september-october 2023 books…

Ruskin Park (Rory Cellan-Jones): As you probably know, Rory Cellan-Jones was the BBC’s principal technology correspondent until 2021. I’ve become far more aware of him over recent months as one of the six friends (not mine!) who meet together in a pub regularly in the ‘Movers and Shakers’ podcast (like Moira, he’s a Parkinson’s sufferer). It’s a book about his childhood home (Ruskin Park House – a tiny Council flat), his mother, the BBC (for whom she worked for 33 years) and his own upbringing. It’s a complicated and, in many ways, quite remarkable story which was really only made possible because his mother was zealous letter writer (who seemed to keep copies of all correspondence she received as well as taking carbon copies of most of the letters she sent out!). His mother was quite a remarkable woman – she single-parented two sons in a one-bedroom flat, while working full time through the 1950s/60s. She was a member of MENSA, learnt to fly and was clearly intelligent but, as was the case for so many women in 1950s/60s, the opportunities for career advancement (certainly in the BBC) were shockingly limited. As well as providing a fascinating and compelling account of the various family dramas, the book also provides a valuable social history of those post-war times. An excellent read.
Ruth and Pen (Emilie Pine): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s latest book (theme: 2023 paperback). The two females in the title are Ruth (a therapist in her early 40s, whose marriage appears to be buckling beneath the weight of repeated IVF cycles) and Pen (intelligent 16-year-old struggling with her autism - who has few friends and who requires regular timeouts from class to cope with the severe pressures each day presents). The story takes place in Dublin over the course of a single day (7 October 2019) and the narrative initially alternates between Ruth+Pen by means of a third-person (Ruth’s husband, Pen’s mother and a close friend)… and their paths briefly cross twice during the course of the book. I found it a beautiful, tender - albeit frequently challenging - book (wonderfully written) about stuff that people often hesitate to discuss, such as marital struggles, sexuality, miscarriage, friendships, mental health, early adulthood, and autism.
Dead Man Singing (Steve Couch): This novel was written by a good friend of mine and, within the first couple of chapters of this rather brilliant book, I was taken back to the first time I saw Richard Thompson perform on stage… with Fairport Convention (the 24hour Blues Festival at Oxford Poly in March 1969). The book is set in the early 1990s and focusses on the dwindling career of Dave Masters, a musician who, in his hey-day of the 1970s/80s, was something of a pop icon. Depressingly, he’s now no longer performing with his band and has been reduced to appearing alone in seedy pubs and clubs. It all becomes too much… he can’t carry on. After listening to a song by one of his musical heroes, Richard Thompson, he decides to fake his own death in an attempt to boost his record sales but, in the process, realises that he can’t live without the stage and comes up with a plan to re-launch his career… It also features a Broadway as one its key characters (I know!)(but *no spoilers*). 
It’s a clever and intriguing story – given total authenticity thanks to Steve’s impressive musical knowledge of bands, gig venues and the like (he’s clearly a very devoted music fan). It captures what one imagines is the life of a touring band perfectly – with all the humour, arguments, rivalries, frustrations, lies and highs. Entwined within all of this is a compelling story of relationships, family, likeable characters, gangsters(!) and Dave Masters’ battles with himself. It’s wonderfully written and a real page-turner. I read it in three days.
The Radetsky March (Joseph Roth): This is our latest Bloke’s book selection. I have to say that it took me some considerable time to ‘get into the book’ (I took a brief ‘time-out’ after Part 1, some 133 pages), but am pleased that I persevered and became quite taken by it – and, ultimately, found it quite moving. It’s a family saga novel (written in 1932) chronicling the decline and fall of Austria-Hungary via the story of the Trotta family through three generations. In northern Italy, during the Battle of Solferino in 1859, Emperor Franz Joseph I, is almost killed and only saved by the actions of Infantry Lieutenant Trotta – who, to thwart snipers, topples the Emperor from his horse. As a reward, the Emperor awards him the Order of Maria Theresa and ennobles him. Elevation to the nobility ultimately leads to the Trotta family's ruination, paralleling the imperial collapse of Austria-Hungary (1867–1918). So, from the family’s somewhat lowly background, the newly elevated Baron is regarded by everyone from the new baron's old life, including his family, as a nobleman – a class in which he feels temperamentally uncomfortable. The subsequent von Trotta family generations misunderstand the elder generation's reverence for the legend of Trotta's saving the Emperor's life and consider themselves rightful aristocrats. The subsequent first, second and third Baron Trottas (although they have little knowledge their family background) are pressed into unremarkable careers within the military, government and military respectively. The cavalry officer's career of the third Baron Trotta comprises postings throughout the Austro-Hungarian Empire and all the off-duty pursuits characteristic of the military officer class in peace-time (ie. a dissipated life of wine, women, song, gambling, debts, and dueling. Following a fatal duel the young Trotta transfers from the socially elite regiment to a far less prestigious one. Baron Trotta's infantry unit subsequently brutally suppresses an industrial strike in a garrison town and the aftermath of this professional brutality begins Lieutenant von Trotta's disillusionment with empire. He is killed, bravely but pointlessly, in a minor skirmish with Russian troops during the opening days of World War I. A beautifully-written (and well translated by Michael Hofmann), disturbing-but-engaging novel about a vanished world – 363 pages – for the likes of our Bloke’s bookgroup?).
Towards Zero (Agatha Christie): After a fairly hefty tome, I returned to the comfort of a trusted Agatha Christie novel (this one first published in 1944). It’s set at Gull’s Point on the English coast. Aged Lady Tressilian invites her ward, Nevile Strange, for his annual visit; he insists on bringing both his former wife and his present wife (plus other house party guests) - though Lady Tressilian finds this somewhat ‘awkward’, to say the least. I’ll refrain from giving away too much of the ploy but, needless to say, it involves murder… threatened suicides, family acrimony, strained relationships and unexpressed love (among other stuff). It involves numerous characters and multi-layers of scene-setting. Incredibly easy-reading (I read it in 2 days) and cleverly plotted – but with (as in many Christie novels) a few out-of-the-blue characteristics to help justify the outcome (which I didn’t find 100% convincing to be honest). Enjoyable ‘comfort reading’ nevertheless (despite the occasional death!).