out in my headstraights by appointment only

I wanted to start this blog post with a photo that tied in with olives, but all Google Images would give me were photos of olive trees or tapenade recipes. Then I thought “Hey – olives go in martinis! Let’s look for a sexy martini picture!” Which only resulted in this:

So fuck the photo, I’m just going to steamroll ahead.

The point of this blog post is to talk about the book “Olives”, penned by Mister Alexander of clan McNabb. Now I would like to say that I’ve known Alexander for years and that we go way back, but that’s not true at all. I only know Alexander because I follow him on Twittah, and used to frequent his food blog, The Fat Expat. But even in the brief time that I’ve known him, he’s always provided much amusement with his commentary on local happenings (such as a truly catatonic relationship with the likes of Etisalat).

“Olives” is his first book, self-published I might add, which has revealed to not be as simple as most people would think (that’s a story for another day I’m sure). Having faithfully picked up a Kindle edition of his book for reading on my iPad, I ended up buying the print edition prior to my quick U.S trip last week just because reading books on the iPad are absolute shit for my eyes. I was able to read through the book in under four hours on my flight; I would have certainly have finished sooner had it not been for the man next to me who had the bladder of a pregnant woman.

And so upon my return I showed up for our book club meeting (jet lagged yet trying to remain fabulous) to discuss Olives and the other books we had read. Alexander was our guest at this meeting and I refrained from asking him any poignant questions, considering he was sitting close enough to high-five my face. But, might I add on a random note, there were Maltesers ‘nipple cupcakes’ which won him over.

But less about tits and more about the book. “Olives” has the tagline of ‘A violent romance’, and that is one of the many things it turns out to be. Some characters you are suspicious of, some you want to slap around; I for one would like to be in a threesome with Lars – preferably on an IKEA bed just for giggles. But each character who makes an appearance in the book shifts the story in some way – from minute nudges to earth-shattering revelations, the book does having you hoping for the best for some of the characters.

Conflict is one of the key elements in this book, whether it’s between countries or characters. The moments of serenity are few, but even in those quiet times you know that in the following chapter lurks some sort of tragedy. This doesn’t make the book predictable in any way – by contrast it further reinforces the battles that rage amongst most of the characters. It’s a great read right from the first few pages, so it comes with my stamp of approval (and plus it has ‘dahling’ in one of the chapters).

So go out and buy Olives from your favorite bookstores or on Kindle and make sure to tell Alexander to hurry the hell up with his second book.