Conversations With Friends (Sally Rooney): This is my second Rooney novel (it’s actually HER first one, but I always seem to read stuff out of order). It’s about relationships – specifically between four ‘friends’ (some more intimate than others) – seen through the eyes of a 21 year-old woman (bright/student/poetry-performer). Of course, these relationships are somewhat complicated (it would have been a pretty boring book otherwise): misunderstandings, vulnerabilities, misinterpreted remarks, nuanced glances (are there such things?), witty conversations, sex (I’m getting old!), disintegrating friendships, self-destructive actions, walking on eggshells… you get the general idea. Actually, I didn’t really warm to any of the main protagonists, but Rooney’s writing style is quite brilliant (sharp, clever and wonderfully observed)… and I found the story surprisingly compelling. Very impressive.
Washington Black (Esi Edugyan): This is our local bookshop’s Book Group’s latest book (my second since I joined). The novel tells the story of 11-year-old slave (Washington Black) on a Barbados sugar plantation in the 19th century. The plot is bizarre (to put it mildly): Black’s English master is obsessed with developing a machine that can fly; a man gets killed; the master and Black flee to the Arctic (as you do) - with Black then travelling to Nova Scotia, London, Amsterdam and Morocco… oh, and there’s also family history, hideous injuries, art, a woman, a bounty-hunter, zoology… and lots of stuff about racism and slavery. Although the book doesn’t say so, Edugyan (in an interview) indicated that she’d come across the story of a Victorian Englishman who’d been shipwrecked, presumed dead, off the coast of South America; his mother refused to believe he was dead (rumours about him turning up in Australia) so she sent a member of her household (a former slave) off to try and find him… and that had been the inspiration of this book. The novel was shortlisted the 2018 Man Booker Prize and so I was full of high expectations. Frankly, I was pretty disappointed. Although Edugyan is an excellent writer, I found the twists and turns in the storyline (as well as the ‘plot’ itself) ridiculously absurd, irritatingly fanciful, hugely unconvincing and, to my mind, with far, far too many strands. The book felt a bit like a cross between Jules Verne, Robinson Crusoe, Indiana Jones and Roots. Having subsequently read all the words of praise from a multitude of critics (eg. “astonishing”, “magnificent”, “terrifically exciting”, “nothing short of a masterpiece”), I realise that I’m probably the only person in the world who wasn’t completely captivated by the book… and that I’ll probably be given a hard time by my book group friends in due course!
The Vegetarian (Han Kang): Talking of somewhat strange books… It’s difficult to categorise this short novel (Ian McEwan described it as a ‘novel of sexuality and madness”). Perhaps something along the lines of: compelling, disturbing, strange, extraordinary and defiant? It explores the life of a young South Korean woman and it challenges the strict value system that demands devotion to the family and conformism (and, while we’re about it, the denial of erotic freedom). It starts with the woman announcing (after a dream) that she’s become a vegetarian (for goodness sake!). Her family is horrified and tries to force-feed her meat; her father beats her in front of the whole family; and she’s sent to a psychiatric hospital. It’s in three parts: the first narrator is woman’s husband (a businessman - who thought he had chosen a spouse with an “insignificant personality” – and who is gradually horrified to discover her radical spirit which threatens his career and status!); part two focuses on the explicit, sexually-charged relationship between the woman and her brother in law; part three is told by the woman’s sister, who ultimately becomes her sole carer. Haunting, hugely challenging and darkly beautiful.
The Peregrine (JA Baker): First published 50 years ago, this book is being used by a few of us ‘blokes’ at church as a ‘try out’ for an occasional book group. It was compiled over a ten year period, from 1954 until 1964, by (in Robert Macfarland’s words) a ‘myopic, arthritis office-worker from Essex’ who tracked the peregrine falcons that hunted over the Essex landscape (over an area of some 200sq miles) on bicycle and on foot, watching through binoculars (his wife made him sandwiches and flasks of tea!). I’m not someone who’s particularly fascinated by birds, but this is a quite remarkable book. Baker (1926-87) seems to have an uncanny and incredible ability to detect a peregrine in flight or at rest as a matter of second-nature. It’s almost as if he trained himself to think like a peregrine. I think I’m someone who is pretty good at ‘looking’, but this book made me realise just how much (certainly as far as nature is concerned) I miss. The bulk of the book takes the form of a winter diary (including the savage winter of 1962-63) - describing the pergerine’s ‘kills’, its habitat, its prey, its need for daily bathing, its flight and Baker’s determination and devotion to follow individual peregrines over prolonged periods (none of your GPS devices or drones here!). His descriptions are incredibly detailed; at times, almost unbelievable in their clarity – accounts of things happening more than half a mile away. Indeed, I frequently found myself questioning whether or not it was what he saw or just what he thought he saw! I found myself reading the book in half-dozen page snatches - that is in no way a criticism, simply the best way I found to absorb the text as fully as possible. Baker is obsessed by the bird; he appreciates and understands that the peregrine overcomes its prey “by exploitation of weaknesses rather than superior power”. His painstaking observations, his detailed knowledge of the area’s geography and its wildlife are quite magical… and the language is lyrical, uncompromising, energetic and quite extraordinary. Despite the passion of his descriptions, one gets the impression that Baker was very much a ‘loner’ and not someone taken to making ‘wild gestures’ in public… so I was very taken by this diary note: “She drifted idly; remote, inimical. She balanced in the wind, two thousand feet above, while the white cloud passed beyond her and went across the estuary to the south. Slowly her wings curved back. She slipped smoothly through the wind, as though she were moving forward on a wire. This mastery of the roaring wind, this majesty and noble power of flight, made me shout aloud and dance up and down with excitement…”! A truly beautiful book in every sense.
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