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Not the End of the World Kindle Edition
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- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBack Bay Books
- Publication dateMay 5, 2009
- File size3008 KB
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Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Review
From the Inside Flap
This is a daring, witty and provocative collection of twelve thematically-linked stories.
Inspired by Ovid?s Metamorphoses or, if you prefer, by Prada, Mary Poppins, Moschino and Barbie, these are stories of abandoned children and lonely adults, the seductiveness of our consumer society and fatalism in a post-Apocalyptic world.
From Charlene and Trudi, shopping madly while bombs explode outside, to gormless Eddie, a cataloguer of fish, and Meredith Zane who has discovered the secret to eternal life, each story brings to life a startling cast of characters. Linking the stories is an exploration of the infinite variety of ways in which people attempt to change the world around them, and themselves. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHARLINE AND TRUDI GO SHOPPING
I want,' Charlene said to Trudi, 'to buy my mother a birthday present.'
'OK,' Trudi said.
'Something I can put in the post. Something that won't break.'
Trudi thought about some of the things you could put in the post that might break:
A crystal decanter.
A fingernail.
An egg.
A heart.
A Crown Derby teapot.
A promise.
A mirrored-glass globe in which nothing but the sky is reflected.
'How about a scarf?' she suggested. 'In velvet dévoré. I love that word. Dévoré.'
Charlene and Trudi were in a food hall as vast as a small city. It smelt of chocolate and ripe cheese and raw meaty bacon but most of the food was too expensive to buy and some of it didn't look real. They wandered along an avenue of honey.
'I could buy a jar of honey,' Trudi said.
'You could,' Charlene agreed.
There was plenty of honey to choose from. There was lavender honey and rosemary honey, acacia and orange blossom and mysterious manuka. Butter-yellow honey from Tuscan sunflowers and thick, anaemic honey from English clover. There were huge jars like ancient amphorae and neat spinster-sized pots. There were jars of cut-comb honey that looked like seeded amber. There was organic honey from lush South American rainforests and there was honey squeezed from parsimonious Scottish heather on windswept moorlands. Bees the world over had been bamboozled out of their bounty so that Trudi could have a choice, but she had already lost interest.
'You could buy her soap,' Trudi said. 'Soap wouldn't break. Expensive soap. Made from oatmeal and buttermilk or goat's milk and vanilla pods from . . . wherever vanilla pods come from.'
'Mauritius. Mainly,' Charlene said.
'If you say so. Soap for which ten thousand violet petals have been crushed and distilled to provide one drop of oil. Or soap scented with the zest of a hundred bittersweet oranges.'
'I'm hungry. I could buy an orange,' Charlene said.
'You could. Seville or Moroccan?'
'Moorish,' Charlene said dreamily. 'I would like to visit a Moorish palace. The Alhambra. That's an exotic word. That's the most exotic word I can think of, offhand. Alhambra.'
'Xanadu,' Trudi said. 'That's exotic. A pleasure dome. Imagine having your own pleasure dome. You could call it Pleasureland. Isn't there a Pleasureland in Scarborough?'
'Arbroath,' Charlene said gloomily.
'With shady walks through cool gardens,' Trudi said, 'where the air is perfumed with attar of roses.'
'And fountains and courtyards,' Charlene said. 'Fountains that run with nectar. And courtyards full of peacocks and nightingales and larks. And swans. And gold and silver fish swimming in the fountains. And huge blue and white marbled carp.'
They were walking down a street of teas. They were lost.
'Who would think there were so many different teas in the world?' Trudi mused. 'Chrysanthemum tea, White Peony, Jade Peak, Oriental Beauty Oolong, Green Gunpowder, Golden Needle, Hubei Silver Tip, Drum Mountain White Cloud, Dragon's Breath tea — do you think it tastes of dragon's breath? What do you think dragon's breath tastes like?'
'Foul, I expect,' Charlene said. 'And all day long,' she continued, 'in the pleasure dome-'
'Pleasureland,' Trudi corrected.
'Pleasureland. We would eat melon and figs and scented white peaches and Turkish Delight and candied rose petals.'
'And drink raspberry sherbet and tequila and Canadian ice wine,' Trudi enthused.
'I should go,' Charlene said. She had failed to recover her spirits since the mention of Arbroath. 'I've got an article to write.' Charlene was a journalist with a bridal magazine. 'Ten Things To Consider Before You Say "I Do".'
'Saying "I Don't"?' Trudi suggested.
'Abracadabra,' Charlene murmured to herself as she crossed against the traffic in the rain, 'that's an exotic word.' Somewhere in the distance a bomb exploded softly.
It had been raining for weeks. There were no taxis outside the radio station. Charlene was worried that she was developing a crush on the man who searched her handbag in the reception at the radio station.
'I know he's quite short,' she said to Trudi, 'but he's sort of manly.'
'I once went out with a short man,' Trudi said. 'I never realized just how short he was until after I'd left him.' There were no taxis at the rank. There were no taxis dropping anyone off at the radio station.
Trudi frowned. 'When did you last see a taxi?'
Charlene and Trudi ran from the radio station, ran from the rain, past the sandbags lining the streets, into the warm, dispassionate space of the nearest hotel and sat in the smoky lounge and ordered tea.
'I think he's ex-military or something.'
'Who?'
'The man who searches the bags at the radio station.'
A waitress brought them weak green tea. They sipped their tea daintily — an adverb dictated by the awkward handles of the cups.
'I've always wanted to go out with a man in a uniform,' Trudi said.
'A fireman,' Charlene suggested.
'Mm,' Trudi said thoughtfully.
'Or a policeman,' Charlene said.
'But not a constable.'
'No, not a constable,' Charlene agreed. 'An inspector.'
'An army captain,' Trudi said, 'or maybe a naval helicopter pilot.'
The weak green tea was bitter.
'This could be Dragon's Breath tea, for all we know,' Trudi said. 'Do you think it is? Dragon's breath?'
There was no air in the hotel. Two large, middle-aged women were eating scones with quiet determination. A well-known journalist was seducing a girl who was too young. Two very old men were speaking in low pleasant tones to each other about music and ancient wars.
'Thermopylae,' the men murmured. 'Aegospotami, Cumae. The "Dissonant Quartet".'
'I really want a cat,' Trudi said.
'You can't keep a cat in town,' Charlene said.
'You can't keep a cat down?'
'You can't keep a cat in town.'
'You can.'
'You need something small like a rodent,' Charlene said.
'A capybara's a rodent, it's not small.'
'A hamster,' Charlene said, 'a gerbil, a small white mouse.'
'I don't want a rodent. Of any size. I want a cat. Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty. If you say something five times you always get it.'
'You made that up,' Charlene said.
'True,' Trudi admitted.
'I'd like something more unusual,' Charlene said. 'A kangaroo. A reindeer or an otter. A talking bird or a singing fish.'
'A singing fish?'
'A singing fish. A fish that sings and has a magic ring in its stomach. A huge carp that is caught in a fishpond — usually at a royal court somewhere — and cooked and served at the table and when you bite into the fish you find a magic ring. And the magic ring will lead you to the man who will love you. Or the small white mouse which is the disguise of the man who will love you.'
'That would be a rodent then.'
'Failing that,' Charlene continued, ignoring Trudi, 'I would like a cat as big as a man.'
'A cat as big as a man?' Trudi frowned, trying to picture a man-sized cat.
'Yes. Imagine if men had fur.'
'I think I'd rather not.'
The waitress asked them if they wanted more of the weak green tea.
'For myself,' the waitress said, uninvited, 'I prefer dogs.' Charlene and Trudi swooned with delight at the idea of dogs.
'Oh God,' Trudi said, overcome by all the breeds of dog in the world, 'a German Shepherd, a Golden Retriever, a Great Dane, a Borzoi — what a great word — a St Bernard, a Scottie, a Westie, a Yorkie. An Austrian Pinscher, a Belgian Griffon, a Kromfohrlanders. The Glen of Imaal Terrier, the Manchester, Norwich, English Toy, Staffordshire, Bedlington - all terriers also. The Kai, the Podengo Portugueso Medio, the Porcelaine and the Spanish Greyhound. The Bloodhound, the Lurcher, the Dunker, the Catahoula Leopard Dog, the Hungarian Vizsla, the Lancashire Heeler and the Giant German Spitz!'
'Or a mongrel called Buster or Spike,' Charlene said.
The waitress cleared away their tea things. 'Money, money, money, money, money,' she whispered to herself as she bumped open the door to the kitchen with her hip. The electricity failed and everyone was suddenly very quiet. No one had realized how dark the rain had made the afternoon. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Back Cover
About the Author
Product details
- ASIN : B0028MVH3C
- Publisher : Back Bay Books (May 5, 2009)
- Publication date : May 5, 2009
- Language : English
- File size : 3008 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 266 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #332,412 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #50 in Contemporary British & Irish Literature
- #286 in Literary Short Stories
- #438 in British & Irish Literary Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Kate Atkinson is an international bestselling novelist, as well as playwright and short story writer. She is the author of Life After Life; Transcription; Behind the Scenes at the Museum, a Whitbread Book of the Year winner; the story collection Not the End of the World; and five novels in the Jackson Brodie crime series, which was adapted into the BBC TV show Case Histories.
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Top reviews from the United States
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Although you quite often feel disconnected, story wise, Atkinson’s main hook is her unique way with words. So even though you’re not really sure where she’s going in many cases, she still manages to hook you in with her humorous, offbeat, yet somewhat depressing tales. After reading five books by this author, I’m now convinced that she’ll never tell a happy story about happy people in any sort of happy situations. This just isn’t her style. Her main characters are quite often miserable in whatever existence they find themselves thrown in. Most of the father figures and leading men are twits, and very few people in these pages believe in any sort of God, so they plod on day to day with sullen faces, hoping against hope that their fortunes will somehow miraculously turn. Alas, they seldom ever do.
A major drawback to these short stories, ironically, is the fact that they all seem to end too quickly. Every one of these stories seemed to suggest that, had the author wanted, she could have fleshed each of these tales out into a full novel. One wishes she had. See, even though the characters are quite downtrodden, Atkinson has such a humorous way of dealing with these characters that you tend to literally laugh out loud as you’re reading.
The short story bit was a nice idea, but I’m glad that she elected to go back to telling full length stories after this one was released. If you’ve never read one of this author’s works, I implore you to start out with one of her full length books first (her first two were brilliant, I haven’t made may way around to reading most of the latter stuff). If you truly enjoy her bizarre style, there’s a good chance you’ll like this quirky diversion she presents here.
Top reviews from other countries
Its not really a collection of short stories - well, it is , but if you can't get your head around it, then read the first and last chapters again ( miss out the rest ) after your initial reading and all will be revealed and become perfectly clear (hopefully) .
Make use of your Google Latin to English translator if you don't read Latin like a native - understanding those phrases will help you understand the book itself .
Someone who gave it one star thought the quotations from Ovid, Emily Dickinson, St Paul et al. were "pretentious" but they are gateways to further reading , and this, further knowledge . I love books that take me on journeys through other books - knowledge gathering is never wasted .
It's challenging reading but if you set yourself up at the beginning ( I didn't and had to re-read it twice before I clicked on) the way I have suggested , you will find it sad, funny poignant and ultimately a bit terrifying .
Its not Jackson Brodie territory so be prepared if you love JB and Kate's writing - its quirkier , more like "Human Croquet" .
I love everything she writes - sometimes , its challenging stuff but ultimately , Kate Atkinson is never, ever boring !
Some of the stories were great but ended just as I was getting into them, they left me wanting more, where as others were just dull and didn't grab me at all. I guess that is the nature of the short story though! It takes a lot of skill to hook your reader in a short space of time and if they are left wanting more you have done a good job, but I actually like it when a short story wraps things up nicely, it is more comforting to know how things end. Some of these felt like the end of a chapter, rather than the end of the story and that annoyed me. It felt like a group of ideas which she just didn't explore further.
I had no idea that the characters were linked until I read some of these reviews! I guess it didn't grab me enough to pay attention. Admittedly I didn't get any of the mythology references either (I'm not a complete philistine, just uneducated, but admittedly it went way over my head!)
I think Kate Atkinson's strongest point all round is the complexity of her characters and there just wasn't the time to explore them in this so I was a little disappointed.
In fairness I am not a huge sci fi/ fantasy fan but I do love it when reality meets fantasy, that is a genre that can be extremely satisfying and fascinating to explore. But I ended up only enjoying about a third of this book and I found myself reluctantly trudging through it rather than hankering for the next chapter, as I do with the rest of her books!
I think you really have to enjoy short stories to be able to get through this book and maybe know your stuff when it comes to Greek Mythology!
The stories are linked so we meet up some of the characters in different stories, sometimes only with a name check, sometimes with a role to play. The same central characters from the first story appear in the last one creating a complete circle. One of Atkinson's strengths is her characterisation and this is as true in the short stories as in her novels with an eclectic and engaging cast. The stories are playful, darkly witty and fantastic (in the true sense of the word) with touches of laugh-out-loud humour.
As others have said, though, she does not provide neat endings with all loose ends tied up - but the stories provide wonderful entertainment, which I, for one, will enjoy re-reading. Mary Smith author of No More Mulberries





