The Extra Ordinary Life of Frank Derrick, Age 81 (2014)

Author: J.B. Morrison  |  Page Count: 304

'He already had his free TV licence and bus pass.  Even though there was nothing on television and nowhere to take the bus to.'

J.B. Morrison is Jim Bob, who at one time was half of the phenomenally semi-successful music act Carter USM. I admit it was entirely due to my love for the band’s music that I checked out Frank Derrick. The clever word play in the title made me wonder prior to reading if we would see a return to the fiery satire of Jim Bob’s lyric writing style, or if it would more closely resemble the deeply poignant feelings of abandonment that 'Granny Farming in the UK' gave rise to. The text is neither; or rather it’s both but filtered through a more subtle and sensitive screen door. It's comedy with a thoughtful slant that's sweet but never artificial.

Frank of Fullwind-on-Sea is a cynical duffer with a healthy distrust of others. He's an active sort who frequents the charity shops and buys crap he doesn't need. He looks upon the curtain-twitchers in his neighbourhood with disdain, but often his vantage point is from behind his own twitching curtain. When an accident lessens Frank's independence some home-help is arranged. He resents the idea completely, fearing the worst: she'll treat him like a child; she'll steal his life savings! But Frank had been wrong about people before. Who's to say...?

Jim Bob's style is descriptive and wry. His sentences frequently take lengthy strides when a shorter, more direct approach could've conveyed the same information more succinctly. They're rambling, some might say, but I'm a rambler, too, so it wasn't a problem for me. I actually liked it; it showed that he was being honest with himself and his readers, not trying to mimic another's style. He wisely litters comedy throughout, instead of always holding back for a killer punchline.

The only thing I really disliked was the half a dozen movie spoilers. They were old movies and their inclusion was relevant to Frank's tragic situation, but that's no excuse. They were spoilers no matter how you spin it. Speaking of which, if the book was to be filmed it would most likely be an indie, suitable for the likes of HandMade Films, and in a perfect world it would star Michael Caine.

3½ mantelpiece giraffes out of 5

The Wicker Man (1978)

Authors: Robin Hardy and Anthony Shaffer | Page Count: 285

‘From inside the asylum of his own skin, he looked around a world that he peopled suddenly, in his imagination, with strangers...’

A wise person once said ‘Never judge a book by its movie.’  It’s generally applied one way, to defend a good book from the damage done to its reputation by a bad movie, but sometimes the opposite perspective is needed.  Judging by how good The Wicker Man (1973) film is, I imagined the book to be at least equal in terms of impact given that it’s written by the film’s director, Robin Hardy, and uses much of the dialogue from Anthony Shaffer’s excellent screenplay verbatim.  I've only myself to blame for that assumption not panning out as hoped.

The protagonist is Police Sergeant Neil Howie.  On the surface he’s an honest, steadfast Episcopalian Christian respectful of the laws of man and God.  Beneath that, he’s forceful and secretly judgemental of others.  It’s possible to view him as a haughty zealot quick to strike down those who challenge his beliefs but that’s only half the story; he’s more complex than he first appears.  Deeper still, hidden from the world, he’s inexperienced and fearful of his own desires.

Howie is summoned to a remote Western Isle off the coast of Scotland.  It’s an isle filled with villagers that worship a different pantheon.  For Howie, the Christian God created everything in nature, so in theory even the heretical worship of false gods could be, by extension, reverence for his god.  That’s the depth of his arrogance and is in part responsible for his actions once there.

There’s a mystery to be unravelled.  It’s an unusual missing person case that may even be a murder.  Sergeant Howie's belief that his superior deity will guide and aid him in ensuring justice is done is only the beginning of his problems.

As the mystery deepens, the novel begins to unravel.  The quality of the prose drops and doesn't recover.  By the end it feels like fan fiction.

I’ll do us all a service by cutting the review short here and instead return to how I began.  Maybe it'll help someone else avoid the same level of disappointment that I had.  Never judge a book by its movie—even when the movie's good.

2½ circles to the nail out of 5

The City (1994)

Author: James Herbert | Illustrator: Ian Miller | Page Count: 64

"Hey, Tinman.  Don't look now, but you got company."

The fourth entry in Herbert’s Rats books, but unlike the previous three (The Rats (1974), Lair (1979), and Domain (1984)), it's a graphic novel.  What’s even more unusual is that it’s a story told largely through imagery.  By the time it came out Herbert had developed a unique relationship with words, his descriptive language was a big part of his appeal, so delivering a story with minimal dialogue was a little out of character.

I’m limited in what I can say without touching on how the trilogy ended, so I’ll be brief.  It follows a lone figure as he returns to The City (London) in search of something he left behind.  The City is under the grip of a New Order.  There’s danger at every turn and eyes watching his every move.

The story is weak when compared to his other books.  It’ll be of interest to fans of the original trilogy but would probably be best avoided by everyone else.

Conversely, Ian Miller’s art is fascinating and is without a doubt the real star.  His blood red skies and swirling colour schemes help flesh out the grotesque perversions of normalcy and societal standings that are faithful in essence to the metaphor set up by Herbert in the original trilogy.

1½ bridges burned out of 5