may-june 2023 books...

Anything Is Possible (Elizabeth Strout): I’ve only fairly recently ‘discovered’ Elizabeth Strout… this is the third of her ‘Lucy Barton’ novels I’ve read (and, somewhat typically, I’ve read them out of order – this is number 2!). This one tells the story of the inhabitants of a rural, rundown town in Illinois (the hometown of Lucy Barton – successful New York writer – who finally returns after 17 years of absence to visit siblings she left behind). Each of the book’s chapters effectively represents a short story… about relationships, class, memories, feelings and emotions. Many of the chapters make reference to characters who appear elsewhere in the book (I frequently found quite difficult to recall who was related to who etc – but that’s me!). I love Strout’s writing – intimate, wise and managing to capture empathy without sentimentality… there are some similarities between her and author Kent Haruf methinks.
Lady Sings The Blues (Billie Holiday): This is next Storysmith bookclub book (music theme), published in 1956 (3 years before her death, aged 44). It’s an unflinching, disturbing account of her life (somewhat disappointingly “written with William Dufty”, but hey!) – about all the racist incidents; about being raped as a 10-year-old; about her upbringing in poverty (she grew up scrubbing floors and running errands in a brothel before she began singing); about how she was often directed to the ‘Black’ entrance when she performed; about the constant use of the N-word in public; about her mother (who was just 13 when she was born and died aged 38); about her struggles with drugs; about her time in prison; about her ‘adventures in love’; about her frequent lack of money when she performed; about her clothes… but, crucially, it’s also about the age of jazz and, in particular, her own music and style. Somewhat bizarrely, I found myself contrasting Holiday’s talented and creative life with that of Frida Kahlo (who died in 1954, aged 47). The book feels like an honest and raw account of her life (it’s also full of humour) - but, also at times, it felt as if some facts might have been ‘massaged’ for effect. I felt that there were also occasions when her struggles/relapses with drugs was glossed over (perhaps unsurprisingly?) – everything going swimmingly well, then suddenly turning sour when it became clear she had also become drug-dependent. However, the genuine passion for her music comes through clearly in the book and I found it a fascinating and absorbing read.
Mothercare (Lynne Tillman): Tillman is an American novelist (although I’d not read any of her books), but this book (published in 2023) is her account of how she and her two sisters looked after their mother (who died aged 98) for 11 years. Her mother actually died in 2006 and the author ended up converting an essay she’d written at the time into the final book… as something of a cautionary tale/sympathetic guidance for anyone who becomes a caregiver. In fact, although the sisters were ‘in charge’ of the caregiving (they seemed to take it in turns to be with their mother most weekends), the bulk of the actual caring was undertaken by a series of live-in staff (and how, invariably – shockingly in my view – these were ‘black women on low pay’… and sometimes ‘undocumented workers’). The book deals with the author’s life-long difficult relationship with her mother, but also focusses on the battles the sisters had a) in getting their mother’s condition properly recognised and b) employing/changing/criticising (and occasionally endorsing!) the various consultations they used… “why did no one tell us we should use a geriatric psychiatrist before now?”… “why did no one tell us about hospice care?” etc etc. There were lots of things in the book that I found somewhat questionable (eg. they spent LOTS of money each year arranging extravagant birthday parties for their mother – whether she wanted them or not… and also a sense that they perhaps seemed focussed on keeping their mother alive beyond a time when it was reasonable to do so? Obviously, caring for a loved one in their final days is a pretty grim prospect but, at times, I found myself feeling angered by the somewhat selfish attitude of the writer (it all seemed so time-consuming and inconvenient for her etc)… but that’s probably a little unfair. Before I’d read the book, I went to hear Tillman talk about her book/experiences at one of Storysmith’s writer evenings and I have to say that she came across as a warm and engaging individual. A fascinating, challenging book.
Slow Horses (Mick Herron): This is the first of Herron’s books I’ve read. It’s a complex, clever, spy-thriller (in the Le Carré style) based in London; the title refers to those individuals within the Intelligence Service who were once high-fliers, but who made a “noisy mess of their careers” and ended up as ‘slow horses’ in Slough House. All these individuals share the common desire to be ‘back in the action’. As is often the case with ‘clever’ books, I spent much of the time trying (and failing) to remember the names, key details and relationships of the ‘slow horses’… and, ultimately (of course!), the complicated plot itself. It all felt chillingly plausible, wonderfully cynical and with lots of dark humour. I was very impressed by the book… and look forward to reading more from Herron in future.
Cards On The Table (Agatha Christie): First published in 1936, our 1962 copy priced at 2s6d!). I find Christie’s books (and I’ve read a LOT of them) very appealing and, despite their sometimes complicated plots, quite easy, relaxing(?!) reading. This novel tells the story of four people playing bridge; meanwhile, their host (who is in the same room, but is ‘sitting out’) is murdered. One of the four players must have committed the murder… AND, it transpires, each player has previously committed at least one murder. The only clues are the people themselves. Fortunately, Hercule Poirot is on hand! Clever, intriguing and, of course, the finger of suspicion is pointed to each of the players in turn.