Holy Fools, Joanne Harris

I like Harris' novels. They are guilty pleasures and though she over uses rhetorical questions, they are always a comforting and compelling read.

Holy Fools is partly narrated by the protagonist, Juliette, and her antagonist and ex-lover Guy LeMerle. Juliette has been living in a relaxed convent on an island off the French coast, she's left her travelling performer life behind and has found a safe place to bring up her daughter. The Abbess of the convent dies at the beginning of the novel, her replacement brings LeMerle, posing as a Priest, who starts to put in place an elaborate, vengeful plan. Juliette tries to protect herself, her daughter and her friends from LeMerle's plan and the ensuing hysteria.

The relationship between Juliette and Guy is beautifully complex, as is the portrayal of good and evil / right and wrong, collective hysteria and human fallibility. As with all Harris's novels this one has a great sense of place and atmosphere. Religion, ambition, escape, deceit and relationships all play a part.

The Mist in the Mirror, Susan Hill

I loved this, the atmosphere and sense of place she evokes is so British, wintry, cosy and sometimes bleak that it almost satisfied a homesickness.

Mist in the Mirror is a story within a story, the narrator is given a manuscript by an acquaintance, which tells the story of a man returned to the UK, after being sent abroad as a child. He plans to research his hero, an explorer who he has modelled his life on, and in so doing begins to ask questions about his own family and Yorkshire roots, none of which he can remember.

The novel is definitely a ghost story, and is creepy in the vein of Edgar Allen Poe or Oliver Onions. It is a mystery, and one which is not really solved. There is no big reveal where all the ends are tied up, rather we are given drops of information and end with a feeling of the 'true' events, but not a finished story. I love this in literature, you're given freer reign and it feels more honest or real somehow.

The Irish Sea, Carlos Maleno

I'm fascinated be Maleno, just from the blurb on the back of the book which mentions he is a slaes broker for an international produce company, which seems like such an unlikely job for someone who writes such strange and inventive short stories.

History of Wolves, Emily Fridlund

I enjoyed half of this book, it conveys an excellent sense of place but the characters are lacking somehow. The narrator becomes interesting in the second half of the novel, when we are let into more of her personality and thoughts, before that she seems a detached and sometimes callous narrator. It's as if the story arc for her is the wrong way around. The first half of the novel seems redundant, as if it should have been told in snapshots during the second half of the novel, rather than in full in the beginning.

The Descent of Man, Grayson Perry

Masculinity, it's effect on both the world and individuals and the way this all needs to change is the subject of Descent of Man. As usual Perry is engaging, funny and well informed, the argument is clearly illustrated and is sympathetic, though also cuts quite deep. He offers examples of his own behaviour and also ideas for how to change the cycle.
I had thought of masculinity and the way it affects personal relationships and work, essentially the ways it affects me directly, but Perry opens that up to include the whole way the world works. He puts forward the argument that the processes of international politics and war are direct results of a masculine way of looking at things, with all its associated competition, repression of emotion and insecurity.
Cut through with humour and illustrations.

Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt

I had been putting off reading this; I expected to be thoroughly depressed as McCourt describes his desperately poor Irish Catholic childhood. It is an eye opener, both to that level of poverty and to catholic guilt in the head of a boy, but I was completely surprised at how addictive it is. McCourt's voice is distinctive, and feels very raw, as if his childhood self is narrating through him.

As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, Laurie Lee

This follows on from Cider with Rosie, Lee's description of growing up in a village in the 1920s. Here Lee leaves his home and walks to London, and then through Spain. Lee has a casual, compelling way of writing and is a brilliant observer and travelling partner. As with Cider with Rosie it's a fascinating peek into life for people at that time, both fellow travellers and local people. 

Fates and Furies, Lauren Groff

Beautifully written and just keeps getting richer and richer. Groff muses on how we present ourselves to the world and to those we love, how and why that happens, and possible fallout. Based around the marriage of Lotto and Mathilde, in Fates we first learn of Lotto's past and his view of their life Furies tells us Mathilde's view. Mathilde and Lotto haunt each other's stories; Mathilde is a particularly strong presence and can be felt throughout Fates. Groff has drawn the characters unsympathetically, but we also see them through the eyes of each other, with all their love, idolation, indulgence and annoyance.

Mythos, Stephen Fry

Entertaining, so many characters and stories squashed into one place. As a family tree, stories branching from and linking to one another. Remembered and recognised names put into context and glimmers of known stories, though with new revelations or endings, like Pandora was the first human woman. 

Many of the stories unknown, non-blockbuster myths, earlier than Hercules etc. Lots of origin stories, or snippets of reasons or origins of animals within stories. Fry is an adept and entertaining guide through the centuries and centuries of re-telling. 

This is Going to Hurt, Adam Kay

Absolutely deserving of all the hype; brilliantly funny and enjoyable, but shocking and heart-ripping in the end. 

The Martian Chronicles, Ray Bradbury

The Martian Chronicles read like a history of place, they are almost- short stories which hang together, and occasionally continue on from one another. They vary between true short stories; photographs of lives in a particular moment or change and sketched out ideas of what could happen if the human race ever were able to colonise Mars. Fully fleshed out world and deeply coloured characters, even the ones we are only with for a few pages. 

Heartburn, Nora Ephron

I'd heard a lot about Nora Ephron's writing in general and this novel in particular, so I was aware of expecting too much from it. As soon as I'd read the first pages though I was completely gratified. It is a novel based on the break-up of Ephron's second marriage (similar to The Enchanted April in some ways). Our narrator is Rachel, who is seven months pregnant with their second child when she finds out her husband is having an affair.

It is a heartbreaking and joyous novel, Rachel is witty and personable. The whole novel makes you feel as though Rachel is sat next to you, chatting about what's happened. She immediately pulls you into her world and is irreverent and aware of all the neuroses and shortcomings and idiosyncrasies of it. She is broken and conveys a messy confusion shot through with humour.

A Single Swallow, Horatio Clare

Here Clare follows the migration route of swallows, ones that nest in his mum's rafters in Wales in the summer and winter in South Africa. He sets off from South Africa in February and arrives in Wales in May, travelling off the cuff by car, bus or plane. Layers of anecdotes and meetings from the road with  chat about swallows in literature and cultures.

The lovely thing though is that the swallow idea enables and excuses the trip and it is certainly an obsession for Clare, but the trip and route is haphazard and loose. Clare seems like a lost 20 something, wandering in search of anything, and does return changed, broken down a little and re-formed.

Lullaby, Leïla Slimani

Lullaby opens with the death of two childern at the hands of their nanny.
A beautifully written, heavy and bleak vision of modern parenthood and the juggle between work and family life - for both parents and nanny. The author astutely and simply picks holes in expectations and presents a Catch 22 without offering any solutions, or seemingly even sympathy. Slimani creates understandable, unlikeable characters you don’t want to identify with. They paint portraits of personality and power, the situation is bigger than the characters. The mood is deftly and subtly changed through the novel, both the reader and characters fail to notice or stall the shift until it is too late. Full, bleak and worrying modern fiction.

Why didn't they ask Evans? Agatha Christie

 

As expected this is a great murder mystery. Likeable ‘plucky’ characters and twists and turns, much more adventure than other Christie novels I’ve read. Hairs prickled on the back of my neck when we did finally discover who Evans was.

The Typees, Herman Melville

Typee tells the story of sailors who desert ship on islands in the South Sea and their contact with the ‘primitive’ people there. It is part adventure story, part amateur anthropological study, and very of it’s time.
Melville slips into long passages of description which can get very tedious, but on the whole it is a good read, all the more interesting as it is based on Melville’s own experiences.

The Western Wind, Samantha Harvey

A mystery of a man having disappeared, probably drowned, told through the eyes of the village Priest. The novel moves backwards in time and deftly reveals both the character of the narrator and the answer to the mystery. The Priest is flawed but a good man and is compared to the over-zealous Dean; a medieveal chief inspector to the Priest’s detective. The novel is pre-occupied with the idea of forgiveness, both from a god, a community and self-forgiveness, it explores mistakes and sins- all though the internal monologue of the narrator´s empathetic, medieval mindset. Rich and compelling, full of questions.

The Enchanted April, Elizabeth Von Arnim

This is a completely captivating read. Four women (strangers) end up renting a small castle in Italy for the month of April. Arnim shows how being submerged in sunshine and beauty, and being away from anyone who knows them, allows the women to heal and blossom. The novel is very romantic and has an improbable fairytale ending but it is satisfying and uplifting. 

The Enchanted April has a lot to say about life; how people drift into being a certain way, become who they are treated as or flourish under attention and interest and how taking yourself out of your life for a while can give perspective and potentially avert or reverse a crisis. It is based in truth; Arnim went to stay with a friend, in Italy for April after the breakup of her marriage and it is this wish for healing that really comes across in the novel. 

Everything I Know About Love, Dolly Alderton

Alderton is a journalist and podcaster, here she talks about her teenage years and her twenties; the ideas she had about love at various points in her life and the situations that changed or augmented those ideas. She questions the way we see ourselves and how that is shaped by the world and popular culture and how self acceptance affects the way you can function. Alderton has warmth and an exuberant and pictoral way of writing which means the book doesn't at all feel like navel gazing, but honest discussion.

Everything I know about love is heartbreaking, joyful and hopeful. The undying love in the book is between Alderton and her close girlfriends, and the book points out a lack of importance shown to friendship in society, she makes a case for being as proud of an ability to keep an intimate and long lasting friendship as for a long lasting partnership or marriage. A warm, entertaining and nourishing read.

The Thing Around Your Neck, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A thought provoking collection of short stories. Some have the same themes, of displacement, racism, judgement and the way people deal with the circumstances they have been delt. It's clear that Adichie is writing from her experience and there are frustrations played out in the stories; many of her female characters are constantly and consistently patronised.

The stories are never repetitive and always seem to linger. Adichie writes a sense of place and ambience so well that sometimes it isn't the stories (in terms of plot) that stay with you, but a sense of a character's experience, Similar to personal memories, emotions are recalled.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, Gail Honeyman

I was blown away by this book - it was a gift and I was expecting something more vacuous. It is brilliantly written. The central character has trouble fitting into the world and Honeyman makes us see why people can't bond with her, but shows the reader someone completely relatable. Oliphant makes hilarious, cutting observations which make the book a joy, even though the central themes are heavy. 

Primarily the novel is about loneliness - how a functioning young woman with a job can go home on a Friday evening and not speak to anyone until she goes back to work on Monday. She is disdainful of her colleagues who openly make fun of her and through the descriptions of her clothes and flat she doesn't seem to have any outward personality.

Oliphant's story is dramatic and in some ways this is annoying. I can see why Honeyman made that decision, though I feel it was a pragmatic one - for publishers and bookshops. She makes the point she wanted to and it is brilliant to read something so affecting and empathy-inducing, though it doesn't take dramatic circumstances to make someone disconnected from the world and unable to find a place and their people. Also, I think on some level everyone both struggles with loneliness and somehow contributes to another's sense of it. Having said that, Honeyman has begun conversations and opened thinking paths with a novel that has a weight and joy to it. 

The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton

Edith Wharton explores upper class society in late 19th Century America. She is powerfully critical of almost all who are, or aspire to be in and around, that social circle. Through Lily Bart she shows a woman born into a high society family who ended up with very little money. Her upbringing left her with social skills and a sense of entitlement, as well as a fear of living without luxury.  

Wharton presents Edith as a figure we should feel empathy for. She is charming and through her tightrope existence she exposes the hypocrisies and unnecessary, arbitrary rules of the class. Bart is both relatable and exasperating, she is in a constant state of ambivalence; seeing the society for what it is and priding herself on being able to manipulate it's members, though completely unable to commit to being one of 'them' - though that is what she desperately wants.

It is a good read, though the ending is a little dramatic and not as interesting as it could have been - a product of it's time perhaps.