Down Under – Bill Bryson
23 Jan 2012 Leave a Comment
“.. we went to Len Vodic Vehicle Hire to pick up a four-wheel-drive for a two-day jaunt into the baking wilderness. The eponymous Len was a very wiry old guy, energetic and friendly, who looked as if he had spent every day of his life doing tough stuff in the out-of-doors. He jumped behind the wheel and gave us the kind of swift, thorough rundown that people give when they assume they are dealing with intelligent and capable listeners. The interior presented a bewildering assortment of dials, levers, knobs, gauges, and toggles.
‘Now, say you get stuck in sand and need to increase your offside differential,’ Lend was saying on one of the intermittent occasions I dipped into the lecture. ‘You move this handle forward like so, select a hyperdrive ratio of between 12 and 27, elevate the ailerons, and engage both thrust motors–but not the left-hand one. That’s very important. And whatever you do, watch your gauges and don’t go over 180 degrees on the combustulator, of the whole thing’ll blow and you’ll be stuck out there.’
He jumped out and handed us the keys. ‘There’s twenty-five liters of spare diesel in the back. That should be more than enough if you go wrong.’ He looked at each of us in turn, more carefully. ‘I’ll get you some more diesel,’ he decided.
‘Did you understand any of that:’I whispered to Trevor when he had gone.
‘Not past the putting-the-key-in-the-ignition part.’
Fillets Of Plaice – Gerald Durrell
17 Jan 2012 1 Comment
The Birth of a Title
THE day was one of those breathless, clear, blue days that only Greece, of all countries in the world, can provide. The cicadas were zithering in the olive trees and the sea was a deeper blue, moving reflection of the sky. We had just finished a large and leisurely lunch under the twisted, pitted olives that grew almost down to the edge of the sea on one of the most beautiful beaches in Corfu. The female members of the party had gone down to bathe and left Larry and myself alone. We slouched there indolently, ferrying a giant, wicker-covered bottle of turpentine-like retsina between us. We drank and mused in silence. Anyone who thinks that when authors meet they indulge in witty exchanges and saucy badinage is sadly mistaken.
“This is a nice retsina,” said Larry at last, thoughtfully filling his glass. “Where did you get it?”
“From a little man who has a shop in one of those alleyways leading off St Spiridion Square. It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Very,” said Larry, holding the glass up to the light so that it glowed a pale old gold. “The last bottle I got from town tasted and looked like a urine sample from a mule. It probably was.”
“I’m coming this way to-morrow,” I said. “I’ll bring you a flagon if you like.”
“Hmmm,” said Larry. “Bring me a couple.”
Exhausted by the intellectual exchange, we filled our glasses and lapsed into silence again. The ants were foraging over the remains of our food. Tiny, black, busy ones, large, leggy, red ones, with their behinds cocked up like anti-aircraft guns. On the bark of the olive against which I was leaning there were flocks of curious larvae moving. Minute, fluffy creatures that looked like misshapen and rather dirty polar bears.
Player One – Douglas Coupland
30 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
[Having figured all of this out] Luke remained unsure what to do. Cultural irrelevance be damned, he hadn’t had a date in over a year. A date: he cursed himself for his self-censorship; Luke hadn’t gotten laid in years. 
He smiled back at the blonde, who actually seemed a bit awkward. With his head, he motioned her over to the bar. She froze, and Luke thought, Oh crap, too forward. But then she stood up and walked over to Luke with a strangely mechanical gait. He wondered if she was a model, and if that was how models were walking these days. She’s so beautiful, Luke thought. Cartoon beautiful. She’s a Barbie doll.
She approached Luke, touched the stool beside him, and said, “I am going to sit here.”
“Please do.”
She sat on the stool, but her body language made it seem as if she’d never sat on a bar stool before and it had a learning curve, like learning how to ice skate or juggle. She stabilized and stared at the bottles against the bar’s mirrored wall. Luke looked at her, and she seemed unconcerned about being stared at. He said, “A guy walks into a bar, and the bartender looks at him and says, ‘Hey, what is this — a joke?’”
If Luke wanted a reaction, he didn’t get it. “My name is Luke.”
There was a pause. “My name is . . .” There was another pause. “. . . Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you, Rachel.”
“Yes.”
Luke felt way out of his league, and awkward as all get-out. He needed to order more drinks, and maybe some snacks, but what do you feed a woman like this — hamburgers made of panther meat? Peacock livers on Ritz crackers? Do beautiful women even eat food?
“Can I order you a drink?”
Divine Right’s Trip – Gurney Norman
16 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
Questions
Did he dream about dragons? Did he dream about deer? Did he whisper the names of friends who were near? 
What songs did they play, and how far away? Why did he whisper, why does she scream? What does the sound of a screen door mean? Who walks in the pasture? Who talks on the hill? Who goes to the cellar, can you feel the chill? Where does the river, when will the wind? How far are the mountains? Where do they end? Why would the church? Did the service begin? Tell me who died, and tell me who cried. Help me to hide in the skin of a deer, my zippered-up bag in the mouth of a stag so swiftly I go through rows of does, it flows, it flows, it flows all over the hill where the green grass grows.
The Sensational Alex Harvey Band – Shake That Thing
24 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
A man on a horse with a box on his head
He was sayin’ to the Nation
He pay him dues the goodbye blues
Is simple syncopation
And then I told my story to the cannibal king..
