A Fucked Up LIfe In Books

20 May 2013

 It's a name that catches your eye. It seems like a long time ago I was trawling the recesses of Twitter. This was a while after Frozen Out had been published and I’d been told that Twitter was the place to be, so I was following anyone who looked even slightly interesting.

One caught my eye and I clicked the follow button. The tweets were linked to a blog that had a startling name. This is an anonymous book blog that’s nothing if not outspoken and the author doesn’t skimp on the swearing. The writing is sharp, to the point, the work of someone with a passion for books and a way with words.

It was BookCunt. Check her out. She’s worth it.

Anyway, to start with I wasn’t even sure she was a she, idly imagining a chubby bloke living in his mum’s back bedroom, but I was soon convinced. At one point she asked for books to review (I can’t remember if this was on Twitter or her blog) and I screwed up my courage in both hands and emailed her, half expecting to be told to fuck off. I said she was forthright, didn’t I?

After a few exchanges of emails, and my inability to figure out how to send someone a kindle version of the book – paper being out of the question as that would have meant names and addresses that are the downfall of an anonymous blogger – BC announced that she doesn’t fuck about and bought the book herself.

She gave Frozen Out a cracking review, one of the best I’ve had. I was chuffed to fuck and felt that I’d made a friend. We’ve stayed in touch. She even let me have a guest spot on her blog.

From the blog you can tell that she’s a fairly battle-scarred character for someone so young. Yes, being a grey-bearded old fart, I can say that. She writes beautifully. She even writes spare, sharp prose about deeply disturbing facets of life. That’s talent, that is. Any idiot can write about fluffy bunnies and kittens.

I told her so and asked if there wasn’t a book of her own on the way, and got a tart reply to the effect that as she works in publishing, she doesn’t feel inclined to shit where she eats.

But now there is a book, describing events in BC's life and the books she was reading at the time.

It’s called A Fucked Up Life In Books and it’s on Amazon. Put it on your kindle and read it. You’ll find out why she spent an afternoon hiding under her desk and why you shouldn’t read Lolita on a megabus full of chavs. It’s one of those books that stops you from doing anything else until you’ve finished it.

There’s stuff from the blog, as well as new stuff in there. It ranges from the bits that make you cringe to the stuff that makes you laugh out loud to the parts that pluck even this cynical old codger’s heartstrings.

We'll be hearing more from BookCunt. There's a talent ready to burst out there that many writers would be only too happy to have a smidgen of. But I guess a slightly more Waterstones-friendly pseudonym might be in order. Come to think of it, she might even have a real name.

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