january 2022 books…

Allegorizings (Jan Morris): As you probably know, I’m a great lover of Morris’s books. I still regret that I no longer have the hardback copy of the James Morris edition of ‘Oxford’ (published in 1965)(I’ve owned the Jan Morris paperback version, published in 1978, since 1979)… clearly, I ‘lent’ it to someone and sadly never had it returned. One dictionary definition of ‘allegorize’ is to “interpret or represent symbolically” (just so you know). This book of essays/musings was published in 2021 (one year on from her death at the age of 94) and she was well aware that it would be published posthumously; they’re effectively no more than ‘idle thoughts or perhaps ‘whimsy’ (some serious, but mostly funny and entertaining… and one or two that I frankly found quite boring). The range of subjects is wide (understatement) - from falling over; zoos; whistling; hot water bottles; kindness; about her no longer believing in nationality “or the cursed Nation-State”; and even nose-picking! There’s also a wonderful piece about Princess Diana: in Morris’s opinion, she should “have been given the all-but-superannuated royal yacht Britannia, which nobody knew what to do with, and invited to rollick her way around the world on the national behalf, living it up without inhibition, taking a new boyfriend to every port (or finding one there) and distributing a taste of outrageous English gaiety among the nations”! A lovely, very enjoyable book that I’ll no doubt continue to dip into over the years to come.
Go Went Gone (Jenny Erpenbeck): This novel is set in Germany and tells the story of a retired university professor who found a surprising new community among African asylum-seekers who have set up a tent city in Berlin. It’s a story about displacement, upheaval, race, privilege, nationality, rigid bureaucracy and humanity. It’s profound, unsettling and quite, quite brilliant. Erpenbeck has clearly talked to a lot of people who have been through similar, relentless experiences… and so, with so much research, in many ways, the book doesn’t feel like fiction at all. She writes brilliantly. It’s an extraordinary book. You need to read it.
I Am I Am I Am (Maggie O’Farrell): O’Farrell is one my favourite writers and this is a rather special book. Its sub-title (if that’s the right phrase) is “Seventeen Brushes with Death” and it’s a collection of essays in which O’Farrell chronicles her own ‘near misses’ – including haemorrhage during childbirth, miscarriage and leaping off a harbour wall into the sea as a teenager. I spent much of the book reflecting in amazement that such experiences can all happen to one person (I seem to have come off very lightly, so far, in my life!). Unsurprisingly, it’s brilliantly written and utterly captivating (and shocking… and brave… and moving). Ru lent me the book and I read it in a day. Wonderful.
Azadi (Arundhati Roy): This is a series of essays/lectures that deal with matters of freedom in a world of growing authoritarianism. Unsurprisingly, Roy makes regular reference to matters happening in her native India (and she’s massively critical of Narendra Modi’s government and his Hindu nationalist party: “The infrastructure of fascism is staring us in the face, the pandemic is speeding up that process in unimaginable ways, and yet we hesitate to call it by its name”. The essays have reinforced my realisation of how little I know of the complexities of the country: some 780 languages; more nationalities and sub-nationalities, more indigenous tribes and religions than all of Europe. She writes brilliantly (and persuasively) and uses her essays/lectures as ways of highlighting matters of justice, rights and freedoms in the current hostile environment. It doesn’t make for easy reading… but I think it raises fundamentally important issues.
Miss Benson’s Beetle (Rachel Joyce): I loved Joyce’s “The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry” and, in a way, this was another novel about pilgrimage. Set in 1950, it tells the story of two unlikely women travelling to the other side of the world in search of a golden beetle that may or may not exist… trekking through dangerous terrain, breaking all the rules and learning about emotional courage. The two principle characters are rather wonderful (very funny, but also joyous individuals). In many ways, I suppose some might regard this as a ‘woman’s novel’ (although, frankly, I would disagree); what it IS is a tender book about heartfelt friendship, compassion, hope and, as the book’s cover says: ‘second chances’. Reading it was a good excuse to avoid all those depressing stories of people offering excuses to justify a certain prime minister’s alleged actions/rule-breaking escapades over the past nine months or so.