Ordinary Thunderstorms

There is a great book in here waiting to get out. Unfortunately this isn't it. Don't get me wrong: I am a big fan of William Boyd and have read almost all of his novels. Unfortunately enjoying all the others more than this one.

My favourite of his novels is Armadillo and Ordinary Thunderstorms sounded like it came from a similar vein, so I was looking forward to this one. Literary thrillers usually work best with a certain amount of suspension of belief, but even allowing for that the plot is just too full of implausibilities and there are too many annoying little errors for it to be a complete pleasure like Armadillo.

Straight off we are confronted with the main character – climatologist Adam Kindred – behaving totally out of character. Or, to be honest, behaving totally unlike any rational person in the world would. And since the whole book flows from this one incident that is a bit of a problem. Boyd works hard and has clearly put a lot of thought into trying to justify Kindred's behaviour, but it still doesn't ring true. Things do improve from here, but there are too many convenient, clearly flagged events and situations which later turn into key plot devices and much of the plot seems forced and dependent on setting up an already mapped out narrative.

There are lots of great bits: the way he works the Thames throughout the book from the opening scene through two deaths and on to the very last pages, the Church of John Christ, Mr Quality and Adam's love interest – the (lovely) Rita, river policewoman who lives on a decommissioned navy vessel moored at Nine Elms Pier.

The innocent bystander caught in a big conspiracy and fleeing for his life isn't a new idea, but Boyd uses the contemporary London setting to bring a new slant, highlighting and raising lots of interesting points about society, politics and our global economic structures on the way. I have come to the conclusion that he isn't capable of writing a bad book, but it is a shame that the flaws and problems with this one means that it doesn't match-up to his best work.

Upriver

It's supposed to be a book review of Peter Ackroyd's Thames: Sacred River but like some sort of demented secant to London Orbital Iain Sinclair turns it into a walking pilgrimage to the London Stone near the village of Grain.

London Stone photograph copyright © Roger W Haworth and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

I get the feeling I wouldn't like Ackroyd's book, but in the best tradition of LRB reviews Sinclair hardly mentions the work he is purportedly reviewing and, abusing his editor's good nature, wanders off into another variation on the many exhaustive explorations he has spent most of his life making from his base in Hackney. As on all good quests he encounters many obstacles on the journey and despite all his best efforts it looks like he will be thwarted at the last, only for a courageous sidekick to help save the day.

Like Sinclair I have always had a fascination for the marginal, (sub)liminal areas of civilisation and the landscape downriver of London, around the mouth of the Thames has always seemed particularly interesting because of its closeness but complete dislocation to the capital. Kingsnorth, Sheerness, Canvey Island, the empty stretches of Isle of Sheppey exert a peculiar attraction and I wish I had taken the time to explore when I had the chance ...

If you haven't crossed paths with him before then I can heartily recommend it as an excellent introduction to Sinclair's obsessions and writings. London Orbital is one of my favourite books of the year so far (longer review to come soon) and if your interest is piqued by the LRB article you should give the epic version a try.

It's the little things ...

... that brighten your day. Not that I am saying Smoke is little or anything. Perfectly formed at 210 x 150 mm and roughly 52 pages thick, it always makes me happy whenever I know a new issue is on its way from SE11 to my letterbox. As Matt Haynes, publisher-in-chief, says it is probably the greatest small-format magazine ever published.

Even more exciting than the imminent appearance of Smoke 12 however was the news that Matt now has his own (typically unique (or is it uniquely typical)) blog danger: void behind door. First two entries are vintage Matt and I am looking forward to the next weekly installment. Also hoping that the collected Shinkansen news pages will make an appearance at some time ...

Smoke always makes me a bit homesick for London. And while we are on the subject here is my top 10 things that I will miss about London when I amn't there anymore:

1 Walking over Waterloo Bridge. Either way or either side doesn't matter. But if you did press me probably north to south was better.
2 Standing on the back platform of a Routemaster number 19 bus going over Battersea Bridge just before the last stop
3 The box file next to the photocopier outside the west kitchen labelled 'Broken dreams 1997 –'
4 Christmas lights in the trees in Sloane Square in November
5 Chelsea Kinema
6 Polish Vodka bar
7 The Albert pub at Friday lunchtimes (and sometimes Friday afternoons too ...)
I never did write down what 8 to 10 were.