The Bone Clocks

This novel has more texture than a 90's art installation piece.  The Bone Clocks is part fantasy, satire, dsytopian tale, modern fiction and some new genres I'm not even sure what they are. It's told from multiple points of view, it has an insane amount of names, it takes place on multiple continents and is set in the past and the future.  It has inside jokes that I knew were inside jokes but didn't quite get. In that respect…well, its quite British.  Quite.

One character is a British author named Crispin Hershey.  Crispin is a weird name for Americans.  For me, it does not exactly conjure up super sexy images but, you know, maybe it could work.  Steven Soderbergh could make a sequel to Magic Mike called Magic Crispin.  Announcer: "Ladies, put down your tea cozies and give it up for CRISPIN!!"  (Crispin, fat, middle-aged, pale author comes out in a smoking jacket and pipe) Crispin: "Well, isn't this droll."

I liked The Bone Clocks but be prepared for a challenge.  Instead of one long ride, prepare yourself to go the carnival instead.  Oh, we are going to go on the Scrambler for a while, and now the Ferris Wheel, oh, and a little detour on some Aaron Sorkin section also known as The Teacups.  Eventually you get back on the big coaster but you feel a little dizzy.  It's like that.

I actually had the flu for a bit when I was reading this, so my drink of choice was an irresponsible amount of Nyquil. I think it would make sense to drink with a classy, masculine winter drink.  The Chancellor:  2 oz. blended Scotch, 1 oz. ruby port, 1/2 oz. french vermouth,  2 dashes of orange bitters.  Stir well with cracked ice, strain and serve in a cocktail glass.