Book Review: The Drought - Steven Scaffardi

First off, I should probably start off by admitting that, in this case, the title "book review" is a misnomer. No, I haven't sunk so low as to ignore the old adage "don't judge a book by its cover," but I did [somewhat reluctantly] manage to struggle through the first chapter of this novel.

Having been a member of goodreads for quite a while, I am always happy to receive new recommendations on what books to add to my ever-creaking shelves next. While I usually stick to reading other people's reviews, I was met with an interesting proposition, when stand-up comedian and author [and I use those terms loosely] Steven Scaffardi, offered me the chance to download and read his latest lad-lit offering "The Drought" for completely free.

Of course, being a stingy student, and a keen fan of the lad-lit genre [which is basically chick-lit but for guys, if you couldn't guess], I would've been a fool to say no, especially to someone who had been compared to previous authors I have read, such as Matt Dunn and Mike Gayle. Before downloading any free material, however, I decided to read the first chapter of the book that appears free-to-view on Scaffardi's blog.



Long story short, The Drought is about Dan Hilles, a fallen Casanova whose charm has gone MIA, resulting in a long period of sexual inactivity. Throughout the novel, he calls upon several friends to ensure that he gets his mojo back and the magic happening. Well, he does if you can get that far into the book, anyway.

Despite being familiar with the genre, and not exactly loathing the premise, I could not be won over by Scaffardi's first chapter at all. The writing style, whilst not entirely off-putting, isn't conducive to humour at all, and simply makes the reader feel as if they're wading through treacle to get to a punchline. The punchlines themselves, once you've found them, really aren't that special anyway, resulting in a mild 'heh', rather than the big, belly, Brian Blessed-esque laughs that can be generated from most other books in the genre. [But, of course, humour is subjective, so others may take to Steven Scaffardi's jokes like a duck to water.]

Dan Hilles is portrayed as a clumsy, yet well meaning person when it comes to love. In many ways, he could be The Big Bang Theory's Howard Wolowitz crossed with Mr Bean. Unfortunately, however, he has the humour of a funeral on a wet Wednesday. His mishaps don't, unfortunately, cause the reader to feel any sympathy for him, as he comes across as a bit of a sex-crazed douchebag [for lack of a better phrase].

At the end of the day, The Drought is exactly that: dry, boring, and seemingly never-ending. From the first, utterly mind-numbing sentence [which stirs up about as much intrigue as finding a twig in a heavily wooded area], the tale [or at least the first chapter] is a work that made me internally scream: "OH FOR GOD'S SAKE. IS THIS FINISHED YET!?"
A fellow reviewer remarked that the book made her cry - I can assure you that you won't be bawling tears of joy at this novel.

RATING: 2/10 - [First chapter only. I might read the rest of it when I have a death wish.]

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Lo Reid’s Hypnotist Show: Low indeed

 

Hypnotism has always been a rather strange phenomenon to me. Although I usually pride myself on not eating up all the junk that my nearest television set throws at me, I’ve been all over the issue of televised hypnotism like a tramp on chips. 

From childhood, I remember shows where hypnotists would conveniently forget to break a spell that they have cast onto unwitting members of the public, resulting in tragic, hectic, but ultimately incredibly humorous effects. Of course, I’ve since realised that hypnotism doesn’t revolve around magic or spells of any sort, and that it is merely the power of suggestion combined with incredible concentration. Be that as it may, hypnotists still receive relatively negative press, even when their doings are not being sensationalised to almost-Daily Mail-esque proportions.

Being a psychology student, I know that stereotypes aren’t healthy, so I jumped at the chance to see Lo Reid, one of Europe’s most famous and prolific hypnotists, in a show at Teesside University on the 23^rd of February. 

After a couple of speeches from a bunch of ex-servicemen who had somehow arrived in Middlesbrough with absolutely no money [and without the necessary camouflage and ammo to defend themselves from the chavs in the area], Lo Reid took to the stage; the room filling with expectation from past show-attendees, and bewilderment from skeptics such as myself.  Dressed from head to toe in black leather, a look that suggested she was also available to hire as a low-budget Debbie Harry replacement, Reid attempted a quick stand-up routine to warm up the crowd. By ‘attempted stand-up’, I of course mean that she delivered a tirade filled to the brim with F-bombs and downstairs body-parts, held together with a few genuinely funny punch-lines.

After successfully sourcing 20 volunteers who met her rather stringent criteria [of not being idiots, too drunk, or on medication], the hypnotism finally began. To my dismay, she did not carry a pocket-watch to hypnotise participants with, but insisted that that they had to stare at a specific spot on the wall and relax whilst listening to her instructions. At this point, the audience was told to be as quiet as possible, as this would affect the concentration of the volunteers on stage. While true showmen and show-women, even under these circumstances, would not turn their backs to the audience, all I could really see was the back of Lo Reid’s aging-blonde hair style, and the dead cow that sacrificed its life to provide the skin to make the bulk of her jacket.

Once all of the volunteers were all ‘under’ [and at this point, they were not the only ones feeling ‘veerrrry sleeeeepy’], they were all made to subconsciously act out several scenarios, including being a goldfish, being a train, and somewhat bizarrely, being in their favourite sex positions; a command that resulted in one girl flopping back on her chair and not moving a muscle, and one man roughly grabbing the hypnotist and attempting to mate with her. From this moment on, the show seemed to repeat jokes over, and over again, exposing the crude humour that this country has sadly succumbed to in recent years. Candidates running for NUS Presidency ended up taking their clothes off at various points throughout the show; students hope that this is the only time that they’ll be caught with their pants down.

Other skits included volunteers acting out an Indian Jeremy Kyle sketch [which some called racist], certain participants forgetting the existence of the number 7, and volunteers dancing to Beyoncé’s hit “Single Ladies”, seemingly of their own volition. Unfortunately, I’ve forgotten most of the events that occurred in the rest of the show, proving that I’ve either got a talent for repressing painful memories, or proving how forgettable Lo Reid’s show really is. 

Sadly enough, I’ve seen more highlights in my roommate’s latest hairdo, and the ticket didn’t seem to be worth the paper it was printed on. Duller than a digestive biscuit, and dryer than the desert, the show may be heading to a Student Union bar near you –avoid it at all costs. Lo Reid’s Hypnotist Show is exactly that: low.

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