Willoyd's Reading 2025

willoyd · April 17

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.

willoyd · May 25

I have got a fair amount of catching up to do, having not been on the site for almost a month, and getting on for six weeks behind on book reviews. So, here goes with books to the end of April (in 2-3 posts)

14. The Burgundians by Bart van Loo *****
If one ever reads any medieval history or historical fiction, Burgundy and the Burgundians have a tendency to keep cropping up. Most famously, at least for me, was that they were the ones who captured Joan of Arc and sold her to the English with dire consequences. The wine region is probably even more famous, and I assumed that most of this history would be centred on that part of France. How wrong could I have been, as the bulk of Burgundian territory, and the main source of wealth, was actually in the Low Countries, and before long I found myself realising that I was actually reading an origin story for the Netherlands and Belgium (and, to a lesser degree, Luxembourg), and a background history to one of the lynchpins of European Early Modern history, the Emperor Charles V - nephew to Katherine of Aragon and father-in-law to her daughter, Mary I. I had always read of him in his role as monarch of Spain and Austria, and never appreciated that fundamentally he was, and felt himself to be, Burgundian (and that Burgundian equates to modern day Dutch/Belgian).

In fact, this book filled in so many holes in my European history, being one of those books where a light-bulb seemed to go off, perhaps not on every page, but certainly every chapter! And it was very readable! This is no academic tome, and whilst there is sometimes a tendency for some to look down at 'popular history', and the author is certainly not afraid to offer his opinion, I enjoyed the driving narrative that the author developed, and found it sufficiently deep and rigorous for my purposes! It is perhaps slightly unbalanced in that the meat of the book seems to be with Philip the Good, whilst the period after the death of Charles the Bold is pushed through rather rapidly, but that reflects the 'glory years' where Burgundy was a genuine European power. It did, however, mean that, at least for me, there were one or two patches of longeuse in the middle, whilst the pace was almost too much of a gallop towards the end. No matter, it's a book that will remain on my shelves for dipping into and refreshing - I've become increasingly fascinated with Dutch/Belgian history, but haven't been this far back before. As an added bonus, I also found the interestingly discursive bibliography to be very useful - and have already followed up on some of it (including the fiction).

15. Caledonian Road by Andrew O'Hagan **
I've been looking forward to this for a while, even more so as an increasing number of people have positively raved about, so settled down to it last night after finishing the above, looking forward to a satisfyingly big week of a read. 24 hours later, a quarter completed, and I'm done! There's plenty of evidence here for the quality of writing - some brilliant sections - but ultimately, as so often, it comes down to the characters for me (although one or two pieces of dialogue sound horribly artificial). It's patently clear that one isn't meant to like them, and that's no problem. But they, and the direction the book is taking, feels so superficial, so 2-dimensional, so devoid of any real interest, I really don't care. The book is described as a 'state of the nation' novel, but it isn't. As so often, reviewers and commentators seem to think London is the nation (as do our politicians), but it isn't, and this is very much about London alone. And even then, just one, rather privileged slice of it (although there are so many characters, it's inevitable others are touched on). As a Londoner who emigrated to the north decades ago, but whose roots are still fairly firmly planted in that relatively small, if heavily overpopulated and badly mangled, corner of the country, I do enjoy reading about my home city, but sadly, not this. I don't want to run this book down, I know I'm in a minority, and there is no doubt that this is very readable in its own way - but I can't get the phrase 'all style and no substance' out of my head. I don't even really 'dislike' it - I just don't care enough to keep ploughing though the remaining 400 pages.

16. L'Argent (Money) by Emile Zola *****
Aristide Saccard makes a comeback after his major role in La Curee (The Kill), in this fourth volume* of Zola's Rougon-Macquart sequence. Zola takes a long hard look at the world of finance and speculation in Second Empire Paris. He tells a great story, told in the same rich and lush style of the Empire itself, whilst drilling down into its corrupt underbelly (no less corrupt than we are today, I hasten to add!). With all of these books so far, I've enjoyed them from the outset, but it's taken a while for me to sink fully into the narrative, and this has been no exception, not untypical of quite a bit of nineteenth century literature for me. But once in, it's absolutely gripping. I just love the richness of characters and the atmosphere created. A very satisfying read, that seems also particularly topical.

* I'm reading them in the order recommended by Zola himself, not in publication order. This was actually a fairly late book in written order, being the 18th published. It definitely follows immediately on from, and refers to, La Curee, both the third in Zola's order, and the third published.

17. Love Triangle by Matt Parker **

My OH was rather surprised at the title when she heard it - "not like you!" - but this is no romance but a book on the author's joys in trigonometry. I'm no ignoramus in the subject, having studied it up to first year uni as a subsidiary subject (where I did reach my limit!), but I found myself after the first few reasonably straightforward and interesting chapters, all too rapidly getting lost in the topics introduced, and frankly not that interested. Unfinished.

willoyd · May 25

18. Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri ***
Read for one of my book groups. This was Lahiri's second volume of short stories following on from her Pulitzer prize winning collection Interpreter of Maladies, one which debuted in the New York Times bestseller list at #1. Although not a short story fan, I expected much, but to be honest I wasn't over impressed. There's no doubting her writing skills IMO, but as a collection I found this rather repetitious and, in the end, mildly tedious. Lahiri appears only interested in the experiences of a very small cadre of people, middle class Ivy League West Bengali immigrants to the US, and is consistently bleak in her views (with the the odd glimmer of positivity). In earlier books she apparently focused on first generation immigrants, here switching for the first time to second and third generations. Characters were largely interchangeable, scenarios similar, issues examined and re-examined, gloominess prevailed. I don't think this helped being a collection of short stories, almost encouraging repetition, and always finishing just as the characters started to feel developed and potentially interesting. I would be interested to read one of her novels, although not rushing to in amongst a TBR pile of far more attractive looking reading, and if ever tackling another short story collection, reckon that I would appreciate them more read individually over a rather more extended period of time than the ten days this book occupied. As so often, I went along to the book group thinking I would be out on a limb (expecting others to be more enthused - after all the applause and sales), only to find that most of us were in agreement - very few (two of the twelve I think) were anything more than lukewarm, although none positively disliked.

19. Havana Year Zero by Karla Suarez ****
Read as the book for Cuba in my Reading The World project. A lively, quirky romp of a novel, centred on a quest by Julia (a pseudonym, as are all the names meant to be) to trace a document which proves that the Italian, Antonio Meucci, invented the telephone, as opposed to Alexander Graham Bell (Meucci is an historically real person). It's as convoluted as ball of wool, and thoroughly entertaining, reeking of both time (1993) and place.

20. The Great Fortune by Olivia Manning *****
The first volume in the author's Balkan Trilogy, set in Romania in the early months of World War Two, centred on newly married couple Guy and Harriet Pringle. It's still early days (the first book of six, including the chronologically successive Levant Trilogy), but the couple's relationship looks like it could get complicated as they gradually reveal their characters to both each other and the reader, the situation looks increasingly precipitous as the war comes ever closer, and the novel gradually entwines the reader in its narrative. The world they live in almost seems childlike in its naivety, emphasised by a mixed cast of often eccentric characters, but there's an undercurrent of darkness which gives a distinct edge to the story. The only minor irritant is one Yakimov, a British passport holding White Russian, who is a bit too much of a caricature for my taste, but otherwise I'm gripped.

21. Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood ****
Read as the book for Australia in my Reading the World project. Shortlisted for the Booker prize last year, and regarded by many as the best on that list, I can see why (even if I disagree - Orbital remains for me a rare occasion where I actually agree with the judges, at least of those I've read to date). It is a book which I respect, even admire, rather than actually say I 'like'. Beautifully written, it's more a meditation than a narrative (although the progress of the plague of mice has a certain compulsive, almost horror, quality to it), not least about how we handle both grief and those instances in life of which we are privately ashamed, but which occasionally come back to haunt us (even if others may barely remember them, if they do at all). I read this pretty much in one sitting (only broken to make a cup of tea at one point!), it was so compulsively hypnotic. So why 'only' 4 stars? I can't quite put my finger on it, but in the immediate aftermath, that just felt the right level - perhaps reflecting that lack of like versus respect. Just a mite too clinical, too starkly 'literary'? I struggle to put my finger on it, but that's how it left me, so 4 it is.

willoyd · May 25

22. We'll Prescribe You a Cat by Syou Ishida *
Read for one of my book groups. I wasn't looking forward to this, unimpressed as I am with the latest fashion for 'quirky' Japanese books (libraries and cats seem to abound), but even with that likely prejudice, I couldn't quite believe how bad this was. 5 short stories all based around a mysterious mental health clinic, that only appeared when people 'needed' it, and where cats are prescribed as the 'medicine' for clients' ills. All very cutsie with a streak of magical 'realism' (nothing very realistic here), served with a liberal dose of repetition, clunkiness, stilted dialogue, tell not show, and paper thin characters. How on earth was this even published, let alone a bestseller? Ghastly, and not worth wasting any more words on.

23. The Personal History of Rachel DuPree by Ann Weisgarber ***
Read as the book for South Dakota in my Tour of the USA. A first person story told by the wife and mother in a black family of ranching settlers in the Badlands about their efforts to survive all the vicissitudes of life both thrown at them and self-generated in this tough environment - and there are plenty! Eminently readable and well placed in time and space, I really enjoyed this for the first half to two-thirds, and found some of the issues raised promising, not least the various elements of prejudice. although ultimately not explored in as great a depth as I hoped. However, the unremitting grimness took its toll as this felt increasingly like an exercise in fictional mis-lit, and I struggled to more than skim the last third as the story arc became increasingly depressing and obvious. On top of that, whilst I don't need an ending that ties up all the loose ends, this one just left too many unresolved for me - the story felt to be only half told. There was much to admire about this book, but in the end it left me rather more frustrated, even irritated, than satisfied.

24. Truss at 10 by Anthony Seldon ***
An interesting, strongly researched account and analysis of Liz Truss's brief time as Prime Minister. I found the structure a little bit laboured, based around the author's 10 rules for keeping power as Prime Minister, but it certainly highlighted quite what a disaster she was. And, in spite of her protestations, self-inflicted.

willoyd · June 14

25. Castle Dor by Daphne du Maurier ***
Read for one of my book groups. A slight oddity, being an unfinished novel by Anthony Quiller-Couch (a man oft cited in Helen Hanff's 84 Charing Cross Road), whose daughter persuaded du Maurier to finish it after his death. It's not clear how much is which author's work, but the book tends to be credited to the latter. It's a 'modern day' retelling of the Cornish legend of Tristram and Isolde (at least, it's set in the early 20th century!). I enjoyed some of the descriptive writing, evoking Quiller-Couch's native and du Maurier's much loved Cornwall, but the plot felt mildly laboured and rather contrived - with 2-3 characters providing something of a narrative of various versions of the original legend through their researches, thus theoretically enabling the untutored reader to spot the parallels, but it all got rather stodgy and predictable. Not a bad book, rather somewhat dull, and it took some effort to make it to the end.

26. The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks by Donald Harington ***
The book for Arkansas in my Tour of the United States. Donald Harington is an author of whom I'd previously not heard at all, but when investigating novels for Arkansas, his name cropped up time and again as very much an author of place, in a similar way to Wendell Berry being 'of' Kentucky and William Faulkner 'of' Mississippi, all three creating and developing a body of work based on one fictional place. In this book, we have a multigenerational story of the Ingledew family of the author's fictional town of Stay More set in the Ozarks, in the northern reaches of Arkansas, the subject of most of his books. Having dipped into this a couple of times, I was really looking forward to this, and once getting going properly I was rapidly immersed in the stories - the book effectively being 20 interlinked short stories, each one based on a building in the town (illustrated in the chapter heading). The writing is difficult to describe: folksy, tongue-in-cheek, it's a sideways look at an American backcountry lifestyle and mores (I think - I'm no expert!). It's certainly engaging.
And yet, I found around halfway through that things were distinctly dragging. The style, initially engaging, gradually felt irritating, the tone felt flat, almost monotonous, the characters became confusing - they were all so similar - and I really started to wonder if I was going to get to the end. This wasn't helped by the author's obsession with sex, and I found his almost matter of fact approach to rape and incest uncomfortable. Perhaps this was deliberately so? Maybe, but it was the sort of uncomfortable which almost put me off completely, and I'm not a squeamish or straitlaced reader by any means. However, I pushed through, and things did pick up in the last third.
In a very similar way to the previous book in this project, I found much to admire and enjoy in this book, and in just the same way, early chapters suggested this was heading almost for 'favourite' status. But it's tonal flatness, thematic repetition, samey characterisation and some distinctly uncomfortable approaches in places made this harder work than I initially expected, and I was relieved rather than satisfied to finish and to be able to move on. Whilst my reading of the two othe authors mentioned above, Wendell Berry and William Faulkner, left me keen to explore their work more, I'm not so sure here.

27. It Comes From the River by Rachel Bower ***
Read for one of my book groups. An interesting read by a local writer (from Bradford). Alex is a young mother married, it's almost immediately apparent, to an abusive, highly possessive, husband. Lauren is a single mother of two, trying to make ends meet, with her story opening just as she is caught shoplifting. Nancy is an older woman, now in a care home after a domestic accident. Their three stories are told in alternating (if one alternate between three?!) stories, in monthly chapters. Gradually, as is inevitable (so no spoiler!) there stories intersect, reaching the equally inevitable climax.

The author is a poet and short story writer, and her poetic background shows. Every now and again she overeggs the pudding, but overall I enjoyed her writing, and the way we see the stories intersect. The characters are well drawn, even if I found them a little bit cliched. What slightly disappointed me was the plot. The blurb declares that the novel is "infused with the folklore of northern England...{and}...is an unforgettable, uncanny debut about violence, resilience and hope - and the power of women when they work together". Hmmm. There is an element of 'folklore', with a few additional sections about the 'gytrash'*, but they add absolutely nothing to the story and are, if anything, a complete red herring, going absolutely nowhere. And, as for the women working together, they don't, not at least until virtually the last page. I was hoping for something a bit original, different - even unforgettable and/or uncanny! Instead, we were treated to a fairly average, if well written, story treading a well-worn and fairly obvious path - although the ending had its moments of high drama. Ultimately a bit disappointing, but achieves three stars for the writing (with which one or two other reviewers were, I have to admit, less enamoured).

*A gytrash is a "North-of-England spirit....which, in the form of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon belated travellers" (Jane Eyre ch xii). There is, almost inevitably, a Wikipedia article on the subject, which I had to look up (it's a while since I read Jane Eyre!). Given one of the plot elements, the 'large dog' idea promised but never delivered.

28. A Little Luck by Claudia Pineiro ******
Read for one of my book groups. After a string of, at best, average reads, it was good to get back to an author whose previous novel I'd read, Elena Knows, was at the top of my scale. And boy, did she deliver. Mary Lohan is an ex-patriot Argentinian, returning from Boston to Buenos Aires after a twenty year absence to assess a school for accreditation by the educational organisation she works for. It's a reluctant return, as she was previously a parent there, but left the area after some sort of disastrous incident there in which she was involved. However, she has physically changed a lot in the time, and is virtually unrecognisable, so takes the risk of returning. The novel develops from there, but to say more would spoil.

I was gripped, transfixed, pretty much from start to finish. Having reached to page 70-ish in one sitting, I realised that I had to put the next morning aside to finish off (it's only just over 200 pages) - this was not a book I wanted to read in short sections. At times during that morning, it proved both vividly and excruciatingly painful to read - I almost couldn't at one point, so scrunched up was I in reaction to what was unfolding. On at least one occasion I had to stand up and walk round the room to take a (very!) deep breath or two. It absolutely nailed me to the seat otherwise, and nothing was going to disturb me from finishing this. It's a while since I read a book that moved me quite as much as this one did. Simply put, it blew me away.

Having read two of the three books published by Charco Press, and loved them both, I'm now going to try what she's rather better known for, outside Argentina at least, her crime novels, published by other presses. Even if they are only half as good as these two, they'll be worth a read; it'll be interesting to see how they compare. I am also looking forward to reading that third, Time of the Flies, but not immediately - that sort of intensity needs spreading out a bit!

willoyd · July 21

A while since I posted - a combination of holidays (two and a half weeks in the Outer Hebrides) and family funeral1 Anyway, some catch up reviews, the first of two sets to bring my up to date:

29. Bookish by Lucy Mangan ***
Subtitled 'How Reading Shapes Our Lives', this takes over where Bookworm, the story of the author's childhood reading, leaves off. Having enjoyed that (not perfect, but fun and interesting to read), this seemed like a no-brainer, particularly given the swaithe of 5 star reviews. Hmmm. I'm going out on a limb on this one, but I thought it was very ordinary, tending towards the disappointing.

I so related to her 'bookworm' view of the world - I've been in enough trouble in my life for having my nose antisocially buried in a book to fully empathise with her point of view - and I enjoyed her lightness of touch, but for me the content was lacking. Sentences all too often rambled on, and didn't say an awful lot quite several times over, discussion of books felt superficial at best, and there was a general woolliness to the narrative. I was also looking forward to her focusing on the world of adult reading after a full book on children's reading, but it seems that children's books are a significant proportion of her adult reading too, and I found myself skipping or skimming large sections in search of something a bit more grown up (I find children's literature fascinating by the way, but this was meant to be a book about adult reading. Perhaps if she'd discussed why so much children's lit still fascinates her - and others - as an adult I'd have stayed interested).

I can't say I agree with quite a few of her assessments (sorry, but I'm not giving ground on the plain awfulness of Dan Brown! And no, I'm no fan of bonkbusters!), but divergence of opinion on books is the stuff of life, and any book group where we all agree is guaranteed to be a dull meeting. There were enough areas where we definitely agreed (yay, another who rates Anne Bronte in front of her sisters!) for there to be enough common ground, so it wasn't her book opinions that have influenced my rating. No, this book was for me sadly just too frothy and too thin to be more than a throwaway read, with no real examination on what was supposedly the topic of the book as in the subtitle - perhaps if that had been rephrased 'How Reading Is My Life' it would have felt more to the point? So, OK while it lasted, but nothing like enough depth to remain on my shelves alongside her previous book.

30. A Golden Age by Tahmima Anam ****
The book for Bangladesh in my Reading the World project. The story of a widow's efforts to keep her family intact as her two children get involved in the 1971 War of Independence. I knew next to nothing of this period, only being aware (as a 13-year old at the time) of the change from 'East Pakistan' to 'Bangladesh'. Of the horrors of the war and genocide - absolutely ignorant.

The story itself was a fairly standard if enjoyable family saga, with no real narrative surprises but enough character, plot and sense of place to keep me engaged through to the end, even if none particularly stood out. Rehana, the mother, is young(ish?0 and naive in the ways of the world, but has a certain steel when it comes to her children, and builds in strength and character as the narrative progresses. It was certainly good enough for me to look to read the sequel A Good Muslim (just ordered). Some reviews do comment negatively on the accuracy of the background (although I have to say that the tenor of the complaints suggest some sort of agenda - and they are often not accurate in themselves), but that's a subject about which I don't know anything like enough to comment. However, whatever else this book did or was, it had me going off to read up more on the subject (ongoing!), so in terms of helping improve understanding and knowledge, - and helping open my eyes - this was a definite success, and I can see why it won Best First Book in the Commonwealth Writers' Prize.

31. The Man Who Saw Everything by Deborah Levy ***
I was initially totally engaged with this slim novel (barely 200 pages) as the main protagonist, Saul, is knocked over on the 'Abbey Road' album pedestrian crossing, breaks up with his girlfrienc, and goes out to East Germany (it's the 1980s) and falls in love with his interpreter. Some of it feels rather strange, the characters are interesting rather than likeable, but there's a feeling of something to come. And then things become distinctly odd (I won't say what as it would be a spoiler). I found myself floundering and intrigue started to turn to bemusement and rapidly increasing disengagement, before realising (rather slow on the uptake") to understand what was going on. Well, at least in principle, as some of the detail was still, deliberately, obscure and tangled. It was also enough to see me through to the end, appreciating in particular the author's portrayal of the mix of thoughts going through Saul's mind, and the interplay between memory and current events. The book as a whole, however, left me rather cold: it all felt rather too clever (at least for me) and manufactured, but perhaps more critical was that the more I read of Saul, the less I was interested in him. So, another book where I respected the writing, but whereas I did enjoy Stone Yard Devotional, I cant say I liked this very much at all.

32. Clear by Carys Davies ****
John Ferguson, a poverty-stricken minister in the newl formed Free Church in Scotland, is employed by a landowner to be taken out to a remote island off the north coast to evict the sole remaining resident to make way for sheep (part of the Highland Clearances). His 'victim' Ivar speaks only Norn (a northern dialect), so when John arrives and is taken into Ivar's home after an accident, the whole idea of how to effect this eviction appears even more problematic, especially as the men gradually develop trust and a means of communicating. In the meantime his wife Mary, left on the mainland, is increasingly worried about what her husband has taken on.

I enjoyed the author's atmospheric writing in West, even if I had some problems with the story itself, and pretty much the same could be said here. Some reviewers have complained about a lack of pace and overwrought descriptions, but for me the fomer was perfect and the latter both evocative and involving. The narrative development showed promise, but yet again, I just couldn't match the people (particularly John) with the events that transpired. And then when we came to the ending, the pace seemed to go into sudden overdrive, and the whole story, in stark contrast to the carefully developed buildup, all came to a juddering and all too conveniently resolved halt. It was an improvement on West, but the flaws were all too familiar. Still, it was an enjoyable read; Davies certainly creates a vivid sense of place that reminds me strongly of the Scottish islands, so it was no real surprise, even with my doubts, to see her win the Ondaatje prize (for books that do just that!). I also look forward to reading more from her, but I hope she can sorther plotting out, and move from the just good to great (at least IMO!).

poppy · July 21

48 minutes ago, willoyd said:

A while since I posted - a combination of holidays (two and a half weeks in the Outer Hebrides) and family funeral.

Any photos from your holiday, Willoyd?

willoyd · July 23

On 7/22/2025 at 12:55 AM, poppy said:

Any photos from your holiday, Willoyd?

I'll post some in the next couple of days.

willoyd · July 23

And the second set....

33. The Undercurrents by Kirsty Bell ******
The author moves to a larger, older apartment in Berlin with her husband and 2 sons, to face breakdown in the apartment itself (Opening sentence: A large pool of water had appeared overnight on our kitchen floor, so silent and unexpected it seemed to be a mirage, rapidly, and unexpectedly at the time, followed by the same with her marriage (Second page: It asked for an equally extreme response, which duly came in a sudden, brutal and final break....My husband went away for work and never came back to our home.). As a consequence (the reasoning is obscure!) she is drawn into the history of the apartment (one of few on the street to have survivied WW2) and that of the part of the city surrounding the building - riven with significant history as we find. The book grows into a mixture of (largely cultural/social) history and memoir, and an absolutely fascinating read. I was hooked from start to finish, wrapped up in both the text and following the book and identifying locations on Google Earth (I love books where I can track them like this!).
It's a book I will almost certainly return to (especially when I next get back to Berlin - this is a part I didn't get to visit, but abuts onto the small part I'm familiar with). Initially given 5 stars, but, writing 2-3 weeks later, I can't for the life of me think why I was so stingy, so a 6th added on. This will challenge for my non-fiction book of the year I'm sure.

34. The Great Auk by Tim Birkhead ****
A subject that's always intrigued me. Split into two halves, the first focusing on the history of the bird itself leading to its extinction in (probably) the 1840s, the second on the after-life of the bird, in particular what happened to the various artifacts (stuffed skins, eggs mainly), and more particularly, the mildly eccentric life of perhaps the most avid collector of these, Vivian Hewitt. The author is a recognised authority on the species (his area of speciality study more generally is guillemots), so as one would expect, there's a ring of authority, and he's a decent writer who can tell a good story. However, whilst I was glad of the 'full' story, I felt there was too much emphasis on the second section than the first: indeed, by the end of the book I felt I knew almost more about Hewitt than about the Great Auk! So, a decent read, but not a keeper.

35. Overlord by Max Hastings ****
The author's one volume account of WW2 is perhaps my favourite history of that period, so it was almost inevitable that I'd go to him for this more focused account. And it is a good read. However, perhaps as a function of that greater detail, I felt that i got rather bogged down at times in all the various regimental/brigade/divisional numbers, and I found it increasingly hard to keep any sort of picture in my head of what was going on. I think this wasn't helped by the, as is all too usual in such histories it seems, poor range of maps, and their inadequate labelling and level of detail.
On the other hand, Hastings excels in several other areas. I find some (all well regarded) authors rely too heavily on too frequent and too large chunks of quotes from letters/interviews to tell their story. This author, as in the previous book, is far more able at sustaining the flow, - both choice and length almost invariably moving the narrative on and enhancing it. Equally, I enjoy his (what seems to me) even handed analysis, that takes one well beyond a simple retelling. His views on the relative strengths and weaknesses of the forces involved (at least the main ones), and of the leaders, was illuminating; I particularly appreciated his precision, clarity and balance. Overall a satisfying and definitely educational read!

36. When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamin Labatut G ***
Read for one of my book groups, but already on my TBR shelf after a very strong recommendation by a friend. It certainly started off well, with an enthralling chapter that linked so many different chemical threads together. However, it became apparent (supported by reading interviews with the author) that whilst the first chapter was almost 100% factual, later chapters grew more and more fictional. I have not problems with that normally: I enjoy historical fiction and am used to authors filling in gaps with their own interpretations, even slightly modifying the history to enable a stronger, pehaps more focused, narrative arc. However, it became apparent that in order to tell the story he wanted to tell, the author apparently replaced large chunks of the history with complete fictions of his own, increasingly so as the novel (which is what it was) progressed. It didn't help that some of this fiction took on a distinctly sordid tone. To such an extent that by around two-thirds through this relatively brief book, I was looking to finish, and only to glad to get there(I don't think I would have bothered if it hadn't been a book group read). Group discussion revealed that I wasn't the only one both bemused and disappointed with the author's all too violent twisting of his subject's lives, undermining any credibility in what he was trying to say, which seemed to be a very cliched examination of the mad genius (male of course!). It didn't even provide any illumination of the science involved, with descriptions of the 'beauty' of the maths or concept involved left completely unexplained and undescribed. Overall, very disappointing, and only saved from a 1/2 star rating by the excellent first chapter. What I find curious is that we, a very disparated group, were near unanimous, yet Goodreads (for instance) suggests that over three-quarters of the 56000+ ratings were 4/5 stars.

37. The Last Animal by Ramona Ausubel ****
A curiously enjoyable read, picked up on spec in a bookshop on holday last year. Jane is a young widow with 2 teenage daughters (Eve and Vera), working on a bioengineering project to restore the woolly month from extinction. Because she's a single parent with little support, the daughters get dragged all over the place, so their education is, shall we say, diverse. It's a novel that centres on the ethics of such a project, but is also an examination of the mother-daughter relationship, which, my being male (one of three brothers, and the father of a son), is about as far from my familial experience as I can get! So I can't vouch for its authenticity or otherwise, but I can vouch for the liveliness of the writing, its humour, and its thought provocation. Other themes also thread their way through the narrative, not least the issues Jane faces in a decidedly patriarchal workplace.
This book was by no means perfect. In fact there were some fairly massive flaws (not least the coincidences/unlikelihoods) and the writing itself felt patchy. It's been likened by some to Lessons in Chemistry, which I have to say that whilst I enjoyed whilst reading, left me distinctly discontented and more and more irritated on reflection. And yet...maybe it was being on holiday, or maybe it was the sheer (and deliberately chosen?) unlikelihood of what happens, or perhaps it was my complete lack of experience of any aspect, or the contrast with reading the last few weeks, or...any one of half a dozen things, but whilst I certainly get why reviewers have offered such a diversity of opinions and, objectively, I can't disagree with those who didn't rate it, I have to say I quite enjoyed this; in fact it felt rather refreshing! But only as a small dose!

willoyd · September 12

38. The Secret History by Donna Tartt *****
Read both for one of my reading groups and as the book for Vermont in my tour of the USA. This was a long anticipated tome - a book that I have meant to read for some time, and I was delighted (and ready) to at last be tackling it. In some ways, it lived up to expectations too. It was very soon apparent that Donna Tartt can really write: I was almost immediately grabbed by pretty much every aspect, and completely immersed in the story. I settled in comfortably for the long haul (700+ pages)

But then, about a third of the way in, things began to drag a little. Just a little, but I found myself shifting from enthralment to a feeling of 'come on, get on with it', a feeling that not only can the author write really well, but she knows she can, and that she was beginning to indulge herself, a feeling where I began to wonder where the editor was. It was a subtle shift, but it enough to induce restlessness. However, because it was both a group and a tour read, I persisted, and gradually, another third of the way along, I was slowly but surely pulled back in. There were still questions about where things were going, but in the end the denouement was such that it all finally made sense!

So, perhaps not the 'great novel' I was expecting, or, at least, not the perfect masterpiece - it was cerainly 'great' in some ways both in size and quality - but one that justified the time and effort demanded, which is saying something given that I'm not normally into preppy novels about privileged 'kids'. In fact, there were aspects that would normally have completely turned me off. For a normally big starter, I can't say I liked any of the characters, and on occasions struggled to even differentiate between one or two of them. Indeed, I can't say I even cared about them particularly. Their activities - antics - were of the sort that would normally have me running a mile to avoid reading about them. This was one of those books where we knew one of the main plot outcomes before the end of the first page: who killed whom, and almost how. The setting was, for me, not of any particularly interest or depth, being a privileged university/college (so not of much interest) in an under-developed Vermont -no real depth or sense of place other than in one particular section set in winter. Hmmm, yes, that section, the same one which left me wondering why all those pages were there and seemed to be just one huge almost stand-alone diversion. I think I worked it out, with the help of my book group, but I still think it would have been a better book without. or at least not taken so long to work through.

And yet, this remained compulsive reading. The build up to the murder , the why, and the fall out from it and its effect on this misanthropic bunch of privileged misfits was riveting. It was the epitome of watching a slow motion car crash: you know you shouldn't, it's anything but pretty, you're desperate to do something but you know you can't, and you just can't take your eyes away as you sit there in both horror and fascination. There were some superb stylistic choices, not least the author's decision to see events solely through the eyes of one of the group members, one who in some important ways was different to the rest of the group, even an outsider - you're both outside looking in, but also inside at the same time, with all the added intrigue of wondering how reliable or accurate the narrator is in their interpretation of events. And to that extent, this is a work of (almost) pure genius. I still reckon her editor could have been a bit stronger though. It all certainly made for a stonking group discussion!

39. A Short History of the World According to Sheep by Sally Coulthard ****
An interesting, fairly light and easy, read about the influence of sheep on our (British) history. No huge insights, but some interesting snippets, a few eye-openers, all pulled together in an eminently readable way - and a nice offset to the previous book. I was lucky enough to meet the author at an event at our local bookshop, and she came across as genuine and interesting as her book. She has written a number of others in a similar vein, and I'll be looking them out. Not great literature, but a pleasure to read.

40. Borderlines by Lewis Baston *****
The author visits and takes a good look at the history of various borders between European countries, sometimes breaking them down into sections where each has been formed in a different way. The history ranges from the almost ancient, where a fistful of Belgian 'exclaves' in the Netherlands are a result of medieval ownership patterns (this was a revelation, had me diving into Google Earth, and really makes me want to visit!), to the ultra-topical, and the divides between Russia and its neighbours. This is a book where there's so much, that I have already forgotten or not fully absorbed a good half or more of it, and so has to be one that I will return to (a lot, I think!). Fortunately it's also a book which is well signposted, and works well as a series of individual essays.

41. The Whalebone Theatre by Joanna Quinn *****
A story of eccentric family relationships, growing up, resilience, discovering oneself, adapting to wartime. In some ways it's all been said before, in others it came across as quite fresh. To be honest, it wasn't what it was 'about' that I was interested in or read it for: this was chosen because I was looking for a good, solid, summer holiday-type read, and it pretty much ticked all the boxes, providing me with an absorbing story about three 'siblings' (it's complicated!) growing up on a minor Dorset landed estate in the 1920s, and the impact of war on their lives. I'm sure I could critique it more closely, but I'm perfectly happy at having been told a thoroughly good, solidly developed story where I really cared about the characters involved. I think I might carry on with August in a similar vein, although I do/did have other plans. My only complaint was that I wanted to know what happened to them afterwards too!

Madeleine · September 13

I read The Secret History nearly 20 years ago, also for a book group read, and I was also curious after hearing so much about it. I did enjoy it, if that's the right road, but like you I also found it too long, maybe over-written at times, and agree that none of the characters were very likeable. I remember at the time it felt a bit like a book of two halves, and I think I thought the 2nd half was better.

willoyd · November 23

Some very serious catching up to do after a long break!

42. Siblings by Brigitte Reimann (transl Lucy Jones) *****
Brought up through the era of the Berlin Wall, I have always seen East Germany as having been pretty much the antithesis of what I believed in, being a communist, totalitarian state imposed on it's population by the Soviets. And it largely was, with some pretty horrific stories emerging. However, there was obviously another side to it, given the nostalgia for it shown by many of of its ex-inhabitants now absorbed (if not necessarily happily integrated) into the reunited Germany. This semi-autobiographical novel* also considers this 'other side': Elisabeth and Uli are siblings in the East Germany of 1960, before the wall itself went up, who have very differing views, Elisabeth happily (?) part of the system, Uli frustrated and deeply unsatisfied by it, and considering defection. Lurking in the background is their older brother Konrad, who has already moved to West Germany, and reviled by both siblings as too besotted with consumerist values. The difference is that Elisabeth and Uli are very close, and Uli sees his reasons as being utterly different to Konrad's, and this rift is liable to tear them, and their family apart. In barely 120 intense pages, their differences are argued over and considered, context is examined, and an outcome is reached. Phew!

Having read Jenny Erpfendorf's Kairos last year, set in a very similar context, I was both intrigued and slightly wary approaching this - having found the latter somewhat - given the plaudits - predictable and dreary. This was so different. For once the blurb nails it (even if I wouldn't have begun to think of using the same phrase!): In prose as bold as a scarlet paint stroke, Brigitte Reimann battles with the clash of idealism and suppression, familial loyalty, and desire.. An excellent one-sentence summary that I can hardly better. This grabbled me from start to finish, and gave me the sort of vividlly drawn insight into a world of which I have little knowledge and no experience that great fiction is so well suited to.

*A note on the autobiographical aspect: Reimann was, like Elisabeth, a state-sponsored artist in an industrial complex, and it's the pollutants from that which are thought to have been the cause of her early death at 39. The book was written immediately after, and presumably as a response to, the defection of her own brother to the West.

43. A Woman in the Polar Night by Christiane Ritter (transl Jane Degras) ******
A memoir of the author's year long stay on the north coast of Spitsbergen with her hunter husband over the winter of 1934-5. This book has apparently never been out of print (the edition I read was a Pushkin Press Classic), and it's not hard to see why. It's a rare book - it must be an early pioneer of the female experience in the Arctic, as I can't think of much else written from this viewpoint. There's very much a 1930s attitude towards women that permeates the book (not dissimilar to some nowadays!), and it's interesting how the author challenges and rolls as suits her needs (the one row the couple have is when she decides enough is enough and washes down the floors and internal walls of the hut, leaving them coated in ice!), although there were areas that i never fully got a handle on, not least her relationship with her husband (almost always written of fairly dispassionately as 'my husband'). The hut (tiny, as the online photos attest) was also shared with another younger hunter, invited along for the winter by Hermann without Christiane's knowledge until she arrived in Svalsbard! Whatever the proximity, it seemed to work.
Just as with the previous book, the author here covers a lot of ground in relatively very little space, but still manages brings her experience vividly to life. It's interesting that the language develops throughout the book as the author does: initially quite simplistic, gradually more figurative, descriptive, and internal. Whether as a result of this, or just the narrative itself, I found myself almost inexorably myself drawn into both the setting and the experience, even though I think it's almost impossible sometimes to fully comprehend the intensity and remoteness of such an experience, however well written. I certainly rattled through the last half of the book engrossed. But this isn't just about the author's own development, great as it is: it also has so much to say about our own disconnecton with nature, and demonstrates how much our climate is changing: the pack ice rarely reaches Svalbard nowadays (the main port has been icefree for the past decade). A classic.

44. Unsettled Ground by Claire Fuller ***
A decent enough read, but a book that never really left the starting gate for me. Just too many things didn't quite hold sufficient credibility, not least the two 51 year old siblings, so innocent about life and dependent on their now deceased parent, and so hidden from the realities of both the world and their mother's true lifestyle. No one thing, but the accumulation of what had happened just didn't quite ever feel sufficiently real for me. To be honest, i wasn't really sure what the point was - was there one? So, whilst well enough written, and finishable, it never really gripped me.

45. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf R ******
My third or fourth reread, and it just gets better every time. Read this after listening to the episode of the podcast 'The Secret Life of Books' on this novel, and it proved even more interesting as a result. The character development, the internal monologues, the structure, the..... well I could just go on and on. This is quite simply a work of genius, and one of my all-time favourites, so enough said! I could have reread it instantly,

46 Square Haunting by Francesca Wade ****
A group biography of 5 women who all broke new ground in literature and women's lives, and who all lived in and around Mecklenburgh Square in Bloomsbury between 1900 and 1940. As a a series of profiles, this was a really interesting read, and has certainly inspired me to buy a copy of one of their books straightaway (Eileen Power's Medieval People). However, I found it a little bit of a letdown as a book, as I expected more focus on their lives in the Square, and a bit more about the place itself. Instead, it was a fairly clear cut collection of 5 separate mini-bioographies, with (largely) only passing references to the place. Interesting, and eminently readable, but it didn't quite fulfill the expectations so proudly proclaimed on the cover.

47 The Glassmaker by Tracy Chevalier *****
With many authors, I would have probably been almost entirely enthusiastic about this, but this is the author of The Girl With The Pearl Earring, Falling Angels, Remarkable Creatures, and The Lion and the Unicorn (amongst others), so good, even very good, but not quite at the same level as her best, the characters in particular just being marginally more 2-dimenstional than I would have hoped. However, I did enjoy her sense of place, and her manipulation of the 4th dimension - an intriguing idea that added both an extra frisson to the book, and provided an interesting continuity - although I thought it was going to have a more important impact than it did on the plot. This book certainly whiled away part of a long (trans-Germany) train journey very successfully with little effort!

Edited November 23 by willoyd

willoyd · November 23

48. The Rain Heron by Robbie Arnott G ***
A dystopian eco-myth based novel set in an unnamed country (the spitting image of Tasmania apparently) that has undergone a coup d'etat. This got off to a really strong start with a telling of the (made up) myth of the Rain Heron, followed by an opening section of some intensity and colour. However, just at a criticial moment we get taken off to what initially appears to be a completely different thread, but soon becomes apparent is flashback, keeping us waiting to return to the scene some 60 or so pages later. I hate that sort of story-telling. The flashback is well told though, almost taking us even more into the mythical, but when we return to the main plotline, I felt the story started to lose its way - hard to describe without spoilers. There are some brilliant descriptive passages, but overall I felt the whole thing grinding down and losing my engagement. By the time I reached the end, it all felt a bit tired and had turned into the predictable. This wasn't helped by the fact that an absolutely critical part of the story just didn't add up: if the Rain Heron was as a rain heron was described, then what happened couldn't, as far as I can see, have happened. There were a couple of other minor glitches in the credibility line too, but that for me just undermined things too much. I read this for a book group, and whilst we've not discussed it yet, chatting to one or two other members, we're all similarly puzzled.
So, a book of much promise, but sadly not quite delivering. Not a bad book by any means, and actually a very good novel for a book group as I think it's going to generate plenty of discussion, but definitely not in rave territory.

49. Universality by Natasha Brown ***
Having previously read and really enjoyed Assembly, I was looking forward to this Booker long-listed novel and, much like the above, it got off to an excellent start. Sadly, again much like the above, it seemed to lose its way too.The opening 'long form essay' section made for a pacy, punchy start, and I appreciated how the later sections peeled back the layers of deception inherent in both its creation and telling, but it was largely talk, and I found that I really didn't care, particularly about the characters, none of whom were particularly three dimensional. There was some brief respite with the story as told by Richard, the owner of the farm and gold bar involved in the original attack the essay is about (and trumpeted in the blurb), and I was amused to find that he emerged as, at least IMO, the most sympathetic character, but otherwise, I really wasn't bovvered. But then satire often passes me by (and rarely involves great characterisation). I was not surprised to find a few hours after finishing the book that it didn't make it on to the shortlist. I'd have been disappointed if it had. I am in the next few days moving on to some of the shortlisted novels, so it'll be interesting to compare.

50. A Day in Summer by JL Carr ****
Fifty up! And a book that I have long had on my shelves to read, but for some completely unknown reason never got around to. Carr is the author of my favourite all-time book, A Month In the Country, and I've read most of his works, but this (and A Season in Sinji) have passed me by, tucked away on my shelves. This was particularly of interest, being his first novel. Carr himself said that this was technically the most complex book he wrote, and there's no disagreement here! Covering the events of a single summer's day in a small Midlands town celebrating its annual fair, there are multiple strands and a cornucopia of characters. It's a tricky balancing act and there are occasions where he almost slips off the wire, but he just about keeps things on track m and it builds up nicely to a decently climactic ending that involves some interesting twists. Some of his characters do seem to have come straight out of one of those terribly British 1940s/50s black and white films, but that didn't detract; they did come over as all too human, even the ones I disliked! There's much sadness and grief - one reviewer described the book as 'bleak' - but I never found it so, with Carr's obvious care for his characters, something upon which the likes of A Month in the Country was built. This may not have been Carr's greatest, but one where one can definitely see where that great stuff came from, well worth the time (and I enjoyed the appearance of characters I've come across already in later books!).

Edited November 23 by willoyd

willoyd · December 6

Four Bookers and an International (shortlisters!)

These reviews were originally written in the last few days leading up to the announcement of this year's Booker winner - which, given my feelings about my relationship with the judges this year, was probably inevitable. Perhaps of the moment, but will it be around in 10-20 years time? I have serious doubts.

51. The Rest of Our Lives by Benjamin Markovits ***
Not for the first time, I find myself wondering either what the Booker judges see in a book, or what I'm missing. It's probably the latter, but the main thought to come to mind at the conclusion of this shortlister, is how ordinary it was. Not a bad book by any means, with some lovely writing, possibly even a long-lister, but surely, surely this wasn't one of the six best books published last year? Like several recent reads, it got off to a good start but gradually I felt it lose its way as the narrator wanders uninvited from relation to acquaintance to previous girlfriend. It's a road trip, one does that, but the aimlessness felt, well, rather aimless. And then, the medical issues, an irritating and obvious distraction, became to my mind something of a cop-out, and the ending felt all rather obvious. Perhaps the biggest problem is that, being told in the first person, much of this was internal monologue, almost stream of consciousness, and on that front it suffered rather badly from its proximity to my reread of Mrs Dalloway. Now there is a book that never loses its way. And, given others' reaction, maybe it is after all just me. 3 stars.

52. On the Calculation of Volume I by Solvej Balle ***
A tricky one. I read this as a book group choice, and as my book for Denmark in my global project - I hadn't intended for this to be the Danish choice, but, shortlisted as it was for the International Booker, it seemed a good one all the same. And in many ways it was. But, but.... (and be warned, I've tried not to spoil, but inevitably some of my comments might work that way for some)

The idea is both an interesting and a familiar one: the narrator, Tara Selter, an antique book dealer, finds that she is trapped in November 18th. It's reminiscent of the film Groundhog Day, although the author says that she had the idea long before it appeared. Life constantly repeats, and yet it also doesn't. Whilst time never moves on, she does - a burn that she incurs on the first Nov 18th gradually heals, some objects stay with her (eg some books she purchases on the first Nov 18th), but others don't. She experiments at trying to keep her husband Tomas awake through the night to see what happens, and early in the morning he goes through a reset, and suddenly wonders why she is in the house and not away (as she is on the first Nov 18th). So, whilst the day repeats itself, some things, even people, move with her. But (that word again!), and this was the start of my problems with this book, what does and what doesn't move seems to be pretty random. In fact, the only consistency appears to be that it suits the author that they move (or don't!).

Well, maybe, or maybe this is part of what Balle is addressing - our relationship with time. Even so, it's the randomness that bothered me. However, one thought that cropped up in the book group is that maybe, somewhere in there, there is a consistency, and perhaps that's part of what we might found out later; it may even be part of the resolution (if there is one).

Tara herself, not the most empathetic of characters even initially, becomes ever more self-orientated as the book progresses, almost inevitably I suppose, but other characters recede as a result, not least Tomas himself, who becomes more and more just a series of sounds, a 'ghost'. We see things very much from her perspective, so Tomas 'forgets' at the end of the day. Er no, he doesn't, he's moved on to Nov 19th and the Tomas she sees at the start of the day hasn't yet known the things that she sees him as having forgotten. Meanwhile Tara sees herself as a 'monster', not least because the food (and other items?) she consumes is not replaced - gradually the supermarket is being emptied of the goods she favours. This may well partly be a take on our consumerism, but again, I found the logic somewhat illogical, especially as some items do revert, and again felt events were being fitted to the author's needs/wants, not the author coping with the 'reality' of recurring time.

I may well be focusing too much on this aspect, but for me the main weakness of this book, and what left me rather underwhelmed at the end, was the inevitable repetition (of course it's repetitive, that's the point, but it's also the challenge!), and yet what moving on there was just didn't work for me. Now that all might come out in the wash, and there's no doubt that I am intrigued to find out how this time issue is resolved (if, of course, it is), but therein lies the final problem I have with this book. Balle has already made it clear that this is a seven volume series. I am interested in knowing what happens at the end, but do I want to read the other 6 books to find out? It's rather like a boxed set series- and rattling around in my head is the question, am I sufficiently addicted to continue? Or am I prepared to become 'addicted'? And when I look on it like that the answer is pretty much the same to pretty much every boxed set I've ever seen: 'No' (a few BBC classics dramas aside!). Of course, it doesn't help, that I'm going to have to wait for future volumes to come out (Vol 3 in English is only just out). Maybe if I waited until all 7 were out and read them as one single long book? I don't know, although the prospect doesn't excite me in the way that many long books do. In the meantime, this was an interesting concept, with, as things stand, just too many flaws and too much commitment required to make me want to stick it out. Just like the finale is almost always the most watched programme in any series, I might just wait and read the final book.

53. Audition by Katie Kitamura **
Hmmm. My third Booker longlister, my second from the shortlist, and I'm beginning to think that I and the judges are rather out of synch this year. I loved Kitamura's writing, but as a novel this almost completely failed for me.

Centred on an older actress working on a new play and struggling to make a major mid-play transition work, the book opens with her meeting a young man in a fashionable restaurant, and examines the developing relationship between her, him and her husband (and no, it's not a ménage a trois). The book's structure reflects that of the play, set out in 2 parts/acts.

I was fine until the end of Act One, with characters and situation intriguingly developing, but the disjunction between the 2 parts and the (obviously deliberate) omission of the transitional scene was all too much (for me), and I never recovered engagement. Indeed, just the opposite as I grew increasingly irritated, with the climactic scene descending into plain silliness.

To be honest, my initial reaction was to record this as, at most, a two star read, but I did finish it (thank goodness it was no longer), and, as I said at the start, there is no doubting in my mind the quality of the writing - some of the individual scenes are superb. Trouble is I couldn't get the phrase 'style over substance' out of my head, even if it's probably my lack of perspicacity that was the real problem - there are enough rave reviews to suggest the substance imay actually be there, even if I still can't see it. So, this scrapes a three, sitting alongside both the other books to date, which is fair enough as they all, for me, started well but tailed off in their various ways as they progressed.

Later edit: no, I have to be completely honest with myself. This really was a disappointment. No way can I give it 3 stars - 2 it is, FWIW.

Flesh by David Szalay *
Now I know I'm just not on the same wavelength as this year's judges! (Am I even in the same room?). Managed about 100 pages and then decided I couldn't stomach another 250 of the same (not enough by my rules to count as a 'read' book). I usually enjoy lean writing, but this went well beyond that into the dull and repetitive, with reams of inane dialogue. Yes, I know that's all part of the characterisation (if Istvan had said 'OK' one more time I think I'd have screamed), but that was the point to me - he, and thus the book, just weren't interesting (I can do 'bad' no problem, but not uninteresting). It was all summed up by one of the most tediously tawdry opening chapters I've read in a while. G*d it was so predictable and obvious. Please, please let the next three reverse the slide. Knowing 2 of them (Miller, Desai), I am at least optimistic, but to date this has been one of the most disappointing shortlists for a while.

54. Flashlight by Susan Choi ****
My fourth Booker short list read, and the last before the winner is announced. After three disappointing reads, I was hoping for something better with this, and fortunately I got it. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was certainly a contrast: big, bold and discursive where the others all felt small, lean and focused. At 400+ pages this was no shrinking violet, and it proved to be an even longer read than anticipated, perhaps longer than optimum, but overall I enjoyed this opening up. It was geographically (and chronologically) broadly flung too, stretching from the US to Korea and Japan, with an extended European interlude too. However, the wordiness had a purpose, providing a richness and depth which again proved a welcome contrast. I can happily do lean (some of my favourite books....!), but it was good to get back to someone who obviously enjoys telling a story. It was quite a story too, a study in family secrecy and alienation, with a fair number of twists and turns, and a couple of pretty hefty twists. All in all, I felt as if my reading was starting to emerge out of the Slough of Despond into which it had been cast for almost a month.

Character-wise, a potential problem was that none of the main protagonists, Louise and her parents Anne and Serk, were at all likeable. One could feel sorry for them (well I did!), but I never warmed to them (well, a little bit perhaps, in the last quarter). However, they were interesting (especially the two women), which is more than could be said for any of those in the previous shortlisters, especially Flesh. It also helped that the subject matter was completely new to me, so I was learning as well. And the author did chuck in a 'likeable' character in the shape of Tobias, Louise's half-sister, and Anne's (initial) big secret.

So, overall a definite step in the right direction. I can certainly see me returning to Choi's work in the future. Yes, it did drag a couple of times, and I did find myself occasionally skimming through the chapters centred on Serk, but this was a book that I had no problem coming back to, never wanted to do anything but read through to the end, and was glad to have read when I got there - which is more than can be said for more than one recent novel. Is it a Booker winner? I wouldn't object if it did, far from it, but I can't see it: it's too straightforward a story, and those don't seem to have won much lately. Indeed, amongst those shortlisters I've read to date, it almost feels to be something of an anomaly. Having not read the last two, I'm probably in no position to guess (judge?!) what will win, but given how out of synch I am with the judges this year, it'll probably be Audition or Flesh. Of these 4, I would go for Flashlight as the only one I'd be happy to see win.

Edited December 6 by willoyd

willoyd · December 9

Some more catching up!

55. Within the Walls by Giorgio Bassani ****
Read during a visit to Ferrara, and as an introduction to the author's Novel of Ferrara sequence. Short stories are rarely my choice, normally being read as a book group read or for another reason, but these proved highly evocative and tied in beautifully with my visit: it was an almost surreal experience being able to walk (and run!) the very streets written about almost immediately after reading of them. The author's writing is highly atmospheric, and the chapters are rather more in the vein of character studies than full-blown stories, highlighting both individuals and their relationships within the context of the time and the city. They certainly brought the city to life for me - and I will definitely be carrying on with the series. Indeed, I now (soon after returning home) have a hardback copy of the Novel - the US edition with a far more interesting, attractive, cover than the dull as ditchwater UK version!

56. Question 7 by Richard Flanagan ***
Read for one of my book groups, I had been looking forward to this for some time. In the event, it proved to be a surprisingly disappointing read, perhaps a victim of too much expectation. The first chapter promised much, but it then seemed to fall apart somewhat, the butterfly wing effect being distinctly unoriginal. I kept thinking 'So what? Life IS like that and you don't have to keep beating me over the head with the same idea ad nauseam'. The whole construct felt rather artificial. It didn't help that the book didn't seem to be able to make up its mind whether it wanted to be fiction or non-fiction: it didn't surprise me to learn that the author apparently wanted to submit it to the Booker, but the publishers decided it wasn't sufficiently fiction....
By far and away the best sections were the straight memoir - recollecting his father, the near-death canoeing accident, and it was good to end with that, leaving me far more satisfied at the end than I had been for much of the rest of this book.

57. Looking After Your Books by Francesca Galligan ***
Slim little volume published by the Bodleian Library, and written by one of their rare book librarians. Dipping into this, I thought this was going to be full of fascinating nuggets and useful information. To some extent it was, but all too often it was just too generalised and vague, and at the end, it not taking up much time at all, I was left with a vague sense of disappointment. It did what it says on the tin, but I had hoped and expected, rightly or wrongly, for something rather more.
Interestingly she is a great fan of inscriptions, marks of ownership etc. I've always been wary of these, but as I've got older, I've enjoyed them more, even if they might reduce the value. In fact, that's perhaps part of this latter day appeal!

58. Sacred Hearts by Sarah Dunant ******
I read this a few years ago, long enough ago for plot details to have receded from memory. What was left was primarily a feeling of pleasure - I had enjoyed this! But then, I do with most Dunant. So, when we stayed in Ferrara as part of our autumn interrailing trip to northern Italy and points in between, this seemed a no-brainer for a reread. I actually started this whilst we were in the city itself, so had the chance to visit the convent the book's location is based on - well, at least the outside, as it was closed to visitors whilst we were there. Never mind, this was still very much worth it, and there was still something special about actually being there! Dunant evokes both period (16th century) and place superbly. Having been to a couple of talks by her on Renaissance and Reformation Italy, she really knows her subject. Her characters are roundly drawn and eminently believable. Hers is the sort of writing I can just immerse myself in. This is simply great story telling, whilst at the same time providing great insight into a world that is about as alien to someone like me as it could possibly be (16th century, female only, highly religious, enclosed/isolated etc). I loved it. Interestingly, I find I've kicked this up a couple of grades since my last read - I wonder if that is the result of having visited for myself. I'll be soon on to Maggie O'Farrell's The Marriage Portrait, also set in Ferrara, so it'll be interesting to see if that is similarly affected (and then on to the next Giorgio Bassani - same again!).

willoyd · December 16

59. Helm by Sarah Hall ******
My first experience of Sarah Hall's work, and what a revelation! One of those rare occasions where the book actually lives up to the blurb and the quotes!

Helm is the only named wind in the UK, the Fohn wind that comes off the Pennines over Cross Fell into the Eden Valley. It's a part of the world I know well, even though I've not actually experienced the wind itself. That knowledge may make me somewhat biased - knowing the setting always adds to the enjoyment - but I found myself totally engaged from line 1, and have spent the last week savouring pretty much every one of them. It's structure is one that doesn't always work with me, a series of interwoven narratives spread across human history from the Neolithic to the modern day. It doesn't always work because all too often I get really interested in one, and keep wanting to jump forward to continue, but here I positively enjoyed the swapping backwards and forwards, moving between 'episodes'. Some of the stories only last for one or two, others last from start to finish. They all, however, have their own distinctive voices and focus on our relationship with Helm, presented as a near sentient being (with it's own distinctive voice) in its own right.

And that to me is the point of this novel: our connectedness, or otherwise, with nature, with the world we live in, and how we live in that world. There is plot - each thread has its own story to tell, some more dramatic than others - but the traditional idea of 'plot' is not central. Helm's multifarious influence is, and we ignore it at our peril.

This could therefore have been quite a depressing book, but it is anything but. Helm is certainly not 'immortal', and there is a degree of melancholia in that - but for me this is in many ways the most uplifting book I've read this year, and such a welcome contrast to some of the dreary, even tawdry, fiction I've encountered recently (it's been looking up in the last 2 books though!). Certainly my favourite fiction of the year to date. I was interested to see that Helm was shortlisted for the Goldsmiths Prize - which intrigues me as, browsing this and past years, there are so many titles I barely recognise, if at all. The books that I do know suggest that these are lists that could well be worth exploring (perhaps starting with this year's winner?) In the meantime this is the first book this year that goes straight on to my favourites list.

BTW, I absolutely loved the cover (the UK version -the US one looks relatively, and surprisingly, disappointing).

60. The Habsburg Empire by Martyn Rady ****
One of Oxford's excellent Very Short Introduction series, read as background to a recent holidays in Vienna and North East Italy. We studied this as part of the European History module of my A-Level History, but that is more years ago than I like to remember, and needed refreshing and broadening out to the full length of this extraordinary families time in power. I'm intending to read up more, but this was a very useful primer. I'm a fair fan of the VSI series, which usually does exactly what it says on the tin, so rarely exceeds more than 3 stars, but Rady was particularly lucid in its narrative, so warrants a slightly higher rating. I certainly galloped through this. Obviously it misses out much, but as a preliminary overview it was exactly what I wanted, although I was glad I did have some background. I plan to move on to Rady's rather fuller The Habsburgs: The Rise and Fall of a World Power early next year - it's already sitting waiting on my shelves!

61. The Land in Winter by Andrew Miller *****
Read for one of my reading groups, and the fifth book in my Booker shortlist read. OK, I know the Booker has been and gone, but I was never going to get through all 6 in the time, so left this as one of the two postponed; I also wanted to go the group meeting with this fresh in mind. And things are improving, this being the second that has ranked something better than just ordinary (or worse) in my books.

Set in the brutal winter of 1962-3 (I can just about remember it!), two neighbouring couples are at parallel stages of their marriages, with their first child expected in the New Year. They are also at critical stages in different senses too - one husband is having an affair, the other is struggling to make their farming business work. Although of different social circles (and classes - this the early, post-war, 1960s after all), their lives become interlinked. The meteorological onslaught adds to the stresses and the strains begin to show.

As is Miller's wont, the writing is quite understated. There is a matter of factness that belies the depth. Sentences are short, conjunctions fewer than one would expect. This creates its own rhythms, which add to the hypnotic effect of the writing. After the opening chapter, the perspective swaps between the four main characters, with inner monologue almost to the level of stream of consciousness at times. Not quite, but it has a similar effect. There is rarely (if any) high drama in the Miller books I've read, being built on an accumulation of smaller details and moments, they always seem to make an impact, even if one doesn't realise it a the time - they are books that work their way under the skin - at least they do mine!

I also found myself immersed in the period. This is certainly a relatively long time away (particularly for younger readers!), but it's still within the memories of many; it is either way oh so different. Everybody smokes, including the pregnant mothers, who also drink; the social order is rigidly structured and cringingly patriarchal, memories of WWII are fresh in the mind. Scenes in shops, on the train and elsewhere reaked of this era - it certainly brought memories (even if just as a young child) flooding back.

However, I can see why this didn't win the Booker. In fact, I'd be mildly surprised if it had. This is particularly so given the others I've read that made the shortlist, which are all bigger, showier, more obvious. This is, as Miller always is, subtler, more restrained, the sort of book and writer liable to slide under the radar. Stiletto vs sledgehammers. I don't think it's his best either, although it's up there (for me, of the ones I've read, that would be Pure and Now We Shall Be Entirely Free). But, in terms of the shortlist, it's proved by far and away the best read (I'd have looked to Choi to win though). But, I've yet to read Kiran Desai; that'll come early next year.

Edited December 16 by willoyd

willoyd · December 19

Rattling through books in the last couple of weeks at the rate of 1 every two days (they are only shorties at this time of year), so in terms of number of books, am a little way behind, but chronologically, barely a week down now. Coming thick and fast as they tend to do at this time of year, I'm likely to keep most, if not all, reviews on the short side. I generally can't cope with big books at this time of year!

62. Reader for Hire by Raymond Jean **
"A beautiful homage to the art of reading". Hmm. Not really. French whimsy along the lines of Antoine Laurain, and I wasn't struck with his books. Centred on Marie-Constance, a young married (yes, that's important) woman trying to set up a business as a reader, who develops an almost inevitably eccentric clientele. All too obviously written by a man (would a woman be so breast obsessed?), and feeling dated (written in 1988, but rather 70s-ish). I suspect this would make a better film, and it was made into one (La Lectrice - the orginal French title of the book), but as a book, this didn't work for me.

63. Man Tiger by Eka Kurniawan ****
My book for Indonesia in Reading the World. The story of two interlinked families. A shocking, apparently inexplicable event happens in the opening pages. Gradually we find out why it happened. It's a dramatic, really lively promising start, with an interesiing touch of magical realism. The book never loses its interest or pace, but whilst I thoroughly enjoyed it, I was a mite diappointed that the magical aspect was left rather undeveloped. Equally, the chronology, deliberately blurred, for me just edged into the unnecessarily convoluted. But these are minor nitpicks - this was a genuinely good read, which I rattled through in barely a day!

64. The Wall Jumper by Peter Schneider ****
This is a novel, but it reads as reportage: the narrator travelling back and forth across the Berlin Wall collecting stories of 'wall jumpers', people who in one way and another manage to cross east to west, and reflecting on differences in viewpoints learned through growing up in such different cultures. It's particularly interesting given the ongoing issues with the merging of the two Germanys: almost 45 years on, this is still a highly relevant book.

65. Closely Watched Trains by Bohumil Hrabal *****
I've read this a couple of times before, this was the book for Czechia in Reading the World, but having just seen the film (again - I saw this as part of the film club at school back in the 1970s), I wanted to compare book and film more closely. In spirit and in general terms, very closely matched, and several incidents are transferred almost verbatim, but the sequencing is slightly different, which does make for surprisingly different stories. The main protagonist is a railway 'apprentice' in a small regional 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'. There is much humour, but equally pathos. A quick, but engaging read that has grown on me with each reading.

66. Department of Speculation by Jenny Offil *****
A reread from 2023. The story of a marriage told in a series of fragmentary paragraphs, treading a fine line between desolation and sharp humour. Nobody is named, and when the marriage struggles (this is a novel after all!) the writer moves from first to third person, presumably to try and create a sense of distance/alienation. it does! There are some wonderful moments of insight, particularly from a parental perspective, which (even though I'm male and never experienced motherhood) I could strongly relate to! I have to admit there are sections which I didn't fully understand, or indeed even follow, but the writing carried me through these. All in all, beautifully observed and beautifully written.

Edited December 20 by willoyd

willoyd · 2025-12-27T00:04:13Z

Seventy up!

67. Jane Austen, A Brief Life by Fional Stafford *****
Both a brief account, and an all too brief life. What would she have achieved if she'd lived a fully three score and ten? Read to mark Jane Austen's 250th birthday. This was an illuminating and eminently readable biography (almost unputdownable!), focusing mainly on her writing development, and providing a useful framework on which one can then hang more detailed biographies such as Claire Tomalin's. It also made we want to read all Austen's novels again! Perhaps not immediately, but certainly a change of plan, and will move on to her last novel, Persuasion, the only one that I've read just the once. Perhaps the others in the new year.

68. Persuasion by Jane Austen ******
Read as a follow up to Fiona Stafford's biography. It's the only one of the big six that I've read just the once, at which time it wasn't one of my favourites (although I have loved them all, with perhaps Northanger Abbey being the only one rated below six stars).And it still doesn't quite mix it with Emma, Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, but it's not far off, and Anne Elliot is definitely one of the great 'heroines'. I'm not quite sure why, but it could be something to do with the overcomplex genealogy perhaps, or the more straightforward romantic plotting. There's no doubting though the glorious Austen writing or her needle sharp character development. It was, for this unashamed Austen fan, a wonderful wallow, and I could have just started it all over again straightaway. I must read the others again in the New Year. (And I'm going to watch the BBC adaptation too, currently available on I-Player).

69. L'Etranger by Albert Camus ****
I have read this once before, but only as a studied text for French Literature AS-Level, way back in the mid-70s. Needless to say, I barely remember it other than being a tedious translation effort. It's long overdue another go (particularly after reading and enjoying La Peste a couple of years ago), and as The Meursault Investigation seems to be a good choice for Algeria in Reading the World, now seems as good a time as any! So...it's easy to see why it's a classic. It's good, very good. It's seen as an examination of Absurdist philosophy, and I get that. The satire on French justice in part II (or is that 'justice' in general?) is vicious. To me, however, what came over much more strongly, was Meursault's autism. This was the grim, realist, side to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (and no, I'm not compariing them as literature, there is no comparison). I was fairly amazed that I'd never heard this before as it seemed screamingly obvious, so was relieved to find a note about just this right at the end of the book's Wikipedia entry that showed that this has been recognised (I'd begun to doubt myself!).
But I can't say I was wowed. For me this is a book more to be admired and respected than enthused about (in contrast to, for instance, La Peste) I found it an interesting read certainly , but I never felt it reached far beyond simply doing what it says on the tin, the raison d'etre always more important than the novel itself. Animal Farm, amongst a number of other classics, had the same effect on me. But I am intrigued to read the Daoud take now!

70. The Meursault Investigation by Kamel Daoud *****
Read as both a follow-up to L'Etranger and as the book for Algeria in Reading the World. This was a fascinating counterpoint to Camus's classic. I was glad to read it immediately afterwards as I might well have missed some (many?) of the points of contact otherwise, and I really enjoyed picking these up! Overall. I was surprised, if anything, to enjoy this more than the original. This felt more human and more deeply rooted in place. There was a colour that Camus's lacked. All of this was obviously deliberate on the part of both authors, but the later book did chime more with me (although it of course needed the earlier work to build on!). Perhaps it would be fairer to say, that they worked really well as a pair, both contrasting and complimenting each other; a case of the sum being distinctly greater than the parts.

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