Product Description

A series of humourous short stories starting in misery and dropping towards despair. One character has a quest to read every book ever written in English, devouring them two at a time. The aphoristic tales are sandwiched between two novellas and deliver an apocalyptic vision with a grim smile.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #158366 in Books
• Published on: 2001-01-04
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 247 pages

Amazon.co.uk Review
If there is one thing Tibor Fischer can do like no one else, it's to pen snappy, devastating titles. Once you've got past the provocative posturing of this collection's title page, then you are faced with seven brilliantly dubbed pieces--try "We Ate The Chef", "Portrait of the Artist as a Foaming Deathmonger" and "I Like Being Killed" for size.

As all that might suggest, Fischer--known for his Booker-shortlisted Under The Frog and more recently The Thought Gangand The Collector Collector--is a clever writer, a wordsmith of tremendous dexterity, whose fluent prose surges forward with an irrepressible energy, usually pushing him to the furthest edges of a very dark humour and occasionally to a jarring callousness.

The opening novella "We Ate The Chef", for example, starts innocuously enough in Cambridge Circus, but somehow spirals into a Côte d'Azur thriller, climaxing in a particularly ungracious (but utterly appropriate) orgasm. In "Then They Say You're Drunk", Fischer, an adopted South Londoner, explores the quite plausible proposition that Brixton "must have more headcases per square inch than any other place in the world". His trademark stream-of-self-consciousness shares much with the rhythms of stand-up, so it comes as no surprise to find the closing "I Like Being Killed" delving into London's comedy circuit.

But there's a hint of seriousness among the casual cruelty. In the short "Ice Tonight in the Hearts of Young Visitors", Fischer stands on the Hungarian border and concludes bitterly: "I assure you if there is a hell, it will be the most solitary of confinements and cold". --Alan Stewart

Amazon.co.uk Review
If there's one thing Tibor Fischer can do like no-one else, it's to pen snappy, devastating titles. Once you've got past the provocative posturing of this collection's title page, then you're faced with seven brilliantly dubbed pieces--try "We Ate The Chef", "Portrait of the Artist as a Foaming Deathmonger" and "I Like Being Killed" for size.

As all that might suggest, Fischer--known for his Booker-shortlisted Under The Frog and more recently The Thought Gang and The Collector Collector--is a clever writer, a wordsmith of tremendous dexterity, whose fluent prose surges forward with an irrepressible energy, usually pushing him to the furthest edges of a very dark humour and occasionally to a jarring callousness.

The opening novella "We Ate The Chef", for example, starts innocuously enough in Cambridge Circus, but somehow spirals into a Côte d'Azur thriller, climaxing in a particularly ungracious (but utterly appropriate) orgasm. In "Then They Say You're Drunk", Fischer, an adopted South Londoner, explores the quite plausible proposition that Brixton "must have more headcases per square inch than any other place in the world." His trademark stream-of-self-consciousness shares much with the rhythms of stand-up, so it comes as no surprise to find the closing "I Like Being Killed" delving into London's comedy circuit.

But there's a hint of seriousness among the casual cruelty. In the short "Ice Tonight in the Hearts of Young Visitors", Fischer stands on the Hungarian border and concludes bitterly: "I assure you if there is a hell, it will be the most solitary of confinements and cold." --Alan Stewart

Synopsis
A series of humourous short stories starting in misery and dropping towards despair. One character has a quest to read every book ever written in English, devouring them two at a time. The aphoristic tales are sandwiched between two novellas and deliver an apocalyptic vision with a grim smile.

Customer Reviews

If You Read This Book You're Stupid
First of all, I'm not stupid. I have a First Class Honours degree, an IQ of 157, play the piano to Grade 8 standard, yada yada yada. I started reading this unutterable dreck just after finishing Will Self's astounding "The Book of Dave" and it was like eating your main course at The Manoir au Quat' Saisons, and your pudding at McDonald's. Prior to this Fischer was only known to me through his notoriously scathing review of Martin Amis' "Yellow Dog", which had rather put me off reading it (I always find Amis a bit of a struggle, really, with the exception of "Experience" and "Money") but if Fischer hates it, there's a reasonable chance that it's worth reading.

Not bad, but not great
The first story in this collection is the worst, but don't let it put you off. "Then They Say You're Drunk" and "I Like Being Killed" are probably the funniest, in a very dark way, and "Ice Tonight in the Heart of Young Visitors" is actually quite moving. This is the first Tibor Fischer book I've read, and it has made me want to read more by him, even though the hype is a bit off-putting. Ignore it, and you'll enjoy his work.

Maybe I'm over sensitive, but...
It's been said here before, but Tibor Fischer is a writer of some talent whose previous work ( especially Under the Frog ) deserves to be read by anyone who appreciates deep, original and blackly funny work. I've been a huge fan of his since his debut and have read and enjoyed all of his stuff thusfar. Fair enough. So you can understand that I approached 'stupid' with some measure of anticipation, expecting (especially from the blurb on the jacket ) more quality writing, with a bleak and edgy slant on things. And for the most part, that's what I got. I wasn't a fan of the first story, the rest of the book was patchy in places but the last one was fantastic and generally, I was impressed, even though the overall tone was a just a tad too despairing to endear itself to me. Ok. No problem. So far so good.
It's just this one thing that grates, and I'm wondering if I am alone in feeling this, or if I am being oversensitive, or whatever, but in practically every story ( I could go back and check, provide quotations and whatever, but I can't be bothered) if there is a minor background character, a bit player or whatever, who is required to be drunken, thieving and/violent, that character is prefaced with the word 'Irish'. Now I'm not unused to the occasional racial stereotype which sticks in the throat a little bit, but I am prepared to admit that in every stereotype there may be a grain of truth. I am also prepared to admit that for narrative purposes, or just for no reason whatsoever ( the author writing 'in character must necessarily write with the predjudices of that character)or for whatever reason... yes, a drunken violent Irishman may make an appearance in a book I'm reading. Like I said, fair enough. Water. Duck's back. Etc. I'm a man of the world and a mature reader and I can see that this is necessary at times. No problem.
But when I'm reading a book where for no reason whatsoever that I can attribute to plot or character development, in nearly every single bloody story the kind of stereotype that gets seriously under my skin makes a seemingly uncalled-for appearance... ok like I said, the first time I don't even notice, the second time I raise my eyebrows, the third time I clear my throat... and by the sixth or seventh time I can't help being a little bit angry, and very sure that I'm not imagining things anymore.
Which begs the question... why? You could argue that every nationality comes off as badly here.. we are talking about a book lazily littered with mean Scots, fantastically rude French, shady looking types who are assumed to be Turks, Russian gangsters ( male ) and rent-a-brides (female); the list goes one. So perhaps you could argue that Fischer doesn't have a thing about needlessly reinforcing Irish stereotypes, because he does it with everybody... so that's alright then. Yes. I would naturally not jump to the conclusion that Fischer actually may have a problem, the kind of problem that if he weren't the educated author type but were merely a guy on a bus, we might call racism... No, I wouldn't want to jump to that conclusion or make that kind of easy accusation or anything like that. But in the marked absence of any other explanation, it seems to be the shortest distance between two points. Or maybe, since Fischer is a 'funny' writer, it's all a big joke.

In that case, chortle. And indeed, guffaw.