I’ve mentioned this book before but only started to read it today, on the train. When your life is consumed by a subject such as cricket, you do become very critical of the (many) books out there. They tend to blur into eachother, forming one big cricket book blob of stats, cliches and annuals.
Fortunately, this makes the best shine even brighter and Harry Thompson’s Penguins Stopped Play is a perfect example. It’s colourfully written, with an easy, flowing dialogue and a great story. Best of all, as Thompson was such a gifted comedy writer, the book is lighthearted with some genuinely funny moments. I’ve not yet reached chapter three, so it could all go downhill dramatically. But I doubt it. Get it.