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A literary breakfast A couple of months ago, I discovered Arnold Bennett through a truth about enzyte brilliant audiobook of the Old Wives’ Tale (see below). I loved his sharp ear for dialogue, his eye for the smallest detail – and the characters, well, I still think of them occasionally now. His talent for spinning an utterly absorbing narrative from commonplace events knocked my uber-critical socks off. So when I was taken out to breakfast at the Wolseley on Piccadilly yesterday by a PR, and saw Omelette Arnold Bennett on the menu, I felt it only right to pay homage. The story behind the name is as delicious as the dish itself. The author wrote his last novel, Imperial Palace, while resident at the Savoy (on which the hotel in the book is based) and during his stay, the kitchen became so proficient at producing his breakfast of choice that they put it on the menu under his name. The Savoy itself is currently closed for refurbishment, but I have subsequently read that the Wolseley’s version is reckoned to even surpass theirs, so I’m pleased to have ordered it. However, I struggle to believe that the novelist can have eaten much else but the omelettes if the existing photos are to be believed. He looks almost cadaverous, whereas his creation left me feeling slightly sick until early evening. The Omelette Arnold Bennett is so extremely rich it comes in a dish, rather than on a plate. Basically, it’s a smoked haddock omelette smothered (and here the word is appropriate) in a rich cream and cheese sauce and briefly gratinated. Even I had to leave some of the sauce (I suspected was a whiff of truffle in there somewhere too, but I can’t confirm that, so perhaps I was just being paranoid). I might try making one myself, and going a bit easy on the cheese aspect, but then again, I might just go back to his books. They definitely didn’t make me feel queasy. posted by Pen Pusher at 11:04 AM 0 comments Today I received a singularly useless, but quietly intriguing press release. Travelodge has published a list of the top 10 most commonly abandoned books in its hotel rooms this year, and top of the list is our former deputy prime minister's elegantly titled memoir, "Prezza: Pulling No Punches". Not a big surprise that: I imaging most readers, after flicking frantically through for mention of that infamous punch, as well as the grisly details of the passionate affair, will have tossed the book aside like a greasy bone in the aftermath of a spare-rib binge, but I do think it unfair that he beat Russell Brand's nauseating "My Booky Wook" - at least Prescott has a long, and interesting career to ramble about. Many of the books included hold a similar lack of long-term charm for me: I can only imagine books like Piers Morgan's autobiography or Ben Elton's :"Blind Faith" were heavily hyped beyond their probable worth, and some people simply gave up with them. Ian McEwan's "On Chesil Beach" came in at number nine, which did puzzle me though - given it is so short, I can only assume that readers finished it in one sitting, as I did, and found themselves so depressed by the experience that they couldn't muster the heart to take the book with them. I don't think I have never knowingly abandoned a book: my equivalent is sending them to charity shops, which, despite the fact I know in my heart of hearts that it would be better, and greener, for them to be recycled in this way, rather than gathering dust in the over-crowded guest room, happens very seldom. Occasionally I do a purge of the shelves to make room for new acquisitions, and recent disappearances have included a novel by Eddie Izzard that a kind friend brought me as a present (couldn't fancy it), a luridly coloured Tracy Cox sex manual that was also a (hilarious) present from friends during my teenage years (and which I regret to say I think I took to the church book stall absentmindedly. Sorry Father) and "The Time Traveller's Wife" which, despite the alluring title (if I could have one wish, it would be time travel) proved impossible for me to get into. Are all keen readers such inveterate hoarders, or do the rest of you smugly post every finished book on bookcrossing for others to enjoy, and set off to Oxfam in search of the next occupant of your bedside table? posted by Pen Pusher at 7:55 PM 2 comments Number one: "The Old Wives' Tale", by Arnold Bennett, available for free on librivox.org. I enjoyed the first book I downloaded from this site ("North and South"), but this is even better, given it seems, so far, to be read by just one person, and a very accomplished reader at that, one Andy Minter. I have just googled him, wondering whether he might be a resting actor or similar, and discovered that, according to his website, he is actually a retired gentleman from Hertfordshire whose other interests include vintage cars and his garden. Anyway, he is excellent: measured, warm and with an astonishing array of convincing accents at his disposal, from ageing French courtesan to Staffordshire labourer. If you haven't yet discovered the joy of free audiobook downloads, this is a great one to start with. Number two: Bookthrift in South Kensington. I went in to drop off some of our magazines on the recommendation of one of this issue's contributors, Jenny Kingsley, and ended up spending £40 on two bags of books from a history of Austerity Britain to the Leiths Baking Bible and Simon Gray's The Smoking Diaries, all significantly reduced - and I got 45 minutes of browsing for free. There's a particularly good selection of art and history, and I heard the staff tell one customer they didn't have a sport section, which makes me like it even more. |