october-november 2021 books…

Still Life (Sarah Winman): This is a JOYOUS book… I absolutely loved it. It begins in 1944, in the ruined wine cellar of Tuscan villa. A soldier and a sexagenarian art historian (she has come to Italy to salvage paintings from the ruins and to relive her memories of Florence) meet and share an extraordinary evening together… They discover they are kindred spirits and her love of truth and beauty plants a seed that will shape the soldier’s life over the next our decades. The story takes in the Tuscan hills, the piazzas of Florence and the East End of London and, in doing so, introduces us to a collection of a rather wonderful characters (and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot!). It’s a book about people; about found family and friendships; about beauty; and about art, love and the everyday unfolding of life. It’s quite, quite magical.  While reading the book, I came across a blogpost by the author in which she said this: “I, consciously, wanted to write a book that was pro-European, joyous and kind – the antithesis of the stories being told in the tabloid press and government. I wanted to write a book about togetherness and opportunity”. Absolutely!! I think you need to read it (it’s not yet out in paperback, but would make a wonderful Christmas present!).
Motherwell: A Girlhood (Deborah Orr): This memoir (published in 2020) by renowned journalist Deborah Orr – who died from breast cancer in 2019, aged 57 – about her working-class Scottish life growing up in Motherwell in the 1960s+70s and about her loving, but difficult, relationship with her parents (Win and John). Orr summarised the relationship thus: “The rules were Win’s – and the power – but John tended to be their enforcer”. It’s a raw, compelling, unsentimental book about a tense and growing unease between them… but it’s also full of compassion, warmth and humour. Orr wrote the book several years after the death of both parents and, in some ways, uses it as an attempt to make sense of her upbringing in a town dominated by Ravenscraig steelworks (where her father worked). The word “narcissism” seems to occur on every other page and the vivid portrait of her parents’ narcissism (and also of her own) is central to the struggle of their lives and relationship. I thought it was pretty brilliant.
Hangman’s Holiday (Dorothy L Sayers): I think this is my first Dorothy L Sayers’ book (I know!). This is a collection of short ‘detective’ stories (first published in 1933) featuring, among others, her well-loved character Lord Peter Wimsey and the lesser-known Mr Montague Egg. The stories are entertaining, fairly ‘light’ in nature and, understandably, pretty dated(!). They seem to follow the well-trodden guidelines for all crime fiction authors of that ‘golden age’: set the scene in some detail; follow a long line of intricate (and sometimes quite laughable) deductions; and, finally, reveal the scientific solution. Along the way, we come across the somewhat cruel depiction of policeman (of various ranks) – who all seem to talk like this: “Best be off, sir… I’ll settle this. Now, my lad…”. But, hey, at a time when the world seems fall of bad news and difficult issues, we all need some escapist crime fiction!
The Hidden Life Of Trees (Peter Wohlleben): This wouldn’t be my ‘normal’ book genre choice, but I was intrigued by the title and decided to ‘give it a go’. I’m afraid it really didn’t capture my imagination at all. Wohlleben manages a forest in the Eifel mountains in Germany. He knows an awful lot about trees and the book is full of fascinating aspects of life, death and regeneration in his woodland… but I’m afraid he’s no Attenborough or MacFarlane! I found his writing style (perhaps not helped by the translation?) very dry and even boring. Perhaps he tried to incorporate too many factual details in this 250-page book? Perhaps he should have concentrated on far fewer of them? I’m sure that there will LOTS of people who find the book wonderfully absorbing… but I’m afraid I wasn’t one of them.
And Away (Bob Mortimer): Mortimer’s an interesting bloke. He’s intelligent and funny… and I’ve absolutely loved the ‘Gone Fishing’ telly programmes (with Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse). The framework for this memoir (and in many ways of the ‘Gone Fishing’ programme) was the unnerving experience of being diagnosed with a heart condition in 2015. It’s a poignant and affirming memoir reflecting on his childhood in Middlesbrough, his shyness, his work as a solicitor and the chance encounter in a London pub when he first met an aspiring comedian by the name of Vic Reeves. I consumed this book in three days and loved it (I smiled a lot).