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January 04, 2010

Comments

béatrice Mousli

Bon voyage... Attention, il fait aujourd'hui à Paris entre -4 et 0 (celsius bien entendu!)
et bonne année,
Béatrice

Anne

Great, great, great. I love the French title and cover. Felicitations!!!

stephan

This revised Harry looks more French, no?

Antoine Wilson

Bon voy, bud.

Perhaps the whole syllabus should read: "Continue writing your novel."

Niall

I think an interesting exercise for aspiring novelists would be ask them to rewrite "The Great Gatsby" their own way, and see if the result is any better.

valerie

So Welcome to France! I've just finished reading the French version of your novel (and the cover is fabulous) . Thank you for inventing Harry, such a lovable character who both made me laugh and moved me.

Lauren

cool, when are you there til? I get back on tuesday.

constance93

I'm french adolescent girl very very zero in english but I think to try read your book in english, unless you tell me that the french translation is good... The book cover is beautiful and the character seems endearing... Yes, it's in my reading list ! In english or in french, but I want to read =D (Sorry for the missplellings...) I back when I should have read.
Félicitations pour ce livre qui je pense, va avoir beaucoup de succès en France si toutes les adolescentes sont charmées par le titre ;-) A bientôt !

Catherine

Hello Mark,
Happy New Year from France !
I read your book and I like it although I don't really laugh !

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."