Dreamers - Knut Hamsun

 DREAMERS - KNUT HAMSUN

Knut Hamsun does 'whimsy' and who'd have thought? After the delirium of his masterpiece, Hunger, it would be reasonable to expect more of the same from the writer who Charles Bukowski once described as 'one of the greatest writers ever' but Hamsun is just full of surprises, some of them welcome some of them not so. Against what is probably my better judgement, Knut Hamsun is one of my favourite writers though I wouldn't go so far as Bukowski in saying he was one of the greatest. 

Just as Bukowski could no doubt have explained why Hamsun was so good (and I can probably guess why he would have held that view, particularly after having read Hunger) I could just as easily explain why he's one of my favourites though I don't think it would be very helpful to anyone or even myself. Sometimes something just is, and it's best to just leave it at that. A bit like life, really.

Dreamers was written in 1904 and is set in a small, isolated fishing village in northern Norway where we follow the trials and tribulations of Ove Rolandsen, the village telegraph operator as he drinks, fights, flirts and schemes. He's not the only one though. All the residents of the village are at it even if only within the privacy of their own homes. From housekeepers, factory owners, lay-helpers, curates and even wives of curates, they're all flirting and scheming like cast members of an endless soap opera. Roalandsen the telegraph operator is the biggest, however, albeit all done with an almost innocent charm.

In the way of storyline, there isn't much to say without giving away spoilers only that it's beautifully crafted and misses not a beat. It's precise, subtle, light, wry, amusing and a joy to read. What makes it all very likeable in fact reminded me of the magic realism as captured by Hilary Mantel in her 1989 novel, Fludd. Even more so, it very much reminded me of Federico Fellini's 1973 film Amacord, where the village of Fellini's childhood is depicted as a place of comical, beautiful and magical strangeness. Compare and contrast. Amacord being, in fact, one of my all-time favourite films so comparing Hamsun's Dreamers to it is actually high praise indeed.

John Serpico

Jimi - Curtis Knight

 JIMI - AN INTIMATE BIOGRAPHY OF JIMI HENDRIX -

CURTIS KNIGHT

According to Curtis Knight, apparently Jimi Hendrix was a messenger from another world. 'Genius guitarist, sent from another time and another place, to give us a message of Love, Peace and Freedom'. Well, I'm not too sure about that. We know Hendrix was a genius guitarist because we've heard him, we know he was a fantastic performer because we've seen him, and we know he was the Penis de Milo of plaster casts because we've seen it, but a messenger from another world sent from another time and another place? I think I'll take that bit with a pinch of salt. And on that point it very much sums up much of this book.

Jimi, by Curtis Knight, is written from the perspective of the author who worked with and was friends with Hendrix prior to Hendrix leaving America for England in 1966, with the friendship remaining right up until Hendrix's death in 1970. The fact that Knight was close to Hendrix is of benefit when writing a biography such as this but it also means that what he does is to weave himself into the story as well and quite often it's hard to tell what is true and what is him simply hitching himself onto the Hendrix comet tail in a bid to boost his own importance and his own credentials.

Fairly prominent in the book is the issue of recordings released by Knight that weren't ever welcomely received by the music press, recordings that Knight was accused of releasing in a bid to cash in on Hendrix's death. There are two tracks in particular, both of which make for interesting listening that now with the benefit of YouTube are easily accessible.

The first is a song called How Would You Feel that was recorded in 1965, which is very similar to Dylan's Like A Rolling Stone, a song of course that Hendrix practically made his own. The second is a song called The Ballad Of Jimi, again recorded in 1965 almost five years before Hendrix's death where the lyrics are all about him having already died.

Knight tells us that after Hendrix's return to America in 1967 after having spent a year in England, they met up again to discuss among other things the contract Hendrix had broken when he departed for England. Their friendship was immediately rekindled and they went into a recording studio and over just one night recorded a whole album together. Now, this to me sounds mightily implausible. That Jimi Hendrix, after having already released his debut album and established himself in Europe would - on his way to the Monterey Pop Festival - without any objection from his Management enter a studio with his old friend and record a whole album in one session? 

'That is my position, and that is the real story,' King writes. Well, I'm not so sure.

Die-hard Hendrix fans would probably already know about all the legal wrangling that entailed and the settlements over royalties just as they would probably know about some of the other stories Curtis writes about such as The Jimi Hendrix Experience going on tour with The Monkees - a mismatch almost made in heaven. They would probably even know that someone at one point stole Hendrix's gravestone? For all that, there are still other anecdotes they maybe wouldn't be aware of, particularly in regard to private conversations between Curtis and Hendrix. Take the subject of the Electric Ladyland cover design for example, with the photograph of twenty or so nude girls. According to Curtis, Hendrix didn't like it much but there was nothing he could do. "They never consulted me about those kind of things," Hendrix is quoted as saying. 

Near to the end of the book there's a chapter about Hendrix's last few days in London just before he died in 1970 which is interesting to read as it's all about him walking among the trees and gardens in Hyde Park, or floating around Notting Hill, Kensington Market and the Fulham Road. It's interesting because it seems strange to imagine him - this Rock'n'Roll icon, this Rock God - just wandering around these places, almost as if the surroundings doesn't match the legend. A bit like reading about Nico of The Velvet Underground ending up on heroin in Manchester.

Overall, the book does offer some insights but not really enough to add anything new to the story of Hendrix's life or to make it essential reading. Much better - as is often the case - to just listen instead to the music because a lot of it really is the music of the spheres that still to this day in terms of guitar playing remains unsurpassed.

John Serpico

The Friends Of Eddie Coyle - George V Higgins

 THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE - GEORGE V HIGGINS

The book on which the 1973 film starring Robert Mitchum was based and the only thing wrong with it is the cover because if the guy in the picture is meant to be the main character, Eddie 'Fingers' Coyle, then it looks nothing like him. The book describes Coyle as being stocky and in his forties which fits Robert Mitchum's description but the guy on the cover is at least ten years younger and not stocky in the slightest. Perhaps it's meant to be one of the other main characters, the gun seller by the name of Jackie Brown? It's unlikely though, and probably more to do with not paying proper attention.

It's not a bad cover, of course, and it's actually a good picture - painted, interestingly enough, by Paul Roberts, who went on to being the vocalist for British rock band Sniff 'n' The Tears who had a world-wide hit with the song Driver's Seat.

Apart from the issue with the cover, The Friends Of Eddie Coyle by George V Higgins is classic pulp fiction. It's a crime caper involving a gang of hardened criminals robbing a series of banks who like to use a new set of guns every time they rob a new bank. The guns are being supplied to the gang by Eddie Coyle who gets them from a gun dealer called Jackie Brown. And that's the gist of it but being a crime caper the cast of characters is going to be a nest of vipers with everyone playing everybody off against one another, including girlfriends, bar-owners and police.

The whole pace of the story suits Robert Mitchum's demeanour perfectly as it's very languid, very world-weary, very life at the end of its tether. It's totally narrative-driven with conversations and monologues written phonetically in an often surreal, wise-guy vernacular. The bottom line is that it's a joy to read and is the perfect example of why books such as this are so good. They're not a challenge, they're not written to educate or to make the reader think, or as a vehicle for any kind of lesson in morality. They're written to be read - actually. They're written to entertain and to make the act of reading a pleasure not a chore.

The film of the book is a classic, directed by Peter Yates (who also directed Bullitt) that as well as starring Robert Mitchum also stars Peter Boyle. It's a perfect cast and the book in a similar fashion is perfect pulp fiction.

John Serpico