Okay, I Admit It

I tried my hardest and couldn't finish Nick Hornby's ode to footie, Fever Pitch. With my daughter being a developing soccer star, I thought I'd give it a go.

It's just so hard getting dropped in from another planet and trying to sort it all out. I couldn't always work out who Hornby was talking about as he interchanged official names, nicknames, the pitch they play on ... and, of course, all those 1970s players.

Then again, I'd like to see my counterpart make head or tails out of a sentence that no one would bat an eyelash at here, for instance:

Yaz hammered the Amazin's at Fenway.

But this season, I'm really going to try to work out who's who. I might actually stay awake during the sport section of the BBC News Worldservice report. The Premier League started their season on Saturday, so this is as good a time as any to start paying attention.

I'm feeling a little techy from a weekend in (New) England and driving for ages, so here's some highlights. I'm going back to bed:

Chelsea beat Portsmouth and is now in the number one position
Arsenal won -- West Brom went home disappointed
Man U (champs for the last two years) tied with Newcastle
Everton lost to Blackburn
Liverpool over Sunderland
Tottenham lost to Middlesborough
West Ham beat Wigan at WH's home, Boleyn Ground

Ciao, Cavendish!

Mark Cavendish's amazing performance at the Tour de France (he's the first Briton to have won three legs of the race and looks to be the likely winner) has put me in mind of a film that affected me greatly as a lad -- as coming-of-age films should do. This piece of cinema history, written by Steven Tesich, was 1979's Breaking Away. It comes as close as any work of art I know of to describing the phenomenon I'm exploring here ... but the lead character is an Italophile instead of an Anglophile.

In Breaking Away, Dennis Christopher plays an Indiana boy who has convinced himself that he's going to be a great Italian bicycle racer. But he buys into the whole thing: the food, the music, the whole Italian vibe. According to the trailer, he renames himself Enrico Gimondi (though I don't remember that detail). He calls his cat Fellini, and speaks incessantly in half-assed Italian learned from a phrasebook.

Believe me, I understand the obsession with Italy and all things Italian ... but that's for another blog. But there is something special about the laser-like mind of a teenage boy that makes them thrust themselves into something like this for a year or two. Of course, we never completely shake whatever that obsession is. Nick Hornby talks about the same thing in his memoirs, Fever Pitch: He becomes football-mad as a teenager while getting over his parents's divorce, and the obsession stays with him for the rest of his life.

I remember an interview with someone on NPR -- the was donkey's years ago -- in which the interviewee claimed to speak with an English accent for a solid year when he was around 14.

Is this kind of fixation immature? Is it daft? And if it is all those things, is that so wrong?

Lenny Henry Has Thrown a Spanner Into My Summer Reading List

I had taken a detour from Zadie Smith, Mark Haddon, and Nick Hornby, etc. to listen to Sarah Vowell read her own Assassination Vacation (even I have other interests than BritLit). I even have my next book, a real thick one from Martin Amis at the ready.

But I've really been enjoying this recorded book thing (formerly known as books on tape), especially good during long dog walks. And I suddenly remembered a rave review I heard on a radio show I listen to called the Bryant Park Project. The book is Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. Normally, I totally ignore those Oprah-type book clubs in mass media, but I remembered them talking about how great the audio version is. Actually, I remembered being amused and perplexed that they were talking about the narrator, Lenny Henry, as though they didn't know who he is. They didn't know who the star of "Chef!" is? They probably don't even know that he's married to Dawn French. They probably don't know that Dawn French is half if the comedy team of French & Saunders. They probably don't know who Jennifer Saunders is -- hang on a sec, they probably do know Saunders because of Absolutely Fabulous.

I had forgotten the name of the book, and when I went back to the BBP's blog I discovered that I was not the only one outraged by their ignorance. Check out this on-line row. The postings left me a little ambivalent. I was glad that there were so many like-minded Anglomaniacs out there. But sad that amazing Brits like Lenny Henry aren't mainstream in this country for some reason.

Now armed with the title of the book, I previewed the audio on iTunes. They were right, of course. Book reading has to be one of the most challenging acting/voiceover jobs on the planet. Personally, I'd be rubbish at it. Actually, I'd act it out okay, but it would take about 10 year to record. But Lenny's VO is as smooth as if he was thinking up the words at that moment. It's a rare treat because I don't think he usually does narration, and did it as a favor to Gaiman, with whom he's mates.

No, I am not going to suggest a Phonybrit book club. But I will get back to you after I've completed the recording with a little review. In the meantime, order a copy from the library -- it comes very highly recommended.