The Gates By John Connolly

There are precious few children's books that involve M theory. That is, the Steven Hawkins loved idea that there are multiple universes (shortened into multi-verse, and not to be confused with the odd, amusing and sometimes musical Buffy-verse). Hawkins has recently used this theory to conclude that there is not God, Connolly uses it with the assumption that there is or at least that there is a Great Malevolence, high demon and ruler of the Underworld, which in my book amounts to about the same thing.

While all of that is fun, it is very far off the sidelines of the book, but is an interesting thought to add to your reading enjoyment. In essence The Gates is an adventure story about a boy, and his dog, and his friends, and mostly about how no one believes you until it's too late. Also, for good measure a healthy dose of coming to terms with divorce and what to do when your a not-so-really-bad demon that just doesn't fit in. So it's a hodgepodge, but a very enjoyable one.

Connolly is particularly good with asides. The book comes alive in his little explanatory moments to the reader such as:

• Whenever someone uses the word 'glitch', which means a fault of some kind in the system, you should immediately be suspicious, because it means they don't know what it is. A technician who uses the word 'glitch' is like a doctor who tells you you're suffering from a 'thingy', except the doctor won't tell you to go home and try turning yourself on and off again.
  

Which shows how much fun can be had in footnotes, and also that I might be going to the wrong type of doctor.

Some of Connolly's books verge too close to the macabre for older children or night reading at all (I'm looking at you Nocturnes) but The Gates is a perfect older child book because it doesn't condescend to them; includes some really good tidbits of science, history and art, just enough to peak an interest if it's there; and most importantly is a great read. Perfect for the precocious preteen we all know and want to shut up for a minute or two. It might be best to carry this book with you on journeys for just such a reason. But it's also great fun for the adults, who like me, don't always want the tomes but have a strong desire to stay away from anything that ends up on a best seller list in Borders.

But, as Reading Rainbow has taught us: You don't have to take my word for it. 

no books; one Starkey trick

I am reading, I'm loving the Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes series, and I re-read The Giver, and The Once and Future King, Ruskins lectures on Geology to a girls school and all sort of other things. I have even had my Mac fixed so there is not excuse, but I don't want to write about them.

I am sad. Sad would seep through the words and contaminate my beautiful books. It would sit there and sulk until I opened the book up again, months or years later and the sad would burst out full strength and push its way back. And I would be sad again. We can't have that.

Instead I will play Jacks like I was taught but only when the Baby is asleep (she is too small for jacks and I'm not about to share yet anyway) and I will make lists of things, things that make me happy, simple thing, free things, and I will push my heart up again through pure strength of will. And then I will write about books again.

The first on all my lists is Sunshine and warmth. Today, if the very fickle English sun favours me, I will walk in the sun, maybe I will take my computer and if the Baby behaves I will sit with a coffee in the sun and make a longer list. Then again a list with one is still very nice.

The Scapegoat-Daphne du Maurier

Over the past years I’ve been reading Daphne du Maurier’s fiction when I have a break in other novels. I started with Rebecca after seeing it performed in the Lake District over my anniversary. I loved the small slip of a girl who play the new Mrs. De Winter, she almost appeared to fade into the background half the time, which is pretty amazing for an actress to do as they normally want as much of the spotlight as they can steal. She was small and weak and trusting, but most of all she was in love, and you could see it.
Reading Rebecca is much the same, you fall in love with the main character and all of her insecurities. Not only is she not the title character of her own book, she’s not even given her own name. Even Mrs. De Winter is a convenience because she still thinks of the sector of a first wife as Mrs. De Winter. Hitchcock did an absolutely amazing adaptation for the screen of Rebecca that stays very faithful to the book and of course, keeps all the beautiful tension. There are so many similarities with Jane Eyre and Rebecca that one really hesitates to call it an original plot. More a modern look at the mind of a girl who knows she isn’t attractive being loved by someone above her.
Daphne-such a beautiful name, I want to call her that- a collection of short stories, published as ‘Not After Midnight’ or ‘Don’t look Now’ The title story is good in the same vaguely creepy way that Rebecca is, but the jewel of the collection, in my opinion is ‘The Way of the Cross’ which, while not a thriller like the others, is so very honest is the depiction of widely divergent characters that you feel sympathy for all and none of them at the same time.
There are several other De Maurier books, my Cousin Rachel, The Birds, and Jamaica Inn being the most famous because they were made into films.
The book of hers that I just finished is not one of the most popular, but I actually couldn’t tell you why. The Scapegoat isn’t really a thriller, although it had the distinct possibility of being one. Rather it is a telling of two men who look the same switching places, although one not very willingly. Our main Character, perhaps the title character, John is a British professor of French history on holiday who is hoodwinked into taking the place of a man he met only hours before on but happens to look exactly like, M Comte de Gue...and there’s the rouse. It’s not great, but it gets us to where we want. John is now a stranger looking in on a life that isn’t his own but without the formality of being thought a stranger.
The people he meets are divided into two sections, well drawn sad depictions of a rotting aristocracy; refined morphine addicts, insetuios family members, the over religious and one sweet, but very spoiled little girl. These are undoubtedly the people the count was trying to get away from when he thought of changing places. Of course there is a second set of characters that John, not being born and raised to overlook that of the over idealized French peasants drawn only the way a very rich girl can. They are noble, and thoughtful , respectful and of course wise an d respectful. This isn’t to say there aren’t peasants like this, but I do always find in shocking in a book where ALL the presents are drawn that way. There are people John falls in love with that his double hated, or more to the point was just tired of.
Rebecca is to the scapegoat as the blush of youth is to middle age. And if you liked one you are sure to love the other.