Latitude's Byrne's Night

I wasn't going to go to Latitude this year. The line-up left me ... whelmed. The growth in size, the increased focus on music to the detriment of other arts, and the unavoidable commercialisation in recent years were also reasons not to go. I figured I wouldn't enjoy myself, so why bother? Except then Amusements Minor and two of his mates picked up tickets at the last minute. They were quite chuffed with themselves, until they then looked into the cost of getting there on the Latitude return bus service. Turned out it would be cheaper for me to buy a festival ticket and drive them there, so that's what I did. It was only for a day, the Friday, and that's what swung it for me, as the headliner was the only one of the festival that I had an interest in seeing.

Anyway, in the manner of my festival diaries of yore, here's what I saw...

Friday:

• 
  The Adam Buxton Band : Second Stage. I made sure to have negotiated the traffic and the hike from the car park in time, and to have impressed upon the boys our agreed rendezvous point and time for the end of day, in good time so that I could be under the vast canopy of the Second Stage to see Adam Buxton run through tracks from his album. There was a healthy audience of mainly podcast devotees, so he was preaching to the converted, I guess, but everyone went away happy. The songs are genuinely catchy, with lyrics treading the highwire between comedy and pathos. I ate my lunch in there too, enjoying the shade. And I'll get the apology out of the way early, and say sorry that the photographic abilities of my current phone are so abysmal. Brace yourself for a succession of washed-out, blurry rubbish.
• Robert Llewellyn in conversation : The Apollo Stage. It's a fair old trek from the Second Stage to Apollo, but it was worth it to hear Llewellyn in conversation with Robin Ince and Professor Helen Czerski. The Apollo line-up had a vaguely tech focus, so although there were plenty of reminiscences about Red Dwarf and Scrapheap Challenge, there was also some very interesting discussion about electric vehicles, and the changes that have to happen to how we live our lives. Gave me real and unexpected pause for thought.
• Natalie Wildgoose : The Alcove. A change of pace next, at one of the smaller music stages. Natalie self-describes as a folk eccentric, and the festival programme had likened her vocals to Joan Baez. I was intrigued. Dressed like Laura Ingalls on her way to church, Natalie played piano, and was ably supported by an acoustic guitarist and a backing vocalist. I can see the Baez comparison, but Natalie has her own sound. A shame, then, that it was somewhat drowned out by the sonic thump of a neighbouring stage. This was a problem that would beset The Alcove all day, unfortunately.
• Ellie O'Neill : The Sunrise Arena. I only caught the tail-end of Ellie's set, but immediately wished I had got there earlier. She plays the guitar well, creating a kind of acoustic drone that suited the shady setting well. Her vocals have a aching Irish lilt, and the few lyrics I heard had some heft. I wouldn't absolutely guarantee it but I think O'Neill may be worthy of further investigation.
• 
  Adult DVD : The Sunrise Arena. Come on, lads, think of a band name that can be Googled safely! Adult DVD are a six-piece from Leeds who make a very agreeable, energetic racket, with guitar, bass, drums, synths and samples. Even their soundcheck got a good cheer. Only possible fly in the ointment might be the slightly Marmite vocal style of frontman Harry Hanson, which is somewhere between Shaun Ryder, Mark E. Smith and Damon Albarn. Still, those three all did alright, so what do I know? Whatever, this lot provided quite a contrast to the preceding act, and certainly got the Sunrise Arena crowd bouncing.
• Courttia Newland : The Listening Post. Cup of tea in hand, I arrived early enough for the next act to catch the tail-end of novelist and playwright Newland in conversation in what used to be called the Book Tent. There was some interesting Q&A that focused on how the loss of public space and public services might impact on the artistic output of those that might otherwise struggle. But - full disclosure - I was mainly here to get a good spot for the next act, which was...
• Adam Buxton's BUG: David Byrne Special, featuring Ivo Graham : The Listening Post. If you're familiar with Buxton's BUG shows, you know the deal - he plays clips of the featured artist, talks about their background, gives insight into the creation and production of the music... it's basically a love-in by, and for, fans. Here he was joined by David Byrne superfan, comedian Ivo Graham. Later in the show, they were also joined by comediennes Josie Long and Sara Pascoe, both of whom had earlier graced the Comedy Stage. Both Adam and Ivo wore over-sized, Stop Making Sense-style suits for the duration of the show, no mean feat in the heat of the tent. There was audience participation, giveaways, singalongs, an appearance from members of the Byrne's Night tribute act (which uniquely celebrates both Talking Heads and Robert Burns), and more besides. A brilliant way to spend an hour, and the perfect warm-up for what was to come later.
• Ross Noble : The Comedy Stage. Latitude has maintained a strong comedy line-up over the years, but the flipside of that is that the Comedy Stage is always rammed. It can be very hard to get even a sight-line on the headline act. Still, I found a spot on the edge of the arena where I could just about see Ross. More importantly, I had a great view of his sign language interpreter. Most of the opening of Ross's act revolved around his very obvious and real delight at discovering what various signs were for things he was saying, and it was great watching him go off-piste and freestyle material around this. But no further into the set I got a text from Amusements Minor asking if we could meet up, so I bailed out and went to find the boy. He and his mates were flagging a bit - although AM has been to Latitude before, it was a first festival for the other two, and I don't think either of them had anticipated the size and scale, the temperature, the dustbowl that Henham Park had become in the heat, or the amount of walking. Still, I was able to gee them all up a bit and send them off in the direction of food and water, which seemed to do the trick.
• 
  Ain't - The Alcove. In their own words, Ain't are a "London five-piece channelling the stranger end of ‘90s guitar music", a description that was enough to get me to go along. I don't know about that though - musically, they seem to produce slightly anonymous indie rock, the one distinguishing feature of which seemed to be the shredded vocals of Hanna Baker Darch. I may have been extrapolating on thin evidence, but it looked to me like all the rest of the band fancy her, which is the sort of internal tension that leads bands to implode. Might be wise to investigate further quickly then, if you feel so minded. On balance, I do, just, if only to hear them properly as, once again, The Alcove suffered noise pollution from neighbouring stages.
• 
  Brooki : The Alcove. Noise pollution or not, after a quick diversion for dinner, I was back in The Alcove to see Brooki, an Irish four-piece that I was intrigued to see, on the strength of a programme write-up that name-checked Jeff Buckley and PJ Harvey. Well, at the risk of sounding like a wine critic, I didn't get much Buckley but there were certainly notes of Harvey in the vocals. I can't find her name anywhere but the vocalist also had more than a trace of Chrissise Hynde and even Siouxsie Sioux to her sound, to these old ears at least. She was also quite the beguiling frontwoman, dancing between verses in a t-shirt that proclaimed her to be "Romantic Material". The rest of the band were typical Sleeperblokes, save for the lead guitarist who seemed to have styled his look on the late Darius Danesh. How's that for a topical reference? Whatever. Beguiling frontwoman or not, the poor sound in The Alcove lead me to abort early, and head off for a bit of a sit-down with a cup of tea, which I managed to do at...
• Robin Ince's Nine Lessons for Latitude : The Listening Post. This show was essentially a grab-bag of different artists, invited by Robin to do their thing for five minutes each. Our compere interspersed the "lessons" with readings of his own comic poetry. By his own admission, poetry is a new development for Ince. If I was being unkind I might say it showed. That said, some of the lessons were very good: psychologist Dr Julia Shaw was excellent on the epistemic risks of AI; comedian Toussaint Douglass got genuine belly laughs out of this recalcitrant reviewer; a Geordie singer-songwriter called Sonny someone (I didn't catch it, sorry, and the programme is no help) was also good and charmingly enthusiastic; and more besides (I wish I'd made better notes). I couldn't stay to the end though, because I wanted to secure a half-decent spot for...
• David Byrne : The Obleisk Arena. I hadn't seen Byrne live before, so wasn't entirely sure what to expect. What I hadn't dared to expect was a gig that would mark a new entry in my notional "Top Ten Gigs Ever" list. Precisely on time, and without fanfare, David and his 12-strong ensemble took to the stage, clad head to toe in matching orange. All the musicians carried their instruments, even the percussionists (of which there were four), allowing them all to be mobile, all the time. And if this wasn't enough, the backing singers danced too. In fact, the whole show was choreographed, and I genuinely marvelled at the professionalism, rehearsal and prep that must have gone into co-ordinating the movement and musicianship. To do it for one song would be impressive - to do it for a 90-minute set was nothing short of mind-blowing. And then there was the lighting... or rather, lack of lighting, at least in the conventional gig sense. Instead, the band (troop?) were lit from above and below with different colour lights throughout the show, making their orange jumpsuits stand out dramatically. There were also high-definition panoramic back-projected images to add to the visual impact, most notably the footage of ICE raids in the US as a backdrop to Life During Wartime. Between songs, David was as thoughtful, considered and articulate as you'd want him to be. Singing, he was in terrific voice, indecently good for a man of 74. And the songs... oh, the songs. Aided by his immaculate band, the setlist included Heaven, And She Was, This Must Be The Place, Psycho Killer, Life During Wartime and Once in a Lifetime, before ending with an appropriately incendiary Burning Down The House. Within the 90-minute constraint he was forced to operate I guess something had to give, so I was a little disappointed not to hear David give Road to Nowhere a run out, but honestly that was my only minor quibble for the whole gig. As the band left the stage and the arena lights came up, Brian Eno's Ascent (An Ending) was piped quietly over the PA, providing the perfect coda on which to float away from this stunning set.

And that was pretty much that. I headed back to our pre-arranged rendezvous and found three very-tired looking lads waiting for me. We trudged wearily back to the car and then made our car park exit in record time - no queueing at all. The boys all fell asleep in the car on the way home, and I was tired too, but it was worth it for a day of unexpected fun and a headline act that will live long in the memory.

A footnote: the boys all agreed that the best act they saw all day was Must Be John. Amusements Minor was also quite taken with Overpass. They even conceded that David Byrne was pretty good for an old guy...

There's no track like a soundtrack

I've been watching Mr Mercedes on Amazon Prime, the 2017 adaptation of Stephen King's novel. It's okay, rather than spectacular. Brendan Gleeson is reliably excellent as our hero, retired detective Bill Hodges. Harry Treadaway is a standout as the antagonist psychopath Brady Hartsfield. There's a perfectly serviceable supporting cast too. But the real star is the soundtrack.

Example, you say? How about three. These were all in one episode.

Okay, so the T Bone Burnett track is the theme tune, so is in every episode, and Tunefind tells me the Donovan track is used in a lot of film and TV. But even so, there's hardly an episode of Mr Mercedes that doesn't have me scrabbling for the Internet to ID one tune or another.

That Was The Year That Was: 2025

Incredibly, this is the fifteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others). Fifteen times, blimey ... God alone knows what we are both still doing here...

But since we are hanging around, still, I'll crack on with this nonsense, whilst you gaze in wonderment at just how staid, parochial and predictable I am.

It'll keep us both busy, if nothing else. Having said that, I've written noticeably less than in years gone by, so I won't keep you for long - we can all be thankful for that.

Best album

Well, there have been a couple of stand-outs for me this year: the unexpected joy of More by Pulp, and Antidepressants by Suede, who continue to surprise us all with the excellence of their third age.

Also noteworthy are Bowerbirds and Blue Things by Jetstream Pony and Find El Dorado by Paul Weller, the latter proving what a great reinterpreter he has always been.

Best song

Many of the songs I've heard for the first time this year are old, just new to me. But of 2025 releases, I've been impressed by Masquerade by Cardinals, Bonnet of Pins by Matt Berninger and Disintegrate by Suede. Oh, and a late dive for the tape was made by The Light Won't Shine Forever by Aussie band Floodlights. The nod, though, goes to Apple Green UFO by Andy Bell, which makes me feel about 30 years younger than I am. Who could ask for more? Here's the full length version to luxuriate in...

Best gig

As good as the usual suspects (The Smyths, From The Jam, The Wedding Present) have all been, and as good a night out as Roger Daltrey (morphing into Warwick Davis) was, the nod here, unsurprisingly, goes to the Gene reunion show at the Hammersmith Apollo in October. Literally everything I could ever want from a gig.

Best book

Like the song category, this has been tricky because most of what I've read for the first time this year has been old: Cider with Roadies by Stuart Maconie was very enjoyable, but was published in 2005. Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, though an astonishing work of memoir, is even older (1999). But of course I can always rely on Stephen King - Never Flinch was not only published this year but also dependably enjoyable, even if not his best work.

Best film

The year was bookended by stand-outs: Dylan-goes-electric biopic A Complete Unknown at one end and Edgar Wright's ever-so-slightly-disappointing take on vintage King (as Bachman) The Running Man at the other. In between, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey deserves a special mention, for really making me think, whilst Brad's F1 and Tom's Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning both delivered predictable thrills without reinventing cinema. I must also mention Nina Conti's brilliant surreal simian road movie, Sunlight. Oh, and as a dad, it was lovely to share movie nostalgia with Amusements Minor with the live-action remake of How To Train Your Dragon.

Best theatre

I haven't seen much on stage this year. Does an NT Live cinema screening of Dr Strangelove count? Steve Coogan was excellent in four roles. Also noteworthy was the 30th anniversary on-stage gathering, for performance and anecdotes, of The Fast Show ensemble, minus the late Caroline Aherne. Aren't end-of-year round-ups brilliant?! Oh, and I finally got to see the Jon Ronson: Psychopath Night stage show. Entertaining and thought-provoking stuff.

Best television

I feel like I must have forgotten something, because this reads like a really slow year for TV. Finally got Wednesday 2 on Netflix, which was good but inevitably not as good as the first series, despite a liberal sprinkling of Joanna Lumley. Like the rest of the nation, Amusements Towers got into Celebrity Traitors, despite never having watched a single moment of the regular, non-celebrity version. Apologies if there's a theme developing, but Celebrity Race Across The World also hits the spot in our house. And as I write this, we're half way through Stranger Things 5, so far living up to the almost impossible levels of expectation.

Best sport

I enjoyed Liverpool FC winning the Premier League, even if it felt anticlimatic. Just as well, because they've blown up a bit this season. Other notables included Iga Świątek at Wimbledon and Georgia Hunter Bell at the World Athletics Championships (both awesome), and the Lionesses at the UEFA Women's Euros.

Person of the year

Well, it's not a person but a thing: the NHS. Fourteen years of Tory underinvestment have left it on its knees and, as a result, it's pretty far from perfect these days. Yet still it goes on, against the odds, delivering care and services to our sick and injured. It's easy to point out when things go wrong in the NHS, and to be frustrated by bureaucracy and poor communication... but it gets so much right, still, even in the most trying of circumstances. We'll miss it when it's gone, you know.

Tool of the year

Trump again, obviously. Not content with sending troops into US cities for paper-thin, politically motivated reasons, claiming to end wars that have not ended, failing to touch the sides of what's going on in Ukraine, bulldozing bits of the White House to make way for a huge/vulgar ballroom (compensating much?), not sending anyone of any status or significance to COP 30, doing anything to divert attention from the Epstein files, pardoning people he doesn't even know, expressing interest in somehow running for a third term, presiding over the longest shutdown in US political history, finally promising to release those Epstein files and then not, and so much more besides... he's ended the year by going after the BBC and giving himself a sports day peace prize medal at the World Cup draw. That's a sequence of words I never conceived would be necessary or even feasible to write. What a desperate, sad, insecure, delusional little man he is ... and/or a colossal orange prick.

I hope that was worth it but know, deep down, that it wasn't. Reader: how was 2025 for you?

Tiny houses, here and there

Back in 2018, I edited a short story collection entitled The Petrified World and other stories. It's here if you're interested. Rol's in it too. You'd like it, I think, the book. It's very reasonably priced, any profit goes to charity, all of that. Take a punt, why not?

But anyway, pitch over, back to the point. As I cycled to work this morning along car-choked roads, through yet another spiralling housing estate of identikit rabbit hutches, today's song sprung readily to mind. As did this quote from Sir David Attenborough, that I included in the introduction of the aforementioned book:

All environmental problems become harder - and ultimately impossible - to solve with ever more people.

Sorry. Downer, I know, but no less true for that. Here's the song, and an appropriately claustrophobic video shot in a rehearsal room, from Blur's Indian summer of 2015.

There are too many of us
That's plain to see
We all believe in praying
For our immortality
We've posed these questions to our children
That calls them all to stray
And live in tiny houses
Of the same mistakes we made

'Cause there are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
Passing out of somewhere
But you won't care

There are too many of us
That's plain to see
And we all believe in praying
For our own immortality
For a moment, I was dislocated
My terror on a loop elsewhere
The flashing lights part vacated
On the big screens everywhere

'Cause there are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
Just passing out of somewhere
But you won't care

There are too many of us
In tiny houses here and there
All looking through the windows
On everything we share
We pose these questions to our children
It leads them all to stray
And live in tiny houses
Of the same mistakes we make

'Cause there are too many of us
Oh, that's plain to see
All living in tiny houses (passing out of somewhere)
Of our own mortality (but you won't care)

What you like, not what you are like

It's an unbelievable 25 years since the cinema release of High Fidelity.

Directed by Stephen Frears and starring John Cusack as Rob, it remains an object lesson in how to adapt and change a successful book into an equally successful film. Nick Hornby didn't have a problem with the story relocating to Chicago, after all, so why should we? And it has a brilliant soundtrack (as a film set around a record shop should) and quotable dialogue (example left) by the mile.

Most of all, the film endures so well because of how it speaks to Generation X men. No, not Billy Idol. Blokes like you and me, born between 1965 and 1980 (Wikipedia confidently asserts), blokes now properly into their fifties, getting on a bit yet still waiting for that moment when they figure it out... it being life. Life is complicated. In the film, Rob excruciatingly re-examines his romantic history, trying to understand what went right and (mostly) wrong. No spoilers (not that you haven't seen it already) but he mostly works it all out, with a little help. Of course it is a fiction - if only real life were that simple.

Maybe it's because of that complexity that the quote on the left resonates - people are complicated but you can tell a lot from a person's likes and dislikes - the books, records and films that float their boat. That is why these things matter, at least to our generation. I wonder if the same will be true for Generation Z and later, now that books are electronic, records are all played through a phone's tinny, tiny speakers one track at a time ("What's an album?") and your choice of films is dictated by which streaming service you sign up to. But for us - for me - these things still matter.

You'll note, of course, that I haven't included Rob's next line of dialogue in the screenshot, in which he admits this assertion is "fucking shallow".

Anyway, we never get to find out, in the film, what Rob's Top 5 records are, though there is a clue: in his apartment, he has these records on the wall, hung in frames:

• Maggot Brain by Funkadelic
• Tonight's the Night by Neil Young
• Wild Honey by The Beach Boys
• Goo by Sonic Youth
• Double Nickels on the Dime by Minutemen

I don't know whose choices these were - Frears', Cusack's, Hornby's... some set designer's. Who knows? But it's an excuse for some songs, and hence a blog post - see what you think. High Fidelity is having a limited cinematic re-release to celebrate its birthday; why not go along? I think I might.

And the impossible question: what's your Top 5?

Public service book announcement

No, this is not an April Fool.

Slade House by David Mitchell (not that one, the other one) is currently only 99p if you have a Kindle or the Kindle app, but only for a limited time. It's bloody brilliant, you should definitely read it. It was my book of the year in 2016, when I lauded its "seductive prose and remorseless sense of the uncanny". So there.

And no, it's nothing to do with Noddy and Dave (or Cup-a-Soups).

Was That The Year That Was? 2024

Disclaimer: this post was written in December 2023, and scheduled for future posting. Its contents may no longer be accurate or appropriate.

This would normally be the fourteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others) ... but here's the thing. As you'll remember from this, I've been on a blogging sabbatical, and every post you've read here in 2024 was actually written and scheduled during December of last year. So how can I recap the year, twelve months in advance?

Well, I can't, obviously. Instead, as 2023 draws to a close (This might get confusing - Ed.), I'm going to write about the things I'm maybe looking forward to for 2024 and then, when this actually gets published in twelve months time, maybe I'll drop into my own comments section and update with how reality compared with hope. Because there's always hope, right? Even for this desperate blog...

So enough prevarication - let's get the crystal ball out.

Best album?

Well, if the advance singles are anything to go by (especially Night of the Hunter), then the forthcoming Libertines album All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade might be alright, and certainly better than the health of its chief protagonists might have led us to hope. What else? Well, by the law of averages Paul Weller will probably have a new album at some point in the year, that I will inevitably buy and find something to like on. And this is in hope rather than expectation but I wouldn't mind another solo album from Graham Coxon, but I might be pissing in the wind on that score. Who knows?

Best song?

This looking forward lark is hard. Most of the new songs that have featured on this blog in recent years have been serendipitous finds, and how do you predict that? So I'm going to take an absolute punt and say that my best song of 2024 will be something I haven't heard even a snippet of yet, by some band that is completely new to me, and will probably be on Bandcamp. I know, brilliant insight, eh? Bet you're glad to be reading this...

Best gig?

Well, this might be a little easier to look forward to, because I've already started booking tickets and planning trips. For example, I already know that I will be seeing The Smyths and From The Jam, and I can confidently state that I will enjoy both very much. I hope to see Sea Power too, touring the anniversary of Do You Like Rock Music? (which is on the Every Home Should Have One masterlist, lest we forget), although the nearest they come to me is on Valentine's day, so that might prove challenging, let's say. There's a chance I may also get to the Suede and Manics double-header tour, which is bound to be something, plus I note Pixies are touring briefly, playing Bossanova and Trompe le Monde in full. Plus hopefully there will also be some festival action, either Latitude (with Duran Duran headlining one day, no less) or CarFest. So there's lots of potential here, basically. More good gigs to go to than I can realistically afford. And I haven't even mentioned the annual pilgrimage to see The Wedding Present, which is bound to happen at some point...

Best book?

Another one that's hard to predict. I know that Stephen King has a new collection of short stories coming out in May, because I've already pre-ordered You Like It Darker. And I already know that I will like most if not all of it, because I always do - even when he's not firing on all cylinders King keeps the pages turning like few other authors do for me. I'd also love it if there was also something new from the simply wonderful Sadie Jones and the criminally underrated Michelle Paver, because I love their respective bodies of work. It might be a bit soon after Amy & Lan for Sadie, but there hasn't been any new adult fiction from Michelle since Wakenhyrst, so fingers crossed there...

Best film?

I'm going to cheat a bit here because Wonka has just come out at the time of writing, but I haven't seen it yet. Based on trailers and the fact that the team behind it gave us the Paddington movies, I'm not really going out on much of a limb here when I predict it will be quite good. But what else? Well, novelist-turned-director Alex Garland's new film Civil War looks interesting (and hopefully not prescient), and stuntman-turned-director David Leitch is bringing The Fall Guy to the big screen, hopefully without dumping on our childhood memories (I'd like a Lee Majors cameo please, David). Amy Winehouse biopic Back to Black will either be terrible or excellent, as will Beverley Hills Cop: Axel F (yes, really). Actually, 2024 looks like being the peak year of sequels, most of which, on paper, leave you scratching your head and wondering "why?" and "please don't be terrible", to whit: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Beetlejuice 2 (only 30 years too late), Joker: Folie a Deux, Gladiator 2 (yep, really), and an as yet untitled Alien franchise movie. Leave the horse alone, why don't you, it's dead already... And director Richard Eggers is remaking Nosferatu for 2024 ... really, what could go wrong? Oh, and spoiler alert from December 2023 - I don't actually get to the cinema very much any more, so I probably won't even see half of these. Boo.

Best television?

Well, I'm going to need something new to fill the holes in my televisual life left by Ghosts and, since I've just given up my Disney+ subscription because of ridiculous price hikes, Only Murders In The Building. I don't yet know what that something will be. The final series of Stranger Things is coming, and had better arrive in 2024, else the young cast will all be too grown to pass for teenagers. The second series of Wednesday is coming too - so far, so Netflix. In the interests of balance, apparently Blade Runner 2099 is coming to the small screen courtesy of Amazon Prime, with Ridley Scott involved, so hopefully that will be good. Oh, and there's a live action version of Avatar: The Last Airbender coming too (Netflix again) that will be a must-watch for Amusements Minor (and, by extension, me), so hopefully that is better than the famously awful film adaptation from 2010. On terrestrial TV (do people still say that?), the BBC brings us series two of The Tourist, which I plan to watch, and the intriguing premise of Nightsleeper, a six-part real-time thriller set on a sleeper train from Glasgow to London. I have high hopes for that.

Best sport?

Well, I'm going to go out on another limb here and predict that the best sport of the year will also, in a way, be the worst, as England threaten to win the Euros but ultimately fall agonisingly short, probably on penalties. Staying with football, I'm hoping for a Liverpool title in the Premier League, but won't mind if it's Arsenal, not least because my old man's a Gooner. Moving down the pyramid, I'm also hoping that Norwich City will somehow (and despite themselves) sneak into the play-offs, but if so they'll undoubtedly revert to form and miss out, whilst watching their noisy neighbours from down the road get promoted as champions. Sigh. In other sport, I hope that Ronnie O'Sullivan prevails at the snooker world championships in May, to stand alone on eight titles in the modern era. And I'm praying for some kind of comeback from Emma Raducanu - such talent, such promise, hopefully to re-emerge in 2024. And of course it's an Olympic year, so I'm hoping that Katarina Johnson-Thompson scoops the heptathlon gold her career so richly deserves. Oh, and is one more title for Lewis Hamilton too much to ask? Probably, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

Person of the year?

Well, it's Keir Starmer, hopefully. Since the next general election must take place on or before the 28th of January 2025 at the very latest, I really need Keir to have a good year, because we need the Tories out more than ever. I know Starmer is not perfect, occasionally misses open goals, and perhaps lacks some charisma ... but I also think he is, at a fundamental level, a decent man, and that's what we need right now. So here's to a year of no gaffes, no own goals and no scandal, a year of side-stepping the offensives the right-wing press will inevitably launch against him, a year of Labour by-election victories and Conservative implosion, and a year that ultimately culminates in a landslide electoral triumph, with a compassionate party of the people back in government, where they remain for a generation. Fingers crossed. Meanwhile, internationally, I'm also desperately hoping Joe Biden has a good year because otherwise...

Tool of the year?

As I type this post, at the tail-end of 2023, I have an awful and inescapable fear that repugnant man-child and morality-vacuum Orange Don will somehow evade all attempts to rein him in, whether in the courts or in the Republican party, and that not only will he contest the 2024 presidential election as a free man but that he will also win it. It chills my heart to think of him back in power, but I can see it happening, I really can. I just pray that in the twelve months that elapse between me writing this and you reading it, something legal, conclusive and incontrovertilbe happens to prevent him: either he is convicted of something, or the Republican party realise they don't have to remain in his thrall, or the Democrats find a way to beat him, or the US electorate come to their senses. I can't think of too many things more dangerous for the world than a stupid, immoral, entitled person with ultimate power but little accountability and even less care. It is a hideous, but very real, prospect for us all.

Well, that's the future foretold. Hardly a cheery note to end on, but really, what else did you expect from me? I wonder what you'll make of all this in December '24? Blimey, I wonder what I'll even make of it...

Happiness remains elusive

Disclaimer: this post was written in December 2023, and scheduled for future posting. Its contents may no longer be accurate or appropriate.

Way back in 2013, when I was clearly short of things to blog about, I wrote twice (here and here) about Alex Quick's book 102 Free Things To Do - inspiring ideas for a better life and how I intended to try the suggestions therein to see if life did indeed get better. At the last update, in December 2017, I identified 43 that I had done (green), three that I would never do (red)...and the other 56 were up for grabs. Anyway, here's an update, as at December 2023 - newly done are bold (with explanatory notes in italics):

Go out and look at the stars Keep a diary - but only one sentence a day Meter your energy use with a smart meter (but I quickly got bored of doing so) Give up your car Get up earlier Sketch your relatives - it's better than photos Treasure your precious human body Go on an archeological dig Write a letter to your future self Don't confuse affluence with well-being Memorise a poem Ask a child for advice Take part in a police line-up Give up craving for recognition (and be admired for it) Notice when things have improved Go on holiday without leaving your bedroom Practice random acts of kindness (and, if time permits, senseless acts of beauty) Climb a mountain Turn your house into a restaurant Start a film society Remember that making mistakes is part of being human See the sun rise and set on a single summer's day Get fit without joining a gym (I got in great shape for LEJOG in 2021 ... but am currently back in awful shape) Sit still until you see wildlife emerge Contact a friend you haven't spoken to for years Go cloud-spotting Learn to meditate Volunteer for something Spend a day and night in a forest Cherish older people Reconsider your career Enlarge your comfort zone Achieve your ideal weight (as above, this was when training for LEJOG ... am overweight again now) Learn how to talk to strangers in public Visit Project Gutenberg Gather a meal from the wild Learn another language (if Japanese on Duolingo counts) Invent a language Pretend you are a valet for humanity Go busking Start a book in which to record things that have really, really made you laugh Go somewhere outdoors that is very silent Make Christmas presents for your whole family one year Give something up Cheer up lonely men in public places Swap your CDs Adopt or invent a personal motto Support your local eccentric Become a freegan Swim in the sea Get to know your neighbours

Act without expecting anything back Deliver meals on wheels (sort of, and a one-off) Look for glue Send a message in a bottle Have an eco-friendly bonfire Attempt a world record Walk in the rain Give away free trees Do a sponsored parachute/bungee jump (I used to think this was still on the cards, but now accept my stomach for such lunacy has gone) Perform Cycle 100 miles in a day Serenade someone Reflect on something you're grateful for Cook and eat a nine-course meal Write a love letter Create a lair Notice beauty Let go of emotional pain Write down your parents' or grandparents' stories Look at your day-to-day concerns from the point of view of five years from now Fan the flames of desire Contemplate imperfection and impermanence as forms of beauty (after a conversation with a writer friend) Join a gardening scheme where only your labour is required Laugh in the face of death Train your memory Accept the full catastrophe Write the first sentence of a novel Cherish solitude (Sister Wendy does) (realised I always have) Get your friends to sponsor you to go to Spain and celebrate La Tomatina Embarrass your children/teenagers (sadly and more frequently) Work a room Confront people politely Learn a trick Be a representative of your country, in your country Try lucid dreaming Come to terms with ageing Be a bookcrosser Teach a child something fun Make your gratitude less perfunctory Give away your superfluous possessions Grow huge sunflowers Smile Go bell-ringing Form a debating club Take your shoes off and walk in the dew on a sunny morning Dress up Give up your TV Be 'Lord' for a day Write fewer emails and more letters Don't expect that things will be different in Tenerife Find out what's happening near you and join in

So, now 51 done, halfway there... but also back up to four nevers. So am I happier?

No, of course not. I'm still the same cantankerous, miserable old sod I've always been. Important to remember, though, that not being happier isn't the same as being sadder, or even sad. Though of course I am that too, at times. Who knows, by the time this post goes live in May, perhaps I'll have ticked off a few more on the list and reached nirvana ... but don't hold your breath.

Meanwhile ... are you happy? What makes that so? Maybe I'll build your answers into my own, real-world "how to be happier" list some time. Until then, here's the obvious brilliant song from the much-missed Mark Hollis and Talk Talk:

That Was The Year That Was: 2023

This is the thirteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others); I nearly didn't bother, on the grounds that I consume so little new material, and no-one cares about my opinion. So I was going to give it a swerve...

...but then had an attackers of blogger's guilt. So here we are ... if "here" is realising that what I "consume" these days is, more than ever, driven by my notional roles of father and partner than by my own individual, personal taste. Especially what I watch, as will become apparent.

Aside from updating twelfth to thirteenth, those opening paragraphs are an exact copy'n'paste of last year's post. Which probably tells you all you need to know about my enthusiasm for this end of year recap. Basically, I have had very few highlights in my cultural life this year, so what to write? But enough prevarication; let's crack on with this load of old balls and see how little new stuff I've tried this year (and that line is also lifted from last year).

Best album

Turns out I've bought very few original albums this year. Lots of compilations, best ofs and retrospectives, but not many of all new material. Consequently Ballad of Darren by Blur wins almost by default, whereas it perhaps wouldn't have won in other years. Don't get me wrong, it is good, borderline great. But it probably isn't essential. If I was Q magazine (remember that?) it would garner a four star review, not five. That said, it does reward repeated listens, and is definitely worth your time, as long as you're not still expecting Popscene.

Best song

I've got a bit more to say here, at least. What about Bending Hectic by The Smile for starters? Then there's The Last Rotation of Earth by BC Camplight, which has been living rent-free in my head since I heard it, and I absolutely love the brilliance of Expert in a Dying Field by The Beths. In other years The Beths would have prevailed, but this year saw Dublin's Fontaines DC cover Nick Drake's Cello Song, and I'm not sure a new song has hit me more so far this decade. I called it as early as March, and this remains my song of a year. A worthy winner - play it loud!

Best gig

It's been another quiet year, gig-wise. There have been the usual suspects, of course: The Wedding Present (for the last time with Mel on bass), From The Jam (with excellent company from my oldest friends), The Smyths (as close as you're going to get without a time machine) - all reliably excellent, of course. Sleeper nearly stole in and took the crown this year, for their wonderful intimate acoustic gig at the Arts Centre, though I accept my judgement may be coloured by still being smitten with Louise (obligatory sigh) after all these years. But it's a tie between Pulp, who were simply brilliant at Latitude (and, crucially, shared with the rest of the Amusements clan) and Suede, who were far better than anyone has any right to expect after thirty years. So yes, another bunch of old people from my youth, basically.

Best book

I've read a few books this year, but not many of them are new for 2023. In fact, I think crime procedural Holly by Stephen King is the only book published this year that I've read so far. So that ought to win but it won't, good though it was. I also got a surprising amount out of Before & Laughter by Jimmy Carr; I'm not his biggest fan but there are genuine nuggets of life advice to he had here, delivered in an accessible and funny manner. However, the nod this year must go to The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson, even though the subject matter - climate catastrophe - meant that I had to read it in small doses, over the course of a year, for my own mental health. The first chapter in particular hits as hard as any opening I think I've ever read.

Best film

I am once more somewhat embarrassed by the paucity of new films I've been to see this year, partly because Amusements Minor is now at an age when he wants to go to the cinema with his mates instead of me. That said, I very much enjoyed Spielberg autobiog The Fabelmans at the start of the year. Barbie pleasantly surprised me, and I got a lot out of Oppenheimer too. However, the best film I've sat amongst spilled popcorn for this year, by a short nose from Señor Spielbergo and Oppenheimer, is Justine Triet's Anatomy of a Fall. I don't know if it's that foreign language films make you work harder, and therefore appreciate what you get out of them more, or whether this really is a great film but, whatever, it kept me very focused for all of its two and a half hours, plus stimluated plenty of discussion with Mrs Amusements afterwards.

Best television

Even if not up to the dazzling standards of earlier series, Ghosts has continued to be a joy - there's a Christmas Day finale coming too, so get your Button House fix whilst you still can, would be my advice. In terms of documentaries, Louis Theroux's recent BBC1 interview with Pete Doherty was a captivating watch, for fans of both, and the Ronnie O'Sullivan behind-the-scenes film The Edge of Everything on Amazon Prime was a real eye-opener - I defy anyone not to be moved at the end at Ronnie's emotion. Definitely worth a watch. However, my TV choice this year is Only Murders In The Building on Disney+; no other show has given me as much satisfaction and all manner of laughs, from knowing "that's clever" chuckles to tea-spurting laugh out loud roars. Steve Martin is as good as he has ever been, his chemistry with Martin Short elevates their every shared scene, and Selena Gomez is a revelation. Very highly recommended indeed.

Best sport

In a year that has been pretty mundane in terms of sport, it is hard to look beyond the superbly victorious European Ryder Cup team, but I'm going to because once more the Lionesses gave us all something to get excited about; yes, they fell at the final hurdle against Spain, but that was still as close as England have come to winning a World Cup in my lifetime. And sure, they've just missed out on Nations League qualification by the most heartbreaking of slender margins, but let's not forget they did beat Brazil to win the Finalissima at the start of the year too. Aside from that, I must also mention Katie Boulter, who was next level at the recent Billie Jean Cup qualifier against Sweden and continues to look our best hope on court, at least until Emma Raducanu can get herself back on track.

Person of the year

Well, it's Chris Packham, obviously. Quite apart from his televisual impact on the natural world, through Springwatch, Autumnwatch and this year's outstanding five-parter Earth, he also gave us the illuminating documentary Inside Our Autistic Minds, asked difficult questions in Is It Time To Break The Law? and even found time to pop up on Celebrity Gogglebox for Stand Up To Cancer, alongside his step-daughter Megan McCubbin. And all the while, he was fighting an exhaustive and intrusive legal battle against Country Squire Magazine for defamation - he stood up to be counted on this, and won, at some personal if not financial cost. That he continues to be a publicly active activist, despite arson attacks on his property and having dead badgers nailed to his front gate, tells you all you need to know about the man. The natural heir to Attenborough, and there's no higher praise than that in my book.

Tool of the year

I need a bigger toolbox ... although most of last year's candidates are still here. Johnson, Sunak, Patel, Braverman ("As thick as pig-shit, basically" - Mark Watson), Rees-Mogg, Shapps, Hancock, Dorries, Cleverly (a new entry, and proof of all the flaws in nominative determinism). We need shot of them all from public life, from public service, because they do us all a dis-service, to say the least. Further afield? Man-child Putin, throwing missiles and young Russians onto the bonfire of his own vanity, the seemingly inevitable comeback from Trump, the dollar-enabled kid-in-a-candy-store that is Elon Musk, the batrachoidal puddle of bigotry that is Farage and all those who conspire to keep him in the news, the perma-tanned barrel-scraping and down-dumbed miasma of reality television, those who are famous for being famous, anyone who applauds themselves on television, oh Jesus, I could go on. I'm not going to pick one person... I'm just begging, hoping beyond hope that 2024 is better. 2023 hasn't been, to the extent that, aside from a few tweaks and updates, I have basically just copied and pasted this paragraph from last year.

Well, blogger's guilt, I hope that was worth it. But reader ... how was it for you?

Nothing like the sun (or more about AI)

What do these four have in common? Nothing, other than all appearing in this post.

As you'll know from my last post, I've been playing with ChatGPT, the better-than-you-might-expect AI chatbot that Microsoft are getting behind (I'm on the waiting list to try Google's Bard AI).

Since yesterday was World Poetry Day, I asked ChatGPT if it could write a sonnet about French actress Estelle Skornik. And if you're thinking that names rings a vague bell, she was briefly famous in the 90s for playing Nicole in those Renault Clio ads. Anyway, here's what the bot wrote, literally in a couple of seconds:

Fair Estelle, with eyes so bright and bold,
A beauty that inspires both awe and grace,
Your presence on the screen is a sight to behold,
A talent that few can ever hope to trace.

With every line you speak, your voice doth flow,
Like honey, sweet and rich and full of life,
Your passion for your craft doth clearly show,
And stirs within us all a yearning strife.

Your beauty, like a rose in full bloom,
Shimmers with a radiance that cannot be ignored,
And captivates us all in its sweet perfume,
A sight that we shall always adore.

So here's to you, Estelle, with love and admiration,
May your star forever shine with such brilliance and dedication.

So what do we think? I mean, yes, technically it is a sonnet - fourteen lines, rhyming, expressing romantic love or infatuation - and it is about Estelle (an Estelle at least, rather than necessarily Mlle Skornik) ... but it's awful, isn't it? I mean, I'm no expert but this feels like the kind of "moon, June and coffee spoons" rhyming that you'd find in a greetings card, or at best something Thomas from Ghosts would write. But is it any better or worse than arguably the most famous sonnet in the English language?

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Yeah, that's better, isn't it? That Shakespeare bloke was alright, wasn't he?

The thing is, though, this AI lark: it's in the kindergarten right now. Think how quickly we went from the Wright brothers to Apollo XI. Think how quickly we went from a Nokia 3310 to the iPhone. Now think how quickly AI will go from Hallmark poetry to Shakespeare...

From one Bill to another. Bill Gates is in the news today, suggesting that AI is the most important tech advance in decades. For what my opinion is worth (nought), I think he's right. And whilst Gates cautions that governments should work with his industry to "limit the risks" of AI, he is broadly optimistic about the benefits of this new tech. I worry more though. For every positive application (research, medicine) I see more negatives: you think algorithms are bad now, just wait 'til some commercial AI thinks it knows you better than you know yourself. And worse than the monetisation will be the militarisation. Gah.

Let's end with a song. The aforementioned Sonnet 130 gave this post its title, but also gave Sting a line for a song and the title for an album in 1987. Now Sting irks a lot of people, almost as much as Bono, but he's done some good stuff, and I'm not just talking about his time in the Rozzers. Anyway, to prove that I don't have a hip bone in my body, other than my pelvis, here's an excellent version of that song, Sister Moon, by Gordon Sumner and his jazzy mates. Until such time as AI can play the drums with the intense joy and precision of Billy Kilson in this, maybe we can rest easy.

That Was The Year That Was: 2022

This is the twelfth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others); I nearly didn't bother, on the grounds that I consume so little new material, and no-one cares about my opinion. So I was going to give it a swerve...

...but then had an attackers of blogger's guilt. So here we are ... if "here" is realising that what I "consume" these days is, more than ever, driven by my notional roles of father and partner than by my own individual, personal taste. Especially what I watch, as will become apparent.

But enough prevarication; let's crack on with this load of old balls and see how little new stuff I've tried this year.

Best album

When I wrote about Autofiction by Suede earlier in the year I described it as "a faster, heavier sound than most of the output from their Indian summer" and that it "might just be their best Bernard-less album". I stand by all that; here's a band, 30+ years after they started and with no small amount of drama in their history, still sounding exciting, still sounding like they're trying. Highly recommended and my album of the year. Honourable mentions: Johnny Marr for Fever Dreams Pts 1-4; The Smile for A Light For Attracting Attention.

Best song

I though Suede were going to have this stitched up too, with the excellent She Still Leads Me On but no, the nod goes to Graham Coxon's new project Waeve, for the sheer brilliance and audacious ear-wormery that is Something Pretty - once heard, never forgotten. Reformation nostalgia enormo-gigs might be his pension plan, but he's still the most interesting quarter of Blur.

Best gig

It's been a quiet year, gig-wise. So, excellent (in very different ways) though Crowded House and Half Man Half Biscuit were, this is a toss-up between two old men: Paul Weller at the local uni, early in the year, and Morrissey, in Brighton, as autumn got up and running. There's nothing in it, they were both excellent. I ought to give Paul the nod, it's the socially acceptable answer, but I'm going for SPM, the deciding factor being that I had The Man Of Cheese for company in Brighton, and a gig shared is almost always better than a lone gig.

Best book

I've read a few books this year, but not many of them are new for 2022. In fact, I think Fairy Tale by Stephen King is the only book published this year that I've read so far. So that ought to win, but it won't. The best book I've read this year, by some distance, is Fallout by Sadie Jones; I summarised it at the time as a "supremely well-written tale of love, lust, lies and liaisons, set against a beautifully-realised evocation of early 70s theatreland," and if that doesn't whet your appetite, nothing will. Jones also has a new book out, Amy & Lan, that I haven't read yet but already predict will be in the running for this accolade, if you can call it that, next year. Oh, and I should also give a mention to Headhunters by Jo Nesbo, as that would have got the nod if not for Sadie.

Best film

I am somewhat embarrassed by the paucity of films I've been to see this year. Indeed, most of the films I've seen have been for the benefit of Amusements Minor. So whilst I'm sure there have been plenty of good films out there, the pick of what I've seen in 2022 is Spiderman: No Way Home, which is an indecent amount of fun and even managed to prise some grudging admiration for Tobey Maguire's Peter from the boy. I should also give honourable mentions to Netflix's Don't Look Up, the biting climate-change analogy that everyone should watch, and, for sheer ludicrous spectacle, Top Gun: Maverick. Blimey: remember when I used to watch real films?

Best television

Even if not up to the dazzling standards of earlier series, Ghosts has continued to be a joy - there's a Christmas Day special coming too, if you're interested. And I've watched the Alex Rider series on Amazon Prime's annoyingly-named Freevee channel, and that has been a hoot, real whole-family-watching-together television (decent theme song too). But other that that it's been a slow year for TV, at Amusements Towers, at least. I'll edit this later if I suddenly remember something but at the moment I can't think of a standout highlight. Sorry!

Best sport

Easy to forget, in the aftermath of Qatar and the inevitable disappointment of losing as soon as we come up against a top-tier team, that actually England won a major football trophy this year. And were quite brilliant doing it, so much so that the Lionesses scooping the Euros is my sporting highlight of the year, not just for the achievement but hopefully for the permanent change they have triggered in football in this country. I'll give an honourable mention to my individual sports personality of the year too, pro cyclist Imogen Cotter, who suffered a potentially career-ending (life-ending!) injury in training at the start of the year and has been nothing short of inspirational fighting back from it ever since. Just, wow.

Person of the year

For a long time, it looked like money-saving expert Martin Lewis had this in the bag, championing the poor of the nation and speaking truth to power too. It seems impossible for me to fathom that so many are so poor, struggling so badly, in what is still the fifth or sixth largest economy in the world. But we are where we are. So well done, Martin, your efforts have helped so many. But my person of the year is Paul McCartney, headlining Glastonbury at 80 years of age, and doing an excellent job of it. He's basically a very few years younger than my old man who, on occasion, struggles a bit to headline the armchair. So well done Paul - I hope you tour at least once more, so I can finally see you live.

Tool of the year

I need a bigger toolbox ... where shall we start? Johnson, Truss, Kwarteng, Sunak, Patel, Braverman, Rees-Mogg, Shapps, Hancock, Dorries. We need shot of them all from public life, from public service, because they do us all a dis-service, to say the least. Further afield? Man-child Putin, throwing missiles and young Russians onto the bonfire of his own vanity, a possible comeback from Trump, the dollar-enabled kid-in-a-candy-store that is Elon Musk, the Oscars implosion of Will Smith, the angsty proclamations of minor royals enjoying major privilege, the perma-tanned barrel-scraping and down-dumbed miasma of reality television, those who are famous for being famous, anyone who applauds themselves on television, oh Jesus, I could go on. I'm not going to pick one person... I'm just begging, hoping beyond hope that 2023 is better.

Well, blogger's guilt, I hope that was worth it. But reader ... how was it for you?

Twenty-two in '22: Fairy Tale

I've set myself modest reading targets in each of the last three years and failed every time (I managed 17 books in '19, 11 in '20 and 18 in '21), so I'm determined to read twenty two books in 2022. I'll review them all here.

12/22: Fairy Tale by Stephen King

The blurb: Charlie Reade looks like a regular high school kid, great at baseball and football, a decent student. But he carries a heavy load. His mom was killed in a hit-and-run accident when he was seven, and grief drove his dad to drink. Charlie learned how to take care of himself - and his dad. Then, when Charlie is seventeen, he meets a dog named Radar and her ageing master, Howard Bowditch, a recluse in a big house at the top of a big hill, with a locked shed in the backyard. Sometimes strange sounds emerge from it.

Charlie starts doing jobs for Mr. Bowditch and loses his heart to Radar. Then, when Bowditch dies, he leaves Charlie a cassette tape telling a story no one would believe. What Bowditch knows, and has kept secret all his long life, is that inside the shed is a portal to another world.

King's storytelling in Fairy Tale soars. This is a magnificent and terrifying tale about another world than ours, in which good is pitted against overwhelming evil, and a heroic boy - and his dog - must lead the battle.

The review: The dedication at the start of this book reads "Thinking of REH, ERB, and, of course, HPL" and that tells you all you really need to know about what follows. For this is King's homage to the books he consumed in his youth, and the writing of Robert E. Howard, Edgar Rice Burroughs and especially H.P. Lovecraft. Indeed, you could say that Fairy Tale is King's take on Lovecraft's The Call of Cthulhu. Of course, King being King there are plenty of other fictional touchstones woven in too, from conventional fairytales like Rumpelstiltskin and The Three Little Pigs, to more recent fairytale allegories like Star Wars and The Hunger Games. He even throws in a subtle reference to his own Dark Tower series, for the Constant Readers among us to spot.

Also, King being King, the author has great fun with the fact that all the best fairytales have gruesome aspects. And we know he can do gruesome!

Anyway, I'd better write a review, hadn't I? This is King's umpteenth book, and he's racked up a pajillion sales, so he can write, we all know that. This is no exception: it's an enjoyable page-turner, that I rattled through quicker than anything I've read since ... well, since the last King novel I read. It won't win him many new fans but if you already like his work, you'll like this too. And that ought to be the end of the review, hadn't it? Well, it is, really, except for one observation. Like many of King's novels, Billy Summers being the most recent obvious comparator, this book pivots on a single moment about 30% of the way in; it's in the blurb, so there's no spoiler in me saying that moment is the point at which our hero Charlie goes through the portal in Howard's shed into another world. The world of make-believe, if you like - the land of fairytales. And the simple opinion I want to offer here is that, although the whole book is good, I preferred the section before that pivot, with Charlie rooted in normality, dealing with familial issues, high school issues, helping an old neighbour. It's got to the point, I think, where King is just a better prose fiction novelist than he is a horror/fantasy/supernatural writer. There. I said it. Don't @ me, as the influencers of the world might still say. But do comment, below.

The bottom line: King's take on a modern, yet traditional, fairytale, bears all his hallmarks, whilst also being an homage to those that came before him. Fans will lap it up - I did.

Since everything online is rated these days: ★★★★★☆