Sam Jordison has been revisiting all the past Booker winners and generally finding most of them to be crap. But he likes Roddy Doyle’s Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, which I also happen to like. After his butcher job on Coetzee, and my subsequent call to have him assassinated by laxative overdose, I thought we’d never see eye to eye again. But I can see a thaw in relations happening here. I think he’s stretching a bit much with the Joyce connections (I mean, bildungsroman in Ireland… what are you going to do?) but I’m glad to see a good book made the cut.