willoyd

Reading The Great Fortune, the first volume in Olivia Manning's Balkan Trilogy. Growing on me - this series could become addictive!

13. Co-Wives, Co-Widows by Adrienne Yabouza ***** Having reached fifty books in my Reading the World project just before Christmas, I've had a brief hiatus whilst I get my United States tour back up and running: i initially intended only to start this global journey after finishing the American trip, but was too keen to start, and the problem then became that the latter then slid rather on to the back-burner. I'm still pressing on with it (40 reached now), but can't leave this alone much longer - it's too addictive! So, a book for a country (Central African Republic) in a continent that's been a bit of a revelation: I've really enjoyed pretty much every African book so far having read so few before. This latest is apparently the first adult novel from CAR to be translated into English. As Ann Morgan says on her Reading The World website (in several places!), there's a danger in this sort of situation for a book and author to be almost forced to adopt the mantle of 'representing' a country, and i suppose that's true of any book in a project such as mine too, but on the positive side, it's still broadening my range of reading, and these books are increasingly serving as an introduction to a whole range of literature that I'm looking to explore further. Co-Wives, Co-Widows is a slim volume, barely 120-odd pages, in the Dedalus Africa series. It focuses on the impact of the unexpected death of their husband Lidou, a successful builder, on the lives of his two co-wives, especially when Lidou's family led by cousin Zouaboua, a nasty piece of work!) try to take over Lidou's property and money. Ndongo Passy and Grekpoubou have a fight on their hands if they are going to secure their and their children's future. The novel touches on a range of serious subjects, including the situation of women in a highly patriarchal society and systemic corruption at all levels (it is set against the backdrop of a presidential election). However, it's written with such a light touch, that it's the wit and humour that is the main aftertaste, but it's a wit that cuts with a very sharp knife. Yabouza says much in very few words, so few that on occasions it's almost too easy to miss, a single word changing the slicing direction of a sentence, a severe beating of the two wives summarised in barely four or five lines, the brutality underlined by the succinctness and matter of factness of the writing, but easily overlooked if not paying attention! The language feels simple and direct belying a subtlety that took me a while to appreciate. Much of the narrative has an uncomfortable feel from a westerner's perspective (the patriarchy!), but one begins to understand that the women involved (not just the two co-widows) are going to 'succeed' (read survive perhaps, but hopefully also change things) by working within the system rather than always against it. I found this a very quick but thoroughly rewarding read. It initially feels a 'simple' read too,being fooled by the directness of the language, but I was soon disabused of that! Whilst I enjoyed this from the very first page, it was a book that definitely grew on me as I read it, and is one that I will almost certainly return to in the future. And, in the same way that I have started to enjoy exploring the back catalogue of Latin American specialists Charco Press, I'm now looking forward to trying out others in the (smaller) Dedalus Africa series, which has opened up previously hard to come by introductions to other non-English speaking countries from this continent too.

The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters * Well, that was an interesting one. This was the choice for for one of my book groups. The novel is set around the disappearance of a young Mi'kmaq girl whilst the family, from Nova Scotia, are blueberry picking in Maine. She has been kidnapped by a local childless couple, and the novel examines the impact of this event on both the girl herself, Ruthie (renamed Norma by the couple), and her family. Amanda Peters herself is of mixed heritage, part Mi'kmaq, and the book is aimed partly at highlighting the racial prejudices the Mi'kmaq have faced historically, even very recently. It wone an Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction. What?! It's not often our very varied group is in complete accord in our feelings about a book, and on the one or two occasions where we have been in complete agreement, it's been as to how good a book has been, so this one achieved something unique to date for us: unanimous, almost vitriolic, dislike! 'Pedestrian', 'poorly written', 'bland', 'two dimensional' and other similar descriptors were agreed to by all. We were lucky that one of the group had visited one of the Mi'kmaq communities whilst on holiday in Nova Scotia last year, and was able to provide some valuable insight from the introduction she had been given by community members, as this novel provided little if any - indeed, this was regarded as perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the novel, that it could have been set pretty much anywhere in the world. One of our group, with personal insight into being brought up in a family of different heritage, found the character of Ruthie simply unbelievable. We were staggered that this book had won any sort of prize, and bemused by the positive reviews we'd read. All we could think was that the book's cause had given this novel some sort of 'worthy' status that had influenced reviews and jury opinions. TBH I was, if anything, relieved! I'd read this book with a rapidly sinking heart, and only managed to reach the end with massive stints of skim reading. Unrelentingly dreary, tediously predictable in plotting and stereotypical, cardboard cutout characterisation, lacking in any narrative suspense, this was for me representative of the worst sort of mis-lit, a style and genre of writing that I really dislike anyway, and I dreaded being the 'odd man out' at our meeting, convinced that, given the consistently positive reviews from media and online, I was missing something substantial, and going to be on my own. I should have had more faith in the rest of the group! It was interesting talking round the group, how many had feared the same! I struggled to give this one star.

A series of catch up reviews - a long time since I last posted. The first two: 11. Rhine Journey by Ann Schlee ****** Charlotte Morrision is a middle-aged (?) spinster on holiday with her brother and sister-in-law on the German Rhine. Life has become rather unsettled for her as the man she for whom she has acted as housekeeper (thus providing her with occupation, a home and an income) has died, leaving her a small legacy sufficient for independence, if that's what she wants, which is uncertain. On the boat, she's sees a man who she initially mistakes for a previous love and, whilst almost immediately recognising the mistake, it sets off a series of events that become ever more unsettling, particularly as she gets to know the man and his family. I had noted this book owing to a recommendation read somewhere - I thought it was her on Club Read, but can't find the reference anyway - and browsing it in our local bookshop persuaded me almost immediately. Sitting down to read, I was immersed from the word go. It was a three sitting read, but could easily have been one if I'd had the time. I was reminded of one of my favourite writers, EM Forster, both in content - a mixture of A Room With A View (although Germany rather than Italy!) and A Passage to India (startling event turns single woman's life upside down) - and style. This may be the early 1850s (soon after the 1848 uprisings, which do affect the plot) rather than Forster's early twentieth century, but there remained the atmosphere of a woman pushing against the bounds of a patriarchal society (almost without realising in Charlotte's case), with Charlotte submissive to the rule of her tract-waving brother, and en route to the conventional life of a live-in maiden aunt. Although told in the third person, we see the world through Charlotte's mind's eye, including dream sequences which she, and we, are in danger of mistaking for reality - one needs to pay close attention! This book scored on all fronts for me: I loved the sense of place and the atmosphere - reminding me of a cycling trip up the Rhine of a few years ago, even if this was, and felt, over 150 years ago - and the narrative was strong enough to propel me steadily through the book, still with time to savour the words - I just loved the writing, and positively enjoyed absorbing each word and phrase. This was not a book I wanted to rush through. It was good enough that when, at the end, I briefly went back to the start to check up on a few details, I found myself ready to carry on reading all the way through. Overall, a read that really chimed with me, and a full 6 stars. Whether it's a 'favourite', time will tell! 12. A River Runs Through It and Other Stories by Norman Maclean **** Read as the fortieth book in my Tour of the United States, for the state of Montana. Published in the 1970s, this was a trio of pieces of autofiction set in the pre-WW2 years in the country around Missoula, and based on Maclean's outdoor experiences. The eponymous novella (ARRTI), positioned first, is centred on his relationship with his brother Paul, particularly seen through their mutual love of fly-fishing (inherited from their minister father) and a specific holiday in one 1930s summer. The other two are earlier, the main one (USFS 1919) being another 100-page novella on another summer working with the US Forestry Service in the Montana hills, whilst the third, positioned as almost as a 20-page interval between the two longer pieces, focused on time spent logging and, again, on Maclean's relationship with another individual, this time a logging colleague (they weren't friends!). The book was worth reading for ARRTI alone. There was an emotional engagement both through the family connections, and through Maclean's obvious passion for fly-fishing: I know nothing of the latter, but I found myself almost as completely immersed as he obviously was - I loved the technical detail, and his deep involvement in both activity and landscape. The time, the place, the people, particularly the three men (the brothers and, later, the father) were all brought vividly to life, and I was surprised how emotionally involved I became and felt at the end! The other two pieces, although fine pieces of writing, lacked the same intensity to me. They were lively, entertaining, and provided insight on time and place, but never quite reached the same level: I wanted to go back and reread sections of ARRTI, but the other two I found myself content to leave and let live at the end. So, whilst ARRTI was a solid 5-star read, the other two meant that overall the book landed up slightly lower, even if still a good read.

That was my freebie when I first joined back in the late 80s, and it remains one of my favourite sets. A good example of where I prefer the older edition: the latest version, all gold, swirls and colour illustrations, is way too blingy for my taste, whereas this edition seems to fit Austen like a glove.

10. State of Wonder by Ann Patchett ***** A book group choice, this was my third Ann Patchett novel, having previously read, and enjoyed, The Dutch House (for another group) and Commonwealth (for my Tour of the USA), so this was no reluctant read. The premise was very different though to the previous books, rather more in line (perhaps, as I've not read it yet) with Bel Canto: news comes through to pharmacology researcher Melanie Singh that her colleague and friend, dispatched to the Brazilian jungle to check up on a drug research project being carried out there, has died. The information provided is cursory at best. Under pressure from both employers and the colleague's wife to go and find out what has happened (and to follow up on the project investigation), Melanie heads off to Manaus. It's a daunting, almost overwhelming, experience, not helped by the fact that the head of the project is not only highly elusive, but was Melanie's dauntingly clinical supervisor when she was training as a medical doctor, a career she left after a serious accident. It's a complicated, perhaps unlikely scenario, but in Patchett's hands, I found it compulsive reading. The tropical atmosphere is as claustrophobic as I find that sort of climate, the plot hangs together surprisingly well (at least for me) and, as I found with the previous novels, the author is a real story teller; I couldn't put it down. So, it was with a tinge of disappointment, that I reached the end, rather more swiftly than anticipated, not least because it all came together with what felt to be an almighty rush; after three hundred and thirty-odd pages of careful build up, it was all rather abrupt, and jarred somewhat: for me it just didn't follow from what had happened to date (although considering the novel later, I think I can see what Patchett was doing/saying - however discussing it would be rather a plot spoiler). It's also one of those stories that, whilst you are immersed in it (and I was!), it all makes sense, but when you back away from it on completion, and contemplate it, somehow it all feels not quite as credible. But that is almost a compliment, because reading it, I never once doubted, so 'into' the book I became. It certainly promises to make for a good group meeting, raising any number of discussion points both about the novel as a novel, but also some of the broader issues it raises. Well worth its five stars (it lost one with that ending), and the best of the Patchett novels I've read to date.

09. West by Carys Davies *** I came to this book rather indirectly: various reviews and comments had attracted me to Carys Davies's latest novel Clear, but when I tried to obtain a copy, none of my libraries had a copy, and whilst the hardback seems to have gone out of print, the paperback wasn't due out until the end of February. But an earlier novel of Davies's, this one, was available from one of the libraries, so I thought I'd try her writing out with that. West is a slim volume (as is Clear apparently) of just 160 pages, set, surprise, surprise, in the American West of the nineteenth century . Cy Bellman, a widower, reads an article about gigantic bones discovered in Kansas (we now know them to be of dinosaurs), and becomes obsesses with seeing the original animals, so he sets off up the Mississippi-Missouri to find them, leaving his ten-year old daughter Bess with his reluctant sister. The novel then alternates backwards and forwards between Cy's adventures and Bess's experiences waiting. I loved the writing of this - pellucid, precise prose, packing a great saga of a novel into so few pages. Characters are vividly, yet concisely, drawn, and I do get a great feeling of place. So, all the ingredients are there for a rave review. And yet...I could never get past the problem that I just didn't believe the story. Not that Bellman believed the dinosaurs existed - that worked well in fact - nor the happenings both on Bellman's journey and back at home - all to believable in fact - but in the basic premise that he, already having lost a much loved wife, would simply take off and abandon his young daughter to his obviously disapproving sister, knowing that it would take him at least a year, and probably (although not admitting to others) longer. For me, this just didn't ring true, so much so that I never really bought into what happened next. Maybe that's just my twenty-first century sensibilities cutting through. It might have worked for me if Bess's mother was still alive, but this felt like one step too far. On top of that, Cy's journey felt all too aimless; there seemed to be little or no coherence to his search, just vague sorts of wanderings. Maybe that was all the point (if so, I'm not sure precisely what that point was), but it all just led to a sense of irritation, both with the character and with the author! As so often happens in novels with parallel strands, one engages interest far more than the other, and this was no exception, and I found myself increasingly not really caring what happened to Bellman (a study in wasteful futility), whilst in contrast Bess's narrative saw me through to the end, and I was left wanting to know more. So, something of a curate's egg of a novel, hence the middle of the road grading. But, given the book's positive qualities, I'm definitely looking forward to giving Clear a go when the paperback comes out in a week or so's time. Maybe not immediately - I've quite a stack at present! - but certainly in the near future.

07. Orbital by Samantha Harvey ****** A reread for one of my book groups. I only read this last September, and the review still stands. Suffice to say that I possibly enjoyed this even more second time around, allowing myself to mull over each chapter individually. 08. A Sunday in Ville-d'Avray by Dominique Barberis *** Picked up on a whim in a bookshop. Beautifully written, very atmospheric, the torpor and rather melancholic atmosphere permeates every line, reflecting the dullness of this Parisian suburb and life in it (so dull, the narrator's husband refuses to go with her!). Two sisters (one the city centre resitdent narrator, visiting her suburban sister) spend time together and secrets emerge in conversation. Yet, ultimately, this felt all a bit empty and lacking in heft or any real meaning. Maybe that was deliberate, but only a few days later, and I'm already struggling to remember much of the book. It strikes me as an exercise in style rather than substance. The blurb says 'sharply observed and wryly funny', possibly the former, although i didn't really get the point of the observation, but I'd love to know where the latter was. Having said all that, maybe just wrong book at one wrong time? I did enjoy the prose after all.

06. Notes From the Henhouse by Elspeth Barker *** Having read and enjoyed Elspeth Barker's O, Caledonia as my book for Scotland in my round the world tour, I was looking forward to this collection of essays and short stories, reinforced by the reviews I read. Essays depend on high quality writing, and that was for me the primary strength of her novel. In the event, this proved an enjoyable read, but not as compulsive as I had expected. There was again no doubt about the quality of her writing, but there was a sameness to much of it that left me feeling that she was repeating herself - I suspect that individually in a magazine/journal these would have been a great read, but as a collection (even though I tried to pace myself) it was all too much of a muchness. So, I loved the early ones whilst I was fresh, but later on (especially parts 2 and 3) things began to pall. Amongst these there were some highlights, essays on a first driving lesson (what was the instructor thinking?!) and much of part 4 (including Portia the pig!) standing out. The short stories at the end, in the Appendix, were a bit of a damp squib for me - all so similar, all very much in the vein of her novel, and an awful lot of death (in her essays too). So, whilst enoyable, with some excellent prose, it wasn't a keeper; quite unexpected. Maybe I should have spaced reading them out even further?

05. The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley *** A time travel novel that has received a lot of publicity and complimentary reviews, although interestingly those in forums appear to be rather more mixed than I've seen from critics. The premise is that the British government has acquired time travel, and is bring people through from the past. In order not to disturb the time continuum, they are restricted to those who in their own time are just about to die (I'm assuming that they were regarded as dead because they had disappeared into the future!). One of these is Graham Gore, a member of the ill-fated Franklin Expedition. The (unnamed) narrator is employed as a 'bridge', ie someone to guide the inevitably bewildered subject (kidnapee?) through the travails of the 21st century - living as a housemate. So, an interesting, indeed promising, premise which initially worked well for me: following Gore through his adjustments proved interesting with plenty of possibilities. But fairly soon it started to leave me asking "And....?". I was also starting to ask precisely what sort of novel the author inteded this to be. I don't want to suggest that books need to be straitjacketed into a specific style or genre, but I do think the author needs to be very clear about what they are trying to achieve, what the book is about. The problem was that this one seemed to fall between various stools. Obviously it comes over initially as time travel sci-fi (although you rapidly appreciate that the true sci-fi enthusiast is likely to be disappointed, as the author tells us to forget all the technical side of things, and just accept it for what it is!). Romance is almost inevitable, there's just that feel to it. Various interesting social issues are raised, highlighted by the struggle Gore has to adjust to modern day societal norms (not least living unchaperoned in a house with a mixed heritage, female bridge). Then there's the morph into thriller, with, after a fair amount of longueuse in the middle third, a mad rush to a frenetic end with a twist that didn't really work, not least because the book was so determinedly not sci-fi for so long, but then relies on it at the end (and I don't think that's a spoiler). In other words, this is a book that never quite decides what it is, skimming across several genres, multiple ideas, but none in any depth. At the end, it all felt rather superficial, and a mite disappointing, not least given the potential. I haven't read huge amounts of time travel, but just off the top off my head, the likes of The Time-Traveler's Wife and Connie Willis's novels (eg Doomsday Book, To Say Nothing of the Dog) are head and shoulders better than this (even if the Willis novels contain some fairly awful historical faux pas). But, it's a first novel, and there is enough here to suggest that it might be worth keeping an eye out for future books.

#40. Montana: A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean **** Review to follow

Yes, it is. And, yes, you can buy from their site. I do regularly, usually when they have a sale, although I tend to buy individual titles through my local (indie) bookshop - they usually get next delivery.

Just finished a quick read (an afternoon), A Sunday in Ville-d'Avray by Dominique Barberis. Picked up in a bookshop on a whim a few days ago. A reasonably decent read - beautifully written - but didn't really live up to the blurb, quoted reviews on back cover or initial browse. Wryly funny? Really? 3 stars. Getting stuck into this month's 'big' read, The Burgundians by Bart van Loo. A Christmas present from a couple of years ago that for some reason I've long intended/wanted to read but have always seemed to have been deflected from. Very promising start.

Since last posting here, have finished So Long, See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell, my book for Illinois in the Tour of the US - really enjoyed it (5 out of 6 stars), followed by The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley, and Elspeth Barker's collection of essays and short stories Notes From the Henhouse, neither of which quite hit the mark for me for different reasons, both 3 stars, although I loved Barker's writing. Will be starting Orbital tomorrow, a reread for one of my book groups. It was a 6-star read last time out in September, and am looking forward to exploring it further.

#39 Illinois: So Long, See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell ***** I had several possibilities for this state, not least Saul Bellow's The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow and Crossroads by Jonathan Frantzen, two 'big guns', but I opted for this slim novella, barely 135 pages long, mainly because I was intrigued by someone obviously so highly rated (winner of the American Book Award with this novel), but of whose work I knew next to nothing - and even less of the author himself. No regrets either - this was an absolutely captivating contemplation on how we draw our memories together, the impact they can have on our lives, and the destructive impact of an affair between two neighbours on their respective families. I loved the writing, understated, spare even, but all the more vivid as a result: sympathetic if flawed (ie human) characters, the stark environment, the fallout all laid bare: a very human tragedy. It reminded me of Willa Cather's Prairie Trilogy. In this story, two rather insular boys, neighbours and drawn together almost from necessity, are separated by the murder of a local farmer at the hands of, it turns out, one of the boy's fathers. It very soon becomes apparent that the murdered man had been having an affair with the murderer's wife, both men having been nex door neighbours and close friends previously. The other boy is the narrator, looking back on the event from older adulthood, and trying to reconstruct what really happened from his memories and other still available evidence. And, as the author writes, memory is "really a form of storytelling" that often changes in the telling, not least to help us handle our own emotional conflicts which make our true life stories unpalatable - we (almost) all have something we really don't like looking back on in our past (I certainly do - positively cringe-making even now, over 40 years later). "In talking about the past we lie with every breath we draw". Reading Maxwell's biography in Wikipedia, I suspect that there are significant autobiographical elements here: the setting is Lincoln, Illinois, Maxwell's hometown; the narrator's mother dies from Spanish flu when he is about 10 as did Maxwell's mother; one of the main characters is an orphan brought up by aunt and uncle, as was Maxwell for some time; the narrator's father remarries and moves to Chicago with his family - Maxwell's father did the same, as Maxwell rejoined him there. These are all key influences within the book. How deep the autobiography goes, I don't know, but it's a book that feels very personal. It's certainly left me wanting to explore his relatively small oeuvre, just six novels, although more short story collections, and a couple of non-fictions, in amongst his main work, almost 40 years as fiction editor for The New Yorker. 5 stars, although I'm not quite sure why I didn't give it 6, so it might change.