Wednesday, October 29, 2014

A canny Scot

This is not a health issue! In my attempt to match my outgoings to my income I simply feel the need to reduce the amount I spend on smoking, hence the above effort to self-impose an overdue economy measure.

A further similarly motivated initiative is the connection of the television set I recently inherited. It is now plugged in and operative! As a result I shall spend less on Kindle purchases and watch more of what the box has to offer... at no cost since my age and circumstances allow me to be free of the obligation to pay the German license fee. This need not be an awful fate, since currently there are some excellent documentaries devoted to the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

The review below posted to Goodreads makes mention of the fact that buying Kindle editions is not always an onerous matter. I envy the author who has no apparent need to make money from his writing. At the same time I must ask myself what kind of deluded fool I am to spend the working day (in the absence of paid translation jobs) scrupulously editing my latest manuscript. The earnings will be risible, I am sure. But I suppose it is a slightly less dire way of passing time than watching daytime television.

Chameleon (City of London, #2)Chameleon by J. Jackson Bentley
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

JJ is assuredly having fun. In "The Chameleon"... he even allows himself a brief self-deprecating guest appearance within his story.

I am still enjoying his work, although now that I have downloaded "Fogarty" I realize that the three novels have to date cost a total of EUR 0.77. This is an unwelcome reminder that self-publishing should probably not be regarded as source of revenue, but best seen as a sideline, pastime or hobby.

The fun that JJ is having reminds me of the joy of telling stories to a child. I well remember my daughter insisting that the telling of the tale should not end... "What happens next, Daddy?"

JJ is never at a loss to come up with 'what happens next'... although the bonding between Emma Peel and Modesty Blaise (nor really, but the simile sprang to mind) came as a bit of a surprise. Never mind, the entertainment remains first rate. The writer also knows full well that if the reader has enjoyed ninety-five percent of the narrative he or she will settle for a preposterous final five percent.

I readily admit that I shall continue to demand from the author "What happens next?"

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