That I very much enjoy humorist Guy Browning may be known only to those who explore the folder in the sidebar of this blog labeled "Books Julian Finished in 2008." A spare, chill, echoey place is that folder. Almost a year's worth of reading, and the contents can be counted on both hands. Only when you click on an icon does the book cover fill the screen, and you can read my comment on the book at the bottom. Compare this to the warm, bright, populated spaces of "Books David Finished in 2008." You could spend an afternoon happily poking around in there, clicking icon after icon to bring David to your elbow as a genial guide to the pleasures of the written word.
But I digress. Back in my own cold, dark vault, a spotlight illuminates a pair of titles by Guy Browning, both extravagantly praised. For more of the same, I'm presently reading, not for the first time, his Never Hit a Jellyfish with a Spade collection of "How to" columns. The last time was aloud with my mother aged well over 90. Lines like,
(How to eat a box of chocolates) "Starting on the bottom tray before the top tray has been finished is the devil's work. Even if the last one on the top layer is a disgusting praline prepuce, you've got to choke it down before you can go for the orange cream downstairs."
were likely to reduce us to helpless laughter to the point that I was forbidden to open the book until she'd taken a trip to the bathroom.
I digress again. What I really want to say is that Browning last weekend wrote a Guardian column on the current financial crisis, specifically, the future of the players who brought it on. Now that they are unable to pursue their vocations, he proposes alternative and suitable employment. Enjoy! (Thanks, Chas, for the tip.)
--Julian