Kieran.Stories

At the start of August I took a week off work. There was convalescence in the air! I did have a cold coming on. We bought new folding chairs. I bought sticks of rock: mint, rhubarb and custard, and one that was simply sugar flavoured. The rock is now slowly softening in the kitchen cupboard. By Christmas, the rock will have hardened again, and could cause real damage. On day one we sat on the right side of the pier. On day two we sat on the left side of the pier. There was a high concentration of families on the left side. Waves of schadenfreude! Stressed parents cajoled and negotiated. And there we were: two freewheeling dinks. Home, I had a luxurious nap but awoke with painful sunburn. Without thinking, I jumped into a cold shower. I emerged looking like Bagpuss.

On the Thursday we went to Liverpool. This was the day a 90-second power failure at an operating centre caused major disruption on the train lines. We were none the wiser. We enjoyed another pint and debated whether to walk the short distance to the Lego Store to buy the newly release E.T set. We ended up in Bond Street. Alas, no timeslip. Earlier that day we had been to The Beatles Story on Albert Dock. We walked down the street with four “I Love [insert Beatle here]” badges on our rucksacks. Alice picked two. I picked two. It was only when we left News From Nowhere that we saw that the Trainline app was red with cancellations. A plan was formed in Fitzgerald’s Irish Bar. We would take the hit: Uber-it. I was determined that this disruption would not spoil the day. I am not sure if I did much to reassure Alice about the £100 she was about to blow (the KLF would have burned it, so there is that) on an Uber, but I do remember sitting in the corner of that Irish pub, with James Joyce and Roy Keane in black and white above and behind us, and sharing a moment. This is the shit situation. But that’s fine. Because we’re lucky: and together. We bought Lego E.T by the way.

The KLF: Chaos, Magic, and the Band Who Burned a Million Pounds by John Higgs (2013)

This was my beach read. And what a perfect beach read. The ideas had space to breathe. If I had read this on the bus, on the way to and from work, I do not think I would have got as much from it. It didn’t hurt that I felt more relaxed after a day away from the office. In this book, John Higgs tells the story of the KLF, the band who burned a million quid. It is clear from the start that this is not going to be a straightforward bit of music journalism. In fact, there is very little about the actual sound of the KLF in the book. ‘Drummond and Cauty (the KLF) stumbled mapless through their own stories, taking and using whatever they felt useful, so that is the approach we shall take as well… Here, then, is a story that the cast were not told they were in.’ (pp. 19). I’m hooked! The story that unfolds – or folds in and around the spectacle of the KLF – is fascinating and rich. I saw my aunt recently and asked if she knew about the KLF, because I’d just read this great book about them. She said they used to dance to them. My mum said she remembered how much she liked the ‘Justified and Ancient’ song and video with Tammy Wynette. The KLF spoke directly to my parents’ generation, but by burning a million quid they gave birth, magically, to the wave of 21st Century recessions that have defined my adult life.

Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay (1967)

I am also pleased I read Picnic at Hanging Rock on holiday. I left forty pages unread as I went to bed, then got up at about three in the morning to finish it in the spare room. It felt like a throwback to staying up too late as a kid to read (or play on the Nintendo DS). It was also like I had been pulled back to the book by an unseen but powerful force, a presence I had probably, wittingly or not, invited in. Fitting! Joan Lindsey presents the novel as a true account. On Saint Valentine’s Day, 1900, a party of school girls from Appleyard College set out to enjoy a picnic beneath Hanging Rock. Three of the girls vanish. A teacher vanishes. One girl is found but she has changed somehow, and instead of shedding light on the mystery, her reappearance only deepens it. Lindsey never reveals to us what happened on hanging rock. In his essay, ‘The Eeriness Remains…’, Mark Fisher points out that 14th February, 1900, was a Wednesday, not a Saturday. But this is not an error per se. There are reasons for Lindsey setting this story on Valentine’s Day and in 1900. In my mind, the novel is dealing with fin de siècle. Mrs. Appleyard represents the death of the old century, and by stepping behind the monolith on hanging rock, Miranda and company represent the next step into a new century. Just as importantly, Picnic at Hanging Rock is a beautifully written book. It is perfectly constructed and executed. It is held together by an extraordinary combination of fine detail and complete mystery. There is lots I’d like to say about this book in a longer post.

Exterminate/Regenerate: The Story of Doctor Who by John Higgs (2025)

Docky Who. The still point in my turning world. But that’s not even half true. My relationship with Doctor Who is a bit complicated, and that’s probably typical. I remember my mum’s excitement when the programme returned in 2005. I remember a big billboard in Preston: Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper and the new logo. I think Mum actually gasped. For five years, until the dawn of Matt Smith, Doctor Who was a huge part of my life. It formed my imagination in new ways. But then it changed, and because I was changing too, I let it go on without me. It was an amicable split, I think. The fondness remains, though, so this book by John Higgs, which I bought in Liverpool and started during the taxi ride home, was a lovely read. The central idea that the Doctor thrives because they lack a single ‘creator’ is compelling. Doctor Who occupies a collective ideaspace, rather than belonging to one person, or even a select group of fans. Exterminate/Regenerate is a brilliantly pacey read, too. John Higgs knows how to keep you reading, in a very similar way to Jon Ronson, or Caitlin Moran. There is an engaging idea or piece of Docky trivia on every page. (Sidenote: I found it odd that Higgs didn’t mention ‘Doctorin’ the TARDIS’, given the KLF connection.)

The Commitments by Roddy Doyle (1987)

I was thinking about characters existing in ideaspace, becoming as real as any real person, when I started The Commitments. Jimmy Rabbitte is as real as milk, especially in those first few pages, when the idea of the band and Dublin Soul is forming. I read The Barrytown Trilogy for the first time in 2023. I was working at Blackpool Pleasure Beach at the time. I would go out on my lunch break and sit beside South Pier and read. Lots has changed since then, and I think I liked different parts of The Commitments this time. I had also forgotten how much of the film is not in the book. I found the sections in which lyrics are repeated on the page pretty obnoxious, to be honest – call me no fun, but that’s me! But I got more out of the book as a whole the second time round. I like Jimmy Rabbitte. He changes his world and then it snaps back to normal; so it goes. I was going to read The Snapper straight after, but I couldn’t face it. I think I like this style less than I did three years ago, or maybe at the moment I need something a bit denser (literally, I think, more words on the page – I don’t mean The Commitments lacks depth). It was at this point my holiday finished. It was back to work time.

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 by Sue Townsend (1982)

If there is such a thing as a perfect novel, I think this is it. To quote Limmy’s impersonation of Richard E Grant reviewing Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, ‘I laughed, I cried, I fist-pumped the air!’ Reading Adrian Mole, I was reminded again of ideaspace and fictional characters existing as real people. I have spent the last week in Adrian Mole’s head. I have listened to Sue Townsend’s Desert Island Discs (a good one). I listened to the Backlisted episode on the book (I don’t usually like that podcast, but I wanted another Mole fix). Nina Stibbe is the guest and gives an expert analysis on Townsend’s technical tricks. I have pushed the book onto Alice, and now my sister has asked to borrow it. I find it interesting how lots of my thinking in August has been tied to iconic figures from my parents’ past: The KLF, The Doctor, and Adrian Mole. I don’t know if I could point to today’s equivalents, but perhaps that is cynical. If someone asked for my favourite book now, I think I would say The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole. I genuinely think the last time I laughed out loud when reading was Charlie Brooker’s columns (collected in Dawn of the Dumb) when I was Mole’s age.

Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz (2000)

I was looking for something like Stormbreaker, Friday before last. I think it’s true that you shouldn’t reveal too much about yourself online, so I will simply say, it was a challenging week in the office. I wanted not only an easy read but something that took me back to childhood. It did the job for the most part. I liked that Alex Rider does not kill anyone with a gun, although he commits manslaughter several times, once via giant jellyfish. The first Alex Rider novel focuses on the death of Alex’s uncle (quite funny how he’s referred to by Alex as Ian Rider and never uncle, or even just Ian, throughout) and Alex’s induction into the world of freelance teenage spying; his first mission is to investigate billionaire Harold Sayle and his Stormbreaker computers, which he plans to gift to every school in the UK (bit sus!). Horowitz’s ability to move a story at all costs is astonishing, and I do think he has a genius for set-up, execution, payoff. I owe Horowitz a lot. As a teenager I was an avid Midsomer Murders fan, and in the mould of Adrian Mole, I experienced a sexually awakening during a steamy scene in a barn, after murder via combine harvester.

Blurred Edges: Short Stories by Mike Fox (2026)

This is one of only a few books I pre-ordered this year. I am a fan of Mike Fox’s work, and I like to think he’s one of my writerly friends online. I had the privilege of reading his novella (due to be published later this year) about Satan’s Actuary. I have also read Mike’s previous short story collection Things Grown Distant, published by Confingo. The focus of the stories in Blurred Edges – for me – is the potential for unease, or even violence. The story ‘Dr Takotsubo, and My Heart’ is about a man dealing with the end of a romantic relationship with a work colleague. Nothing bad happens (other than the narrator’s simulated cardiac arrest caused by emotional distress) but there is something in the voice that leads you to believe not all is well in the world, and in particular his world. The edges are blurred: the injections of dialogue between the narrator and his erstwhile girlfriend are amicable enough, but then his histrionics and verbosity suggest to me that this man is not well, and it’s not just his heart. I think I like this story because it is unresolved. Another highlight for me was ‘The Fun Police’, which has a Tales of the Unexpected feel. It would be nice to delve into each story. I was thinking of writing posts about short story collections, because every time I include them here, I feel like I’m rushing. Maybe Blurred Edges would be a good one to start with, but in the meantime, I would advise you to check this out.

So, that’s August, or very nearly. I’ve also listened to a lot of good, new (to me) music this month. Here is one track I have been listening to a lot.