Ellen Kennedy's book 'Sometimes My Heart Pushes My Ribs' (Muumuu House) arrived in the post yesterday. hooray. i am halfway through. review forthcoming.
The Bird Room amazon.co.uk update:
40 customer reviews.
'significant' sales rank movement (downwards).
two new 'particularly scathing' customer reviews. they seem 'genuinely affronted' by the novel/me/how much it cost/how short it was/etc.
from Marco Busani "Proven Intellect":
The Bird Room is one of the shortest novels that I've ever read. In an effort to beef up the size of the book, blank pages are inserted between the bitesize chapters in order to try and create the false illusion that the book is more substantial than it in fact is.
The main character Wil cuts a pathetic figure that is consumed by self-doubt, self-pity, jealousy and pretty much operates minus a set of male balls. It's difficult to empathise with a character that is so melancholy and depressive; Wil allows his thoughts to escalate to near Titanic crisis proportions. Whilst, reading I felt almost embarassed for how enfeebled Wil is; Killen has created a character that comes across as being utterly unrealistic.
from Mr N. Haynes "stern":
Wooden characters who are insufficiently real to even dislike (you just don't care who's who and how it turns out) combine with a smugly confusing plot (shallow and simplistic, but then screwed around with by the writer giving the impression he's an empty little person who thinks he's cleverer than his readers) make this a frustrating rip off of a read.ouch.
The glowing reviews on the back of the book are by nobodys who upon closer inspection of Killen's acknowledgements seem to be employed by his publishing house (is that legal?).
This book reads like it was written by an undergraduate; convinced of his own genius, probably with unopened copies of Dostoevsky and Satre on his shelves to impress the girls. He can't write dialogue (indeed he never even tries, he just sticks to staccato monologue), he can't write sex and with the exception of a competetent opening when he sucessfully invokes a genuine feeling of obsessive jealousy, and two very pleasing adjectives he conjures up this is a very poor book and ridiculously overpriced.