Willoyd's Reading 2024

[willoyd]

47. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne ******
Just like Ulysses, this is a book that I've long intended to read, but never quite girded my loins sufficiently to get stuck in. Then, it was chosen by one of my book groups! An unfortunate coincidence of timings meant that I had to schedulre reading it immediately after finishing Joyce, with just a fortnight available to read it in time for the group meeting. In the event, the time wasn't a problem, but I have to admit that it wasn't ideal juxtaposing two such tomes, even if they are very different!

Having said that, this adjacency turned out to have its positive side as well: after the challenge of Ulysses, the previously daunting Shandy actually slipped down remarkably easily, far more so than I had even remotely hoped for. Yes, there were moments when the eighteenth century prose knotted itself more tightly than I could fully follow, and yes, there were times where I only just hung on to the latest digressionary thread or timeslip, but overall, this was a big, bold, brassy, brilliant read, which I lapped up from start to finish, building up momentum to the extent that I consumed the last 150 pages in one sitting! In broad terms, I almost always find myself most interested in the characters and characterisation in a novel, and Sterne's is a fascinating, almost loveable, crew. Yes, they can be bawdy, almost cartoonish (by no means necessarily a bad thing!), but they are also utterly human, or at least reflective of oh so many human traits. And as for the legendary digressions - well isn't that how the best stories go, and isn't that, after all, one of the main points of Sterne's writing? I found it a hoot when Sterne left Walter and Toby Shandy in mid-sentence, only to return tens of pages later, to almost the exact point, everything slotted neatly (?!) into context To be honest, there were times when I wasn't sure, really, what the point actually was, but then that's so true of life. I'm probably going round in circles myself now, but it certainly all made sense whilst reading. And it made me laugh, which is a major achievement for any book, a book well in advance of its time, all too accurately described elsewhere IMO as the classic pre-modern post-modern novel! Sterne would have been proud of that, I'm sure!

[willoyd]

48.  The Red Notebook by Antone Laurain *

Having read The President's Hat by the same author in 2018, I was in no particular rush to revisit his work - it was a light, pleasant enough, utterly inconsequential quick read which reminded me of candy floss: all show and no body, artificially sweet, harmless, but ultimately a letdown, and I felt generous in giving it 3 stars.  But this was a book group choice, so....  Well, more of the same really, except there was also rather a distinctly unpleasant undercurrent this time: in this novella, Laurent, a bookseller, finds a woman's stolen handbag in  the street, all visible means of identification removed. It's the story of his efforts to track the woman, imaginatively (!) named Laure, and his growing infatuation with her - in the nicest possible way (!?). Nobody seems to recognise this - maybe because they don't see all that he's been up to.
So, it's a plot driven story, supposedly romantic, with little space for character or place development, both of which for me were flat and predictable.  In fact the whole thing, including (especially) the plot line proved utterly predictable.  It's hard work for a novella-length book to be tedious, but this was, and I only finished it in one sitting because I knew that as soon as I put it down, I wouldn't pick it up again.  At least Kate Atkinson's dire collection of short stories, Normal Rules Don't Apply, now has a challenger for Duffer of the Year.

Edited October 24, 2024 by willoyd

[willoyd]

Wow, almost 7 weeks since I posted here, so much to catch up on.  Distracted rather by a bit of a medical scare (suspected bowel cancer), which fortunately proved to be a false alarm, but took up rather a lot of my physical and emotional time.  It didn't stop me reading though - although has focused my mind a lot on what I want to read (going to be much more ruthless over book club choices for starters! - If I don't want to read them, I won't!).  So, a series of reviews, mostly brief and written for myself at the time:

 

49. Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice ****
Beautifully written, atmospheric evocation of a young man's life in the autumn prior to the outbreak of war in 1939 - the underlying tension is masked but palpable. Interestingly, written and published before war actually took off, so there's no hindsight here.

 

50. 1923 by Ned Boulting ****
The author, a very well known cycling aficionado and commentator in the UK, acquires from an auction a short piece of newsreel that shows 2 minutes of a Tour de France in the 1920s. This is the story of his investigation into its origins and the people featured. It proves not only to be an important, possibly unique, document, but shows how the past can not only be rediscovered, but how easily it can be lost. A fascinating read (enhanced by the fact that we went to see Ned in his one man show,touring the UK, soon afterwards).

 

51. So Distant From My Life by Monique Ilboudo ****
The book for Burkina Faso in my global tour. This is a slim volume, barely 120 pages, and centres on Jeanphi, a young man desperate to emigrate. He tries a variety of different ways, eventually resorting to what are for him extreme measures, difficult to reconcile with, to achieve his goal. The effects of this decision have consequences, which Jeaphi doesn't appear to fully appreciate until it's almost too late. The author, obviously well-informed (her biography is pretty formidable), packs in a huge amount especially given the small space, addressing a whole range of issues, including migration, post-imperial colonialism, corruption, attitudes to homosexuality, the role of NGOs and more, yet writes with a spark and a lightness of touch that made this a very easy read - I fairly rattled through it!

However, enjoyable and readable as it is, the balance between the length and the heft didn't quite work for me: there's almost too much rammed in here, leaving too many unresolved questions at the end as the author seemed to keep wanting to move on to another theme she wanted to cover. Either the book needed to be a fair bit longer (it's not often I say that!), or she needed to focus a bit more tightly on fewer topics. I'd reckon the former, as it's the interaction of all the issues that makes things so real to life. And that may just be what the book was about: so many challenges, demands, pressures all bouncing off each other, no time to fully consider them, all needing to be surmounted in order to get on - and if you take your eye off the ball, and let something slip under the radar, then that's when it all goes wrong. So, can Jeanphi make that happen? What this book certainly highlighted is how tough the challenge is for someone in his position. It was certainly a book that made me think, and one I'd definitely recommend for a book group, as there's plenty (almost too much!) to discuss and learn from. I'd certainly want to discuss the final twist too. Does it work? I'm not sure, but it certainly took me by surprise.

 

52. Talking About Detective Fiction by PD James ***
Does what it says on the tin. To be honest, I thought that someone of the stature of PD James would bring some real depth and insight to the topic, but this proved to be a fairly straightforward introduction to the history of detective novels, covering all the obvious bases. A bit like those novels of hers I've read now I think about it - she's OK, but I can't see what all the fuss is about. As to this subject, I can't say I felt I learned anything new, but it was an enjoyable enough read, fitting some pieces of the jigsaw together.

 

53. Creation Lake by Rachel Kushner ***
The first of a number of Booker short-listers that I wanted to read this year - unusual as there's really more than one or two, if that! Well, quite a few people have raved about this, but for me it was all bit meh,and never really got off the ground. It promised much in the opening chapters, but none of that seemed to lead anywhere, and it all rather fizzled out. A pleasant time filler, but I really can't see what the fuss was about, and as for being a Booker shortlister, well that completely flummoxes me.

 

54. The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden *****
And by way of complete contrast, my third of the Booker shortlisters (I won't read any of the others until after the event now), and a totally different kettle of fish. Set in the late 50s/early 60s, with the war still fairly fresh in minds, Isabel has lived on her own in the family home since the death of her mother (promised to her brother when her uncle, who owns the house, dies), and is comfortable in her solitariness: her distrust of others is almost agoraphobic. And then, out of the blue, she has her brother's girlfriend foisted on her to stay whilst he is away on business, completely upsetting her routine and her life, leaving her riddled with suspicion, even hate - and so the relationship takes its course. And it's a sinuous course too, with much to be revealed that is concealed along the way. Whereas the Kushner was cool (too cool for its own good IMO) and sooo laid back, this was passionate and intense, with a depth to the characterisation and an almost claustrophobic sense of place that I really enjoyed. Now, this I could understand why it was shortlisted, an impressive debut. Perhaps not quite as good as Orbital in my view - the other nominee I've read - but a contender, and certainly better than some previous winners I've read. Also my book for the Netherlands in my world reading project.

 

55. Doctor Wortle's School by Anthony Trollope ****
Read for one of my book groups. A fairly straightforward novel of a scandal being put right. Typically Trollopean in style, the only thing that was the slightest unVictorian about it was that it was actually quite a short book, barely 260 pages. A comfortably, easy romp through what would have been perhaps a rather more shocking book in the 19th century. A fun read, as Trollope always is, but nothing great from a book club point of view - I think it'll be a fairly short discussion, which is just as well as we'll have some Christmas goodies to consume and imbibe!

 

56. The Black Notebook by Patrick Modiano *****
The book for France in my world read. I have to confess my ignorance, but even though he is a Nobel laureate (2014), I'd never heard of Patrick Modiano until his name cropped up both in Antoine Laurain's The Red Notebook, read earlier this autumn, and in the subsequent book group discussion, where I learned that Laurain rather idolises Modiano. A quick dip into a book that the introducer had brought with her suggested that I might appreciate Laurain's taste in books more than his writing In the event, that supposition proved correct, and I loved this slim, deeply atmospheric novel, set in Paris, and so redolent of Georges Simenon's Maigret. There's even an element of mystery, but they mystery is more personal, as the protagonist, Jean, remembers back to his past and his relationship with the elusive Dannie and a group of unsavoury individuals she hangs out with - he (Jean) is still trying to work it all out! It's not the most gripping of plots - intriguing rather than gripping - but I just lapped up that sense of place! Looking forward to exploring Modiano's work more, and have already acquired a copy of Missing Person

 

XX.  You Have To Make Your Own Fun Around Here by Frances Macken *

Not read enough to count book as 'read', but have given up on this, my other book group's read this month.  It employs a whole load of currently fashionable tropes being an Irish rural, coming of age, besties novel, but I found none of the characters remotely interesting (and definitely not likeable) and hated the constant (hopefully deliberate) use of 'myself' and 'me' in the nominative, to the point of utter tedium. It added nothing to the book, and I found it almost impossible to reach past this to anything the novel might have to offer. In short, nothing Edna O'Brien didn't do so much better years ago.

 

57.  Shiloh by Shelby Foote ****
The book for Tennessee in my Tour of the USA. The story of the battle, a significant turning point and one of the bloodiest in the American Civil War, told by 4 participants, 2 from each side. Shelby Foote is perhaps best known for his fairly monumental 3-volume history of the war (on my shelves to be read!), but this is a slim thing, quickly read. Really enjoyed the writing providing a very human take on what must have been an utterly grim couple of days. Led to quite a bit of follow-up reading as this is a period of history I know little about, but am slowly getting to grips with (having in the past few years read the gripping The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara - also with follow-up reading - and James Macpherson's excellent Battle Cry for Freedom)

 

58. Reading Lessons by Carol Atherton  ******
A book about books with a difference! The author is a secondary school English teacher. Each chapter is centred on a set text (either now or historically) for A-level or GCSE, and discusses not only the book itself but the questions they raise and are discussed by the students she teaches. Cumulatively, this provides a very powerful argument for the importance of teaching literature in education - it's not just about 'getting a job', but oh so much more - although there is evidence to suggest that humanities students are very employable, not least because of the analytical and human skills the subject teaches (my own son found that his History A-Level was invaluable during his time as a Physics under- and post-graduate, and gave him a distinct advantage over those who had just studied sciences). Atherton's writing is sensitive, thoughtful, and compulsively readable. One of the best non-fiction books I've read this year.

 

59.  1922, Scenes from a Turbulent Year by Nick Rennison ***
A chronologically seriesed collection of vignettes, telling the story of a significant year in the 20th century. Ranging right across the full range of human activity, if somewhat biased towards the Western world, this proved a decent enough read. I did find he lack of depth rather frustrating at times - this was openly and unashamedly a 'popular' history; it also felt rather repetitive, there being a limit to the significance and interest in yet another crime or scandal superficially told, but it was interesting to have events from widely different spheres put into their historical context and juxtapositioned with other 'great' moments. I would have welcomed some analysis though rather than just 'the facts'.

 

60.  Closely Watched Trains by Bohumil Hrabel ****
A reread of my Reading the World book for Czechia, mainly because I read this a year or so ago and couldn't remember anything about it other than I'd enjoyed it - a complete blank! I enjoyed it this time too! The main protagonist is a railway 'apprentice' in a major good station during WW2, very proud of his position, but struggling with life, being a frustrated virgin and depressed enough to have attempted suicide. In barely 80 pages of concise but vivid prose, the author tells the story of his efforts to make something of himself, to prove that he is a 'real man'. A quick, but engaging read.

 

61. Symposium by Muriel Spark *****
A latish Spark, but still very much on spiky form. The 'Symposium' is in fact a dinner party for 10 (4 couples, 2 individuals). For some reason, I had formed the impression that the entire book was made up of this event, and had shied away for some time, but we soon move away from the dining room into flashback as to how these people arrived here, what events they've set under way, and what a spider's web of connections has been built around this dinner; you just know the denouement is due to arrive any moment - will they even make it to the dessert?!- especially when you learn that a murder is under way even as the food is being served. Spark manages the tension beautifully, and has an uncanny knack of presenting the most unlikely characters, the most unlikely events, and making you not only believe in them, but become completely immersed in them even if, as here, they are utterly unlikeable (in fact, and very unusually for me, I enjoy it all the more because they are)! Having said that, there were a couple of moments/characters that slightly clunked for me - the 'mad' uncle being one - but I was able to just let them roll in amongst this otherwise deliciously sharp concoction, consuming it all in only a couple of sittings (helped, as ever, by the leanness of her writing!). Pure enjoyment!

 

62. To Live by Yu Hua  ****
Read as the book for China in my round the world tour (my 50th book!). Fugui is the oldest child of a well-off family in pre-communist China who squanders the family fortune on gambling and prostitution, and is forced to become a tenant farmer on the land that he previously owned. He and his family then live (and die) through the civil wars, arrival of communism, the Cultural Revolution and more. Life is a struggle, sometimes very brutal, but, ironically, it's their very poverty which on some occasions enables them to survive when those who have acquired their former wealth suffer even more so under the new regimes. Iniitally cutting an abhorrent figure, Fugui grows throughout the book even as all around him collapses, and his resolution and handling of all that is thrown at him (and that's a lot, almost too much!) makes him, in his poverty and persistence, an object for respect. He is the ultimate survivor, standing perhaps (as I suspect Yu Hua is trying to tell us) for so many Chinese in general? Apparently this was originally banned in China but 'has recently been named one of the last decade's most influential books there' (so the blurb states).
I have consistently found books from eastern Asia quite hard to read and enjoy - there's something about the writing that I find a bit cold, almost distant? I struggle to explain it, but it always reminds me of the way that myths and legends are told - is it something to do with the emphasis on events, or telling rather than showing? I can't quite put my finger on it, but they hardly ever engage me in quite the same way as I've found, for instance, reading African or Latin American literature. It was no different for much of this book, but somewhere around two-thrds of the way through I found myself gradually becoming rather more immersed. A couple of things (I won't spoil by saying what) kicked me out of that towards the end, but as eastern Asian books of late go, this proved one of the most profound and powerful reads I've had.

[poppy]

What a big relief to find you'd had a false result! So very glad you got the all clear. And great you were still able to focus on reading through it all 😊

[lunababymoonchild]

I’m glad that you are OK and that you didn’t stop reading

[Madeleine]

Welcome back Will, glad you had a good result and are OK.

[willoyd]

Thank you all for your kind thoughts. 

Three more books in quick succession in the past week or so:

 

63. August Blue by Deborah Levy *****
One of those books that has stared at me every time I've gone into a bookshop  recently, and intrigued me on browsing. Eventually, I succumbed! And I'm so glad I did. It's an enigmatic novel centred on classical piano prodigy, Elsa M Anderson, who has recently walked off stage mid-concert (whilst playing Rachmaninov) suffering, possibly, some sort of breakdown, whether mental or just in terms of her playing is uncertain. She is in Greece, and spots a woman who is apparently her doppelganger buying some puppets that she herself wanted. The narrative then follows Elsa as she takes up 2 short-term teaching jobs (in Greece and Paris) and encounters this mysterious twin around Europe. Confusing? Yes! Off the wall? Certainly! But also addictive and immersive, teasing throughout, majoring in themes of identity and parental relationships (Elsa's and both her students' are very mixed, with all three having to handle powerful, even overbearing, expectations, and responding in different ways), all with an undercurrent of uncertainty as to Elsa's mental state: the novel is riven with metaphors (many of which I will have missed), not least the presence of the colour blue throughout (even in the title!). Indeed, I began to wonder (and still do) if Elsa's doppelganger was real, or simply a mental projection of Elsa herself - otherwise the level of coincidence does tend to the incredible.

This was my first Levy, and, as must be apparent from the above, I loved it. Her writing made this such an easy read (two sittings, with only a short, unavoidable and unwanted, break), and yet it kept me and left me asking questions - not out of frustration, but out of challenged fascination. It demands to be reread sometime soon, and is certainly a book to grow into, which is why, perhaps a mite paradoxically, it doesn't quite hit the full 6-star favourite level instantly: because it's left me with so many questions and uncertainties, it doesn't quite have that 'favourite' feel yet. Maybe after a further read? But, whatever, alongside Patrick Modiano, Levy could well be one of my discoveries of the autumn.

 

64. Germania by Simon Winder ****
Subtitled a 'personal history of Germans Ancient and Modern', this is indeed very personal, with plenty of opinion expressed, and based very much around the author's personal experiences of Germany: most topics are introduced by him writing about a place he's visited. He is an engaging writer, with a strong sense of the absurd, taking a rather satirical approach on occasions, but his love of the country shines through. The history stops in 1933, I gather because he doesn't want to overshadow everything with the 12 years of Nazism - although he does address aspects of it as he goes along. I found some of his takes made me rethink my understanding of aspects of German history (fairly basic, even if a reasonable framework), and overall enjoyed the whole approach. My main criticisms really centre on the fact that to fully understand what he's writing about, you actually need some previous knowledge of German history - he often plunges into discussions without any real background, and in the periods where my grasp of the subject was weaker, I struggled to both follow and stay on board. And he's quite wordy - he is a well known editor (mainly of history), but I did feel he could have done with a stronger editorial hand himself to bring out his best. But overall, an interestingly different approach to the subject, which I will certainly follow up with his other two books Danubia and Lotharingia - but perhaps read in shorter chunks.

 

65. Pearl by Sian Hughes ****
Marianne's mother disappears when she is just 8 years old, her brother a baby, leaving father Edward, a college professor, to bring the family up. What happened, and why did it happen? The uncertainty permeates through all their lives, and the story centres on the impact this event has on the whole family, but particularly Marianne, who struggles to adjust and, at best, would be described as a 'difficult child'. Yet, because we see this all through Marianne's eyes, it all becomes understandable and even logical.
I was drawn to this book by the sense of mystery, and the apparently central role played by a medieval poem 'Pearl'. In fact, the poem plays (or so it seemed to me) only a very minor (if critical at one juncture) part, and the mystery, whilst underlying and important, is throughout most of the book subordinate to the impact and handling of grief by the family. On that front, the writing is lucid, involving and sympathetic, but I have to admit to a limited tolerance - I'm not a fan of mis-lit (there's enough grief in this world without wanting to read about it - very much a personal thing!), and this came awfully close, but the mystery side did kick in, and helped raise this above the slough of despond that threatened to absorb the main characters.
But, of course, we knew this from the start, because the whole narrative is told by Marianne looking retrospectively from middle-aged motherhood, with a sense of stability that was definitely lacking in her early years! It meant that we saw events through her eyes - central to the success of the novel (and successful it was for me), but it also took some of the edge off the narrative for me.
So, overall, a book that I read having been a mite misled by the blurb, and one that took me rather out of my comfort zone, but in the end held sufficiently together to warrant 4 stars for a good read - I certainly had no problem picking it up to continue. A shout out too for the quality of the cover of my paperback edition: French flaps, good quality card, simple and striking cover design. It would have been even better if the publishers had left off the 'Booker Longlisted' icon - these and the almost ubiquitous sticker promos so often spoil a book's appearance to the extent that it has put me off buying on occasions (unless I can peel off the sticker before purchase!). I do pity the poor book designers.

[Madeleine]

 

I agree, I hate trying to peel off those stickers, and that horrible residue they leave!

[willoyd]

66.  Passing by Nella Larsen ******
This was a book group choice for a November meeting that I had to miss, and didn't get round to reading at the time.  To be honest, I'd never heard of either book or author before, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Everyman Classics had published her Complete Fiction in one volume.  So, this was a piece of catching up.

Published in 1929, Passing tells the story of two pale skinned Black women who were able to 'pass' for white women in 1920s New York.  It is narrated by one of them, Irene Redfield, who, at the start of this short novel (novella?), is in receipt of a letter from the other, Clare Kendry. Close childhood friends, Clare had disappeared out of Irene's life when in their mid-teens when her (Clare's) father was killed in a brawl and she was taken in by two white aunts in a different (white) part of the city. 

 

It emerges that whilst Irene has stayed in her community and retained her Black identity, although occasionally taking advantage of her white appearance,  Clare has taken a different, 'passing', route, ie living permanently as a white woman.  To add a frisson of danger, she is married to a rabid racist, who has no idea of her background. The story tells of the relationship, and the issues of identity and self-belief that each woman faces, comparing and contrasting. 

 

It's a story that is beautifully told, in particular really getting inside Irene's mind, vividly portraying her feelings, uncertainties, fears.  It's only just over 100 pages long, but the author packs so much in, and delivers such a huge punch, that it feels to be a much bigger book - reminding me (even if a thoroughly different story and style) of my favourite novel, A Month in the Country (by JL Carr).  Right up there amongst the best of this year's fiction for me, a good year too.

[willoyd]

As is usual for me at Christmas, I'm focusing on shorter books - I just don't have the mental stamina for anything much longer, and tend to read in short, intense, bouts, much better suited to shorter books:

 

67.  What We Read by Josephine Greenwood ***
A promising prospect - a series of essays by various writers on why they read non-fiction - and there were some interesting insights and well constructed thoughts. However, the collection, 70 essays in just over 150 pages, actually became rather repetitive - there's a limit to the variations on this theme - and after a while it turned into a bit of a labour to finish, with those flashes of insight less and less frequent. Would probably have been much better if I had left this as a bedside book, and dipped into it; it was certainly not at its best as a continuous read. One of the very few books I've actually written in, jotting down roughly one-sentence summaries of what the essays were about as reminders when flicking through. Otherwise I found one essay merging into another.

 

68. Conclave by Robert Harris *****
Read as a follow-up to seeing the film (which was excellent, with Ralph Fiennes outstanding IMO). Really interesting seeing where and how the film diverged - it was actually very faithful to the book. Even though I thought I knew the denouement (was it actually going to be the same?!), I enjoyed this enormously - far more satisfying than other Harris novels I've read which have tended to start off well, but fall flat near the end (this didn't). Both film and book were far more thoughtful to watch/read than I had anticipated.

 

69. Another England by Caroline Lucas ****
Trail-blazer Lucas (for non-followers of British domestic politics, she was the first ever and, until this last General Election, the only Green MP in British politics) discusses how the concept of Englishness can be retrieved and reclaimed from the far right (it needs to be!). As with numerous other commentators (so why aren't the powers that be, of any party, listening? Almost as if they're wanting to see populist nationalism taking over) she identifies much of the heart of English malaise being centred on excessive centralisation and failure to invest. As an English graduate, she has an interesting slant on this, relating issues to aspects of English literature. Sounds tenuous, but underlines the fact that much of what is going wrong isn't new! Rather suprisingly, it also works: Lucas writes well and convincingly - at least to me - even if this is a rather painful read at times, as one just knows that Cassandra had a better hearing.

 

70. Mugby Junction by Charles Dickens and others ***
A series of short stories published in the 1866 Christmas edition of All The Year Round, Dickens's literary magazine. Includes his well-known ghost story The Signalman. An OK read, but not vintage Dickens, who could all too easily slide into rather sickly sweet sentimentalism, especially when writing up young women, and his work here dips into that on occasions. An easy, fairly quick read, but as a book specially chosen for Christmas (I don't know why I bother, as most Christmas books disappoint), it was gently forgettable.

 

71. Missing Person by Patrick Modiano *****
An ex-private detective, Guy Roland, investigates his own past, hidden from him by a bout of amnesia. His searches take him back to wartime Vichy France, and the uncertainties of that period. This was my second Modiano, having only recently 'discovered' him, and it fully lived up to my (high) expectations. Intricate, atmospheric, almost meditative, the reader is encouraged to contemplate aspects of their own sense of identify and memory whilst following Roland's efforts to establish the former through rebuilding the latter. Engrossing.

Edited December 31, 2024 by willoyd

[lunababymoonchild]

Similarly, I'm looking for a short read for the end of the year and I bought Conclave, so thanks for that

[willoyd]

Last 4 books of the year (reviews to follow):

 

72. Things I Don't Want To Know by Deborah Levy *****
Having read and been really impressed by the author's latest novel, [August Blue], I wanted to try out what most reviewers suggest is her even better memoir, of which this is the first of 3 volumes.  As with her [August Blue], it's lean, but there's so much in the small space, covering her South African childhood and emigration to the UK.  And yes, if anything, it's even better.  She may not write in volume, but seems to cover and say so much even so.  The best memoirs really show you the world from the writer's perspective, where you feel you are (almost perhaps?) one with them, where, even if you've never experienced anything similar, you feel you have done having read about it. And writing from a child's POV is even harder.  Levy achieves that in spades - and I've ordered the next 2 volumes!  One of my 'discoveries' of the year.

 

73. Elena Knows by Claudia Pineiro ******
Well, if ever a novel came out of left field and completely knocked me over!  Pineiro is apparently best known for her crime novels, and this is one too, sort of!  Elena is an elderly widow suffering from advanced Parkinson's, mother of a single daughter, living in Buenos Aires.  Her daughter is found dead, hanging in the belfry of the local church.  The police have come to the conclusion that this was a suicide, but Elena knows it can't be: there's no way her daughter would have gone into that building in a rainstorm (read to find out why, but she wouldn't have!).  However, she can't persuade anybody to reconsider or help, although there is someone she might be able to call on, someone who owes her a long-term debt, who lives on the other side of the city and she hasn't seen in twenty years.  But to call in that debt she has to get there.  The novel centres on that journey, an epic of a day in itself given her condition, interspersed with backstory.  It's intense, eye-opening, powerful, with a twist that doubles that all up: I certainly never saw it coming.  All in barely 140 pages.  Until this point, [Orbital] was comfortably my top contemporary novel of the year but right at the last, I'm now not so sure.  Wow!

 

74. A Point of View by Lisa Jardine  ******
I last read this collection of essays in 2017.  The review I wrote then still works for me, indeed seems almost more appropriate, so I repeat verbatim , with some comments below.  One change is that I've raised the rating from 5 stars then to a 6-star favourite now.  
"A Point of View was the BBC's answer to the retirement of Alistair Cooke, and the loss of Letter from America. It's an interesting series, with a variety of contributors reflecting on a topical issue of their choice (and often taking off at an interesting tangent!), but it's never, for me, quite hit the consistent heights of Cooke's broadcasts.  Except for Lisa Jardine (and occasionally Clive James).  I could virtually guarantee when her name was mentioned that I would spend the next 15 minutes completely wrapped up in her crystal clear exposition, a voice of calm, sensitive but scientific reason, in a world that all too often feels anything but calm, sensitive or rational.  This book is a collection of some twenty-three of her radio essays, and they make equally easy and pleasurable reading.  I will, inevitably, return to them.  Sadly, there will be no more, but I can still hear her voice, made for radio, in those written words, even without the aid of the podcasts."
Written in 2006/7 some of the more topical essays have obviously dated a bit, but what strikes me most almost 20 years after their broadcast is how topical so many still are - in fact even more so in this era of disinformation, double-speak, rising populism and political tension.  Great essays are timeless, and this collection is proving to be just that.  And, apart from the occasional Sarah Dunant contribution, A Point of View still rarely rises to the heights that Jardine and James achieved.

 

75. Paddington Abroad by Michael Bond  ****
I grew up with Paddington: he, Blue Peter and I were all 'born' within a few days of each other, and my earliest memory of reading a 'proper' book is of Paddington (a hardback omnibus edition of the first two books). Some years I acquired a box set of the first dozen books (there are now 15 in total), and it's become a bit of a personal tradition to read one of them at this time of the year - usually to finish the year off.  This year is no exception!  They may be aimed at younger children, but they are so unutterably joyous and funny, that it seems a pity for them to be confined to just one part of one's life.  I last read this four years ago, but felt like a reread (or is that a re-reread: I don't know how many times over the years I've read one.  Paddington is off to cause chaos on holiday in Britanny. Episodes are ridiculously unlikely (especially the one where he joins in with the Tour de France!), but who cares?  The whole premise is wondefully balmy after all.  They are also wonderfully redolent of life in the 60s, oh so different to today, although a housekeeper was stretching it even then!  A great way to finish off a year - with a loud hoot of laughter; Vive Paddington!

Edited December 31, 2024 by willoyd