Just one sentence about the Irish book awards.

The overall prize at the Bord Gais Irish Book Awards, The Eason’s Novel of the Year, was won by Mike McCormack‘s book, Solar Bones, which I picked up in Waterstones last week and put down again thinking I might read it another time when I’m not so tired because, well, to be honest I was intimidated by the fact that it is written as a single sentence, all one sentence and no full stops, except one at the end, I suppose, and that just seemed a bit too Joycean (I failed at Joyce, twice, in my teens and got scared off trying again) so I took the easier route and chose Graham Norton’s Holding which, as I wrote about yesterday, I completely loved and clearly I was not alone since Graham won the Irish Independent (darn it but these sponsored prizes have unwieldy titles) Popular Fiction Book of the Year which was not in the least surprising and nor was I the teeniest bit surprised to read that Liz Nugent won the Ryan Tubridy Show’s Listeners’ Choice Award for her book, Lying in Wait which I wrote about here and which has been milling around in my head ever since I read it as I keep thinking about poor Laurence, especially with the weather turning so wet and miserable, and hoping that he has made good his escape although that seems about as likely as my succeeding in getting a night of unbroken sleep of which I am so clearly in desperate need and more so than ever having remained awake all night last night for fear that my beloved Teenage Son, and member of the Irish delegation to the European Youth Parliament (that possibly sounds more impressive than it really is but I am very proud of him all the same), would miss his bus to Dublin, and therefore his flight to Hamburg, which didn’t seem unlikely at all given that I was met in the kitchen at 5.45 AM by another dog diarrhoeal incident (you may like to revisit the previous incident, here) the noxious whiff of which could not be ignored and on top of that (not literally) said EYP delegate was wandering around, in extremely unparliamentary attire, at twenty-five minutes to bus-leaving time looking for a pair of socks while I scoured the hall table for a second glove but, fear not, I got him to the bus and now I must spend five days worrying that he will keep himself safe and wear two socks at all times and you won’t believe it but Ryan Tubridy just this minute announced on the radio that it is snowing in Dublin so good job I insisted on that second glove and good job also that I finished my crocheted fingerless mittens, the pattern for which I have already managed to lose, sorry about that, and which I am wearing right now while I type to my great advantage and comfort but not yours, you cry as you read this nonsensical, but mercifully odourless, verbal diarrhoea so I will tell you about just one more thing which is that you should take a look at the National Book Tokens Find The Books competition which looks impossible to begin with but then you get a run at it and are fooled into thinking you might actually get all the clues but ultimately you are stuck with one that drives you crazy for every waking and trying-to-sleeping moment of the day until you finally beg your Facebook friends to put you out of your misery and that smartass who happens to be the person who told you to write something, anything he said, which turned out to be this blog (so that’s who to blame if this is doing your head in) bings back with the correct answer in seven seconds flat which is at once an enormous relief and gigantic anti-climax, at least that’s how the Find The Books quiz went for me last year so if that sounds like a good time to you (as it does to me, honestly) take a look and be prepared to help me when I get stuck and decide to close this ridiculous post with a massive, and long overdue, FULL STOP.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Email Address:

Subscribe