SPOONING WITH ROSIE
Rosie Lovell
£
18.99, Fourth Estate
With a double entendre title, it comes as no surprise that cook Rosie Lovell
cites “dirtiness and cake” as her main modus vivendi motivations.
Hailed as the Nigella for the next generation, Lovell is actually much more
Brixton market than Belgravia Square, primarily because, for the last five
years, that edgy stretch of south London turf has been home to her highly successful
deli. It was at the deli that the idea for a cookery book germinated, but she
only got round to writing it because of dramatic circumstances. Feeling unwell
for a while, Lovell was eventually diagnosed with a brain haemorrhage and needed
life-saving surgery, but rather than just take time out to recuperate like
most of us would she used the six months away from her business to put this
together.
The beauty of Spooning With Rosie is that Lovell dispenses with chefy hyperbole
and writes like a real person, telling us about nights on the lash with hip
bands like Basement Jaxx (hence the recipes for hangover munchies) and what
to eat if you’re in search of a bit of comfort or out to impress a date.
Not that she’d have to try very hard. As the book’s many photographs
show, Lovell is easier on the eye than a bottle of Optrex. A welcome antidote
to the kitchen bully boys and the smug organic-only brigade that is, because
of its autobiographical approach, a surprisingly compelling read.
NOT IN MY NAME
Julie Burchill and Chas Newkey-Burden
£
8.99, Virgin Books
“
It’s an awful thing to say, but it would have been perfect if she’d
died in a car crash five years ago.” This is what the writer Toby Young
once said of fellow journalist Julie Burchill. Clearly, if you provoke a quote
like that then it’s a fair bet you’re something of an acquired taste.
For over 30 years, Burchill has been a journalist-agitator in extremis, not so
much ruffling feathers as tarring and feathering them. Whether you love her or
love to loathe her, no other commentator writing today possesses Burchill’s
incite-to-riot quality, her ability to firebomb received Establishment wisdoms.
Armed with a new partner in spleen-venting, Chas Newkey-Burden, the target here
is the hypocrisy they both believe is coursing through contemporary culture.
Taking its title from the anti-Iraq war protesters’ slogan, Not In My Name
is essentially a collection of columns chronicling the myriad irritants that
get under Burchill’s and Newkey Burden’s skin. Po-faced condemners
of reality TV, chav haters, George Bush bashers, ex-smokers, anti-Americans – the
list of hackle-raising hypocrites is lengthy, with each getting sprayed with
their individual brand of invective. Alternating subjects, rather than jarring
both writers’ styles, compliment each other with neither going in for finger-wagging
self-righteousness. That’s actually the kind of attitude they’re
trying to lampoon; both want to satirise the absurdities and contradictions of
modern life. Some of the topics tackled are serious and others take a pop at
lighter issues, but whatever’s in the firing line you’ll find yourself
thinking, “Oh, they’ve got a point”. Even if you disagree with
the arguments put forward, though, they will still make you think, which is all
you can really ask from a book.
BOY RACER
Mark Cavendish
£
18.99, Ebury Press
Unless you’re a cycling fan, chances are you’ve never heard of Mark
Cavendish. That’s not because his achievements aren’t worthy of press
praise, but because in Britain cycling traditionally hasn’t been afforded
much of the media pie. However, largely because the GB cycling team’s medal
haul at the Beijing Olympics was so prolific its pauper status is gradually changing
with Cavendish set to join the legendary Lance Armstrong as one of the sport’s
few crossover stars.
Boy Racer charts Cavendish’s remarkable career to date. The book sets his
early story against his experiences of the Tour de France, providing an up-close
account into the physical and psychological demands of racing at the highest
level. So far, so predictable. Sportsman tells how hard it is to be a top-flight
athlete without actually offering any insight or honest opinions in case it results
in career harm. The refreshing thing about Cavendish is he obviously doesn’t
give a care about treading on ego-sensitive toes. Consequently, we get forthright
views on everything from fellow riders and coaches to journalists and drug cheats.
In fact, Cavendish has such a pull-no-punches style if he ever decides to hang
up his bike he could have a healthy future in boxing. A real insider’s
take on a dog-eat-dog, drama-crammed world.
Jason Jones chews over the dog-eat-dog worlds of media, sport and cookery