february 2024 books…

So Late In The Day (Claire Keegan): Since publishing her first book in 1999, Keegan’s total work to date amounts to just five books - running to just 700 pages and some 140,000 words. In an interview for the Guardian (last September), she said: “I love to see prose being written economically… elegance is saying just enough. And I do believe that the reader completes the story.” Well, as long as you can write like Keegan, I absolutely agree. This short story follows
Cathal, a civil servant in Dublin on a summer Friday. He’s sad as he reflects on his relationship with a woman, Sabine. Gradually, we become aware that Sabine was his fiancée but that she has now left him… essentially it seems because of his attitude towards women and marriage in general. We start off feeling a little sorry for Cathal and there are occasional glimmers of awareness; his work colleagues seem worried about him and his boss encourages him to go home early. There are occasional glimmers of self-awareness, but does he fully comprehend the depth of his failure and the need to change? Keegan reveals all this in a quiet, beautifully subtle way… and, finally, the reader understands the significance of the day.
Joe Country (Mick Herron): This is the second of Herron’s ‘Slough House Thrillers’ I’ve read (it’s actually the 7^th in a series of 8, so far… I’d previously read the 1st). These novels are essentially all about British espionage; they’re clever, detailed and intriguing but, for me (and I readily acknowledge that I might be the exception), they were just TOO clever and complex. For a start, I felt there were far too many characters (and, confusingly for me, some of them were referred to by ‘other’ names or nicknames?)(would I have found things easier if I’d read books 2-6?)… I longed for a descriptive list of characters attached to the book’s inside cover – so I could keep being reminded who they all were. The novel was full of ‘spy shorthand’ (Herron trying to show off his apparent in-depth knowledge of the world of political intrigue and shadowy organisations?). It took me a long time (some 150 pages?) to get my head around stuff and, even then, I felt my level of intelligence was constantly letting me down! It’s quite a long book (nearly 350 pages) and, although I did eventually ‘get into it’ – one of the story plots involves some of the Slough House ‘crew’ being dispatched to eliminate a man responsible for killing a crew member - I really longed to finish it and start something new. Sorry!
A Room With A View (EM Forster): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1908). Strangely, although I’ve read a number of Forster’s books, I’d not previously read this one… and I really enjoyed it. It’s been described as a ‘social comedy’ – with English middle-classes holidaying in Florence… it’s about a young woman who finds her senses awakened by her experiences in Italy – her stifling Victorian propriety (personified in her pretentious fiancé) being eventually overridden by un-English passion. In Italy, she discovers life and marks her journey from adolescence to adulthood. I think all young people should experience Italy early in life! Our bookgroup is combining its discussion with a viewing of the film at 20th Century Flicks on Christmas Steps (and a visit to a local pub!).
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): The book consists of a series of Christmas and Easter sermons given during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury (2002-2012). I used the Christmas series for reflection during Advent 2023 and now for Lent 2024. Williams is someone whose wise views and reflections I’ve found helpful in the past… and, given my ongoing journey in the spiritual wilderness, hoped that these Easter sermons would prove beneficial. Well, in all honesty (and perhaps no surprises here!), I found them helpful, insightful and yet also somewhat frustrating. I frequently found myself questioning matters that Williams clearly felt were taken as read (but perhaps that’s just me in my current ‘mindset’?). I finished reading the sermons half way through Lent – on the basis that I wanted to read a second faith-related book before Easter (on which I hope to post some thoughts next month?). It’s somewhat sobering to realise that these sermons - from more than 10 years ago – frequently refer to wars, environmental concerns and financial crises. Nothing has changed… they only seem to have considerably worsened.
Walk The Blue Fields (Claire Keegan): As you will appreciate if you’ve been reading any of my recent book ‘reviews’, I’ve latterly become a huge fan of Keegan’s writing. This collection of short stories (first published in 2007) – mainly set in Ireland – represent yet more proof of her beautifully-crafted writing abilities, her use of language and her skill as a brilliant story-teller. I read each of the stories quite slowly (and often out loud to myself) and found them captivating, thought-provoking, imaginative, frequently funny and utterly mesmerising. You won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet another book of her stories on my bedside table!

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.

the zone of interest…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Jonathan Glazer’s film “The Zone of Interest”. It proved to be a tough, but very impressive watch.
The film focuses on the world of the true-life Nazi commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss (played by Christian Friedel), and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) – both brilliant performances – and their five children. They live immediately next door to the death camp (which appears in the film merely glimpsed over the walls of their well-tended garden)… so it’s only the constant smoke and the film’s scary soundscape that gives a hint of the horrors that are taking place there.
The Höss family live a wholesome, idyllic life – enjoying the beauty of nature, swimming in a nearby lake, sunbathing in the long grass - but, every now and then, you’re hit by some horrific revelation… such as Hedwig picking out an expensive fur coat once owned by one the camp inmates or one their sons counting gold teeth (pulled from inmates) in bed in the middle of the night or another of the sons locking a brother in the greenhouse and making the noise of incoming gas for fun.
When Rudolf is transferred from Auschwitz to Oranienburg, Hedwig insists on staying in her dream house… but, in due course, the Nazi hierarchy decides that the number of camp deaths needs to drastically increase and Höss is re-called back to Auschwitz. In the phonecall to his wife announcing the decision, he talks about ‘murder’ without softening the language… but his words barely register with Hedwig, she just moans that it’s the middle of the night and that she needs to get back to bed.
In a film review by blogger Robert Daniels (isn’t the internet wonderful!), he says this: “Because how we remember history, how we make note of current events—through propaganda, photography, video, and the internet—is a constant interplay between the truth as it exists and as it has been edited. The fact that ‘The Zone of Interest’ arrives now, as world powers manipulate the narrative to sanitize their crimes, makes Glazer's images all the more chilling”. Let that sink in.
I think I’ll leave things there… there’s so much more I could add, but I think it’s a film you need to see you for yourself.
It’s a bruising, painful, brilliant film… and the sense of what’s happening behind the walls never leaves you. It’s one of those films that will stay with you for some time. 

january/february 2024 books…

Two Years Indoors (TeamSP): This is a book which tracks the Covid-related government actions, restrictions and decisions over a two-year period (January 2020-February 2022). Rather like the Blurb books I produced at the time (March 2020-March 2021), this book provides a fascinating and stark reminder of what we all went through. Not exactly bedtime reading, but hey!
The Forester’s Daughter (Claire Keegan): Keegan is my new favourite author! Her novella “Small Things Like These” was one of my favourite books of 2023 and this short-story is the second book of hers I’ve read this year. It tells of an Irish farmer-cum-forester (Victor) living in the heart of the Wicklow countryside… with his wife (Martha), ‘three teenagers, the milking and the mortgage’. The marriage followed a year of persistent courting… but it’s an unhappy marriage. One day, Victor stumbles across a gun dog, which he brings home and gives to his youngest daughter for her twelfth birthday. Martha is fearful/apprehensive… “The evening is fine. In the sky a few early stars are shining of their own accord. She watches the dog licking the bowl clean. This dog will break her daughters heart, she sure of it”. Keegan is a simply wonderful, mesmerising story-teller and this is a rather wonderful, poignant tale.
Politics, But Better (Tatton Spiller): This is the third Spiller book I’ve read this year. The cover claims it as “an A-Z guide to creating a more hopeful future” (my goodness, how we need some hopeful pointers these days!). But, for me, this book really didn’t do much to make me hopeful. Yes, Spiller talked a fair amount of sense (but, frankly, so I do I quite a lot of the time!), but it was hardly ground-breaking stuff and, inevitably perhaps, there were huge areas that he didn’t cover. I found it all somewhat disappointing (and, frankly, a bit boring!).
On Photography (Susan Sontag): This book, first published in 1977, is our latest Bloke’s Books selection. It takes the form of seven essays – with LOTS of references to lots of people I’d never heard of and lots of photographs that I had no knowledge of (not all that surprising!). For me, the key and obvious criticism about the book is that it didn’t contain a SINGLE photograph!! Quite, quite ridiculous. Sontag was clearly a gifted academic and, no doubt the likes of John Berger would disagree with me(!!), but I’m afraid I felt that it read a bit like a verbose student might write in order to impress their examiners – clogged full with quotations and references (but much somewhat out of context and not particularly interesting).
I thought the most noteworthy thing that arose from reading the book was that, because it was written before digital photography, the internet and the like, it absolutely highlighted how VERY different things had become in a matter of the last 50 years – the manipulation of images, photoshop, smartphones, edited/cropped images, fake images/AI etc. I love photography but I’m afraid I found this book quite boring.
Driving Over Lemons (Chris Stewart): I first read this book 14 years’ ago (it was first published in 1999). It tells the story of the author and his wife setting up home in a remote, dilapidated, peasant farm in the mountains of Andalucia, Spain – virtually on a whim, with no farming experience and little in the way of practical know-how. The scenery is clearly stunning; making a living is pretty tough, but the local characters are hilarious and endearing (even though some are a bit scary!); there’s an amazing sense of community – with people prepared to help each other. It’s funny, optimistic, beautifully-written and has a refreshing innocence. I have absolutely no desire to emulate him, but I found it absolutely enchanting… and I loved it just as much (if not more?) the second time around.