Book 33 - Nick Hornby "High Fidelity"

Nick Hornby "High Fidelity" (Penguin)





A nice, easy read but, I have to say, I think the only reason I liked High Fidelity as much as I did was because I am a fan of the film adaptation starring John Cusack. This meant I could self-edit Nick Hornby's novel in line with what I had already experienced many times with my old, well-worn DVD. I won't go on and on about how such-and-such a thing is better in the film than such-and-such in the book – only to say that the Rob protagonist in the film is much more likeable, and this is perhaps the main advantage the film has over the book.

That said, the book does a good job of showing that a man's emotions can't be categorised or divided into neat little boxes; often, they are complex, contradictory, or just plain confusing. The Rob character is not a clichéd commitment-phobe, nor a sleazeball, nor a neurotic nerd. He possesses characteristics of all of these stereotypes but merges them into his own distinctive personality. This is why I feel it is wrong to label this book as an insight into the male psyche – I've heard it described as the male Bridget Jones's Diary – for there is no catch-all male psyche archetype that can be applied to every guy. Despite what pop culture would sometimes have you believe, we're not that straightforward. For my part, there were some things Hornby writes and Rob does which had me nodding my head in agreement and recognition, and others which completely alienated me. Would someone reading this have greater insight into learning more about me as a man? Some choice excerpts, perhaps, but as a whole it certainly isn't gospel for how men think and act.

As for the novel itself it is, as I said, easy and quick to read and, well… Light. Engaging. Charming. Those kind of words. Would I ever want to read it again? Probably not. The film? Most definitely. And therein lies the rub.

Book 34 - Albert Camus "The Myth of Sisyphus"

Albert Camus "The Myth of Sisyphus" (Penguin Modern Classics)




This certainly isn't dry philosophy, and it deals with big questions. The main theme is the absurdity of the human condition, God, (or the absence of God), and the meaning (or lack of meaning) of life. Camus discusses whether we ought to commit suicide, in light of our absurdity, or whether it is better to carry on living, and he reaches the conclusion that we needn't kill ourselves. Which is reassuring.


I wouldn't really describe this as a work of metaphysics, despite the main theme being existence, for the reason that all the arguments are supported with judgements of value, rather than with rigorous logic. He says we ought to live so that we can make the most of the freedom which we would not have if we were dead, the sensations that are only available to the living, and the irony of knowingly living an absurd life. He uses the illustrations of Don Juan, and the actor, and talks about the characters of Dostoyevsky and Kafka.

But why classify a work, as it is more than aesthetics, philosophy and metaphysics, it is art also. Not just the reflationary type of art, but also the type that tells us something about the artist.
Apart from the main essay, the shorter ones at the end are about places he has been to, including Algiers and Oman, and they are very atmospheric. They fluctuate between melancholy and joy, and make me want to visit the places, though I wouldn't want to live in them.

I don't necessarily agree with all of his views, but I think the main ones are sound enough. His philosophy seems to be self-consistent, which is important

The importance of Camus's essays on the absurd should not be underestimated in gaining further insight into his novels and plays. They are interesting and thought-provoking and with the addition of the five other essays, this little Penguin classic is a winner.