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Unto Us
A Son Is Given (Donna Leon): Apparently
(according to my blog), this is the 10th Leon book I’ve read…
ridiculous. She’s definitely not an Agatha Christie, but I do enjoy the way she
writes (well, I like Guido Brunetti and his family!)… and, of course, I just
love feeling I’m back in Venice again.
Put Out
More Flags (Evelyn Waugh): I’ve
always liked Waugh’s books and bought this one on a whim at a second-hand book
store… and then promptly slotted it on to one of our bookshelves and forgot it!
Fortunately, I recently re-discovered it (while looking for another book, as
you do!) and really enjoyed it. It’s set in the opening months of WW2 and is “a
sharp, transitional satire about upper-class English idlers navigating the
absurdities of the early ‘Phoney War’” (as Wikipedia puts it)… and focusing on
social posturing, bureaucratic incompetence, and evacuation schemes. The book
was first published in 1942 (my copy is 1943) at a time when Waugh was a
Captain in the Royal Marines. It’s
both hilarious and shocking. I loved it.
The
Living Mountain (Nan Shepherd):
This is our next Storysmith book selection (I’ve read it twice before, but
never tire of it). Nan
Shepherd (1893-1981) was a rather special woman. She was born and lived almost
all her adult life in the village of West Cults, three miles from Aberdeen and
worked for 41 years as a lecturer in English at what is now Aberdeen College of
Education. She was a keen hill walker and lover of nature. She wrote ‘The
Living Mountain’ (the Cairngorm mountains of Scotland) during the years of WW2,
but the manuscript lay untouched for more than 30 years before it was finally
published (in 1977). I found it breathtakingly beautiful in its quiet
simplicity; it’s not a mountaineering book or a travel guide (and doesn’t
contain a single photograph or illustration), it’s a book that reflects a life
lived within these mountains – the sounds, the senses, the air, the light, the
colours, the plants, the climate… and much much more. It’s a very gentle book
that one needs to take time reading… digesting her words and realising (yet
again) the importance of looking+seeing, listening+hearing, stopping+digesting…
just as Shepherd took her time to fully appreciate the environment in which she
lived. Utterly beautiful.
Where
The Streams Come From (Chris Goan):
I keep coming back to this book by my good friend Chris (first published in
2018) - as part of my daily, early morning, read-out-loud reflections. It
certainly works for me!
Windswept (Annie Worsley): Worsley was an academic: a physical
geographer whose specialism was landform. She and her family had visited the
Highlands of Scotland for many years - especially the more remote parts of
Wester Ross. A decade ago, she and her husband decided to trade in their lives
in the north-west of England, and settle on a couple of old crofts in South
Erradale, to the west of the Torridon mountains. They both enjoyed walking and
climbing, and looked forward to getting better acquainted with this remote area…
but Worsley developed a debilitating autoimmune condition, as a result of Lyme
disease, which hugely limited her ability to explore the landscape - as a
result, she’s been ‘forced’ to focus on the ‘small details’… and this is one of
the delights of her writing. The book (published in 2023) takes us through the
seasons - starting at the autumn equinox - and so I’ve gently been following
its journey over the past 12 months. Worsley is a brilliant writer and her
descriptions are beautifully lyrical in character. It’s an enriching, wonderful
book… and I’m really going to miss my regular meanderings with her (and it was
lovely that finishing the book coincided with my re-reading of Nan Shepherd’s
‘The Living Mountain’… similar writing styles and outlooks and both set in
Scotland).
The
Music Shop (Rachel Joyce): This
is our next Blokes’ book… about an old music shop – jam-packed with records of
every genre (classical, jazz, punk…) as long as it’s vinyl. The owner has a
magical gift of finding the music his customers need. One day a German woman
asks him to teach her about music… and so the story develops. The woman is not
what she seems and the shop-owner is reminded of the old wounds of his past.
I’ve read a number of Joyce’s books and this one, again, contains a blend of
quirky characters, the appreciation of everyday life and the resilience of the
human spirit. Joyce is a great story-teller and I very much enjoyed this novel
(which I consumed in 2 days) - it’s tender, funny and uplifting (although I did
find the ending perhaps a little too predictably ‘unreal’).
The
All-Nite Café (Philip Gross): Another
of my early-morning-read-out-loud books of poetry. I think this is the third of
Gross’s books I’ve read (he apparently lives in Bristol). There’s a strangeness
to his poems (the ghost of a railway station and a negative uncle, punk
mermaids and a deadbeat circus…) which I’ve concluded, perhaps unfairly, aren’t
quite my cup-of tea.
Olive
Again (Elizabeth Strout): I
just LOVE Strout’s writing. This one (first published in 2019) is a follow-up
to her ‘Olive Kitteridge’ novel (published in 2008 and which I read last year).
Like many of her books, this tells stories of ordinary people in Maine, New
England – here, focussing once again on a retired schoolteacher, Olive
Kitteridge (now in her late-70s/early 80s): indomitable, unpredictable and
uncompromising character (“Olive Kitteridge had never in anyone’s memory felt
inclined to be affable, or even polite…”!). It is two years since Olive’s
husband, Henry, died, and grief has not mellowed her: she is still brusque,
unforgiving, formidable. But beneath it all there’s compassion, empathy and
vulnerability, as Olive starts to feel aware of her own mortality. The book
comprises 13 tales which explore Strout’s preoccupations with grief, loneliness
and familial torments. Much of the book is about life’s regrets – especially
those concerning Olive’s family. Once again, a beautiful, powerful novel –
which I absolutely loved. Can’t wait for her next book to come out in
paperback…
The
Cinder Path (Andrew Motion):
I’ve enjoyed a number of Motion’s books of poetry and memoirs over recent
years. This collection (first published in 2009) includes works as diverse as
the last surviving veteran of the tranches and parallel lives glimpsed in
paintings… but, for me, the highlight was the final set of autobiographical
poems about the life and times of his father. Honest, poignant and moving.
Cat
Among The Pigeons (Agatha Christie):
One of the very few Agatha Christie books on our bookshelves (and there are
dozens of them!) that I hadn’t previously read. First published in 1959, this
one is set in one of England’s most exclusive girls’ schools and involves
jewels, secret agents and, of course, murder. Was the culprit one of the staff
or, maybe, even a pupil? Hercule Poirot enters the fray (after being consulted
by one of the pupils) pretty late in the day, waves his magic wand and the case
is solved!! Not one of Christie’s most impressive mysteries, but clever and
entertaining nevertheless.
A Century Of Poetry (Rowan Williams): Another early
morning/read out loud book. A hundred poems from a hundred years (Williams was
keen to point out that they’re not intended to be the ‘best’ poems – simply
‘good’ poems which, in his view, “open the door to some fresh, searching and
challenging insights about the life of faith”) and I read them (out loud to
myself) on a daily basis over a 100 days (with Williams’ own reflections
accompany each poem). I’m a great admirer of Williams and, while I found some
of the accompanying notes quite helpful, I also felt (for me, at least), they
were often much more than I needed (eg. two pages of detailed notes/sermon on
each brief, half-page poem) and I ended up trying to focus on the poems
themselves – which, in all honesty – I generally found pretty disappointing.
Perhaps, given my own labouring faith journey, I expected too much? All in all,
not
for me I’m afraid.
Night Swimmers (Roisin Maguire): I came across
this novel by chance. 50-year-old Grace lives alone in a coastal village in
Northern Ireland… filling her days with wild swimming, fishing and quilting.
She’s quite a character – grumpy, irascible and sharp-tongued! A father arrives
for a week, grieving the recent death of his infant daughter, but becomes
trapped there by lockdown… he’s joined there by his 8-year-old son (who is deaf
and with whom he has struggling relationship). A rather beautiful story evolves…
mental health and marital struggles, compassion, community, loneliness and
nature. I really enjoyed it (with one or two reservations)… and particularly
loved the Grace character.
Up Late (Nick Laird): Yet more
read-out-loud-early-morning-poetry. I hadn’t previously come across
Laird, but really enjoyed this collection of his poetry/musings. In particular,
I loved his piece that formed the title sequence ‘Up Late’ – a profound
meditation on a father’s dying, written over the course of his final days.
Incredibly powerful and hugely moving.
Sorolla
And The Paris Years (Ed. Blanca Pons-Sorolla+Maria Lopez Fernandez): My good friend Tony introduced me to
the work of Spanish artist Joaquin Sorolla, 1863-1923 (after I’d posted a note
about the British artist Harry Watson on FB). Very embarrassingly, I have to
admit that I knew virtually nothing of his work (I know!) – despite the fact
that he was an internationally-acclaimed artist who produced some 2,200-3,000
paintings during the course of his career (not to mention more than 20,000
drawings+sketches – including nearly 2,000 oil sketches!!). Thanks to our
neighbour, the Central Library, I’ve now read this illustrated book about his
life and his art (during
his time in Paris) – which, I have to say, I thought was quite wonderful:
confident brushwork and dazzling colour. Sorolla visited Paris for the first
time in 1885 (shortly after turning 22) and he went on to flourish there –
winning prizes and exhibiting in prestigious galleries. A very impressive and
illuminating book on a brilliant artist.
This Is
Happiness (Niall Williams): I
read this on the recommendation of my very good friend Tony - big thanks Tony,
AGAIN! (I’d begun to be somewhat melancholic in my observations about the
world!). It’s a novel that recounts the story of the 17-year-old Noel Crowe
(written from the perspective of now-78-year-old old man) who, after dropping
out of the seminary, finds himself back in Faha, a small Irish parish “where
nothing ever changes, including the rain”. The book is full of wonderful
phrases, observation, humour and sadness – like many from Ireland, Williams
definitely ‘has a way with words’! One reviewer described it thus: “Williams
has the eye of a poet and the raconteur’s knack for finding a tale in the most
unpromising nook of everyday life, as a now-adult Noel, summoning the Faha of
his nostalgic imagination…”. It’s a beautiful, uplifting novel which I enjoyed
immensely – one of those books you just don’t want to end.
