willoyd

#44 The Book Censor's Library by Bothayna Al-Essa for Kuwait ****** Translated from the Arabic by Ranya Abdelrahman and Sawad Hussain. This is a fantastical satire examining the rise of authoritarianism and the dangers of book censorship : 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 are obvious influences, but oh is this so timely. In a post-Revolution society where imagination and much technology is banned, and conforming to 'logic' is the rule, the unnamed protagonist of this book finds himself a member of the team of book censors responsible for approving (or not) the books people are allowed to read. He's desperate to conform, but finds himself being sucked into the joys of reading (triggered off by reading Zorba the Greek) and into the resistance, the Cancers. At the same time, his daughter is showing scary signs of imagination, where fairy stories (and where did she acquire her knowledge of them) are all too real, making her vulnerable to being shipped off to one of the much feard child rehabilitation centres. I'm not normally a fan of satire, and definitely not of dystopian fiction (and this is both), but, like our protagonist, I was unrelentingly sucked into complete addiction. This was almost an effortless read, particularly noteable given the darkness of the subject matter, the writing crisp and sharp, with not a trace of having been translated. The fantastical element, well controlled, added an edge that both intrigued and entertained (all those rabbits!). Unusually for me, there were some genuine laugh out loud moments. Yet this book is deadly serious, and there were moments which exemplified why I don't enjoy (if that's the right word) dystopian fiction. All in all, a brilliant read. Not quite a 'favourite' (can such a book ever be one?) but another outstanding read on my world tour. Glad to have been able to get hold of this book relatively easily - I thought Kuwait might be one of my more challenging countries that way. This has only recently become available in the UK, and the book is noteably even then printed and published in the States.

42. Orbital by Samantha Harvey ****** A slim novel, just 139 pages, in a beautifully presented paperback (French flaps etc). And an absolutely beautiful read too! A study of one day in the life of 6 astronauts (or rather, 4 astronauts and 2 cosmonauts!) on the International Space Station - a day that includes 16 sunrises as they orbit the earth once every 90 minutes - it may be set in space, but it's so much about the human existence and our place on the earth, or, indeed, in the universe. It was a book that I had to force myself to put down, as to really appreciate it I needed more time and space (!) than one continuous sitting would allow me, and it cries out to be reread soon. Harvey's writing is exquisite, and I was totally involved from the very first word, when the crew are soundly asleep in the early hours of their 'day': Rotating about the earth in their space craft they are so together, and so alone, that even their thoughts, their internal mythologies, at times convene. Sometimes they dream the same dreams - of fractals and blue spheres and familiar faces engulfed in dark, and of the bright energetic black of space that slams their senses. Raw space is a panther, feral and primal: they dream it stalking through their quarters. Well, I loved it anyway! This is on the Booker longlist, and the shortlist is going to be announced in a fortnight's time. This, IMO, has got to be there - if it isn't, the six that are had better be pretty amazing!

41. Walking the Bones of Britain by Christopher Somerville ***** A fascinating walk through Britain from the Outer Hebrides to the Thames Estuary, travelling through the chronology of British geology, from the oldest Pre-Cambrian rocks in the UK on the Isle of Lewis, through to some of the youngest in the south-east. Somerville is a lucid and always interesting writer and whilst there wasn't a huge amount of new learning here for me, I found several individual jigsaw pieces sliding neatly into place, and the pages (and miles) rattling along. I found his commentary on some of the related issues (environmental impact of HS2, response to climate change flooding in the south-east, etc) very much to the point, in an understated way. The list of books, othe resources, and sites to visit at the back definitely add to the usefulness to - I've already installed the BGS Viewer app on my phone, and started using it regularly. I'll definitely be dipping into this for reference and reading in future, and whilst it's a mite overstated IMO, the Specator opinion quoted on the cover describing this as 'one of our finest gazeteers of the British countryside' at least points in a similar direction as mine!

40. Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck ** Translated from the German by Michael Hofmann. I came to this via the International Booker (so that shows such prizes work!), which this won, and a friend's recommendation. Set in the old East Germany this is the story of an affair between 19-year old Katherina and 53 year old Hans- married with a son. It's an affair that starts off with an intensity that matches the suddenness and unexpectedness of their meeting, but is ultimately, and almost inevitably, doomed - we know that from the outset as the novel is framed by an older and now married Katherina receiving boxes of letters etc after Hans's death. It's also an affair paralleled by the fall of the Iron Curtain: Kairos is ancient Greek for 'the right or critical moment' - critical moments both in Katherina and Hans's lives, and in the history of Gemany. There is no doubt in my mind of the quality of Erpenbeck's writing. The rapid switching back and forth between thought strands that opened the first 'proper' chapter gave an instant edge, a freshness, that instantly grabbed me (and was the final hook in buying the book!), and there was a depth that kept me involved for quite a while. But gradually, it started to feel like so many other similar stories, things started to get rather repetitive (and unremitting), and when the submission and abuse came in, I was on the way out. I did skim through to the end, but there was nothing that persuaded me that this was other than the same old same old. Natasha Walters in the Guardian opened her review with the words "Jenny Erpenbeck's Kairos is one of the bleakest and most beautiful books I have ever read". Well we half agree, but her concept of beauty and mine must be very different!

39. Cheerful Weather for the Wedding by Julia Strachey **** Picked up on a whim in my local independent: Persephone Press is almost always worth a try, and the blurb was very persuasive, especially the recommendation quote from Virginia Woolf, and the phrase describing this as an "eccentric mixture of Katherine Mansfield, Cold Comfort Farm, and EM Forster" (all three of which I love!). At barely 120 pages, this was very much a quick read, finished in under a day and a couple of sittings. And I'm just not sure! Dolly Thatcham is about to get married to the older Owen Bigham on a breezy, bright March day, and the family are gathering and preparing for the day's ceremony; she herself needs sustenance (a bottle of rum!), whilst an ex-lover (or is he?) is waiting to put his oar in. It's a perfect scenario for a dissection of upper middle class social mores, and in many respects this matches expectations. I could instantly see the Cold Comfort Farm connection, portraying much of the same humour and bite with a cast of characters that included the suitably awful (if not quite as luridly drawn!). The Mansfield and Forster connections were not quite so obvious however, and, in fact, it was the quality of writing (at which these two are so superb) which left me asking questions. I think, I hope, it was deliberate, but there was a clunkiness at times which, whilst underlining the action, left me wondering. Also, whilst both Mansfield and Forster are outstanding character writers, there simply wasn't a similar depth here. That's almost inevitable: it's a rare piece of satire that manages that, and this was no exception to the rule. We're not talking carboard cutouts, but nor are we talking rounded individuals either - not surprising given the extensive cast, the space, and the material, but Mansfield? Forster? I think not - this was a very different kettle of fish. However, I did however find myself laughing out loud on a couple of occasions, which is no mean feat for an author to pull off, and, allowing for that clunky niggle, I did find this funny, deliciously so at times, especially in the wake of books like Richmal Crompton's Family Roundabout. The problem is that this latter sort of book has rather got lost in the mists of time, just like those that Stella Gibbons was spoofing, and unless familiar with them and/or 1930s English society, much of the point could easily be missed. But, whatever the faults (and, as I said, I'm not even sure if all these are faults!), I galloped through this, and found it a very easy and enjoyable read. It actually left me wanting more, even if that might have been a mite more depth, but that's still no bad thing. I can easily see me returning to this in the not too distant future to see if I can make my mind up! BTW, the edition I read was in Persephone's Classics series, which are supplied with the full colour cover rather than their standard grey offering. I always like their covers, but absolutely loved this one, the painting used being 'Girl Reading' by Harold Knight, a near perfect match IMO. They say don't judge a book by its cover, but this one certainly attracted me and made me pick it up!

38. Oxygen by Andrew Miller *** Read for one of my book groups. I've previously read a couple of Miller's later books, which I've really enjoyed, and I mean really enjoyed, both featuring on my favourites list, so I was delighted that my group chose one of his to read for our September meeting. This was a bit different from the get-go, as the previous two, Pure and Now We Shall Be Entirely Free, had both been historical fiction, whilst this was contemporary. It focuses on four characters: Alice Valentine, an elderly woman dying from cancer, Larry and Alex, her two sons (Larry an ex-pro tennis player and recently written-out soap star in America, gradually disconnecting from wife and troubled young daughter, and struggling to adjust; Alex a translator and currently caring for his mother), and Laszlo Lazar, a Hungarian emigre and playwright living in Paris. Laszlo is tenuously connected to the first three through Alex, as Alex is translating one of his plays into English. Chapters focus on one character at a time (in no particular order), and much of the story is told as through the subject's eyes. The writing is, as with both previous reads, brilliant. I love the precision and detail painting a vivid picture, sucking me in to each scene. This and the perspectives taken meant that the characters were really fleshed out too, so for about the first quarter or so of the book I was enthralled. Gradually, however, I found myself disengaging, growing restless: this was all very beautiful and insightful, but when was anything actually going to happen? We'd had a couple of what now seemed false starts, but otherwise, and now we are a third of the way into the book, nothing but nothing was actually doing. I think part of the problem also was that there were effectively four threads, and whilst three were reasonably closely connected (although Larry in America was still distant for much of the book), the Laszlo thread never really linked up - this was really two completely different stories intertwined, barely connected by the 'oxygen' thread, which, whilst adding to the imagery, was nowhere near enough to help create a fully successful single novel. Well, eventually, things did happen, but by then I was starting to skim, and what happened wasn't enough to pull me fully back in, although, forcing myself to settle down for the last pages, I loved the ending! Apparently (from Wikipedia), this, Miller's third book, received mixed reviews on publication, and, reading the quotes, I can't really disagree with any of them, both positive and, perhaps to a lesser extent in some cases, negative (some positively didn't like the ending!). I'm glad that several suggested this wasn't as good as his first two, as I have those to come! I am surprised though that this was shortlisted for both Booker and Whitbread. Still good enough that I will continue to look forward to some of his other work.

37. The Book Censor's Library by Bothayna Al-Essa ****** Translated from the Arabic by Ranya Abdelrahman and Sawad Hussain. The book for Kuwait in my global reading project, this is a fantastical satire examining the rise of authoritarianism and the dangers of book censorship : 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 are obvious influences, but oh is this so timely. In a post-Revolution society where imagination and much technology is banned, and conforming to 'logic' is the rule, the unnamed protagonist of this book finds himself a member of the team of book censors responsible for approving (or not) the books people are allowed to read. He's desperate to conform, but finds himself being sucked into the joys of reading (triggered off by reading Zorba the Greek) and into the resistance, the Cancers. At the same time, his daughter is showing scary signs of imagination, where fairy stories (and where did she acquire her knowledge of them) are all too real, making her vulnerable to being shipped off to one of the much feard child rehabilitation centres. I'm not normally a fan of satire, and definitely not of dystopian fiction (and this is both), but, like our protagonist, I was unrelentingly sucked into complete addiction. This was almost an effortless read, particularly noteable given the darkness of the subject matter, the writing crisp and sharp, with not a trace of having been translated. The fantastical element, well controlled, added an edge that both intrigued and entertained (all those rabbits!). Unusually for me, there were some genuine laugh out loud moments. Yet this book is deadly serious, and there were moments which exemplified why I don't enjoy (if that's the right word) dystopian fiction. All in all, a brilliant read. Not quite a 'favourite' (can such a book ever be one?) but another outstanding read on my world tour. Glad to get a book for Kuwait, they are few and far between in this country. This one has only recently become available in the UK (and the book is noteably even then printed and published in the States).

The first of a series of catch-up reviews: 36. The Boundless River by Mathijs Deen ***** A series of 'stories' set around the River Rhine, or, more accurately the Rhine and its tributaries. Early on in the book, Deen talks to a hydrologist about the source of the river, and is told off for focusing in on one 'source' - that the river should be treated as a whole, and that the only 'source' is the rain that falls on the entire catchment. Some of the stories are historical, some contemporary. Some are historical narrative, some are accounts of meetings with people, some are told as stories based on events - the collection (I think they're marginally better described as essays) is eclectic, wide ranging, and thoroughy readable. I did find the stories based on history a bit lightweight - I'd have preferred more history and less fictionalisation, but it certainly left me wanting to know more. I think the aim is to give an overall impression of the history, impact and even personality of the river - and on that I think it succeeds. Having cycled the length of the Rhine a few years ago, I feel quite a strong personal engagement with the river, and this both added to that, and made me want to explore more of the region. My only regret was that it wasn't a thicker book (!), - I wanted more!

Just finished Andrew Miller's Oxygen. Beautifully written, and as thoughtful as previous reads of his (Pure, Now We Shall Be Entirely Free) , but not as engaging, rather lacking in drive and focus. 3/6 stars. Moving on to Cheerful Weather for the Wedding by Julia Strachey, out of the Persephone Press stable.

#43 Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk for Poland ****** Read as the book for Poland in my Reading the World project. Superficially a murder mystery, this is a book that offers so much more - a book that (although much lighter) reminded me of The Name of the Rose. 60+ year old Janina Dusszejko (although she won't thank me for using her name - she hates it) lives in deep countryside on the Polish-Czech border. One night, her neighbour Oddball (she ascribes names to people rather than use their given names) disturbs, having found the dead body of another neighbour Big Foot. It's the first of a series of deaths, some more mysterious than others, and the development of a murder hunt, with all the victims members of the local hunting club. Janina herself is 'different'. Whether she's just a 'mad old woman', as the local authorities see her as, or merely 'eccentric' or 'unconventional', or somewhere on a spectrum is left to the reader's judgement, but she is an absolutely fascinating and powerfully drawn character, especially interested in animals (with whom she relates better than most humans), astrology and the poetry of William Blake, who, whilst socially isolated in some ways and certainly highly individual, even reclusive, still manages to develop a small, tight, coterie of friends - a group of friends on the fringe of society, and largely disregarded by those with power (even when closely related!). As a reader, I found myself on several occasions drawn along by Janina's thought processes, completely agreeing with what she was thinking, particularly recognising the weaknesses/features/tics she zooms in on in others (eg the constant repetition of standard, on trend phrases), and then suddenly finding myself realising that I've been pulled along so far, and that we're now in the realms of what I would regard as extreme or at the very least 'individual' behaviour/attitudes. She's certainly not afraid to speak out, but when, for instance, one reads her letters of 'advice' to the local police, one starts to see why the word 'mad' is applied - but where does 'normality' end and 'madness' begin? Janina's strong belief in astrology is one side of the line for some, and tending to the opposite for others. Her equally strong belief in animal rights threatens to take her views over the divide (at least for many people), but then when the hypocrisy with which she's dealing with fully reveals itself, her extreme doesn't seem to be quite so extreme after all - or maybe it still is? Tokarczuk appears to thoroughly enjoy playing around with our perceptions of the 'normal' and the 'extreme', teasing us, none more so than in the her handling of the denouement! Even so, I think I missed a lot: several reviews touch on the relevance of so much of this novel specifically to attitudes, politics and the role of religion in Poland that completely passed me by (until explained!). But even missing that, this is a book that both thoroughly entertained (it's genuinely funny in places) and constantly pulled me up short and made me think. I have to admit, I did rather glide over some (most!) of the astrology, but that was it - the rest was riveting, one of my favourite pieces of fiction this year.

#42 Runaway by Alice Munro for Canada *** I've long intended to try Alice Munro's work. I'm not inherently a short story fan, the only writer ever really grabbing me being Katherine Mansfield, but, after all, Munro is a Nobel Prize winner, and regarded as one of the greats of short story writing. With the exception of Margaret Atwood perhaps, nigh on a shoe-in for Canada. There is no doubt in my mind that she is a brilliant writer - there's a quality to her work that shines through, and I certainly had no difficult in finishing the book. However, the fundamental problem remains - these are short stories and Munro just doesn't overcome that for me. One Runaway reviewer likens short stories to endgame studies in chess as compared to the novel / full game, and that sums the issue up perfectly for me: there's an artificiality of context, a lack of development that the short story writer simply can't get away from. They're great to examine, to practise on, but they lack the depth that only a full game can provide. They always seem to have one specific point they're trying to make, one twist that gives the story an 'ending' before it's fully started. Munro tackles these issues far better than most writers I've come across: her character development given the lack of space is remarkable (although her men don't work for me), but she still lacks the space to really get to grips, and whilst I can sit back and admire her work, it just doesn't hold me (I regularly find myself checking out how many pages to the end), not least because of the slightly surreal atmosphere that permeates so many. It doesn't help also that every one (as happens with most short stories it seems) ends in almost predictable disappointment - they reek of melancholia - and it's not only the characters who are disappointed either... So, a decent enough read, but nothing there that screams at me to want to read more, and confirmation that, even in the hands of the best, short stories really don't work for me (although there's always Katherine Mansfield!). I live in hope though.

#41 A Heart So White by Javier Marias for Spain *** Read for one of my book groups as well as being my choice for Spain. This is probably Marias's best known book, and it starts with a bang (literally) as a young newly-wed, Teresa, commits suicide during a family meal. The book is narrated by her nephew Juan, daughter of her sister Juana and Ranz, the man who was Teresa's husband at the time and who later marries her younger sibling. In simple terms, it's a mystery around why Teresa killed herself, but it is actually far (and I mean FAR) more complicated than that. Juan, an interpreter is recently married to another interpreter, Luisa. Juan contemplates the nature of marriage, relationships (one of equals, or is it always a case of one manipulating/compelling the other?), and secrets (especially in a marriage). His own style is highly voyeuristic, but voyeurism through voice rather than sight, his interpreter skills focusing in on the subtleties and importance of language and verbal communication. Marias was himself an interpreter and translator (including the Spanish version of Tristram Shandy!), so it's interesting as to how much of this might be autobiographically drawn. Equally, the book itself is a translation from Spanish, and much of our group discussion circled around the importance of this in both understanding and enjoying the book: Margaret Jull Costa chose to stick to the original Spanish structure - where sentences at times extended to half a page or more, and commas often functioned much as full stops would do in original English. This, according to a bilingual member of our group, is relatively easily handleable in Spanish and not untypical, but whether it was the most appropriate style to adopt in English was subject to much (and rather inconclusive!) debate. This all on top a looping narrative, including repetition of themes and even individual phrases and paragraphs. To be honest, most of us got used to the style, and some, indeed, came to positively enjoy it (no different, for instance to the lack of speech marks or full stops in some original English works?). It didn't, however, make the reading an easier, and several (including me) found it hard to read large chunks of the book at one go - a chapter or two at a time was enough for me (and they weren't long). As a book group choice, this proved a thoroughly successful selection, as it stimulated a really lively and thoughtful discussion, both in terms of the themes addressed, and in terms of our views on the book itself, these ranging from 'hatred' to 'love' - perhaps the widest range of opinion we've had for a while. Most did enjoy it though, and found it rewarding to read, whilst all agreed they were glad to have read it (different to enjoyment)! I remain slightly ambivalent - definitely glad to have read, not so sure about anything else. In one respect I want to reread it - there was much to reflect on, much I wanted to go back over, much I wanted to read again in the light of later reading, but I have to admit finding it tough going at times, especially in the third quarter where a particularly bizarre relationship was put under the microscope. On that front, I would suggest it's definitely not a book to read if you need to like your characters (or I think even care for them). If I do go back to it, I think I need a rest. It could be a long rest too!

#40 The Details by Ia Genberg for Sweden ***** Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize, this was a choice for one of my book groups. It didn't make a huge impact on most members, who were pretty flat on it, but I and one other were distinctly more enthusiastic! Split into 4 chapters, each effectively a character study of an individual who made a significant impact on the narrator, recollecting them through the fog of a virus. The descriptions and writing were distinctly unfoggy (in fact, the illness felt trivial, simply an excuse to explain, unnecessarily in my opinion, why the narrator was recalling them), the precision and detail (inevitably given the title) marking the whole, very slim, book out. For me the character studies actually said as much if not more about the narrator than the subjects - in the creation, the development and the ending, as these were all relationships that had finished in one way or another (or had they? Part of the novel was surely about how the relationships had, in their own way, continued and affected the narrator). Whilst I found the book thoroughly engaging, immersive even, almost more interesting than the characters described (and none were particularly likeable, or even ones that I cared about) were those who were left out, not least the friend who appears in all 4 chapters almost as a common thread. Presumably (in part) because that relationship still existed? But others surely didn't. All in all, whilst there was very much a 'could take it or leave it' air about most of the group discussion, I found this to be one of the strongest reads I've had so far this year, and feel very glad to have read a book that would almost certainly not have otherwise crossed my horizon.

#39 Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco for The Philippines *** Strangely two-dimensional, overly complex, over-written, this was a book that I had really looked forward to reading but ultimately disappointed. Seemed to take forever to finish. I'm not sure quite why I've rated it as high as 3 stars, but credit where credit is due - the idea was clever (and should have been entertaining and intriguing), and there were some great individual scenes. This should have been a great book, but the author seemed to spend too much time trying to impress rather than engage the reader.

#38 Pedro Paramo by Juan Rulfo for Mexico **** A classic of Mexican writing apparently, which is why I chose it, included in a list of world's 100 most important works by the Nobel committee, and a major influence on Latin American literature. Slim at only 125 pages but anything but a short or straightforward read with chronological shifts, dead talking to the alive (and other dead!), and a style of writing that sometimes makes it quite hard to workout who is being written about and who is talking. To be honest, half way through I was feeling decidely unenamoured, but it grew on me and is, I think, a book that needs to be read more than once to work out what is going on, and interesting enough that it's worth reading more than once! I was relieved to read that even Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the writer of the Foreword of the translation I read, reckoned it's a difficult one! I'm not going to write a more detailed review, simply because I don't really have a lot more I feel I can say. Maybe once I've given it another go!