Van Eel – Underwater Transportation

29 08 2011

[This review was written c.2007, which may explain the first line. On the other hand, it may not. Personally, I have no idea what 'tiresome tales of a pubescent sorcerer' refers to...]

Enveloped as it is with a turgid enthralment for the tiresome tales of a pubescent sorcerer, the English speaking world has of late seriously neglected much of the best children’s fiction to have been produced on mainland Europe. Chief among its losses are the four books in the ‘Van’ series, an enterprising collection of stories that have thus far failed to grab the attention of anyone outside of Holland, their country of origin. Though they are all written by the same two people (an anonymous husband and wife team based in Amsterdam) each of the four works that make up the series is credited to a separate author, whose surname always begins with the ubiquitous prefix ‘Van’ and always ends with an unsubtle pun on the title. Whilst these broad jokes cannot be blamed on clumsy translation – all the books were in fact originally written in English – we may forgive them when we consider that the series was primarily designed to attract a readership of teenagers. The first book – entitled Around Amsterdam – was by Van Tram, the second – Nightly Creeps by Van Tom (its intriguing subtitle was The Operatic Menace). The third book – and central subject of this review – was Van Eel’s Underwater Transportation. For the fourth and most recent book, the joke took a nosedive into the quagmire of complexity. Read the rest of this entry »





Hamish Wishart – Dunce Insane

23 08 2011

In March I received honorary degrees from no less than five universities. Introduced as the cleverest man in Scotland, I accepted the charge with a gentle shrug. Excluding my reservations regarding the root of their phraseology, I surmised that they were more or less correct. In any case, I was clever enough to know that it wouldn’t be clever to complain. To have argued over the extent of the boundaries (cleverest man north of Nottingham might have been more accurate, though less strident) would have been unnecessary….

So begins Dunce Born, the first of Hamish Wishart’s vaguely-acclaimed Dunce novels. From this auspicious beginning, everything goes downhill. Deliberately. For this is a novel of undoing: of an attempt to fail; of rules broken according to unknowing plans; knowledge gained in order to lose; chaos designed to undercut itself, to confuse, to befog and to confound. Yes. This is a novel about that most sophisticated and intricate of things: stupidity.

Wishart’s task, like that of his protagonist, Gavin McCloud, is not an easy one. Though unblessed with the shower of paper money that is the honorary degree, Wishart’s pre-Dunce career was indeed a successful one. At the age of only fifteen, he completed his thesis on The Construction of Mimetic Space in Reflective Texts, publishing his fascinating if not one-sided survey of Modern Chinese Literature barely a year later.[1] From here he embarked on a ten year career which saw the publication of twelve highly erudite works, five rewarding professorships at universities across Europe and the naming of the new stand at his local football club after his labrador Read the rest of this entry »








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