Books books books! What's your favourite?

Well, fellow bibliophiles, the time has come. I've come across a few "30 days of books" things on Facebook, Tumblr etc – the idea is that every day you write about a book that has affected you in a particular way, and after a month, everyone reading has a somewhat creepy level of insight into your brain. (And you possibly feel violated in the same way I did when someone used my email address to read my entire Amazon wishlist. I've got some crazy shit in there.) 

Now, we all know that my writing is way too sporadic to commit to an "every day" thing, so I'm just going to drop in one of these as a lovely surprise every so often. (Yes, I mean when I'm totally out of inspiration and have nothing to write about.) I also might not stick strictly to the approved list of questions. What can I say? I'm a rebel.

However, I will start with the conventional question #1: What is your favourite book of all time? 

Go in with the big guns, why don’t you? It’s hard to choose a very favourite (especially if you read a lot and constantly find new books to love) but my desert island, must-have-a-copy-until-the-day-I-die book, is The Chronicles of Narnia. I know it’s seven novels, but I do also have a large tome with all of the volumes, so technically I’m not cheating.

It totally counts as one book.

Oh, Narnia, how do I love thee? Everyone knows The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (it shaped my childhood) but some of the other books are less popular. I have no idea why The Magician's Nephew has not yet been adapted for the big screen – the scenes of Aslan singing Narnia into life, as well as the desolate city of Charn, all demand to be filmed.  

I found The Horse and His Boy a little dry as a small child, but I grew into it and later spent hours acting it out with a rocking horse. (Prior to this luxurious toy, I made do with a makeshift version; the top of a large arm chair adorned with sellotaped-on paper eyes, ears and nostrils makes a FINE horse, actually. I have pictures. I might post them sometime.) 

As I mentioned, the cheapo BBC series of the books is my guilty pleasure – to me, Tom Baker is not Doctor Who but Puddleglum. Every time I see Big Mick I cry "Trumpkin!" like a delighted, demented child. It's "Mike from Neighbours" syndrome, and I don't care.

C.S. Lewis not only had the inspiration to create the most magical world ever, but he writes in such a warm, friendly style that you feel as if you’re being read to by a favourite uncle. He has a rare gift for creating works which are accessible to children, meaningful to adults, and full of insight and beauty for everyone.

My favourite character was always Reepicheep the mouse; I was in awe of his unfailing courage. His first choice in every situation was to take the brave, noble option  – even if it meant death. Especially if it meant death. He jumps at the chance of sailing on alone to the world's end in the hope of finding "Aslan's country". When faced  with a cloud of darkness, the crew of The Dawn Treader are reluctant to sail on, asking "What's the use?" of ploughing into the blackness. 

"Use?" replied Reepicheep. "Use, Captain? If by use you mean filling our bellies or our purses, I confess it will be no use at all. So far as I know we did not set sail to look for things useful but to seek honour and adventure. And here is as great an adventure as ever I heard of, and here, if we turn back, no little impeachment of all our honours." 

When faced with strangers, his greeting is "If you are foe we do not fear you, and if you are a friend your enemies shall be taught the fear of us." Which is perhaps more aggressive than is ideal, but you're got to admire his moxie. 

 

Other favourites:

Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, although that doesn't really count, does it? Everyone loves that book. I often make notes of lines from books that I find especially profound or funny or beautiful – when it came to this book, I scribbled a note to myself "Just read it again. It's very short and easy". I advise you to do the same. 

The Color Purple: everyone who flicks through this book hands it back with an expression of confused disgust, because it's written in a pretty extraordinary style. I once excitedly described it as being written "in Lolcat" and was accused of being racist. But.... it really is lolcat language! 

"She tell me, Your skin. Your hair. Your teefs. He try to give her a compliment, she pass it on to me. After a while I git to feeling pretty cute."

It's also an amazing story with memorable characters and a striking take on theology and images of God:

“My first step from the old white man was trees. Then air. Then birds. Then other people. But one day when I was sitting quiet and feeling like a motherless child, which I was, it came to me; that feeling of being part of everything, not separate at all. I knew that if I cut a tree, my arm would bleed.”

“I believe God is everything,” say Shug. “Everything that is or ever was or ever will be. And when you can feel that, and be happy to feel that, you’ve found it.”  

The film's not as good as the book, but it does have Oprah in it – and she's an amazing actress. Is there nothing the woman can't do?

And WHAT, pray tell, ARE YOU?

"I'm here, I'm here! I've come back, it's all right!" Ah, Lucy, I can hear your little piping voice now.

I love all Christmas films, from schmaltzy Jimmy Stewart ones to the delights of Clark Griswold (I always identified with his urgent need to make the entire family take part in the Christmas of his dreams). But when the snow is thick and crunchy, there is only one movie for me. Forget big budget Hollywood; the original cartoon of The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe is the definitive version (and available on VHS!).

I have to warn you, this film is greater than the sum of its parts. At first glance it may seem to be a slightly ropey animation (with colours that do not always match) and features some fairly dreadful acting from the child actors, especially in crying scenes.

However, it does boast a cracking soundtrack and a high calibre of adult actors. Do make sure you watch the slightly lesser known English soundtrack version; Arthur Lowe and June Whitfield are the ultimate cosy couple as Mr and Mrs Beaver, and Sheila Hancock gives what is, in my opinion, her tour de force performance as the white witch. I would love to ask her if she remembers this film; what was probably a few days work in the voiceover booth for her ended up influencing my entire childhood.

Until seeing the fancy schmancy remake, I didn’t appreciate how cleverly this screenplay was streamlined; cutting out unnecessary details and pushing the story along in broad strokes. The script has a lyrical quality, to the point where I realise now that I didn’t even understand half of the words I heard as a child, I just enjoyed the poetic rhythms. Despite the dodgy animation, parts of the film are spellbinding – especially the death and resurrection of Aslan.

My friend / virtual sister Anna and I would spend hours acting the movie out as we watched, pulling the curtains and walking along the windowsill to create a “tunnel” for the extending wardrobe. She was always Mr Tumnus (who, I realise as an adult, was as camp as Christmas) and Edmund, and I was always Lucy and the witch (they didn’t have any scenes together). In fact, after spending my childhood performing the witch’s lines, I have them memorised and still occasionally use them. “Are you my counsellor? Or my slave? Do as you're told!” is a pretty failsafe retort to anyone who is attempting to boss you about. And "Who has won? Fool!" (in ringing, jubilant tones) will ensure that you exit every argument with triumph.

Being a little obsessed with the series and CS Lewis himself (I was recently admiring an antique wardrobe in Oxfam and HAD to open it and check the back, JUST IN CASE) I have a somewhat vested interest in hoping that the latest adaptations will do justice to the books. (Although I am quite fond of the rubbish BBC version which had people wearing barrels to suggest animal-like bodies.) I’m still disappointed that nobody thus far has attempted to film the wonderful prequel, The Magician’s Nephew; it has some sequences that would lend themselves so well to the CGI that has now been developed. I think we can safely say that The Last Battle will never be made into a film, unless the principles of the story are butchered beyond recognition. Call it racist, call it prophetic – but a story about Aslan's end-of-the-world judgement, brought about because Narnians start to believe that his name is synonymous with that of the god of the "foreign" Calormenes, and you have a problem.

Unfortunately movies like this are often ruined by the child actors; I’m a firm believer that generally, children cannot act. This is why you only ever see the same kids over and over again (Shirley Temple, Dakota Fanning, Haley Joel Osment) because once you find that quirk of nature who is able to sound natural rather than stagey, you're going to use them until the uppers and downers and coke and prescription nerve tonic have rendered them useless. The Golden Compass, despite its stellar cast and CGI polar bears, was ruined for me by the frankly appalling performance of Dakota Blue Richards in the leading role of Lyra. Poor kid, it wasn’t her fault – it was down to the person who cast her and the director who let them print the godawful takes.

Back to Narnia; in my humble opinion, the 1979 cartoon wipes the floor with the new offering. Aslan (voiced by Stephen Thorne) is an imposing presence, with a voice that is deep and rich – as per the original description in the book – and creates the truest interpretation of the character that I've seen. To me, Liam Neeson sounds far too friendly – although the current Oxford / Regent Street displays have Aslan looking like a yellow-eyed vampire lion. I know he isn’t tame, but I don’t think he should be scaring small children.

Tilda Swinton may look ridiculously evil in most of her film roles, but I felt that her turn as Jadis was hampered by her apparent reluctance to ham it up. She ended up going too far in the opposite direction and underplayed the whole thing to the point where lines such as “Despair... and die!” came out as a feeble suggestion rather than a strident command.

So for the ultimate in "always winter and never Christmas" fun, curl up with a pint of hot ribena (best drink evah!) and enjoy the sight of those saucer-eyed, bell-bottom-wearing kids, the snuggly atmosphere of the Beaver's underground hideout, and the uplifting music. You might even want to indulge in a box of Turkish delight. As a child, I'd never seen the real stuff and used to cut a Fry's chocolate-covered Turkish delight into miniscule cubes to better resemble the witch's confection. We made our own fun in the 80s.