september-october 2021 books…

A Singular Vision: Dod Procter 1890-1972 (Alison James): I have something of a passion for UK art of the 1920s and 30s and first came across Dod Procter’s work via a book I read about one of her contemporary artists (and lifelong friend), Dame Laura Knight. Her family moved to Newlyn in 1907, after the death of her father, and there enrolled at the school of painting, aged 15. For a period in the 1920s, she was perhaps the most famous artist in Britain and her painting ‘Morning’ (of a reclining young woman) caught the public imagination and was purchased ‘for the nation’ by the Daily Mail from the Royal Academy annual show in 1927. She was elected an RA in 1932 (a rare event for women at that time). There’s a piece in the book about the RA’s Annual Banquet to which, shockingly (but at the same time perhaps not so surprising!), no women were allowed. Procter was an RA for 25 YEARS before she was allowed to attend this event! I love Procter’s paintings of women (I’m not so keen on her flower pieces)… but, sadly, it seems that ‘difficulties’ with interpreting images of children and adolescents are rooted in the contemporary sensitivities of an age have resulted in her work now being regarded as ‘unfashionable’… which is a great shame. I very much enjoyed the book.
The Sin Of Certainty (Peter Enns): My friend Phil recommended this book (quite appropriate in my on-going spiritual wilderness). For some time now, I’ve been frequently frustrated (and even a little infuriated at times!) by Christians (some writers and some friends) who seem to possess a glowing, rose-tinted faith (lucky them!) and who seem to believe that ALL Christians have the same positive faith experiences as them (and, maybe, if you haven’t, perhaps you’re not a REAL Christian – don’t get me started!). Well, let’s just say that some of us struggle on our spiritual journeys! This is something of a confessional book… about how Enns came to understand belief and faith more in terms of trust and love than in terms of facts and knowledge. At times, I found his writing style similar to that of Rob Bell. Although I found some of the book a little meandering at times (and the American way of expressing things a little irritating on occasions), I did get a lot out of it – it’s accessible, thought-provoking and, for me, relevant. A book I may need to re-visit from time to time.
The Buried Giant (Kazuo Ishiguro): This is our next Bloke’s Books book (chosen by Ed). It’s something of a fable, set in Britain’s mythical past… about Arthurian myths, about Saxons and Britons fighting over the abandoned Roman province of Britannia (complete with dragons and warring knights!). On the face of it, perhaps not an obvious book choice for old codgers like us! The book’s about faded memories (or even memories that may be false)… about a time that existed in the shadow of near-total oblivion (“this land had become cursed with a mist of forgetfulness”). Crucially, however, it’s also a portrait of marital love… it features a devoted, elderly couple who set off across a troubled land of mist and rain in the hope of finding a son they haven’t seen for years. As the book’s cover suggests: “they expect to face many hazards – some strange and other-worldly – but they cannot yet foresee how their journey will reveal to them dark and corners of their love for one another”. It’s a haunting, atmospheric, moving and unsettling novel (at times, it felt like reading a Tolkien story) that asks difficult and revealing questions about love and mortality. It’s a beautiful, unsettling and deeply affecting book (one of those that remain with you long after you’ve finished the final page).
The Picture Of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1891). It’s a story of evil, debauchery and scandal… about Dorian Gray - a beautiful, yet corrupt, man. It was Oscar Wilde’s only novel and you sense, knowing what happened to Wilde in ‘real life’, that the main character reflected something of the author himself. I must admit that when I read the preface to the book – which merely lists a series of bold declarations about the nature of art and beauty – I feared the worse. I thought the entire book would contain a series of complex, philosophical declarations that would frankly be above my intellect (or my capacity to want to bother to even try to understand). In the event, I found it an intriguing and beautifully-written book – especially in the light of Wilde’s own subsequent experiences. The story revolves around a portrait of Dorian Gray by artist Basil Hallward – who was impressed and infatuated by Gray's beauty. Through Hallward, Gray meets Lord Henry Wotton (a thoroughly detestable individual in my view!), and he soon is enthralled by the aristocrat's self-indulgent worldview (ie. that beauty and sensual fulfilment are the only things worth pursuing in life). Under Wootton’s powerful influence, Gray acknowledges that his own beauty will fade, but expresses the desire to sell his soul, to ensure that the picture, rather than he, will age and fade. His wish is granted, and Gray pursues a disparaging life of varied amoral experiences while staying young and beautiful; all the while, his portrait ages and records every one of Gray's misdemeanours. When the book was first published (in novella format), it apparently caused considerable controversy and various parts were duly edited before the final novel was printed (these apparently involved obscuring homoerotic references, to simplify the moral message of the story). It’s clearly a book ‘of its time’ but, in addition to the book’s homophobic undertones, it’s a book about class (and class struggle), privilege, wealth, vanity, male dominance, selfishness and morality. I enjoyed the book far more than I had anticipated.
Not The End Of the World (Kate Atkinson): I love Kate Atkinson’s writing. This book of twelve short stories (first published in 2002) is described on the book’s cover as “playful and profound”… and I think that’s a very good description. The individual stories frequently have some passing reference to characters or situations described in the other stories. I read half of the book on a train journey and found them perfect travelling companions… funny, quirky and quite compelling. I particularly loved the Charlene and Trudi characters (obsessively making lists while “bombs explode softly in the streets outside”) in the first and final stories.