Orbital (Samantha Harvey): This is a truly extraordinary book - almost certainly my book of 2024 (let alone the Booker Prize winner). Six astronauts rotate in their spacecraft 250 miles above the earth; each day, they circle the earth 16 times – 16 sunrises, 16 sunsets, 16 days and 16 nights. The novel is full of attention to detail, description and imagination. It touches on the lives of the astronauts – separated from the world and yet constantly being reminded of its splendour and captivating magic. Hard to imagine how Harvey managed to convey it all from her desk in Wiltshire, simply imagining what it’s like being in space when she’s never been there. It’s a beautiful, hopeful book… so much packed into a mere 136 pages. There were lots of passages and descriptions that I needed to re-read slowly just because of their magnificence.
It’s the kind of book that, in part, silently screams out at some of the outrageous things we’re doing to our world and the reckless consequences of ignoring all the warnings. But, crucially, it’s also something of a love story for the planet. You need to read Harvey’s awe-inspiring book.
A Thousand Mornings (Mary Oliver): I never tire of Oliver’s poetry. This is a book of 36 of her poems (first published in 2012) and I’ve been using them as part of my early morning ‘quiet time’ of reflection. Like me, she was essentially a morning person and so, with her morning walks along the shore and my observations from my ‘thinking seat’ staring out of the window, I feel we have something of a connection (albeit that hers sound far more glamorous than mine!).
Killing Time (Alan Bennett): This is a novella about the residents of an upmarket care home during the pandemic. It’s the kind of book you read slowly to yourself and yet can constantly hear Bennett’s voice narrating the story to you. It focuses on the residents of Hill Topp House, a self-consciously upmarket establishment that makes the promise to potential clients of such things as a ‘choir on special occasions’ and a ‘glass of dry sherry’. Mrs McBryde runs the establishment in something of a high-handed manner - threatening her “community” with banishment to “down the hill” to Low Moor, a more basic council facility, in the event of rule-breaking. Of course, in Mrs McBryde’s belief, the virus (when it comes) would not afflict Hill Topp – the place is too rarefied for common germs, “the wind would take care of them”. Only time would tell… It’s a beautiful, funny, unsentimental, poignant story… and, of course, in Bennett’s rather wonderful way, full of characters and unique observations.
Semi-Detached London (Alan A Jackson): My friend Dru recommended I read this book (published in 1973). It provides a fascinating account of the capital’s “suburban development, life and transport, 1900-39”. I think what surprised me most was the constant references to ‘class’. Typically: “North of the Thames, the working-class and lower middle-class areas which had seen such rapid growth in the late 19th century were now entering the final stages of their development”. After WW1, there had been an unprecedented growth in speculative building around London “until the needs of all but the lowest income groups were met”. But the book argues that the outer layer of London which emerged was “neither well-balanced in its constituents or visually and psychologically satisfying”. Jackson identifies (among other things) the lack of experience within the local authorities to plan, co-ordinate or design schemes and, in particular, pay due attention to the provision of transport facilities. I read the book pretty quickly and probably skimmed over lots of stuff that demanded much more of my attention… but, hey! Nevertheless, an interesting book.
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