Laugh out loud

There are very few authors who can make you do that – so cherish the ones who do succeed

Sitting at my table for one as I waited for my lunch to be served, I slipped in my earphones and resumed listening to Meryl Streep reading that Nora Ephron classic, Heartburn. (Yes, I am happy to report that I have finally got the hang of audio books – but that’s a story for another day.) Before I knew it, my surroundings had slipped away and I was in Nora-world where her husband had fallen in love with an impossibly-tall person while she (Nora, not the girlfriend) was seven months pregnant. But while this may sound like tragedy to most of us (and it most assuredly was) Ephron managed to spin comedy gold out of the disaster that was the collapse of her marriage.

Which is how I found myself laughing out aloud at one of the (many) funny bits. And such was my absorption in the tale being told into my ears that it took me a while to realize that the people in the restaurant were looking at me funny as well. What on earth was a grown woman doing laughing uproariously into her Malaysian prawn curry? Aware that I probably looked certifiable I tried to compose myself. It lasted for about a couple of minutes. And then Meryl hissed into my ear about how her husband would even have sex with a Venetian blind, and I was in giggles yet again.

Finally I decided to just give in to the comic bits that would set me off regularly and laugh along with the narrative. After all, the other people in the restaurant had already written me off as a mad old bat, so what did I have to lose?

Besides how often do you get the privilege of reading (or listening to) a book that is genuinely laugh-out-loud funny? Not very often at all, I am afraid. So, when you finally hit upon one – or in my case, re-read it in a different format – then it makes sense to clamber on for a fun-filled ride, punctuated with giggles and chuckles, never mind if you are in public as you chortle away. You folks can keep your judgement. I am happy in my enjoyment.

As I drove back home, I began thinking of the other authors who have the knack of making us laugh out loud like Nora Ephron had managed to do with me that afternoon. The first name that popped into my head was that old childhood favourite, P.G. Wodehouse. My mind flashed back to all the many summer holidays spent devouring the entire Castle of Blandings oeuvre, giggling over the antics of the Earl of Emsworth and his prize-winning pig called, appropriately enough, the Empress of Blandings, and the ever-efficient Baxter, his private secretary, and the whole host of supporting characters who populate his whimsical plots. Once I had swallowed this whole series whole, I had moved on to the Jeeves and Wooster omnibus, which kept me whooping with laughter yet again as I navigated the world of the doltish Bertie Wooster and his ever-resourceful and masterful manservant Jeeves.

My teenage years were also when I discovered another of my favourite comic writers. I know that most people think of Georgette Heyer as a romantic novelist because she is best known for her ‘Regency Romances’. But what most people who haven’t read her don’t realize is that she is also a dab hand at comedy. Her convoluted plots provide enough space to slot in comic bits and Heyer does a great job at working them in seamlessly. If you want to see Heyer at her comic best, read The Grand Sophy, The Talisman Ring, Cotillion. Or actually, read any of her ‘romances’. Laughing out loud comes with the territory.

Gerald Durrell was another author who kept me in whoops in my growing-up years. There was a time in my life when I used to re-read My Family And Other Animals once every year just so that I could laugh at the antics of the Durrell household as they navigated life on the island of Corfu. Last year, I went back and revisited the Durrells, wondering if they would amuse the adult me just as much. And the short answer is: yes, they could – and they did. 

More recently, it is the books of some female comics which have got me cackling loudly as I read them. Mindy Kaling’s self-deprecatory humour in Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me had me chuckling along half in recognition and half in appreciation. Tina Fey’s Bossypants did the same trick as did Miranda Hart’s Is It Just Me? And Caitlin Moran’s How To Be A Woman should come with a warning that you might embarrass yourself reading it in public – as I did. (Yes, yes, I know, there are plenty of male comics out there who are just as funny. But what can I tell you? The funny bone wants what it wants. And in my case, it wants the female voice.)

I am sure that there are plenty of other hilariously-funny authors out there that I am missing out on. If there are any that make you embarrass yourself in public as you laugh out loud while reading, please share their names with me. And I promise, in short order, to share your embarrassment.

Attention, please!

Listening to a book is not quite the same as actually reading one

It all started because of a walk in the park. Winters in Delhi are really the only time you can indulge in this pleasure. And I was determined to do just that this year (air pollution be damned!), chalking up my daily 10,000 steps as I meandered through the paths and crooked lanes of Lodi Garden. And just like everyone else, I carried my phone along so that I could pop my earphones in and listen to some music.

That worked for a while but then I got a bit bored. And I began to wonder if it would make more sense to download an audio book and listen to it as I made my ritual perambulations of the park. After all, there is nothing I love more than reading a good book. So, listening to one would make good sense.

Well, gentle reader, I did just that. I downloaded a crime thriller by a writer who came highly recommended on the Audible app and headed out for my walk, confident that the story would keep me enthralled and one hour would pass in the blink of a second.

Sadly, it didn’t work out like that. The story began well enough but I was barely through the first few pages when my attention began wandering. My gaze fell on a flowering hedge, then moved on to a monument gently lit by the setting sun, and then to the pair of lovers entwined behind a looming tree. And before I knew it, I had tuned out the voice in my ear and was neck-deep in real life.

By the time I tuned back into the book, I had completely lost the thread of what was going on. If I had been reading a book, I would have just flipped the pages to get back to where I left off. But it’s not quite so easy unwinding back to the right bit in an audio book, so I ended up listening to the same bit all over again.

Pay attention now, I said to myself as I finally found my place in the book. And I did just that – for the next ten minutes or do. And then, yet again, my mind began wandering. What do I write about for my next column? What should I make for dinner? What present should I buy for my niece? 

So, it was back to rewinding yet again to catch up on what I had missed. After I had done this half a dozen times, I switched back to music. Walks were too distracting to listen to audio books, I told myself. I will listen to it in bed, hearing my bedside story as if I were a child again. 

But as I settled down under the covers and let the story wash over me, I found myself getting increasingly irritated by the narrator who kept – in my mind, at least – stressing the wrong words in every sentence. And when she began adopting the strangest nasal and high voices for the teenagers in the narrative, I decided to give up.

This was never going to work. Audio books clearly weren’t for me. Or, perhaps, just this audio book wasn’t. Maybe I would have better luck with another one (all recommendations gratefully accepted). 

But as I switched the bedside lamp back on to read a book, I began to wonder why listening to a book wasn’t quite the same thing as reading one. And these are just some of the conclusions I came to:

• Reading is a more active pastime than listening – for me, at least. When I am reading, my brain is completely engaged with the book. I am making sense of the plot, working out the undercurrents and subtexts, making my own judgments of the characters (and how they sound!) and interpreting the nuances of dialogue for myself. I don’t have a narrator inserting himself/herself between me and the book and distorting the experience for me. 
• Reading a book allows for far greater flexibility. You can go back and forth as you wish. If you want to check something that was said in the first chapter that seems more significant now that you are half-way through, no problem. You can flick back and find what you are looking for. Want to reread a particular passage because it has more resonance now that the twist in the tale has been revealed. No problem, go right back. Try doing that in an audio book without going quite mental in the process!
• Reading a book is a far more immersive experience. You can shut out the world and just concentrate on the written word. And sometimes those words can transport you to a different world altogether. Listening is not quite the same thing. Your eyes will wander, and in due course, so will your brain. And you won’t be able to sink into the story, like you would if you were reading it.

That said, I am not ready to give up on audio books just yet. I am going to persist in the hope of training myself to be a better listener. To make the task easier I have just downloaded Poirot’s Finest Cases by Agatha Christie. If Christie can’t keep me engaged, then nothing can!