Diana Wynne Jones (1934-2011)

"I think we ought to live happily ever after," and she thought he meant it. Sophie knew that living happily ever after with Howl would be a good deal more hair-raising than any storybook made it sound, though she was determined to try. "It should be hair-raising," added Howl.

"And you'll exploit me," Sophie said.

"And then you'll cut up all my suits to teach me."

— Diana Wynne Jones

Barely a month ago, in my review of A Tale of Time City, I professed my ambition to read everything this wonderful author has published, if at all possible. Despite having quite a few novels occupying my bookshelf, I've got at least as many again to read and can't wait.

Despite knowing that she had been ill for some time, discovering the news of her death (via Neil Gaiman's Twitter, I must admit), nearly brought me to tears in public. It doesn't seem quite real - as though, like her characters and books, she should simply just be there. Diana, you left us so many wonderful words that you'll never be forgotten.

The first book of hers I read was The Magicians of Caprona, borrowed from my high school library. It's the first one I'm going to re-read.

The Demon's Lexicon (2009)

I started reading this book once before and gave up, something that rarely happens with me and books. Maybe it's the genre, maybe it's me being far too fussy.

The book starts in my home city where I grew up. There are some details that I can picture well: the statue on the High Street that looks like a knife surely must be the Exeter riddle sculpture, though I can't say that I ever look at it this tall, pointy thing with its big silver balls and think 'knife'. But maybe that's just me. As I'm writing this review, I can't imagine which high school Nick, Mae and Jamie would have attended. Much like watching an episode of Torchwood (or reading one of the novels), any verisimilitude is lost on me as I try to figure out the geography in my own head. Perhaps it's simply a risk of urban fantasy and trying to equate the reality that you know with the reality presented in the book.

A few times I almost gave up reading it. It wasn't until the last hundred or so pages that I actually found myself invested in the plot or characters; I'm not sure whether I want to read the sequel or the upcoming third part of the trilogy.

The narrative hugs the protagonist Nick closely throughout the book, sticking so close to him that it seems only a short jump to a first person viewpoint. I found myself hating Nick more and more, even within the first few chapters. He was too strong, too witty, too detached from the world and cocksure; I was left with the overwhelming feeling that this simply wasn't a sixteen year old boy. Perhaps, I thought, if it were in first person I would have more sympathy for him. Then, in the last third of the book it became abundantly clearly why the third person narrative was so important and why we weren't directly inside Nick's head.

Not sure this one will have a permanent place on my bookshelf.

Enchanted Glass (2010)

Now, this is more like it.

Set in one of Jones' magical worlds (something I much prefer to the more scientific ones), Andrew Hope's grandfather dies and he finds himself moving into his old house and finally getting to write the history book he's always wanted. But, of course, he inherits more than just a house. First, there's Mr Stock the gardener and Mrs Stock the housekeeper (no relation), then there's the mysterious field-of-care his grandfather had looked after. If only the slightly absent-minded academic could remember what he had to do to maintain it.To top it off, a young boy arrives looking for help after his grandmother dies before strange powers are following him.

Oh, and did I mention that Oberon, king of the fairies, is living just down the road and trying to take over the field-of-care?

I don't think I could ever say that any of Jones' books are easy reads - you need to pay attention to the details - but I found this one delightful and, well, enchanting. Doppelgängers, fairies, were-dogs, using computers to set protective wards... Just lovely.

The use of magic in the novel is pitch perfect and something I love about Jones' writing. It's just so easy. No huge and ceremonial chanting or silly wand waving, no massive exclamations of magic existing. Magic just happens. It's part of life and comes naturally to people, whether it's beckoning a piano across the room, growing massive vegetables or making an amputee's phantom foot feel real. Of course, she also somehow has the ability to have characters go from a professional relationship to engaged in a matter of pages and still make it feel right. Though, however, that reminded me a little of Howl and Sophie's sudden declaration in Howl's Moving Castle. That said, there is some build up and it doesn't come totally out of the blue - ultimately, I think I prefer the snarky, bitchy relationship of Howl and Sophie to Andrew and Stache's gentleness.

I think, like in a few of her books, the end doesn't really feel like the end. Rather, it's another beginning. In Enchanted Glass, a significant revelation is made about one of the characters, although not to a character himself. I can't decide whether I wish I could have seen his reaction, but maybe it is best it ended there. Instead of tying up all the loose ends, it opens up new possibilities in much the same way as discovering the extent of his field-of-care opens up so many new possibilities for Andrew himself.

And Another Thing... (2009)

This is a book that I've wanted to read for a while, but at the same time slightly worried about reading. Because, of course, this is a H2G2 book not written by the dear, departed Douglas Adams. I have a vague recollection of the announcement that the book was going to be written, mostly a question of WHY?, but also a sort of hope because the author asked to write it was Eoin Colfer.

I'll admit right off the bat that the only books of Colfer's that I've read are the Artemis Fowl books; I believe they were also going to be a trilogy once upon a time, but now fill up a good chunk of my bookshelf in their shiny jewel-coloured glory. The rest of his novels have long since lingered in the periphery, occupying that area of space and time known as 'one day'.

Colfer isn't Adams, nor does he pretend to be. Yet, there's a clear emulation of his style. The clever wordplay and phonological jokes that I love in the original H2G2 books shines through here, though to me that seems perfectly natural for Colfer, anyway. Anyone who's read Artemis Fowl will know that the word 'leprechaun' comes from a mangling of the Lower Elements Police reconnaissance unit, also known as LEPrecon. So, perhaps not quite as sophisticated as the myriad 'gin and tonic' variations in H2G2 that I adore, but lovely all the same.

The references that go back as far as the first H2G2 book were nicely done - especially references to digital watches. Because, of course,  And Another Thing... was written to celebrate the 30th anniversary. Yet there's something so timeless about the original H2G2, owed largely to the whimsical and nonsensical approach to science. AAT... doesn't quite live up to that. References to reality television shows and the like seemed jarringly out of place to me, but thinking about it, it's probably something that Adams would approve. He approved the switch from humankind's obsession with digital watches to mobile phones in the 2005 H2G2 film, so I dare say he would have loved to get his hands on the sort of material that reality TV provides.

The introduction of the character Hillman Hunter had me rolling my eyes. More the fact that he was Irish, or at least pretending to be obnoxiously Oirish, as Arthur and Random point out. But it's one way for Colfer to put his own stamp on the H2G2 universe(s).

I like to think that if there were another book, Random Dent would meet the (shh!) evolving Constant Mown. The universe would be in some serious political and bureaucratic danger then. And Arthur really might have to forbid his daughter from marrying a Vogon...

The Hunger Games

I don't know when I realised I liked a good bit of dystopian fiction. Probably when I read Nineteen Eighty-Four as a teenager. When I was doing my A-Levels, I had to write a coursework essay on two novels. While everyone else chose the hand-holding option of The Remains of the Day and A Room with a View that the lecturer set out, I flat-out refused and opted for Brave New World and The Handmaid's Tale. I feel like I ought to read more in this genre, but I never seem to know where to start.

The Hunger Games trilogy almost crept up on me. When the third book, Mockingjay, was published, I remember seeing reviews here, there and everywhere and trying to ignore them because I was interested in reading them myself and wanted to avoid spoilers like whoa.

The concept behind the actual Games themselves is brilliantly simple, the combination of gladiators and reality television. As a consequence of an uprising over 75 years ago, every year each of the twelve (remaining) districts of Panem, formerly North America, send two teenage tributes to fight in the Hunger Games, a brutal televised fight to the death where the victor is the last one standing. When her younger sister Prim is chosen against all odds, Katniss Everdeen becomes the first ever volunteer from District 12. Her impassioned nature helps give fuel (or fire, I suppose) to a rebellion that spreads throughout the districts.

I devoured the first book, The Hunger Games, in a little under two days. Collins creates a world that I can get absolutely lost in and picture so clearly, from Effie Trinket's vivid hair and the candy-coloured landscape of the Capitol to the woodland desolation of the Games arena. In introducing us to this world, I think the first person narrative works perfectly well. Katniss is flawed and increasingly damaged throughout the course of the trilogy. She's not always likeable. None of the characters are. Indeed, one decision that Katniss makes towards the end of Mockingjay rankles me even today, weeks after I finished reading the book. But I can see why she made her choice and I would clearly much rather be left questioning what I would do in the circumstances than agreeing.

I had an anxious wait of several days after finishing The Hunger Games before my brand new copies of Girl On Fire and Mockingjay arrived. I don't know whether it was because I read them in quick succession or because of the plot, but I currently see them as halves of one story, as it were. Perhaps re-reads, and I'm sure there will be re-reads, will change that view. Both characters and the nation of Panem get twisted and developed, the first person narrative again working brilliantly with world views shifting and changing as Katniss learns more information. Finnick Odair's transformation from the cheesy playboy to the damaged victor that the President whored out to Capitol citizens made his character so much more interesting. The more you learnt about Haymitch, Katniss' reluctant and constantly drunk advisor, the more you care about him. I'll admit, in the first book I envisioned him to be in his fifties or sixties, but discovering that he's no older than 41 (if I've done my sums right) drags him kicking and screaming into the 'tragic' column, rather than the comedy figure that the Capitol paints him to be in the Hunger Games broadcasts each year.

These books managed to keep me awake at night, both mid-reading and after I'd finished. I don't remember any books ever doing that. I want to re-read them, but I think I need a little time and space before I do that (and hopefully get through some of the other books in my to-read) list.