins to lack colour; it's lonely and bereft.
Promise me please, as I pray this isn't the end,
I miss you terribly even now, on you I do depend.

So as life begins to rush upon us, think of our good times,
Relax and sit back, as the final bell chimes.
As the curtain falls, the players bow; the final sun shall set,
I know not the future changes, but you I won't forget.

© Ben Johnson 2011

Friendship Comes In Many Forms

Here is a poem I wrote in August 2011 after I realised a certain someone would always be there for me.

Friendship Comes In Many Forms

Today was just a stark reminder:
Friendship comes in many forms,
Despite the anger, despite the hurt,
With you I can weather these storms

Relief that passes through my mind,
When I know that you'll be there,
Metaphorical shoulders to rest my head,
As my hands tear through my hair

A heart that bleeds, I long to scream
Such frustration I can't contain,
Yet every time I feel like giving up,
Your words guide me through the pain

I've stood resolute with nothing left,
Almost breathed my very last,
Then in my ear, those voices whispered,
Reassured, the moment passed

Saved from upon the very brink,
So melodramatic but it's true,
Battled on despite the hurt,
I owe so much to you

These words I write can't say it all,
But know your kindness transforms
Those broken hearts, those ruined souls:
Because friendship comes in many forms

© Ben Johnson 2011

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Shakespeare's comedic play, A Midsummer Night's Dream, was in fact my earliest introduction to the world of the great Bard, William Shakespeare, although at the time, when I was around nine or ten, I imagine that his greatness was far from understood by me, or indeed any of my class-mates, when we were told we would be performing in a school production of it. This mysterious 'Shakespeare' was far from known to us, and I was worlds away from understanding his reputation and genius.

In essence then, the girls were excited about getting dressed up, and the boys were mainly content with the competitiveness of securing the 'best' parts. Well, I say this - but it's quite possible that in some early display of geekery on my part, it was simply I who became anxious over who should get what part. Some childish whim that to have a great part would be to get one over on my friends. In the end, I got the part I wanted - that of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow - and with my best friend procuring the part or Oberon, we were ready, and the stage was set.

Eight or so years later, re-reading the play, I can't imagine that the language we used was the original, but nevertheless I do believe it's great that schools attempt to offer at least some sort of Shakespearian education to kids growing up. It's important, and I feel that everyone should have some knowledge of his works. The play itself is an enjoyable one, as we follow the events surrounding the marriage between the Duke of Athens, Theseus, and the Queen of the Amazons, Hippolyta; the adventures of four young lovers, and the antics of an amateur group of actors.

The fairies that inhabit the forest in which most of the play is set, meddle and manipulate all those around them, causing havoc. Shakespeare weaves a wonderful plot of love and betrayal, magic and marriage, set mainly in the depths of the night - where Oberon and his obedient, mischievous servant Puck, rule and roam at will. The lovers are merely puppets upon a string, subject to the mere whims of the magical creatures about them, as they argue, love, and trade blows, unaware of what's really going on.

In the end, then, what happens is never really their choice - the fairies will decide if the mischief shall continue, or if normality should be restored.

Edgar Allan Poe: Detective Tales

After studying 'The Black Cat' and 'The Tell-Tale Heart' by Poe last year, I was looking forward to reading some more of his short stories, and I wasn't disappointed. These two tales that I had to read for my Crime Fiction module, were written in 1841 and 1844 respectively; 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' appearing in the nineteenth century periodical Graham's Magazine - and 'The Purloined Letter' being produced in the literary annual The Gift for 1845 four years later.

'The Murders in the Rue Morgue'

The first tale, 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' is the the first appearance of the reclusive intellectual C. Auguste Dupin, and his side-kick; the unnamed man who narrates the tale. Much in the same vein as Holmes and Watson, these two spend time in each others' company, mediating on the issues of the day, content with living somewhat aside from the rest of society and enjoying their own company.

After hearing about the murders in the Rue morgue, Dupin becomes intensely interested in the case which according to the papers, appears to be unsolvable and offers no clues. Not convinced, Dupin and his side-kick set about investigating the scene of the murder themselves. For the narrator, things are entirely unclear, but as the mystery unfolds and Dupin's marvellous mind works to form its own conclusions, it becomes apparent that he has unravelled the mystery.

With a clever, unexpected ending, I found 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' to be a fascinating and enjoyable read.

3/5.

'The Purloined Letter'

The third of Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories - the second being 'The Mystery of Marie Roget' - sets about its narrative in a completely different manner: from the outset the thief is known to us, and it is not the 'whodunnit' of traditional UK crime fiction, but instead the importance is placed on how Dupin sets about his work.

A letter has been stolen from an important aristocrat, and despite the police's best efforts to turn-over every last inch of the thief's rooms, they can not find what they seek. Somewhat reluctantly, they call in the help of Dupin, and the tale from then on is a story of narrow-mindedness and how the police have struggled because they can not see anything aside from ordinary procedure.

Dupin's thinking is different to that of the police, and as a result he is able to out-think the thief. In this tale, then, we see the idea of the detective having an 'intellectual counterpart' as such; an adversary that in some ways is Dupin's 'match.' Once again this indeed can draw parallels to the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, with the famous adversary Professor Moriarty.

Poe's detective stories then, are often attributed with being the forerunners for today's modern 'detective novel', and we can see why; it is clear that his ideas of the detective and of the investigative techniques he uses, influenced others, and are still present in crime fiction to this day.

Daffodils. - William Wordsworth

Today I started my Romanticism course which concentrates mainly around poetry in that period, and I have to say I enjoyed it immensely. In the seminar we focused on the first verse of William Wordsworth's poem well-known poem, Daffodils; otherwise known as I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud which was fascinating, and which I feel I grasped rather well.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

One of the nation's favourite and most-recognised poems, Daffodils is a poem which typifies the poetry of the Romantic movement. From the very first nuance, 'I' suggests that Wordsworth is following closely the themes of individualism and the self that were clear in poetry of this era, when writing this poem. The first line appears to me a declaration of the isolation and independence. He wanders, 'lonely', like a 'cloud' - an insubstantial, ethereal image - that 'floats on high', creating an image that has multiple layers.

As well as the theme of individualism here, we can also note how Wordsworth is playing on the idea of transcendence; of being above others. One of the main ideals of the Romantic movement, was the idea of creative artistic thought taking the place of a God, and here it seems evident that Wordsworth in writing this poem, has transcended imagination above all. Wordsworth's use of the word 'floats' seems to evoke the mythical, prophetic poetry of his contemporary William Blake.

The next line, 'When all at once', parallels his idea that poetry is 'a powerful overflow of spontaneous emotion'; Wordsworth the proponent of spontaneity, over the 'reason' championed by the eighteenth-century poets before him. The idea of a 'crowd' once more opens up the theme of individualism; this time the narrative has switched from inward self-reflection, to the idea of another perspective looking back at him.

'A host' is a phrase used that we can read a lot into, as Wordsworth once more opens up the idea of a sense of the self displaying itself to others: it seems the author here considers himself hosting a spectacle to those who read his poems. There is, however, an inclination that the daffodils represent an opening to the author himself as if they are the hosts; an invitation to Wordsworth to explore the natural beauty of the world. Once again the 'golden' image that is thrown up indicates wealth and a richness; vivid imagery for sure.

The final couplet of Wordsworth's first verse, allows him to explore nature; a theme that was ever-present in poetry from the Romantic era. The speed of the poem switches here, speeding up and perhaps indicating the flow of ideas and the change of thought that Wordsworth is trying to bring about, in contrast to the ideas of Enlightenment in the eighteenth-century. The 'fluttering' and the 'dancing' in the 'breeze' act as a further lightness in the images, paralleling with those of 'wandered' and 'floats' used earlier in the poem.


Evidently, then, Wordsworth's poem acts as a celebration of the beauty of nature, and a reconciliation between a man and the environment. The poem is emotionally song, light-hearted, and the use of personification leaves us with clear, vivid images in the readers' minds. All in all it's no wonder that the poetry of Wordsworth is pivotal in the Romantic movement, and that so many people still recognise and love 'Daffodils' even to this day.

Australian Open Final: Novak Djokovic v Rafael Nadal

The final battle of the Australian Open came once again down to the best two players in the world; Rafael Nadal aiming to stop the world number one, Novak Djokovic, in his run of twenty wins in Grand Slam events. With both players taking part in long physical semi-finals, Djokovic coming through in five sets against Murray just forty hours ago, both players knew it would take a battle of immense endurance and physical strength to come through victorious at the Rod Laver Arena.

In a gruelling first set of an hour and twenty minutes, both players played tremendous tennis; ruthless and ferocious in their efforts to take the first advantage, knowing the importance of an early lead. Both players held their serves, battling through twenty and thirty-shot rallies with a wonderful display of skill. Then, at 5 games apiece, a breakthrough: Nadal battling to break at last, Djokovic’s serve. Holding his own in the final game of the set, Nadal served it out, and in an incredible eighty-two minutes of sensational tennis, he had the all-important first set and a 1-0 lead.

Ever the Champion though, as the second set rolled around Novak Djokovic showed why he is best player in the world. At 1-1, Djokovic began to take control as his tennis really started to click into gear. Three games on the bounce from Djokovic, and suddenly, without warning, the momentum has switched: the world number looks at ease on the court. Tennis can change in an instance, though, and just when you think Djokovic is about to level the match, serving for the set he fails to convert his two set points, and Nadal breaks him right back. It seems there’s life still in the set yet for the Spaniard, at 5-4, but to the dismay of his coaching team watching from the stands, he can’t hold his serve, and the Serbian wins the set 6-4 to level the match at 1-1.


With the crowd loving every minute, the third set blistered into life with a lightning display of tennis, but this time from just one of the two men slugging it out on court: Novak Djokovic. In a tremendous display of exhibition tennis, the Serbian hit winner after winner across court, beginning to establish his dominance. Nadal looking dejected, the wind taken out of his sails, Djokovic rattled off a wonderful set 6-2, to give himself a 2-1 set lead, and leave himself one set away from his third Australian Open title. Could the Spaniard fight his way back into the game?

In the fourth set the crowd seemed to get behind the world number two, Nadal, wishing wholeheartedly for the match to go the distance into a deciding set. The Serbian on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas, holding his serve with ease for the early part of the set, while forcing Nadal to battle to hold his own. Nadal, always a fantastic competitor, attempted to whip up the action into a Spanish frenzy, fist-pumping and leaping into the air, trying to establish himself in the game, and break Djokovic’s serve. 4-3 in the lead, and at the most crucial part of the set, Djokovic turned on the style with a fantastic three points to lead 40-00.

Intense, and staring down the barrel, Nadal incredibly won the next two points to leave Novak with just one break point. Sensationally, he couldn’t take it, and Nadal had fought his way back to 40-40. Two points later, as the heavens began to open, Nadal had against all odds levelled the match, with an incredible fight back. With the fourth set tied at 4-4, and the game-time coming around to four hours, another twist in the tale, the rain had become too much: the game must be stopped. An agonising fifteen minutes wait for both players as the roof comes across; the game still hanging right in the balance.

With rapturous applause the two warriors returned, with Djokovic looking to wrap this up, and Nadal looking to take it the very distance – the crowd with him all the way. The combatants traded blow for blow, sublime tennis producing cheers from the crowd that shook the foundations of the Rod Laver Arena. It seemed inevitable: a fourth set tie-breaker would be required to decide in what direction this match would go.


Once more the two locked swords: smashing impossible shots and hitting returns to produce lengthy rallies that in an ordinary match would have been over many shots earlier. The advantage had been on Djokovic to wrap this game up in the fourth but it wasn’t to be; Nadal battled furiously to win the tie-break 7-5, and the crowd had been rewarded: a fifth and final set would be needed to separate the two warriors.

With the games locked at 2-2 in the fifth, history had been made. These two had officially racked up the longest grand slam final in history, just moving past the five hour mark. Sensationally, both players lifted themselves for one final effort; as they matched each other serve for serve. In the sixth game, a switch of momentum in the air as Djokovic begins to tire; a break point for Nadal and he takes it to lead 4-2. Just two short games away from victory, but as always tennis can change in just a blink of an eye.


The numbers are just phenomenal, and no wonder Djokovic is tired and looks beaten. That’s ten hours of tennis in his semi-final and final combined, whereas his first five matches took ten hours and fifteen minutes combined. Compelling stuff, made even more so by Djokovic breaking straight back. That’s 4-4, and for a moment the two trade service games once more; 5-5. Who would break first? A battle of will and endurance: a battle of the mind. The crowd have begun to forget their alliances now; they cheer every point, and if it was only possible to crown both players the winner, I’m sure everyone would agree to do so.

Both players dig deep for one last momentous effort, but for one player the strain is just too much. Djokovic believes; he strikes for the killer blow to see off the Spaniard in front of him, and with some incredible play finds the break. He leads 6-5, and serves for the match and the tournament. For Nadal once again it isn’t to be; Djokovic collapses to the ground and the cheers and applause reverberates all around the stadium. Not just for the Serbian, but for Nadal too; both players producing a spectacle that has to be listed up there with the best of the finals there has ever been.

Legacy of Blood. - Alex Connor

Synopsis: London, 1732. William Hogarth is called to a murder scene. A woman lies dead, her unborn child ripped from her body. It is a warning. Hogarth painted the future King leaving her bed. He must destroy the painting to survive. But her killers made one mistake. They left the Prince's son alive. Centuries later, one man holds proof of this line of succession and keeps a watchful eye on the Prince's heir. The legacy is a terrible burden, but also an incredible opportunity. During a flight in a private jet, when a fellow passenger speaks of having gained possession of proof of this, the Royal Family's darkest secret, everything changes. Within hours of the flight, three of the seven passengers have been silenced. Who killed them? Why? To keep the secret or expose it? Where is the proof?

Review

After thoroughly enjoying Alex Connor’s The Rembrandt Secret in March of last year, I felt a sense of eager anticipation when turning over the first page to her latest offering, Legacy of Blood. I definitely wasn’t disappointed. Once more Connor delves deep into the murky, murderous depths of the art world, this time emerging with a sensational secret which threatens the very monarchy itself.

A fateful journey on a private jet: the mad whisperings of an art dealer confused and in a mind-state far from calm. One sudden foolish mistake: with dreadful and potentially devastating consequences. The confirmation of the existence of a William Hogarth painting believed to be lost – but who heard Bernie Freeland’s spluttered out secret? Three art dealers, ruthless and manipulating in a world that takes no prisoners; three call girls who have information at their fingertips, and a madam that has contacts in high places. The secret is huge, and people are prepared to commit unspeakable deeds to have the painting for their own. The Russians, the Chinese, and those in the English hierarchy that know the painting must remain safe at all costs.

What impressed me the most about Legacy of Blood was the delightful way in which the author weaves a complex, intricate web of characters; each with their own stories and secrets, each with their own motives, but whose paths, and in some cases pasts, are closely interwoven. As a result, the reader is pulled cleverly from side to side, thoughts racing in an attempt to get the measure of each of the characters involved, the list of possible culprits seemingly endless. It seems impossible to know who to trust and who to be wary of, as Connor keeps us guessing; we flick through the pages, captured like a fly to a spider’s web as we struggle to penetrate a world which holds many secrets, to find our answers. On she weaves, as the plot twists and turns right to the very last page.

In a sense, the dénouement is one which has multiple layers; the answers are never so simple in the elusive and secretive art world. It is unclear how the tale will unravel, because each character has separate ideas about the painting and its importance. Someone is committing murders, ruthless and gruesome; another, dying himself of a terrible illness, knows he must keep the painting safe to insure the future of his family when he is gone. A recently disgraced man, fallen from the art world, takes up an investigation more dangerous than he realises; dreaming of the painting that can restore him to prominence in the art world once more. A mother weeps as her son lies dying in a coma, the fateful overdose coming just hours after stepping off Bernie Freeland's private jet.

Legacy of Blood is a story of greed, ruthlessness, murder and deceit. In the race to own the painting that causes such scheming and lies, who will emerge victorious? Will good prevail over those who intend evil, and will a secret that has remained buried for centuries emerge to befall the government itself? Read Alex Connor’s fantastic new thriller for a rip-roaring, action-packed tale that will make your jaw drop and your fingers itch with excitement as you turn the pages.

5/5.

Bad Blogger!

It's been six months or thereabouts since I last looked at this blog. Six whole months. Why is that? I guess I could make the typical excuse of life moving on and getting in the way, and although to some extent that is true, I know that if I would have really wanted to make the effort, it wouldn't have been too difficult to get on here and write a post occasionally. I have, however, once more decided to start writing posts on here again. Call it a belated New Year's resolution, or something.

In September I started university and it's certainly been an experience. New people, new sights, new city; a new life. I'm glad I took the opportunity to move to a different city, and to go to university, as I'm sure it's going to be a life-changing experience; already I see that for me it's a part of growing up, and trying to find myself as a person. In a sense, although I really went to university to further my studies, it's like my life is really beginning here.

As for my studies, on Monday I begin my second semester of my first year. Last semester went reasonably well, but not quite as well as I would have liked. I struggled at first to get used to the style expected in assignments, accustomed instead to the essay-writing at a-level standard. However, as the weeks went by my marks improved, and I soon hope to have my exam results back also. I know already that most of my modules have been passed, so I'm not too worried about the outcome of the exams.

As the new semester rolls around, my modules for the year are; Romanticism, which looks at poets such as Keats, Byron, Blake, Wordsworth and Coleridge; Shakespeare, a module that I'm excited to get started on because I've always wanted to read more of his works; Crime Fiction, which will include the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, along with the writings of Agatha Christie; and lastly Bildungsroman, where I will get to read the works of Dickens and Charlotte Bronté, just to name a couple. Evidently, I have an interesting semester ahead of me.

In general then, as I aim to get the blog up and running again, I will once more be focusing my posts on my general interest in music, sport and literature. I shall be aiming to diversify my taste in both my reading and in my album-listening habits, taking albums from the lists on the 1001 Series site as well, as I go. So without further ado, this brings my long absence to a close, and let's see if I can finally commit to posting regularly once again.

Ben.