october/november 2024 books…

The Sunshine Corpse (Max Murray): Another of my recent Penguin Crime books from our local Oxfam Bookshop (first published in 1954). A man is found dead in a Florida fruit stall. He was an unpopular man and there are a number of people with good reasons for wishing him dead. One of the people who bore him a grudge is subsequently found dead in the river… the local Sheriff has a difficult case on his hands. The novel is cleverly conceived and yet it left me thinking that the author was just trying to be TOO clever (by half!). The story ends with a flood of conflicting confessions and accusations… which eventually sort themselves out amid much bad feeling. Ultimately disappointing.
The British Museum Is Falling Down (David Lodge): It’s been ages since I read a David Lodge book (my book blog tells me it was 14 years ago!). At the heart of this novel (first published in 1961) is the library at the British Museum where the main character (a post-graduate student working on his thesis with a young wife young children) works away – although frequently being pre-occupied or distracted by other matters. His home life seems dominated by the prospect of his wife being perpetually pregnant or of unstinting abstinence (while working through all the permitted methods of birth control allowed by the Catholic Church)… or about the need for more sex or better-quality sex! It’s typical Lodge – always entertaining and amusing but also, at times, bordering on farce (which isn’t exactly my cup of tea).
Mother Country (Jeremy Harding): I picked up this memoir from the £4 Bookshop (first published in 2006). It’s essentially a story about two mothers. Harding was born in 1952 (in London) and, when he was a child, his adoptive mother told him he’ been adopted. As he got older, he wondered about the identity of his biological parents and eventually embarked on a quest to find them… but also learn more about his adoptive parents (by this time his adoptive father had died and mother was in a home struggling with dementia) and how little he knew about them. It’s an account of his often difficult and frustrating journey into his past and the slipperiness of memory. It’s a compelling story set within the social fabric of Britain in the 1950s and 60s.
Down By The River (Edna O’Brien): O’Brien died earlier this year (aged 93). I’ve always found her a compelling, fascinating writer. This novel, published in 1996 is an unsparing story of 14 year-old girl who becomes pregnant by her father. Her mother had died a premature and painful death and the girl has nowhere to turn and is unable to tell anyone of her situation (she also tries to drown herself). A neighbour offers to help her and arranges for them to travel to England where she can get a legal abortion… but she is pressured to return before it can take place. Back home, she faces the wrath of opponents of abortion and sympathetic support from liberals. The weeks go by, amid agony and uncertainty before nature provides an answer in its own grim fashion. Apparently, the novel is loosely based on a real 1992 case of a 14-year-old Irish girl, said to have been a rape victim, whose struggles with the legal system caused a nationwide examination of conscience in Ireland. I found it a completely enthralling, albeit hard-hitting and disturbing, story… beautifully written.
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit (Jeanette Winterson): This book (first published in 1985) tells the story of Jeanette - adopted and brought up by her mother as one of God's chosen people (her mother was a maniacal Pentecostal Christian… something of an understatement!). Keen and passionate, Jeanette seems destined for life as a missionary, but then she falls for one of her converts. At sixteen, Jeanette decides to leave the church, her home and her family, for the young woman she loves. It’s a semi-autobiographical novel and based on Winterson's life growing up in Accrington, Lancashire. It’s beautifully-written, innovative, hard-hitting, tender and, frequently, wonderfully funny. I really enjoyed it.

october 2024 books…

Duncan Grant+The Bloomsbury Group (Douglas Blair Turnbaugh): For some time now, I’ve been fascinated by the artists and work that have come out of the Bloomsbury Group/Charleston – particularly Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant (1885-1978). Turnbaugh’s book (published in 1987) provides not so much an analysis of his art, but something of his life and relationships (and there were SEVERAL – involving both sexes but, more often than not, men). Grant was a talented painter and designer of textiles, pottery, theatre sets, and costumes. He became involved in the Bloomsbury Group, where he made many great friends including Vanessa Bell. He would eventually live with Bell (though she was a married woman), who became pregnant with his child in 1918. Following the birth, their relationship was mainly domestic and creative, but they continued to live together for more than 40 years (mainly at Charleston). They often painted in the same studio together, praising and critiquing each other's work. Turnhaugh knew Grant and spent many hours interviewing him (and with Grant’s friend Paul Roche) – with Grant providing a wealth of personal stories (many of which are included in the book). As can be gathered from this eulogy at his funeral, Grant was clearly a well-loved man: “an artist, generous and whole-hearted in his response to all that could engage with his genius, richly endowed to express his many-splendoured vision. As we call to mind his art, we remember also his gift for making and keeping friends, suffusing his own life and theirs with a spontaneous, unselfconscious delight in all things of man’s making or imagining…”. A fascinating book.
The Empusium (Olga Tokarczuk): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book. I’d previously read (and greatly enjoyed) her “Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead” book 5 years ago (plus a stage performance at the Bristol Old Vic last year). This book is set in September 1913 and it’s described as a ‘Health Resort Horror Story’. A young Pole suffering from tuberculosis arrives at a ‘Guesthouse for Gentlemen’, a health resort in the Silesian mountains. Every evening the residents gather to imbibe the hallucinogenic local liqueur and debate the great issues of the day… but, meanwhile, disturbing things are happening in the guesthouse and the surrounding hills… someone (or something) seems to be watching. In the words of the book’s cover: “Little does the newcomer realise, as he tries to unravel both the truths within himself and the mystery of the sinister forces beyond, that they have already chosen their next target”. I found it a beautifully-crafted, haunting and disturbing book. It’s not particularly long (326 pages), but I thought that the first 200 or so pages were just too pedestrian (a ‘slow reveal’ taken a bit too far, in my view). However, all becomes clear(er!) as the book comes a gripping conclusion. Did I enjoy it? Well, I found its pace somewhat frustratingly slow at times but, ultimately, a compelling book.
The Towers Of Trebizond (Rose Macaulay): This is our next Blokes book (first published in 1956). It’s an absurd novel (although much of it reads like a travel journal) involving three main characters – Aunt Dot, her niece Laurie (who’s also the narrator) and Father Chantry (note: a camel also plays a starring role!) – who set out on an expedition to Turkey (and beyond) to “explore the possibility of establishing a High Anglican mission there”. On the way, they meet various characters (magicians, young British travel writers, lovers etc). According to Wikipedia, the book is partly autobiographical (deciding which parts could be an amusing task). It’s a strange, and yet, captivating book – a mixture of fantasy, high comedy, plus ‘digs’ about love, sex, politics, life, class, religion and church buildings. There are LOTS of amusing/cutting references to the Anglican church and belief generally (which I found myself agreeing with on numerous occasions!)… as well as some depressing reminders (especially given the current horrors taking place in Israel/Palestine) of Britain’s historical role in the Middle East. But, thankfully, lots of high farce along the way – including Laurie purchasing an ape and deciding to teach it chess, croquet, snakes+ladders, tennis and, of course, driving a car! All in all, an unusual and entertaining book.
Egon Schiele: Masterpieces of Art (Rosalind Ormiston): I’ve again been somewhat obsessed by Schiele’s art over recent weeks. Austrian artist Schiele (1890-1918) died at the age of just 28 (as a result of the Spanish flu pandemic). He was a controversial individual (and perhaps not a particularly ‘nice’ person?) but, in his brief career, he was a prolific artist – creating over 3,000 works on paper and some 300 paintings. I love that he painted both figures and buildings with a brash boldness (raw, sometimes shocking, beauty of the human form… and brightly coloured, jumbled façades and landscapes). He was clearly influenced by his mentor Klimt but, for me, there’s also a hint of Mackintosh and Modigliani in his work. The book provides a useful insight into his life and work – as well as a comprehensive collection of colour illustrations of his paintings.
The Half Hunter (John Sherwood): First published in 1961 (another green cover Penguin Crime book from the Oxfam bookshop!). An unusual thriller with 17-year-old Jim Marsden (about to start at Oxford University), in his bright yellow, pre-war Austin Seven car, playing the part of the sleuth. It’s certainly not a run-of-the-mill crime book: a disappearing young woman; rebellious youths with too much money (and rich, powerful parents); an unsolved murder; and several suspects. Lots of imagined conversations and scenarios as Jim speculates on the true course of events. A clever plot and a quick and satisfying read.

september-october 2024 books…

Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys): I remember starting this book (first published in 1966) many, many years ago but gave up after only a few pages. I recently picked up a copy while we were staying at Alice’s and read it in a couple of days. The novel, initially set in Jamaica, opens a short while after the Slavery Abolition Act 1833 abolished slavery in the British Empire in August 1834. It’s a ‘postcolonial novel’ that serves as sort of a hypothetical prequel to Jane Eyre, the novel details the tragic decline of a young woman, Antoinette Cosway, who is sold into marriage to an English gentleman, Mr Rochester. Rhys portrays Cosway amidst a society so driven by hatred, so skewed in its sexual relations, that it can literally drive a woman out of her mind. It’s a tough, compelling read.
The Matisse Stories (AS Byatt): My friend Tony recommended this book (good man!). The book (first published in 1993) consists of three short stories and pay homage to the artist Matisse. Each of them offer verbal portraits of apparently ordinary lives driven by pain and disquiet. At first, they begin on a deceptively simple, almost cosy way: a middle-aged woman having her hair cut; a mother trying to work at home while she waits for the doctor to check her son's chicken pox; and a woman meeting a colleague for lunch at the Chinese restaurant she regularly patronises. But darker forces emerge or, as one reviewer put it: “Byatt is adept at rendering disintegration in a series of more or less macabre, violent and comical set-pieces”. I really enjoyed the book and thought Byatt’s writing was rather beautiful.
The Outrun (Amy Liptrot): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (which I first read in 2020 – and decided it was one of my ‘books of the year’)(I haven’t changed my mind). It’s a beautiful, lyrical, brutally-honest memoir. At the age of 30, Liptrot finds herself ‘washed up’ back home on Orkney. The previous ten years of her life had been an utter nightmare; she left Orkney, went south, ended up in London and started a downward spiral of hellish alcohol addiction. She lost jobs, a boyfriend she loved, her health and self-respect – and ended up in rehab, with her psyche teetering on the edge of the abyss (I couldn’t see how anyone could survive what she had been through). So, Liptrot returned home (she briefly tried a couple of times before without success). She was alcohol-free, but an absolute mess. She retreated to the ‘outrun’ (the name given to a rough pasture on her parents’ farm) and, very slowly, thanks to her amazing resolve and determination, her life is gradually restored and re-formed. For a time, she works on her father’s farm then gets a job on a survey of the endangered corncrake (which immediately set me back with my own memories of the corncrakes of Iona!), and eventually she retreats to the tiny island of Papa Westray, off Orkney. There she walks the hills, goes wild swimming, tracks the wildlife, stares at the skies and discovers a new meaning for her life. Thanks to the internet, she constantly learns new things – astronomy, rock formations, history and the like… and, crucially (and wonderfully), she’s remained sober for two years (and resolved to being sober the rest of her life). She writes beautifully. It’s an incredibly brave, eloquent and hopeful book. I loved it all over again… and, now, it’s been made into a film (starring one of my favourite actors, Saoirse Ronan) – which, much to my huge relief, doesn’t let the book down!
Raffles (EW Hornung): First published in 1899 (my copy: 1950). Wikipedia describes Raffles as a ”gentleman thief” - living at the Albany, a prestigious address in London, playing cricket for the Gentlemen of England and supporting himself by carrying out ingenious burglaries. Raffles has Harry "Bunny" Manders – a former schoolmate to help him. It’s a bit like Holmes and Watson in reverse. Fascinating in theory, but I actually found this book of short stories unremarkable, not particularly clever and, frankly, rather boring.
Akenfield (Ronald Blythe): I’ve started ‘gently’ reading Blythe’s wonderful book ‘Next To Nature’ (a year’s observations, gossip and stories compiled about his Akenfield village home on the Suffolk/Essex border), but have been determined to try to read it slowly - on a monthly basis (January, February etc) in the way the book has been set out. But I also felt somewhat frustrated not to be able to continue to immerse myself in Blythe’s wonderful prose… so ended up reading this book (first published in 1969) about his account/portrait of modern rural life in his village, compiled during the course of 1967 – its inhabitants (ex-soldiers, farm labourers, district nurses, teachers etc etc), their stories, their experiences, their hardships and their joys. It’s a beautiful, fascinating and frequently moving book. Highly recommended.

september 2024 books…

Letters To My Grandchildren (Tony Benn): I seem to be going through a phase of re-reading books (I first read this in 2012; first published in 2009). An encouraging book – idealistic, inevitably political and hugely affectionate – comprising 39 letters to his grandchildren (together with a lovely postscript “The Daddy Shop” – an invented story of his). When he wrote it, his ten grandchildren ranged from 31 to 13 years in age (which means they now must be 46 to 28!); when I first read it in 2012, our six grandchildren ranged from 6 to 1 years of age (and are now 18 to 12). Even if you didn’t altogether agree with his political views, you can’t help but appreciate his constant curiosity and zest for life. Some really insightful stuff – especial about war, political power and the environment. He died in 2014, aged 88… a good man.
Wilt On High (Tom Sharpe): It’s been a very long time since I first read this – probably approaching 40 years (first published in 1984)! I’ve read a lot of Sharpe’s books over the years and this one is fairly typical in its completely over-the-top, farcical and hysterical humour (with a fair portion of vulgarity and sex thrown into the mix!). Henry Wilt is a Liberal Studies lecturer at the Fenland College of Arts and Technology; he’s married to Eva and they have gifted, quarrelling quad daughters. There’s talk of drug dealing at the Tech (a student is found dead) and, completely unfairly, Wilt becomes the target of suspicion. He also, for his sins, teaches weekly at the local prison and at the nearby US airbase; alarm bells sound in both organisations and Wilt is at the centre of the resulting investigations… Inventive and frequently very funny.
Why I Wake Early (Mary Oliver): Another re-read (I first read this in 2016)… which I’m using as part of my early morning routine (Oliver and I both wake up early!). I love Oliver’s poetry. She has a natural gift for conveying the wonder of the ordinary… although she focusses on ‘creatures’ a little/much too much for my taste! But I do love the fact that she sees (and celebrates) things that most people might never notice. Looking, seeing, reflecting, celebrating the simple things in life. Another beautiful book.
Vanessa Bell: Portrait Of The Bloomsbury Artist (Frances Spalding): Yet another re-read (previously read in July 2021)… but I’ve been looking at her art quite a lot recently. In fact, there’s been an exhibition of her work at The Courtauld during the Summer/early Autumn – which, sadly, I might not be able to get to. I absolutely loved this excellent biography (first published in 1983 and re-published in 2016). I’ve read a lot of Bloomsbury-related stuff over recent years and been particularly drawn to the paintings by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. This book provides fascinating insights into the work and lives of both of them (and the Bloomsbury group) - with Bell becoming something of a mother figure for the whole group and a catalyst for much of what the group came to represent. She walked an emotional tightrope in her relationships with her husband (Clive Bell), ex-lover (Roger Fry) and lover (Duncan Grant) and enjoyed a bohemian lifestyle of sexual freedom, fierce independence and honesty. As a painter, Bell was as radical as her sister Virginia Woolf the writer (Woolf described Bell as ‘the Saint’ for her practical sense of duty and organisation). The book has been compiled from letters and diaries (without letters, how much would have been lost!) and full of amusing and intriguing details. This extract sums up Bell beautifully: “Vanessa continued to follow an independent course in life with a sense of purpose that others envied. Vanessa ‘takes her own line in London life’, Virginia (Woolf) observed; ‘ refuses to be a celebrated painted; buys no clothes; sees whom she likes as she likes; and altogether leads an indomitable sensible and very sublime existence’.” A wonderful, intriguing biography… which I really enjoyed re-reading.
Bullets For The Bridegroom (David Dodge): Another Penguin crime novel bought at the Oxfam bookshop (first published in 1948)(apparently it’s the third ‘Whit’ Whitney book?). Set in Reno, Nevada at the end of WW2 (between VE and VJ Day), James and Kitty Whitney have just got married and are on honeymoon, but find themselves sucked into the somewhat scary world of espionage, a questionable night-club/casino, disguised government agents, mistaken identities… and murder (the person who was going to marry them gets murdered). The FBI are desperately trying to track a secret wireless station. It’s a pacey, sinister tale which builds in intensity and ends in a large-scale gunfight involving enemy agents but, for me, I found the plot rather unconvincing and disappointing (I could imagine the author fancying it becoming a blockbuster film!), the storyline dated (perhaps not surprisingly!) and, ultimately, predictable.    

august 2024 books...

Redhead By The Side Of The Road (Anne Tyler): This novel is essentially about ‘roads not taken’… fortysomething Micah runs his own, very modest, ‘Tech Hermit’ business - fixing computer problems for old ladies in the neighbourhood and has a second day-job as apartment caretaker and general odd-job man. He lives rent-free, alone, keeps himself to himself, goes for early morning runs, maintains an unchanging cleaning regime and has a long-term relationship with a teacher girlfriend. Two things happen: the disaffected, fatherless teenage son of Micah’s high-school sweetheart turns up on his doorstep (convinced that Micah might actually be his real father) and his girlfriend is threatened with eviction. Unthinkingly, Micah jokes that she could always sleep in her car and, unsurprisingly, she declares the relationship over… It’s a perceptive novel about someone who has opted out and persistently failed to engage, who’s made a habit of walking away from almost everything. I enjoyed it.
The Summer Book (Tove Jansson): I first read this book 21 years ago (first published in 1972; Jansson died in 2001, aged 86) and thought it was time I revisited it… before the summer ends! An elderly artist and her 6-year-old granddaughter (Sophia) while away a summer together on a tiny island off the gulf of Finland. What I’d forgotten was that the book is a novel (it actually reads like a narrative/log of their time together). Jansson wrote the book a year after her mother’s death and she drew on the things that were most precious to her (her graphic designer/cartoonist mother, her young niece Sophia, and the island home that she built with her brother - Sophia’ father - where she spent so many summers of her life. Jansson spent 5 months each year on the island from 1964-1991). It’s an account of the understated love between an old woman and her grandchild… and it’s quite, quite beautiful, wise and frequently funny. I loved immersing myself into their little world (their candid, sometimes argumentative, conversations between them; the grandmother’s infinite patience; the smart, demanding grandchild; living on a small island). As I finished the book, I was struck by the fact that, when I first read it, I wasn’t a grandfather (now there are 6 grandchildren!)… and just wished that I had the wisdom, patience and humour of the novel’s grandmother! I absolutely loved re-reading this book.
Devotions (Mary Oliver): I love Mary Oliver’s writing. This is a collection of her poetry dating from 1963 to 2015. I first read it at the beginning of 2023 and have spent the past few months gently re-reading it on a daily basis. In many ways – with her beautiful, simple observations of nature and life – I’ve found that Oliver’s poetry has become a treasured companion on my own journey through life (Not all her poetry appeals to me, but I’ve been particularly drawn to her reflective poems written when she was in her mid-/late-seventies) and a constant reminder that we live a truly beautiful world which so many often take for granted.
Ex-Wife (Ursula Parrott): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (“re-discovered gems” from the list of Faber Editions), first published in 1929 – but never before now in the UK. It’s set in New York in 1924; Patricia (the story’s beautiful narrator in her very early 20s) and Peter (handsome husband) live as a ‘thoroughly modern married couple’ – both drink and smoke, both work, both believe in ‘love-outside-marriage’ (except when it doesn’t suit Peter). He ends up pushing for a divorce and she is forced to forge a new life for herself. At a time in the US when the stigma of divorce was fading, the book presents a picture of a ‘new woman’ - one who pursues new vocational, economic, and romantic freedoms. Pat spends her days chasing a career, while her nights were a boozy cocktail of restaurants, speakeasies and sexual encounters… but it’s also a frequently sad story about how women gained some freedoms, but lost other things. It’s a remarkable, entertaining novel that’s a heady mix about marriage, divorce, love affairs, beautiful clothes, lots of alcohol and scandal in the jazz age. I very much enjoyed it (despite its sad encounters) and found it remarkable to reconcile that the book had been written nearly 100 years ago.
Waxwork (Peter Lovesey): A Victorian crime fiction novel I picked up from the Oxfam Bookshop (first published in 1978). The cover describes it as a “Sergeant Cribb Adventure” (surely they could have done better than that!?). DS Cribb (frustratingly for him, he’d remained a sergeant for the past 10 years while some of his contemporaries had, to his mind, ‘earned’ promotions by using the manipulating the system for their own ends) probes the baffling case of an confessed murderess as she awaits, unflustered, the hangman. Is she really guilty? If not, why confess? Then the Home Office is sent a photograph that casts doubt on the confession. Cribb is called in and his investigations produce nothing to ease the minds of the authorities. As he plunges deeper into the relationships and history of the small group connected with the murder, he becomes increasingly suspicious that something very different had actually occurred. Clever plot with cunning twists.

july-august 2024 books…

Alive, Alive Oh! (Diana Athill): I’m a great admirer of Athill’s writing and have read several of her books. In this one, written in her 97^th year (first published in 2015), she recalls the moments in her life that have sustained her… from vivid memories of her 1920s childhood; her experience of WW2 to stories of travel; her loves; the miscarriage, aged 43, that almost ended her life; and candid, often very funny, reflections of what it’s like to be old.
Doppelganger (Naomi Klein): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (theme: non-fiction female authors). Klein began writing this book (several years ago) after people were constantly mistaking her for the conspiracist, Naomi Wolf, but she ends up weaving her way (in the words of book reviewer Paula Lacey) through the world of “anti-vaxxers, wellness influencers and alt-right demagogues, attempting to make sense of the conspiratorial turn in contemporary politics”.Much of what Klein describes was entirely foreign to me (no surprises there!). So much stuff was that initially over my head… QR codes, Gettr, Rumble, Mirror World, diagonalists, Shadow Lands, personal branding?? She clearly regards Steve Bannon and Trump as major ‘concerns’ (HER descriptions are somewhat stronger as she delves into the ecosystem of Wolf, Bannon and Trump!). Things have become far more complicated than in the days of my youth. How the internet has fostered misinformation. The problem in this age of big corporations, climate crisis, Covid lockdowns, online influencers and collapsed trust in mainstream politics and media is that everybody has their suspicions that they are being lied to and manipulated (and, of course, they’re right!). It’s a long book (some 350 pages of small font) and I wonder how many of my bookgroup will have finished it in the month between our gatherings - some of us, (ie. me!) don’t have jobs to go to? It’s wide-ranging in the subjects covered; it’s insightful, academic and complex in content… and, frankly, pretty scary as far as the measures that are already ‘available’ to distort our knowledge, understanding of the world and, ultimately, our politics. Towards the end of the book, she talks about how we might find our way back from the current despair – but I wasn’t altogether convinced! It’s an impressive, compelling, disturbing book.
The Island Of Missing Trees (Elif Shafak): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup book. Published in 2021, it’s tale of love and division set between postcolonial Cyprus and London, exploring themes of generational trauma and belonging… through different timelines. The story relates to the divided island (the Turkish-controlled north of the island and the Greek-controlled south) and the conflicts of the 1950/60s (I can recall a handful of Greek Cypriot children moved to my junior school in the late 1950s), which eventually resulted in the Turkish invasion of 1974. Kostas and Defne Kazantzakis are young lovers in a painfully divided Cyprus – one Greek and Christian, the other Turkish and Muslim. They subsequently move to England, but continue to pay the emotional legacy of the past. The story continues partly through the eyes of their 16 year-old daughter Ada (who has never been to Cyprus)… and also features a fig tree as one of the book’s main narrators! It’s a love story set against the anger, divisions, hate and brutality of conflict. It’s about immigration, lost lives, memories and coping with the aftermath of history. It reminded me of the awful happenings in the ongoing, present-day Israel-Palestine – with all of its similar brutal legacies. In his review of the book, Robert Macfarlane describes the novel “that rings with… compassion for the overlooked and the under-loved, for those whom history has exiled, excluded or separated”… which I think is a far description. It’s an important, compelling book about generational trauma and I enjoyed reading it. Did I love it? Well, not quite… I found its magical-realist style somewhat off-putting and over-sentimental at times for my taste (and I’m someone who is easily ‘moved’!).
The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr): Many of my ‘religious’ friends regard Rohr as something of a champion when it comes to ‘unlocking’ faith issues. Personally, despite having read a few books of his over the years, he’s never quite ‘done it’ for me. In my ongoing spiritual wilderness (and having listened in to a recent Proost podcast), I decided to give Rohr ‘another go’ and bought this book (second-hand and full of underlined texts from a previous reader!). In it, he explores the following: “We may feel we know who Jesus was, but who was Christ?”. Rohr is a decent, wise, intelligent, articulate man and I actually found sections of the book quite helpful (and I loved that he FREQUENTLY used the words “in my opinion” when making comment - I SO often feel that I’m being preached at in the ‘spiritual’ books I read… or by things that many people say to me). Inevitably, I suppose (well, for me, in my spiritual wilderness), the book is written from the perspective of a Christian ‘believer’ and I frequently found myself shaking my head and saying: “but, hang on, that assumes X or Y…”. But, hey, I was re-reading Mary Oliver’s beautiful poetry book “Devotions” at the same time as this Rohr book… and found that they frequently seemed to be expressing similar things… which, as a huge lover of Oliver’s writing, must say something positive about my attitude towards Rohr’s work.
Call For The Dead (John Le Carré): First published in 1961, this was Le Carré’s first published novel and, obviously therefore, the first to feature secret agent George Smiley. I still find it odd that he was allowed to publish this book while he was still working in British Intelligence (but what do I know?). A Foreign Office civil servant has killed himself and Smiley realises that the powers that be will set him up to take the blame. This is a tense, clever spy novel… which gives a hint of the rather wonderful espionage thrillers Le Carré will go on to write.  

june 2024 books...

Heart of Darkness (Joseph Conrad): This our next ‘Blokes’ bookgroup book. It was first published in 1899 and tells the story of Marlow, a seaman and wanderer, who recounts his physical and psychological journey up the heart of the River Congo in search of an infamous ivory trader, Kurtz. It’s about the Victorian world of adventure, exploration, discovery… and exploitation. It’s a tough read in more ways than one – there’s a sense of the physical and mental struggle of battling through the jungle, but also of the various powers-that-be exploiting Africa for its riches and resources while leaving little or nothing to the Africans who are labouring under them. There are lots of shameful references of the native Africans as being ‘savages’ (indeed, Kurtz himself had been working on behalf of the ‘International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs’). Through Marlow, Conrad shows the horrors of colonialism and concludes that the Europeans, not the Africans, are the true savages.
Politics On The Edge (Rory Stewart): This will probably turn out to be my ‘Book of the Year’. I’ve long been an admirer of his writing (his book ‘The Marches’ is a particular favourite) and his observations (political or otherwise). You will probably recall that Stewart is a former MP and Minister who was sacked from the Conservative Party by Prime Minister Johnson (for voting against the government). It’s a compelling political autobiography – a brilliant, uncompromising, unfailingly honest portrait of the realities of life in and around Westminster. It’s well-written and hugely entertaining (and somewhat depressing) account of dysfunctional government. Again and again, one is reminded that, because of the farcical ‘first-past-the-post’ electoral system, the arrogance and self-interest of politicians (and in many cases, the dishonesty) seems to be the fundamental aim. I could quote endlessly from the book, but will limit myself to the following two extracts: “I hated how politicians used the pompous grandeur of the Palace of Westminster to pretend to a power they did not have, and to take credit for things they had not done”… and “Nine years in politics had been a shocking education in lack of seriousness. I had begun by noticing how grotesquely unqualified so many of us were for the offices we were given. I had found, working for Liz Truss, a culture that prized campaigning over careful governing, opinion polls over detailed policy debates, announcements over implementation. I felt that we had collectively failed to respond adequately to every major challenge of the past 15 years: the financial crisis, the collapse of the liberal ‘global order’, public despair, and the polarisation of Brexit”. I can’t recommend this brilliant book highly enough.
Foul+Fair (Steve Couch): Author Steve is a good friend from our old days when we lived in Thame, Oxfordshire and I was honoured (and very surprised) to be asked to give my thoughts on the book in its pre-published form (no pressure then!). Key characters are an English teacher whose career is in tatters, but who also coaches a boys’ football team and a single parent police officer who is worried about her career and her son. They both struggle with trying to balance ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘getting the right result’. As a former Sunday League player and as someone who has watched one of his grandsons play in their local side on a number of occasions (and also working as a Deputy House of Head at a comprehensive school after retiring from my architectural practice!), I really enjoyed re-reading the final form of this book (350 pages in 1.5 days gives you a sense of how readable/page-turning this book is!). The story felt entirely authentic. I ‘recognised’ many of the characters and situations… not to mention the ‘overzealous’ team managers, embarrassing loud-mouthed parents, intimidating pupils and the career-obsessed teachers! Very enjoyable.
Late Cuts (Vic Marks): These days, we regard Vic Marks as being one of cricket’s ‘elder statesmen’ but, in my first architectural job in Oxford in the mid-1970s, I recall spending many summer lunchtimes watching him (and the likes of Imran Khan) play at University Parks… and now realise that he was a mere ‘youngster’ (he’s 6 years younger than me!). It’s an entertaining, wide-ranging reflection on the game encompassing his observations on such matters as captains, partnerships, declarations, press conferences and the like - and his contention that the County Championship is the most important aspect of the English game and his despair that its conclusion is relegated to the cold, damp days of the end of September (I just MIGHT have made similar remarks over recent years!). The book (published in 2022… and written between the first and third lockdowns!) is something of a celebration of the game (despite his views of ‘The Hundred’!) in the words of the book’s cover: taking us “beyond the boundary rope, sharing the parts of the game fans don’t get to see, from the food… to the politics of the dressing room… it’s the literary equivalent of an afternoon in the sun at a county outground…”. Perfect summer reading for me!
Charleston: A Bloomsbury House+Garden (Quentin Bell+Virginia Nicholson): Moira bought this lovely book in 1999 but, although I’ve perused its beautifully-illustrated pages on a very regular basis over the years, I realised that I hadn’t actually READ much of it! Quentin Bell (younger son of Clive and Vanessa Bell) was 85 when he started writing the book but, after presenting the first draft, became too ill to continue – so his elder daughter, Virginia Nicholson, completed it. Painters Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant moved to Charleston Farmhouse, in East Sussex, in 1916… and, over the next 50 years, it became the country meeting place for the group of artists, writers and intellectuals known as Bloomsbury (with the artists decorating the walls, doors and furniture). It’s an account of an artistic, somewhat bohemian, creative collection of artists and intellectuals meeting/living together at the house (albeit rather privileged individuals who don’t necessarily have to scrape a living in order to be able to produce their art and writing). Fascinating and stimulating.

may-june 2024 books…

The Love Song Of Miss Queenie Hennessy (Rachel Joyce): I first read ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’ back in 2013 (and have since re-read it and seen the film)… it tells of Fry walking the length of England to ‘save’ Queenie Hennessy before she dies. Ru passed on this companion follow-up book (published in 2014) to me – giving Queenie’s story/love song… confessing secrets hidden for 20 years. It’s set in a hospice (and I really got to love the residents… and the sister nuns who run it). It’s a beautifully-written, uplifting, profound, thought-provoking, funny and moving novel… and I really enjoyed it.
Maureen Fry And The Angel Of The North (Rachel Joyce): Ru also passed on this additional ‘Unlikely Pilgrimage’ companion book (published in 2022) and so it seemed only right to follow up Queenie’s story with Harold Fry’s wife’s tale! It’s set 10 years on from Harold’s iconic walk and, this time, it’s his wife Maureen’s turn to make a journey. Maureen hardly features in the first two books and, whenever she does, comes across as a somewhat awkward, prickly, isolated character. This book is a moving portrait of a woman who still hasn’t come to terms with grief (*no spoilers*)… it’s about pain, but also about redemption.
Wolf Pack (Will Dean): This is the fifth Will Dean book I’ve read (in other words, I’ve read all five Tuva Moodyson mysteries). The action’s set around Rose Farm, Sweden; it’s home to a group of survivalists, completely cut off from the outside world… until a young woman goes missing within the perimeter of the farm compound. There’s a heinous crime and Tuva (a reporter on a local newspaper) searches for answers and attempts to talk her way inside the tight-knit group to learn more… but finds herself in danger of the pack turning against her. I think I’d better leave it there – will she make her way back to safety so she can expose the truth? In many ways, these Tuva Mysteries are all the same – the settings are the same (isolated communities set in wild elk forests); bleak weather; strange happenings; strange people; and, of course, Tuva exposing herself to danger (again!). Another very ‘enjoyable’ Scandi Noir novel… I really like the central character; the relatively short chapters suit my reading style; and I like its pace, plot and atmosphere.
Politics Is For People (Shirley Williams): With a general election looming, I thought it would be interesting to read Williams’s political views from more than 40 years ago (the book was first published in 1981; oldies will recall that she was a former Labour minister and a founder member of the Social Democrats). I’ve always had a high regard for Williams’s political convictions/attitudes and the book proved to be a fascinating, forthright, intelligent read. There is far too much detail in the book to enable an adequate summary in this brief review. Of course, today’s is a very different world – the internet/technological advances; social effects of new technology; climate change issues weren’t really on the agenda; and the like – but it was sobering to be reminded that some things don’t change much at all… we still have wars and conflict; poverty; society’s haves and have-nots; class and segregation; huge social/welfare challenges; housing; health+social care; education; cost of living crisis. Immigration hardly had a mention – except that it was needed to boost employment in certain sectors. Ironically, she was also dismissive of marginal voices calling for the UK’s withdrawal from EC(!)… “in an interdependent world countries cannot opt out”… “there would be a virtual cessation of international investment in Britain” and “Britain’s significance to her other friends and allies would seriously diminish”. In education, she was advocating ‘apprentices for everyone’. She was saddened by ongoing conservative governments’ entirely predictable support for increases in public spending on law+order and defence, while wanting to reduce expenditure on education, health and social services etc; she was critical of the remoteness, bureaucracy, conservatism and incompetence of many aspects of government (and political institutions). She called for the devolution of power and decentralization in government, big business, and unions (in three sweeping proposals, she suggested a ten-year plan to bring the welfare state into the future, a Marshall Plan to assist the Third World, and greater disarmament after a period of successful détente (oh, the irony!). It’s a wide-ranging, stimulating book.
The Girls Of Slender Means (Muriel Spark): This novel (first published in 1963) is set in London in 1945, where the city is coming to terms with a war that is grinding to a halt, and focusses on the tightly-knit world of a Kensington hostel (the May of Teck Club) - an establishment that existed "for the Pecuniary Convenience and Social Protection of Ladies of Slender Means below the age of Thirty Years, who are obliged to reside apart from their Families in order to follow an Occupation in London". It’s a comic (and tragic), beautifully-written book, full of hilarious descriptions of the hostel’s inhabitants (and their visitors) – although it did take me a little time to ‘get into’. But, at the same time, there is a strong sense of what these young women have had to contend with during the dark days of war and now, as they start to emerge into peacetime, there is a mood of freedom and a fresh start BUT also a strong feeling of uncertainty and half-perceived notions about what their lives might become; fearless and frightened at the same time.

april-may 2024 books…

Maigret Stonewalled (Georges Simenon): I like the Maigret character – although I think this is only the fourth Maigret mystery I’ve read (first published in 1931). On the face of it, it appears to be a simple enough case… a commercial traveller killed in a hotel bedroom on the Loire and yet Maigret senses that things aren’t quite as they appear. It transpires that, for the best part of 18 years, the victim had led an elaborate double life… until a man emerges demanding money. The plot is quite complicated (I lost my way a few times!) and involves, among other things, a reversal of identity and much ingenuity. An enjoyable, entertaining read.
Big Caesars and Little Caesars (Ferdinand Mount): For two years, Mount was head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank/Number 10’s Policy Unit… so I took on this book with somewhat mixed feelings. But the preface immediately reassured me: “The world seems to be full of self-proclaimed Strong Men strutting their stuff, or waiting in the wings… How can these uncouth figures with their funny hair, their rude manners and their bad jokes take such a hold on the popular imagination?”. It’s a fascinating, intelligent, “wry field guide to autocrats” (as The Guardian’s Rachael Cooke puts it) covering a whole host of ‘Caesars’ – from Julius Caesar, Oliver Cromwell, Napoleon, Bolivar, Mussolini, Salazar, De Gaulle, Indira Gandhi to the likes of Trump and Johnson. He’s particularly damning about Trump and Johnson - although he doesn’t regard them as being so exceptional as we might imagine. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found these sections the most interesting (but also pretty alarming… especially the likely prospect of a Trump second term). Mount leaves the reader with a sense that although Johnson has gone (we think), we need to keep our eyes peeled for others just like him already waiting in the wings. It’s a sobering book from a very experienced and knowledgeable political journalist. I found it quite compelling.  
A Postillion Struck By Lightning (Dirk Bogarde): This is the first volume of Bogarde’s autography (first published in 1977). I first read this book in 1990 and went on to read volumes 2+3… I enjoyed them all enormously and thought it was about time I re-visited it (after 34 years!!). It’s a beautifully-written book, full of funny, sad anecdotes and charm… evoking his idyllic Sussex childhood, his tough and lonely initiation into the harsher realities at a Glasgow technical school and the early days as an aspiring artist (the book contains a lot of his ‘scribbles’) and then as an actor up until he goes to Hollywood. Second time around, I found it a rather lovely, funny and nostalgic read… (although I admit to getting a little bored by some his early childhood recollections). I think I need to re-read volume 2+3 again.
The State Of Us (Jon Snow): Jon Snow is something of a hero of mine (AND he and I gathered coal together from the coal cellar each morning in 1990 when we were both staying in apartments at Ardtornish in the western highlands! I KNOW!!)(somewhat ridiculously, I noticed that I’d added a note in the Bogarde book explaining that I read it while on holiday at Ardtornish!!). This is a book of his reflections on the life of the nation over the past five decades. I found it a rather wonderful, honest book. His father was a bishop and he had a public school education at a choral school (he’s somewhat embarrassed by this and highly critical of what he regards the “privileged arrogance” arising from a public school background). Remarkably, he admits to not knowing anybody who was state-educated until he went to Scarborough Tech (and from there he went on to a short-lived degree experience at Liverpool Uni – he was kicked out for demonstrating against Apartheid). He admits to being far from academic (his A-Level grades were C, D and E) and clearly had some ‘good breaks’ early in his journalistic career. He’s passionate about inequality and multi-culturalism… and these passions extend to the appalling background to the Grenfell Tower tragedy, Brexit, unfairness and injustice and the beauty of Iran. In his time, he interviewed every prime minister since Thatcher (about whom, perhaps surprisingly, he is complimentary – unlike the likes of Mr Johnson!). I found it a really compelling, encouraging and optimistic story about our society. I highly recommend it to you!
The Queen's Gambit (Walter Tevis): This book, first published in 1983, is our next Storysmith bookgroup book… based on a sporting theme (chess was selected!). We used to play chess at the end of term at school and other pupils were always keen to play me – essentially because they knew they could beat me! Essentially, it’s about an 8-year-old American girl in an orphanage who is taught to play chess by the school’s janitor and ends up (spoiler alert: with some ‘issues’ on the way!) forging a new life for herself by progressing to the top of the US chess rankings… and beyond. A novel about chess is not my ideal kind of book (although I’m now something of an expert on opening playing strategies – Albion Counter Gambit, Queen’s Gambit, Sicilian etc etc!)… and yet I found this to be something of a compelling page-turner. My only real reservations relate to the somewhat too-good-to-be-true, rags-to-riches fantasy of it all. An enjoyable read nevertheless.

polling day: ID required (and other political devices)...

I’m currently reading Ferdinand Mount’s book “Big Caesars and Little Caesars” (“how they rise and fall – from Julius Caesar to Boris Johnson”). As a former editor of ‘The Spectator’ and head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank, rest assured that he’s no liberal-lefty!!
It’s a fascinating book and well worth reading if you are ‘politically inclined’(!)…
But, with local elections taking place tomorrow (2 May), I thought his comments about the need for the electorate to produce photographic ID at the polling stations in order to cast their votes were timely reminders of one of the ways we’re being manipulated by the Conservative government - just one of five measures* he highlights (apologies for quoting at such length, but I think it’s important):
“Voter suppression:  
But of course in order to exercise power in this exuberant style, the Tories have to acquire power and hang on to it. The first priority is to win the upcoming general election, and prepare for the election after that. What is the best method of improving your chances? First, to adjust the boundaries of the constituencies to maximise the impact of your votes... Then, not only to encourage your voters to turn out by every possible means, but also to discourage the potential voters for the other side, either by preventing them from registering on the electoral roll or to make it difficult for them to cast their votes – so-called ‘voter suppression’. Thirdly, most flagrantly, by stuffing the ballot boxes with votes by people who don’t exist or have already voted or are not qualified to vote…
British general elections… have been remarkably free and fair for a long time – ever since voter personation and other dodges were finally eliminated in Northern Ireland. There has been no substantial evidence of fraud at any recent general elections. Yet the Tories’ 2019 election manifesto included this pledge: ‘We will protect the integrity of our democracy by introducing voter identification to vote at polling stations, stopping postal vote harvesting and measures to prevent any foreign interference with elections’.
All this, now contained in the Elections Act, is an egregious solution to a non-existent problem. It can have one purpose only: to suppress the votes of the poorer and less organised voters who are less likely to possess photo ID. When voter ID was made mandatory in Northern Ireland in 2002, the number of voters on the new register dropped by 120,000 or 10 per cent. This suspicion is confirmed by a second pledge, to make it easier for British expats to vote in parliamentary elections, expiates being plausibly thought far more likely to vote Tory, just as the worst off are more likely to vote Labour. Thus one set of voters whose fortunes do not depend on the actions of the UK is to be encouraged, while a far larger number of voters who do depend – often desperately – on what the British government does or does not do for them is to be discouraged. It is hard to imagine a more flagrant strategy to rig the result. It may be that as holding voter ID becomes more universal over the years, the adverse effect will diminish. But what is clear is that the MOTIVE behind the Elections Bill is to secure party advantage under the cloak of fairness.”
Believe me, I COULD have quoted far more extensively on this and other related subjects (eg. Trump and Johnson don’t emerge in Mount’s book in anything like a ‘good light’!).
Be afraid. Be very afraid!
PS: * The other measures Mount refers to (arising out of the Conservative manifesto for the  2019 general election) relate to the following: ‘Dissolving Parliament’; ‘Sacking MPs’; ‘Sacking civil servants’ and ‘Taming the judges’.

march-april 2024 books…

The Farmer’s Wife (Helen Rebanks): I’ve previously read James Rebanks’ brilliant two books about his family’s lives, over several generations, as sheep farmers in the fells of the Lake District. This is his wife’s ‘take’ on their farming life… about the love and pride for the land they farm; for her family (they have four young children); for their way of life and all its trials, tribulations, frustrations and joys. She writes quite beautifully and honestly about the difficulties of keeping things going despite the lack of money, but also about the endless improvisation and determination to achieve their dreams. She’s a full-time mother (with an art degree) dealing with all the day-to-day responsibilities of the school run and school liaison, caring for the domestic animals, cooking, farm administration (including all the form-filling, licences etc) and much, much more. There’s a section in the book in which she describes when the family were effectively ‘cut off’ for several days (no electricity, internet etc) during heavy snowstorms and their resourceful in staying safe/warm and nourished – whilst, at the same time, ensuring that their animals are tracked down and fed – a sobering reminder of what a hard life farming can be. Although I only briefly thumbed through them, the book also contains a whole host of recipes! A very impressive, powerful and frequently quite moving book.
Piccadily Jim (PG Wodehouse): I’m a great admirer of Wodehouse’s writing but must admit that I found this novel (first published in 1917) someone disappointing. The story combines English and American settings and characters (I never find his ‘take’ on Americans anything like as amusing as his descriptions of the English upper classes) and the plot is farcically complicated and, to my mind, unconvincing. It involves impersonations, spies, explosives and kidnapping plans that go awry. As you would imagine with Wodehouse, it’s frequently funny… but also ridiculously far-fetched. Not one of my favourites.
Not A River (Selva Almada): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book (theme: a book from this year’s International Booker Prize Longlist). This from the cover’s blurb: “Three men go out fishing, returning to a favourite spot on a river in Argentina, despite their memories of a terrible accident there years earlier. As a long, sultry day passes, they drink and cook and talk and dance, and try to overcome the ghosts of their past. But they are outsiders, and this intimate, peculiar moment also puts them at odds with the inhabitants of this watery universe, both human and otherwise. The forest presses close, and violence seems inevitable, but can another tragedy be avoided?”. In some ways the men’s pursuit of a massive ray reminded me of Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” – the book has a similar foreboding atmosphere and sense of anxiety; here, we’re slowly shown glimpses back to the previous tragedy, one that has left its disturbing scars. The novel’s pace is somewhat leisurely (it’s certainly not relaxed!), but its setting of the calm river and the ominous woods simply reinforces the tension. I found it a very impressive book.
The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle): I’m no great admirer of Sherlock Holmes’ books, and certainly haven’t read one for some 20 years or more (and actually find the character consistently annoying!), but found this on the shelf of the Oxfam bookshop… This book, first published in 1950, consists of eleven ‘exciting adventures’ (according to the book’s cover!). It’s all very dated, predictable in style and general content (and, at times, somewhat ridiculous), but it makes for easy reading.
Madness Is Better Than Defeat (Ned Beauman): This is our next Blokes’ Bookgroup book. I take an awful lot of pleasure from reading but, after completing just the first 100 pages of this book (it’s 408 pages long), I decided that I’d ‘had enough’ and gave up (over the past 10 years or so, there is just ONE book I didn’t finish… so this will be the second!). The story relates to two rival expeditions, in 1938, setting off for a lost Mayan temple in the jungles of Honduras – one intending to shoot a ‘screwball comedy’ on location there… and the other to disassemble the temple and ship it back to New York. By all accounts, Bauman is a successful and popular writer (reviewers’ quotes on the book’s cover talk about him being ‘clever’, ‘seriously funny’ and ‘almost recklessly gifted’) but, frankly, I’m not a fan. I don’t doubt that I’ve probably missed out on lots of clever storylines and colourful characters, but my spirits have been raised merely by taking the decision to stop reading the book! Due to my impending hip operation, I’ll be unable to attend our bookgroup’s review evening of the novel – which is probably just as well!

february-march 2024 books…

Religion For Atheists (Alain de Botton): This might seem a rather strange additional book to help me in my Lenten reflections, but it was actually referred to in 2012 by Rowan Williams in one his Easter sermons during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury. I’d previously read a couple of de Botton’s books and he’s clearly a clever bloke and an excellent writer and this book didn’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly don’t consider myself to be an atheist (more of a struggle Christian-cum-occasional-agnostic!?). But, in fact, I found the book far more thought-provoking and helpful than a lot of previous books I’ve used during Lents over recent years. He starts by pointing out that secular society has been “unfairly impoverished by the loss of an array and practices associated with various religions”, such as: music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illuminated manuscripts of the faiths – primarily, for the purposes of the book, Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism. I found it quite a stimulating, thought-provoking read (even the Church Times apparently found it “surprisingly illuminating”!).
Antarctica (Claire Keegan): These days, I’m a glutton for Keegan’s short stories. Quiet, unfolding, hauntingly beautiful tales (first published in 1999) set in Ireland, USA or Britain. The subject matters vary and don’t always make comfortable reading - murders, betrayals, orphaned children, madness, suicides are just some of the themes in between… with offbeat characters, convincing dialogue, rituals, secrets, seasons and a strong sense of place. I’ve bought a number of her books over recent weeks/months and this (her first collection of short stories) and this is the last one from my bedside table. I’m going to miss my regular Keegan reading sessions… and think I might need to keep dipping into to some of them on a regular basis.
Before The Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi): I’ve read a number of Japanese novels over the past couple of years and they’ve all had a certain ‘quirkiness’. This one was no exception. In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time. We meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe's time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer's, see their sister one last time, and meet the daughter they never got the chance to know. But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold… It’s a rather beautiful, moving story and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1937). Zadie Smith has described it as “one of the very greatest American novels of the twentieth century”. My book’s cover summarises the story pretty well: “When, at 16, Janie is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with 60 acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before she finally meets the man of her dreams – who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds”. It’s an impressive book, written by a remarkable writer who was born in Alabama at the end of c19th. I found the African-American Vernacular English dialect hard to read (I’m glad I persevered!), but it’s an impressive, powerful, feminist book about a young black girl finding her way into womanhood in the rural, black South. I enjoyed it.
Somewhere Towards The End (Diana Athill): I really like Athill’s writing. I think this is the fifth book of hers I’ve read (first published in 2008, she died in 2019, aged 101) and this one is ‘what it says on the tin’, as it were – a reflection, written in old age, of things she’s experienced through her lifetime. I like her wisdom, fearlessness and her humour… the same sort of feeling I get from reading Jan Morris’s books, for example. I found it a wonderfully optimistic book – marvelling, as she does, at the fact that she only became a writer in her 70s – covering a wide range of topics, including: love; sex; never having been a mother; not giving up driving (despite realising she should); religion (she had no faith); the prospect of death; discovering new enjoyments/skills in old age; non-fiction books; climate change; laziness; oversights… and much more. Rather lovely. 

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!

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.

january 2024 books…

A Memoir Of My Former Self (Hilary Mantel): This is a pretty lengthy collection (nearly 400 pages) of some of Mantel’s contributions to newspapers, journals and the like over the past four decades. The subjects are wide-ranging – Tudor England; revolutionary France; her childhood; her own health issues; Princess Diana’s legacy; her Reith Lectures; her years living in Saudi Arabia; various novelists; film reviews… and even cricket! I didn’t find all her work particularly compelling but, of course, she’s writes brilliantly well – and, often, with great humour and perception. I read it within a couple of weeks but, on reflection, think I might have enjoyed/appreciated it more if I had dipped into articles from time to time on a regular basis?
The Mystery Of The Blue Train (Agatha Christie): Start of another year… time for yet another Agatha Christie mystery! This one (first published in 1928) combines all the classic ingredients: murder, trains, lots of rich people… and Poirot. Typical clever, intricate plot. Good comfort reading(?) for the start of the year.
Breakdown (Tatton Spiller): Published in 2019 (the year of the last General Election – so we’ve had Mr Johnson plus two other PMs since then!)… it’s full title is: “We’re living through the Breakdown and Here’s what you can do about it”. It’s an attempt to provide guidance so that readers will “be able to see through some of the bluster, to communicate with people with whom you disagree… (and become) part of the solution”. Spiller recommended: following lots of different people on social media; following all party conferences; listening to podcasts; and talking to people. All very plausible, sensible stuff (and, at times, quite funny)… but, to be honest, I just found 225 pages of UK politics somewhat tedious… and I couldn’t wait to finish it. Sorry.
Foster (Claire Keegan): Keegan’s book “Small Things Like These” was one of the favourite books I read last year. This one (first published in 2010) might well be one of my favourites of 2024. This short story, which takes place in the hot summer of 1981 in rural Ireland, is narrated by a young girl… who is taken by her father to live with relatives on a farm, not knowing when or if she will be brought home again. In the relatives’ house, she finds affection and warmth she has not known and slowly, in their care, begins to blossom… but (in the words from the book’s cover), “there is something unspoken in this new household – where everything is so well tended to – and the summer must come to an end”. I think I’m going to leave it that… it’s a novel of a mere 88 pages, but it is profound, beautiful and utterly lyrical. I absolutely loved it – one of those books that stay with long after the final page has been read.
The Crime At Black Dudley (Margery Allingham): Another crime novel for the start of the year (perhaps in order to avoid all the depressing stuff that’s happening in the world at present?). This one, first published in 1929, was apparently the first one to feature one of Allingham’s beloved characters, Albert Campion (a pseudonym used by a man who was born in 1900 into a prominent British aristocratic family). I’m afraid I’ve never taken to Campion… (or Allingham's writing) but that’s probably just me. This novel features a weekend house party, a ritual involving an ancient dagger, a murder, stolen documents and house guests held hostage (a typical 1920’s house party then!). It’s full of twists and ‘suspense’ but, for me, not particularly convincing. Sorry.