Book Review (Fiction): One Of Our Thursdays Is Missing

One Of Our Thursdays Is Missing

Jasper Fforde

Hodder 2011 388 Pages

What if characters in books had a life of their own when no-one was reading the books they inhabited? The marvellously named Jasper Fforde runs (all over the place) with this meta-fictional conceit in the inventively whimsical One Of Our Thursdays Is Missing.

His BookWorld is a meta-textual realm (a vast planet? dimensional plain? or alternative universe?) inhabited by every fictional character ever to appear in print and where competing genres – i.e. Racy Novel and Chick Lit – often overlap and sometimes clash. A potentially cataclysmic all-out genre war is in the offing, and to avert it requires the services of diplomat-detective heroine, the real Thursday Next - who appears have permanently retired to the Real World. Or has she? Her sudden disappearance a week before the peace talks could be for reasons far more sinister...

The written Thursday Next, filling in for the missing heroine in her novel, is hastily recruited to investigate by the Fiction Police, also known as Jurisfiction. Under the guise of being an occasional part-time investigator for the Jurisfiction Accident Investigation Department , written Thursday takes up the trail from Conspiracy via Thriller – and there recruits an unlikely ally, Sprockett, a wind-up clockwork butler with a penchant for creative cocktail combinations!

What follows is too enjoyably convoluted to easily summarise, but the colourful cast of characters (such as Pickwick the Dodo and Mrs Malaprop) and the hilarious exposition of fascinating facets (especially for book nerds) of the BookWorld propel the story nicely onwards.

Fforde is very funny, witty, and playfully tongue-in-cheek. He packs this meta-fictional comedy with plentiful literary puns, allusions and metaphors. He also manages to imaginatively poke fun at various targets that span self-publishing, fan fiction, e-books, etc. And his absurdist parody of Agatha Christie is an absolute hoot that has to be read to be believed!

Comments

Book Review (Fiction) In The Valley OF Shadows

In The Valley Of Shadows Abhay Narayan Sapru Chlorophyll Books 2017 170 Pages The long guerrilla war waged against the British state by the IRA in Northern Ireland spawned a new literary sub-genre, “the troubles thriller” as practiced by authors such as Chris Petit ( The Psalm Killer ), Stephen Leather ( The Chinaman , The Bombmaker ) and Gerald Seymour ( Harry’s Game , Field Of Blood ) . The current conflict in Kashmir, with Pakistan-sponsored terrorist proxies attempting to wrest the state away from India, seems all set to follow suit . Some of the growing tribe of authors in this nascent sub-genre have backgrounds in journalism covering the valley or have actually served in the Indian Army there. Major Abhay Narayan Sapru, late of the Indian Army Special Forces, belongs to the latter group. That’s what gives In The Valley Of Shadows it’s you-are-there ring of authenticity. The techniques and procedures u

Book Review (Fiction) - Bad Dad

Bad Dad David Walliams Illustrated by Tony Ross HarperCollins Children’s Books 2017 422 Pages There once used to be a preachy school of sententious Victorian children’s fiction wherein the bad boy was eaten up by a lion for his wickedness; whilst the good boy came into deserved fame and fortune, before being drawn up to heaven by God and his angels. Thankfully, kid lit had come a long way since those awful days. Bad Dad is gleefully anarchic, but no less moralistic, plentiful comic havoc notwithstanding. The “Bad Dad” of the title isn’t really bad; he’s a racing champion crippled after a horrific crash and blackmailed into a life of crime thereafter as the getaway car driver for a cartoon trio of villains. These three, led by the dwarfish, comically sinister Mr Big, are easily the funniest part of the book. The interplay between his two bickering minions “Fingers” and “Thumbs” constitutes a comedy

Short Story - The Dog Defenders

The Dog Defenders “The dogs have gone to their kin, the sons of dogs,” growled the Pathan scornfully. He had reasons for his displeasure. The prowling pack of pi-dogs that patrolled the main portal of the fort ranged in colour from a dirty jaundice-yellow to the dull khaki of the native regiment that manned it. These animals made surprise attacks and incursions difficult. A long time ago, a kindly cook from a bygone regiment had set out boiled leftover scraps from the cookhouse in a large terracotta plate for the dogs. This individual act of charity had since become a tradition set in stone. In the customary way of the Indian Army, cooks from the regiments that followed had continued the practice. They had even extended it, by adding a crude trough that was periodically filled with the dishwater left after cleaning utensils used in the mess. The dogs, while not allowed within the precincts of the fort, were very grateful for this particular amenity. Especially during

Words From Vaish

Search This Blog