One for my Baby

I am currently reading a novel by Tony Parsons called One for my Baby (having just finished the somewhat disturbing Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs). I have long resisted reading Tony Parsons on two grounds, first that he now writes for the Daily Mirror and secondly that he used to be married to Julie Burchill.

Julie Burchill is someone who I have mixed feelings about. She is undoubtedly a very readable journalist, but she has managed over the years to turn herself from a hip young journalist/style icon writing for the NME into a overweight, sugary charicature. She reminds me a lot of Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter, plump, softly spoken but with an evilly venemous edge to her.

This is all supposition of course, I have never actually met Ms Burchill and I'm sure that she is probably very nice. I have formed my judgemnets of her purely by reading articles and seeing interviews on tv. And as I have said as a journalist she is very readable, and i enjoyed watching her series Sugar Rush on tv last year, although I was aware whilst I was enjoying it of how immensely shallow the whole thing was - scoring approximately zero in the meaningfulness and depths department.

Anyway I am digressing, what I was trying to say is that I am finding Tony Parsons, so far, very readable. Not immensely deep, but an enjoyable read nevertheless.