Christmas Reading

My Christmas stocking was sadly empty of books this year (don't ask!) leaving me nothing to review. Instead, here's a mention of some of the books I gave to others. My mother received the very well reviewed autobiography by Mary Soames, Churchill's daughter, of the years with her parents up until her marriage. Angus has enjoyed The Private Eye Annual 2011, a Christmas stocking staple in our family which has caused much sniggering and outright guffawing over the holiday period. You sort of feel that this year was the year that Private Eye was at its zenith with the closure of the News of the Screws (in fact, I'm off shortly to have a quick look at the Private Eye exhibition at the V&A before it closes next week). Angus also received (perhaps worryingly from his 12 year old sister) that student staple, The Hungoevr Cookbook (sic). For Laura, Far From Home by Na'imba B Robert, a young adult novel set in Rhodesia and then, forty years later, in Zimbabwe which I picked from this review on Ladybookbird. As a committed Sherlock Holmes fan, she was thrilled with The House of Silk: The New Sherlock Holmes Novel by Anthony Horowitz which I suspect we may all read. For Derek, as well as Alice Oswald's Memorial (see Books at my bedside), as a Mac addict, he had to be given hastily produced biography of Steve Jobs and his annual Christmas fix of Slightly Foxed which is a delightful quarterly compendium of reading, sold in the Kew Bookshop. Oh, and we all ate too much and did too little.

The Sense of an Ending

The book group assembled this week and decided that The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes was not really an appropriate read for a Christmas meeting; cheerful, festive and celebratory it is not. My previous post had resulted in two emails in quick succession suggesting, uncharitably, that the book itself was to blame for my memory lapse. In fact, having read it twice (as had my mother who joined us for the evening) I felt more satisfied than I had after my first read through and others suggested that they might read it again. There was a view that it was a little like On Chesil Beach whereby one felt unsated at the end (despite the very clever twist which none of us saw coming).

There was a general feeling that, whilst good, this book was not outstanding and we wondered whether we had all been taken in by the publisher's hype and the Booker furore. But then, how to explain the reviews which are almost universally eulogistic? Had the reviewers fallen for the hype too and were we being manipulated? Was it all a push to get Julian Barnes the prize?

We concluded that the very dullness and ordinariness of Tony and his life, whilst purposeful within the novel, was unsatisfying. We went on to discuss whether we always need or expect characters to be interesting or stimulating. Was the very point of Tony that he was neither? We talked about memory, perceptions, and the way in which shared experiences can provoke differing recollections. Was the book too short - someone said it was like a draft for a longer novel - and there was a sense that every character was underdeveloped; but was this the point? This lead to a wider consideration of the criteria for the Booker prize - there are few - and the constitution of the panel which this year looks pretty impressive and positively attractive with the addition of Dan Stevens (sigh!).

Lack of inspiration and a certain weariness brought on by the excesses of the season meant that we have agreed to free reading over the Christmas holidays with a view to choosing a classic when we meet at Maria's in January.

A senior moment or a Kindle moment?

Oh dear, how to explain this without sounding really stupid. I resolved this week to read A Sense of an Ending for next week's book group meeting and so went to download it onto my Kindle. Not entirely to my surprise, it was already there; I had obviously thought about reading it before. And so I started to read. It felt a little familiar from the start but I assumed that I'd heard extracts on the radio in the pre or post Booker publicity storm. And so I read on. Eventually, about one third through the book I realised that it was familiar because, prepare to be shocked, I had read it before. I have no memory of where or when. What an admission. Now, a few days on, I have determined that this is less of a senior moment than a Kindle moment. I love my Kindle but I'm blaming it for this incident. The problem with a Kindle is you have no mental image of a book - of how thin or thick it is, the illustration on the cover and the blurb on the back, the font or the feel of it. After all, it couldn't be my memory that's at fault, could it?

Dickens on Radio 4

How exciting; there's a treat in store next week when one of my favourite actresses reads one of my favourite authors. Radio 4's Book of the Week is Claire Tomalin's new biography of Dickens read by Penelope Wilton who I have admired ever since seeing her in Cry Freedom in the 1980s (and who, of course, has recently played the feisty cousin Isabel in Downton Abbey).

The book group read Claire Tomalin's wonderfully researched and well executed biography of Thomas Hardy in February 2008 and I then went on to read her biographies of Jane Austen and Samuel Pepys (a particulalry wonderful book). The Dickens biography will certainly go on my "to read" list and it may even kick start my Dickens reading..... I'm ashamed to admit that I was defeated at my last attempt by Hard Times which was definitely not a book suited to a poolside setting in Thailand.

The growing pile of books at my bedside

Despite, or perhaps because of, now being a Kindle user, the pile of books on my bedside table still grows almost fast enough to give me sleepless nights. One reason for this is the endless recommendations from our book group meetings; at some point in the evening there will be a free for all when books get passed around. We all enthusiastically add them to our "to read" list and sometimes go on to buy them - and therein lies the problem, there are simply not hours enough to get through them all.

Last week's meeting saw a recommendation for Before I Go To Sleep by S J Watson, a debut novel which has been very well received according to the reviews ("exceptionally accomplished", "dazzling" and "a very literary thriller" raved The Guardian). There was also a mention for Eve Green by Susan Fletcher, the sort of title and author combo which is bound to lead to confusion, which won the Whitbread First Novel award in 2005 (when Eve or Susan, whichever, was only 25). It sounds very touching and quite Welsh. In contrast, Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness by Alexandra Fuller is an African memoir of a particular kind of expatriate mother; the author's interview on Woman's Hour grabbed my attention as much as the seductive title.

Finally, two recommendations from a reader of this blog whose judgement I respect and who writes a bit herself. First, Alice Oswald's Memorial which is, I'm told, a very pared down translation of the Illiad: "a long, simple, beautiful poem which acts as a memorial to the fallen in the Trojan Wars. It is mesmerising". It sounds compelling to me. And then, in a lighter tone, Howard's End is on the Landing by Susan Hill, another book with a seductive title. My reader says: "It is a personal perusal through the books on Hill's shelves which acts as a sort of memoir. A lifetime of reading, writing and mixing with and working with other authors makes her a fascinating companion to books that one knows so well. Before I knew it, I was feet up in an armchair and I'd stolen an hour from my day to enjoy it". Sounds like the perfect Christmas stocking present to me.

A Wild Sheep Chase

Rarely has every member of the book group finished the chosen book in time for the meeting and rarely has the group been so vocal and animated in its discussions. What do I draw from this? Well, we obviously need to read books that we don't understand more frequently. With one exception, we were all new comers to Haruki Murakami's work and some, but not all, may go on to read more. If this one is anything to go by, a Murakami book can variously be described as odd, enigmatic, mysterious, surrealist, detached, curious, inexplicable, wierd..... and so it went on at our meeting last night. We commented on the apathy, indifference and "flatness" of the nameless characters, how emotional detachment was a theme and how this contrasts with the bizarre journey which the narrator undertakes, necessary perhaps to force him to make changes in his life.... or was it? Somehow, despite the fact that we struggled with its apparent lack of meaning or a moral narrative, we were all taken in by this novel and we all wanted to finish it in order to find out what happened; the only issue being that we were not really too sure about whether or not what happened really happened and if it did, what it meant. Mysterious and enigmatic indeed.

The Help

I always hesitate before going to see a film of a book, particularly a book which I have enjoyed. And if I ever question my hesitation, I have only to remember, with a shudder, the adaptation of Captain Corelli's Mandolin to renew my resolve. (See also the September entry on The Elegance of the Hedgehog). However, it is not always thus: think Revolutionary Road or The Reader for a film which did the book justice. It was this thought that made me determine to see The Help.

Kathryn Stockett's fictional account of the experiences of maids working in Jackson, Mississippi in the 1960s was a bestseller a couple of summers ago but it did not strike me then as a book which was written with an eye to Hollywood (some books you just know have been written for the movies). But maybe I'm wrong, as it has come to a cinema near you so quickly, not to mention the fact that the screenwriter and producer is the author's childhood friend.

And...... yes, I was very pleased I went. It is a faithful and true adaptation of the book even though Skeeter is not quite as lanky and gangly as I would have liked - she's more swan than ugly duckling right from the beginning - and her mother looks far too healthy. Of course there are issues with it: some events are excised, some characters are underdeveloped and some of the political grit is glossed over but it is a moving and satisfying film and one which seems to me to have the spirit of the book about it. It also contains what must be an award winning performance by Viola Davis as Aibileen (warning: you will need your tissues).

The Hare with the Amber Eyes

There is so much to say about this beguiling book by the potter, Edmund de Waal, that it is hard to know where to start other than it has taken me far too long to get around to reading it. When I mentioned it in January, Recommendations from the Costa, it was in the aftermath of the Costa biography award and it was in my mental filing cabinet as a biography of 264 netsuke (small Japanese carvings) and maybe that was a little off putting. In truth, though, it is a family memoir and the netsuke are the link to an exploration of several generations of the Ephrussi family. We follow the family from grain merchants in Odessa to wealthy bankers in Paris and Vienna; from Jewish assimilation to near obliteration; from escape from Austria to Tunbridge Wells of all places; from California to post-war Tokyo; from collectors, patrons and connoisseurs of art and literature in the late 1800s to Nazi ransacking and sequestering (and subsequent attempts at restitution after the war).

It is at once an art history book (just imagine being related to someone who was friends with Proust, Monet, Manet and Renoir), a short history of a Europe from about 1870 and a personal history of a family with an extraordinary tale to tell. The scale of the Ephrussis' wealth and influence was unimaginable (think Rothschild); the Palais Ephrussi in Vienna during the First World War plays out in parallel this autumn to Downton Abbey - although unlike the rather middlebrow Crawleys,  the Ephrussis' patronage, understanding and appreciation of art, music and literature shines through their family history. The accounts of the sacking, after the Anschluss in 1938, of the artistic treasures of the Palais Ephrussi by the Nazis, the expulsion of the family from their home and dreadful realisation that there is nothing for Viktor Ephrussi to do anymore (his business has been sequestered, he can't go to his cafe, the theatre or opera, his bookshop or barber, he cannot get on a tram or sit on a park bench) are amongst the most touching and poignant pages I have read.

Murakami in the news

So just as the book group decides, at last, to read a Haruki Murakami novel, he is all over the papers. According to Tuesday's edition of the i (my new favourite paper; what fantastic value for 20p), Murakami has developed from having a cult following to being a full-blown literary phenomenon. The piece focused on the release this week of his new book 1Q84 (an alternate 1984) which apparently required some retailers to have a Potteresque midnight opening. The i predicts superstar status in the UK.....so it is just as well we are reading one of his books now. He's obviously a sensible sort of chap as he is currently visiting writer at the University of Hawaii .......in a hammock with the laptop under a palm tree, writing to the music of crashing waves and exotic birdsong. How perfectly lovely.

A hesitant Mann Booker comment

With something approaching media saturation of the Mann Booker prize, I hesitate to join the debate about whether it has sold out, become too populist, is homophobic etc. However, prompted by the interview on Today this morning with Julian Barnes about his novel The Sense of an Ending (which I have not yet read), I now hope that he will win purely on the basis of this delicious interview. He was utterly charming (smooth, secret crush type, modest and completely lacking any pomposity) and very interesting about the process of writing...... the germination of an idea for a novel, the extent of planning, how long it is going to be and how long it will take to write, how to get to the end and whether you know what is going to happen. He discussed writing about death - not the process of dying, but death itself which he is drawn to because it is not talked about enough. In his view "an eternity of non-existence" has to be worth writing about. He explained that, having been shortlisted several times before, he feels that he has "exhausted the ins and outs" of not winning and "wouldn't object to a change". After this seductive interview, he has my vote.

PS: rant time - how on earth could Alan Hollinghurst's The Stranger's Child not make the shortlist? It is a remarkable book. Read it!

Home Improvement with Samuel Pepys

After 3 months of scaffolding, building and decorating works and the accompanying mess and disruption, I am feeling in need of a little perspective and where better to look for it than in Samuel Pepys' Diary. Here is the entry for 29 September 1660:  

All day at home to make an end of our dirty work of the plasterers, and indeed my kitchen is now so handsome that I did not repent of all the trouble that I have been put to, to have it done. 


This little gem comes from Pepys' Diary online from which I can also tell you that the average temperature for September 1660 was 13 degrees! There are apps for iPhone and iPad which enable to you to have a day by day connection with Pepys which is rather fun and much easier than attempting his diaries as a whole (although Claire Tomalin's biography is well worth reading). For completeness, last night (3 October 1660) Pepys "spent the evening looking upon the painters that are at work in my house". So did I.

South American novels divide book group!

The annual "plus other halves" book group dinner at Alison & Steve's last night was a lively affair which ended up with far too many glasses on the table than is decent for a Thursday evening. For the record, there had been a rebellion in the ranks and only two of the assembled company had finished Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives, a lengthy and challenging book featuring, we were told, more than 52 characters which others of us who had attempted it, found too confusing for words. According to the Wikipedia entry, the middle section alone has more than 40 narrators, the thought of which makes my head spin. Caroline and Ian, however, were obviously touched by it and spoke compellingly about its intricacies and pleasures, poets and politics in South America. Ian declared that it would be a book that would remain on his shelf for years to come.

Those of us with less application and stamina tackled Anne Patchett's State of Wonder which received a very positive reception; Caroline was the golden girl of the class as she was the only one of us to have read both books. We discussed Patchett's ability to draw us deep into the book, to recreate the heat and terrors of the Amazonian jungle (and indeed the blandness of Minnesota) to the extent that you could almost feel your skin crawling with insects. We spoke about the credibility of the science and the project in the jungle, the characters of Marina and Dr Swenson and the issues of medical ethics that arose; we missed the input of our resident expert on the subject. It was, we concluded, a cracking story well told although perhaps with too many themes. You can watch the YouTube clip of Patchett talking about the book here: Anne Patchett on YouTube

Alison challenged the men to come up with a book for our next read, I think in response to the suggestion that State of Wonder is a "girls" book (which I don't think it necessarily is). The result is, inevitably, a thriller of sorts: A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami. Of course, by the end of the evening we were stumbling badly over both the title and the name of the author.......too many glasses on the table.

Is there anybody there?

You can't imagine how thrilling it was this week to receive an email from a friend who has been following this blog and referring to it for reading ideas and thoughts. The thing about a blog, I have discovered, is that you have very little idea whether it is (a) any good or has any value; and (b) read, and perhaps more importantly, appreciated. So to receive some fan mail was the highlight of my week. It caused me to think about why I'm doing this and how I could do it better. My challenge for the autumn is to work out how to do a tag cloud (don't ask!) to make cross referencing easier. So if there is anyone else out there and interested in this blog, please let me have some feedback on what's good and what's not and pass on any ideas to make it better and more relevant.

Free fiction in Durham

A remote iPad entry from Durham (so no picture as its beyond me) where I have just dropped Angus off at his new home (how 6 sportsmen can cram themselves and their smelly kit into an extended two up two down former miners' cottage is a mystery but it will undoubtedly be fun). After some token unpacking and bed making, I have retreated to the comfort of the Raddison Blu Hotel on the river with a stunning view of the cathedral and castle. Here I have discovered an original reading initiative; in each lift lobby is an eye-catchingly displayed offering of books for guests to borrow along with multiple copies of a free paperback called "Read Regional 2011" which features tasters of works by writers from the north east - 5 novelists and 3 poets - complete with a short bio of each. This fabulous initiative is run by New Writing North which has a network of regional book groups run by facilitators each of which has a blog! Competition?.....I'll peruse and report back.

Constance Wilde: an ideal wife?

Constance Wilde was a fascinating creature; I had learnt a little about her this summer on my course on the Aesthetic Movement at the V&A, but much more from Franny Moyle's biography Constance: The Tragic and Scandalous Life of Mrs Oscar Wilde. Constance revelled in wearing aesthetic dress - loose, uncorseted clothing often in sludgy colours, with her hair unstructured and occasionally decorated with feathers; so shocking at the time. She decorated the Wilde family home in Tite Street along aesthetic lines complete with white walls, floors and ceilings, blue and white Japanese jars and motives of sunflowers, peacock feathers and lilies, so beloved of the aesthetes. She was a regular at the aesthetic temples of Liberty's in Regent Street and the Grosvenor Gallery. She had her own career as a leading light in the Rational Dress Movement; like many late Victorians she dabbled in spiritualism; unusually for her class and time, she spent time playing with and looking after her own children; she was active in the suffrage movement and wrote a book of children's stories. Indeed, Moyle suggests that Constance, rather than Oscar, was the true author of The Selfish Giant. They must have been the golden couple of the time..... at least for a few years.

This book is hugely enjoyable. I have rarely read a biography which has been quite so engrossing, colourful and well written. It is also a little frustrating since many of Constance's possessions and letters (including letters between the Wildes) were lost in the bankruptcy sale of the Tite Street house after Oscar's fall from grace; Constance's voice is largely heard through letters to her brother and to friends (usually women much older than her).

Moyle is inconclusive about the key issue of what Constance knew about her husband's activities and when; however, Constance's regular absences from London (and Oscar) suggest that there was a lot of denial going on. Like Jennie Churchill (whose biography the book group read in January 2009) Constance was the type of girl who, when cash was tight, took herself off to Italy or the south of France or friends in the country. And even though she was strapped for cash, what money the Wildes retained belonged to Constance which placed her in a position of power when Wilde was released from prison. Despite the fact that he never returned to her and their boys, we are left in no doubt about her enduring affection for Oscar and it is easy to conclude that, for several years, they had a fulfilling marriage. Constance was, in many ways, his ideal wife.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog in film

I'm a bit of a Front Row addict; Mark Lawson's smooth tones, straight after my nightly Archers fix, often capture my attention. Last night I was tipped off about the release of the film of Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog which the book group read in September 2009. Inevitably, the title has been changed (why?) and so the film is The Hedgehog. The rather haughty Parisian reviewer was not enthusiastic; she had played in a concierge's apartment as a child and it was not gloomy, Paloma's precocity is hard to comprehend, the film "did not take off" and there was nothing to help the viewer understand the attraction between the concierge (Renee Michel) and the rich and enigmatic M. Ozu. If true, that has to be something to do with seeing the characters rather than imagining them. From the book we knew that Mme. Michel was ugly, fat, smelly (I think) and always wore the same clothes; I have in mind a sort of rotund Nanny McPhee warty face with sprouting hairs wearing a dull apron/dress combo. However, Mme Michel's physical appearance becomes insignificant as we discovers that she has a rich intellectual inner life. It is perfectly feasible, in print at least, for M. Ozu to be attracted to her and her to him. I think I may stick with the book.

Bookshelf Porn

Here for your delight is a link to a blog which comprises entirely photos of books, bookshelves and libraries: Bookshelf Porn It is really rather gorgeous and apparently is ever changing. I had thought that blogs usually contained words, however my resident IT consultant informs me that tumblr blogs (for bookshelf porn is one) are frequently used just for pictures.

The images are luscious and make me long for a proper home library, but the Facebook style comments are something that I just fail to understand.

Even The Dogs

I couldn't let the A level season pass without mention of an extraordinary book that Celia studied for her English. Gone are the days of a fiction syllabus defined by George Eliot and Jane Austen; instead, bring on the contemporary fiction..... and they don't get much more contemporary, or hard hitting, than Even The Dogs by Jon McGregor which was published in 2010. It is a remarkable book, written in a fractured, dislocated style (which takes some getting used to) from which the stories of a collection of homeless people emerge and from which we see how deprivation and addiction create a social underclass. In this world, in a nameless British city, sex, alcohol and drugs distort relationships and addictions fill barren lives. Despite this, in its way this novel is a thing of beauty and there are some memorable passages. Vivid characterisation, from Falklands veteran to teenage smack addict, makes this an entirely believable and engaging novel.

Rather startlingly, we saw Even The Dogs played out on the streets of California this summer. The sheer number of homeless in Los Angeles and San Francisco was startling - all ages, both sexes and clearly many were addicts. It was sobering to realise that the US veterans problem is obviously not a media or political fabrication.

Ahola from Hawaii

After a hectic 10 days on the move in California, a week in Hawaii has provided the chance to indulge in holiday reading and to trial remote blogging. The day here involves difficult decisions: pilates or massage, scrambled or poached, beach or pool, wine or cocktail, Ahi or Ono (or another obscure fish dish). However, today we escaped our resort and visited a large Barnes & Noble in order to replenish Laura's supply of books. And what an eye opener it proved to be. Teen fiction here falls into 4 distinct categories. First, anything to do with vampires (pass); second, anything to do with high schools (think Glee the novel); thirdly, teen romance with notable examples being Withering Tights (no, really), Anna and the French Kiss, Tweet Heart and These Boots Are Made For Stalking; and finally anything with summer in the title (The Summer of Skinny Dipping, The Summer That Changed Everything, We'll Always Have Summer, It's Not Summer Without You, Sixteenth Summer, Seventeenth Summer etc). We emerged shell shocked into the searing heat clutching 2 suspect looking titles selected from the B & N offering which Laura started reading as we walked to the car and hasn't put down since.

Man Booker - great minds think alike!

The Man Booker longlist was announced yesterday and I'm feeling a just tiny bit chuffed as I had already "Kindled" three of the longlisted books for my summer holiday reading. How could I resist Alan Hollinghurst's new novel The Stranger's Child after the seductive pleasures of A Line of Beauty and such a lengthy wait? Likewise, recalling the enjoyment of immersion into the Victorian lives of Arthur & George (a book group read in 2006?) I had to get Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending (and it's a short novel!). Finally, I have downloaded On Canaan's Side by Sebastian Barry following my (unfulfilled) good intentions to read the Secret Scripture which is still languishing in a pile by the bed.

Brief reflections on this convergence of literary views? Well, first, the power of the prize. All three authors have been shortlisted at least twice before (and Hollinghurst won) so perhaps that's why I read their previous novels and have an awareness of their new. Secondly, the power of the Kindle. All three books are still in hardback and hardbacks seem very much cheaper in download - I don't suppose I'd have bought them otherwise until they went into paperback and I certainly wouldn't haul three hardbacks around California. And finally, there's some excitement about the fact that the other books on the list include some by unknown (and first) authors with the potential of much to explore. The complete list is here: Man Booker longlist 2011

It's Miss Pettigrew not Major Pettigrew this time

What is it with the Pettigrew name that makes it popular in novels? In May I read Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (see: http://kewgreenbooks.blogspot.com/2011/05/major-pettigrews-minor-distraction.html) and this evening, during a quiet and solitary couple of hours, I watched the film of Winifred Watson's 1930s novel Miss Pettigrew Lives for the Day - what a delight. The book (Persephone Books) is now on my holiday reading list as I am sure is charming; it is described as a "fairy story for grown ups" which is "full of gentle humour". It appears that literary Pettigrews are wise and gentle souls and the film is delicious viewing since it features another wise and gentle soul in the form of Ciaran Hinds with whom I fell madly in love as Captain Wentworth in the BBC's 1995 version of Persuasion....."I can listen no longer in silence.... you pierce my soul." It sends shivers down my spine!

The breaking of eggs is a matter for debate

Jim Powell's novel The Breaking of Eggs provided fertile ground for a book group discussion at Sally J's on Wednesday evening. At a packed meeting (save for the member for Greece) everyone had a view on the narrative that unfolded, its credibility and historical perspective and the political discourse that is the real point of the book. It surprised no one that Powell had stood for parliament - one view is that the book is a device to allow him to rehearse philosophical arguments about the relative merits and demerits of two opposing political theories. The story, compelling as it is, is arguably in parts a political tract which highlights the dangers of dogmatism; in Feliks' case, his inability to form relationships and have a personal life was the price he paid for his political dogmatism. The deconstruction of his political views was painful for him and for the reader but of course, since there was a certain predictability about the story, resulted in a happy ending.

Some felt that the effectiveness of the narrative tone was patchy and we all agreed that there were some very obvious devices employed to allow the story to get to from A to B. So Woody was a crude portrayal of the American capitalist dream (although the overwhelming welcoming of a jetlagged Feliks by his plentiful family rang very true), letters and Woody's recitation of his story dominated the middle of the novel and there were some clunky decisions and connections in the narrative, necessary to make Feliks the island that he was; not all rang true. However, it is a thought provoking read and we had an interesting discussion about facts giving rise to differing views of reality.

And was it Stalin who first coined the term the breaking of eggs to make an omelette?  Alison's ipad leapt to the rescue to tell us that although it is commonly thought to be Stalin's phrase, it is in truth much older and is first attributed (presumably involving oeufs and casser) to Robespierre, appropriately, mastermind of the French Reign of Terror in the 1790s.

High Altitude Reading

Back from 4 glorious days walking in the Dolomites and, thanks to the Kindle with its integrated light in my rucksack, I was able sneakily to read late at night and early in the morning in my narrow bunk in the high Alpine huts where we stayed (a sort of very vaguely nostalgic student experience involving shared rooms, towels the size of flannels, and queuing for a coin operated shower).  Sebastian Faulks' A Week in December, set during the lead up to the banking crisis and featuring Notting Hill dinner parties, hedge funds, a seedy book reviewer (some baggage there, Mr Faulks), teenagers experimenting with drugs and Islamic extremists, was an incredibly inappropriate book to read in the crisp clean air and isolation of the mountains - definitely wrong time, wrong place.  However, it is worth the read and is an enjoyable, if a little contrived, canter through contemporary London. Besides which, I like the familiarity of books about London (and this is not Richard Curtis picturesque London but, at least in parts, a rather grittier version). Equally inappropriate for the setting of the Dolomites is The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas which won the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 2009. Set in Australia it contains much sex, swearing, stubbies and opinionated characters...... but if you can get through that, it is a thought provoking read about how one act of domestic violence (the slapping of a child at a family BBQ) reverberates through a community

V&A Reading Room - not as serious as it sounds

The newish V&A Reading Room is an impostor, but a pleasant distraction nonetheless.  We are not talking reading room in the intense, academic, British Museum sense but rather a glorified coffee shop and wine bar full of exquisitely selected books displayed on "the iconic 606 Universal Shelving System designed by Deiter Rams in 1960". You can lounge around with a glass of prosecco or a coffee whilst delving into a selection of books which is far more museum shop than Waterstones. Good coffee, spitting distance from South Ken tube (8 Exhibition Road), excellent for presents and a refreshing pit stop before or after a museum visit.......it's a must.

Kindle Can't Cope

Yes, I have gone over to the dark side and my Kindle is looking very lovely in its leather case with integral reading lamp (great suggestion, Nikki). I thought I'd road test it by downloading our next book group book - the mysterious and little known one about the broken eggs (see below). Despite the fact that there are upwards of 700,000 books available for the Kindle, Jim Powell's first novel is not amongst them. And neither is our September read by Roberto Bolano. My conclusion? That we are pioneers in the world of book groups and that Kindle and Amazon will have to up their game to catch up with us. Meantime, I can download all my holiday reading onto the Kindle and fill the space in my suitcase with extra pairs of shoes. 

Decisions, decisions & a mystery

It is such a busy time of year that I am unable to report on the South American meeting last week as, along with Ann and Catherine, I missed it. However, I understand that in our absence, serious decisions were made - about not just one book but two, neither of which I have heard of but which no doubt have been well researched and well chosen. The South American theme is present in the form of The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano. The critical reviews on The Omnivore are stunning: http://www.theomnivore.co.uk/Book/2747-The_Savage_Detectives/default.aspx and it sounds a wonderfully exciting read which will be enjoyed also by "the men" who are, I gather, invited to our September meeting (fond memories of John rushing in whilst reading an Amazon summary!).

However, we have time for one more meeting before the summer and the July book choice is unusual. Who found The Breaking of Eggs, a first novel by Jim Powell and who is Jim Powell?  It's all a mystery to me. There are no clues on The Omnivore and the only newspaper reviews I could find on a quick search were in The Times (a "fluent, unusual novel") and The Metro. Jim Powell's website is defunct. Curious and curiouser.

The title phrase, though, has some literary heritage. In  God of Small Things (surely this was a book group read ages ago?) Arundhati Roy uses this image to describe the violence in Kerala ("cracking an egg to make an omelette") and the bully boy Comrade Pillai is "Ayemenem's egg-breaker and professional omletteer”.  I wish I could say that my razor sharp literary memory recalled this, but in fact it featured in Celia's AS level English coursework. 

Kew Bookshop expands!

SHEEN BOOKSHOP OPENS

On a lingering visit to the Kew Book Shop this morning, I learnt that Mark and Isla have expanded their empire. A couple of weeks ago they reopened BookStop in Sheen as the Sheen Book Shop, in the style of the Kew and Barnes shops. This is excellent news for residents of SW14 and users of Waitrose (just opposite) as it's a really good size and will, I'm sure, be run in the knowledgable and personal style we have become used to in Kew. We have suggested to Mark that this now means that they are a chain ....... he was horrified! A good quality local bookshop is a real asset to any neighbourhood so I wish them much success.  For readers in Sheen, please visit and click here to see my earlier entry which extols the virtues of this great local business: http://kewgreenbooks.blogspot.com/2011/04/local-bookshops.html

A variation on the South American theme

I know that our next book is supposed to be by a South American author (see entry for 14 April) but how about a book set in South America to complement this theme? Bel Canto was an excellent book group read (I think in 2003); it had all the required ingredients for vigorous discussion - suspense, an engaging plot, a striking female protagonist, a mystery man, music, oh, and it was beautifully crafted. Now I read that in her new novel, State of Wonder, Ann Patchett revisits South America where Bel Canto was set. The Independent describes it as "an adventure story with a strong woman at its centre" and talks about Patchett's desire to populate her novels with women who are heros, all of which sounds promising. The protagonist, Dr Swenson, is "a deeply moral rebel, part Indiana Jones and part Marie Curie". That phrase alone is enough to make me buy it. Mind you, the only other Patchett book I have read, Run, left me feeling shortchanged. So let's hope that this is more Bel Canto than Run.

Major Pettigrew's a minor distraction

Yes, I know I should be engrossed in Evelina, but somehow this week I ended up reading Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (thank you, Angus).  It's easy to be snobby about a first novel by a bored Englishwoman in New York who enrolled for creative writing classes (in fact, I'm full of admiration and no little envy) which is promoted by the Richard & Judy Book Group and which has reviews from Easy Living (who?) and the Daily Mail on its back cover.  In truth, however, it is a gentle, amusing and ultimately uplifting read. A quintessentially English comedy of manners which features cultural clashes, late love, a get rich quick City son, an American who wants to buy up the countryside, the wise and delightful Mrs Ali and the kind, charming and throughly decent Major Pettigrew who is fighting a rearguard action against the erosion of traditional good manners. Despite his background, Major Pettigrew is far more open minded and culturally aware than those around him, including of course the residents of the stylised and idealised (unless people really live like this in English villages?) village of Edgecombe St Mary in Sussex. If you have enjoyed Alexander McCall Smith's novels, you will enjoy this.  And to be fair to Helen Simonson, it is now a New York Times best seller. And now.......back to Evelina.

A plug for a blog

It's catching...... but this one is professional.  My friend Dinah reviews children's books for The Sunday Telegraph. Her English graduate daughter, Maudie, also has the children's book bug. Together, they have started a blog reviewing and commenting (sometimes quite wryly) on children's books.  Over the last few years Dinah has provided me with a steady stream of book recommendations for my children and her taste is impeccable - she nearly always gets right. As you will see from their Lady Book Bird blog, they write wittily and beautifully; fame and fortune are bound to follow as soon as publishers realise what they are doing.  They are raising the book blogging bar. Here is is: www.ladybookbird.tumblr.com Enjoy!

Couples therapy!

I thought I'd share with you some tips from a recent newspaper health article promoting bibliotherapy for couples whose relationships need a little bit of spicing up every now and then. Now I'm not suggesting that any of us needs any help at all but read it here rather than pay for a bibliotherapist (yes, really!) to tell you how to do it.  Like all self help guides, the top tips are blooming obvious.  Here they are with my helpful comments in passionate red:

1. Make reading dates, times when you will turn off the TV and spend quality bookish time together, snuggled up in bed or in front of an open fire. This assumes that the kids/teenagers will consent to the shocking notion of the TV being turned off and that the house is quiet once you have taken that step and that you can both resist the lure of the computer. 

2. Share your literary experiences: make time to discuss what you have read, perhaps over a glass of wine or an intimate dinner. People often want to share their experiences reading with someone but don't have the opportunity. Couples' bibliotherapy can give you new worlds to delve into together. This will involve me pretending to be interested in the history of the ski, ancient Greek armour or high mountain routes in Romania so I forsee some tensions developing. Isn't this why we have a book group? 

3. Keep a notebook, noting down a few sentences each time you finish a book on what you thought and felt. Even two or three sentences will help crystallise it in your mind and make it easier for you to talk about it together later, especially if one isn't going to read it for a few months. See 2 above: fat chance of me reading the aforesaid.

4. Read aloud to each other. It takes you to a different place. See 2 above: it depends on the subject matter whether this kind of transportation is an attractive proposition.

5. Find new ways of slipping books into your life, especially if you are hard-pressed for time. Whether it's listening to audio books on your iPod while making dinner or doing the washing, or reading on the train, we often have more reading opportunities than we think. Agreed as to the last point, and my friend Jude swears that she reads more now that she has a Kindle.

6. Visit a bookshop together and choose a book you would both like to read. If you share a favourite, see if you can find an event or signing with the author which you can both attend. The idea is to find ways of making the books come alive and help you to bond as a couple. Our recent experience of shopping together (for kitchen lights) doesn't bode well.  The salesman told us that he was training to be a relationship counsellor and he recommended that we leave the shop, talk to each other over a cup of coffee and then return refreshed to make a decision on which lights we could agree on!

Theatrical tales

An entry to recommend a rollocking good theatrical read.  I have just finished Sir Peter Hall's diaries from the time when he was director of the National Theatre, struggling to move it from the Old Vic into the new South Bank building. I found them unputdownable. His almost daily entries from 1972 until 1980 tell the  compelling story of him taking over as director of the National Theatre from Laurence Olivier (fraught as it was with politics and intrigue), his unrelenting efforts to get the new building finished, his frustration with the power of the unions once established on the South Bank and wrangles over public funding with the Arts Council and the Governments of the day.  This was the backdrop against which he built the theatre company (from the relatively small concern that played from the Old Vic), established a repertoire and planned for the future..... not to mention directed some memorable plays.  The entries, dictated early each morning for the previous day, are often frazzled and distraught with the politics and pressures of the job...... but remain delightfully gossipy and candid as well.  His pen portraits of many theatrical greats (Olivier, Richardson, Gielgud, Ashcroft, Pinter, Beckett, Ayckbourn and so many more) are a treat although I wonder how many of them he fell out with after publication.

The diaries transported me back to the 1970s - Wilson resigning (I remember the Evening Standard headline on my way home from school), Callaghan and endless, endless strikes, Thatcher, a politicised Arts Council. I also recalled with excitement the opening of the National Theatre on the South Bank and going to some of the early plays including seeing Albert Finney in Tamburlaine the Great which opened the Olivier and Amadeus (Simon Callow as Mozart and Paul Scofield as Salieri). Love it or hate it, Lasdun's National Theatre building is now so much part of the landscape that it is easy to forget the impact it had when it opened - all that public space and foyer music was a novelty.

What this book provides is an insight into the characters and incidents at key moments in the National Theatre's history. It also is a revelation in its description of the creative process of giving life to a play. It was a delight to follow No Man's Land from Pinter's enigmatic text to success on the stage (with Richardson and Gielgud) and then to New York and the development of Amadeus from an idea to a script to research in Vienna to a read through in the rehearsal room to a huge hit. Loved it!

Champagne discussions

A depleted group of 5 of us christened Catherine's very nice new flat last night with champagne and a good discussion about The Hand That First Held Mine. We agreed that it was a really enjoyable read but disagreed about whether or not it was superior to The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox. The majority view was that whilst Maggie O'Farrell's technique of interweaving two separate but ultimately connected stories is clever and intriguing, in this case, Lexie's story is much more engaging than Ted's and therefore the book is a little imbalanced. There was a view by some that the post-partum boredom and misery in Ted's story was rather dull although it is an valuable contrast to Lexie's own competent and vibrant experiences during and after the birth of Theo. I confessed to having fallen in love with Innes - a hopeless soul but utterly romantic, bohemian and mesmeric. All thought that O'Farrell's descriptions of rooms and interiors were wonderful (the Soho scenes being particularly enjoyable). It was definitely a good book group read and there was much to discuss.

In the absence of an agreed genre for our next meeting, we defaulted to Evelina by Fanny Burney, the alternative title to which is The History of A Young Lady's Entrance into the World.  I'm looking forward to it already!  We are meeting at Caroline's but at the time of writing this, we are struggling to find a date.  We were hoping to do 7th June but that may not now happen. Catherine, in a flash of brilliance, suggested that our next book should have a South American theme - which led us to consider how few South American authors we knew; Marquez (Columbia)  and Allende (Chile) sprung to mind but then we had to resort to Wikipedia. So Caroline will be mixing the margaritas sometime in early June.

Local bookshops

The time has come to plug our local bookshops, on the off chance that anyone new to the area (or important and influential) is reading this.  Obviously, our much loved Kew Bookshop has pride of place in our community, right in the heart of the village, next to the tube. Mark and Isla have an uncanny knack of getting to know the tastes of their customers and are never short of suggestions; their pithy reviews on the shelves are always a pleasure.

However, only this week did we visit their other shop in Barnes and what a delightful visit it was.  The Barnes bookshop looks just like the Kew Bookshop (as you can see) except it's bigger and has a far wider selection of books. There is loads of space including a fabulous downstairs area where you find the back catalogue, many specialist sections (including cookery, travel, sport, history) and a wonderful array of glossy coffee table books (popular in Barnes, not in Kew, we were told, an indication perhaps of relative drawing room sizes?).  It is well worth a visit.  A trip to SW13 and lengthy browsing in the book shop should always be combined with a restorative lunch...... and we found on a Saturday that Sonny's fitted the bill nicely.

Chatting to Mark and Isla about their two shops and the knowledgable and personal service they offer made me feel very protective of the Kew Bookshop (and not a little guilty at my occasional Amazon purchases).  I'm sure it's a case of "use it or loose it"...... hence this entry to encourage readers to do just that.

The Omnivore

A little reminder, for those who have not yet explored it (we know that Alison has already wasted an afternoon there) of www.theomnivore.co.uk.  It's a wonderfully quick (?) and absorbing way of taking the critical temperature of a book, film or play.  They claim to have reviews for over 5,000 books on the site and say that with 40 books a week being reviewed in the national press, the archive is rapidly growing.  The headline star rating is their own: an "ominscore" which is their interpretation of the aggregate of the published critical opinion.

Of course, critics are not always right (she says pompously).  For example, I disagree with their views of Isa & May by Margaret Forster which I thought was an disappointing, pointless and tedious read and of which, mostly, they seem to have  approved.  I must be a poor judge as when the Times writes "This is a sensitive and intelligent novel with passages of beautifully modulated pathos while being, in parts, hugely funny" all I can think of is how quickly I can finish it and how the characters seem to display as little self awareness and emotional intelligence as it is possible to imagine.

In contrast, the assembled reviews of The Hand That First Held Mine are much more in keeping with my own thoughts about the novel and are worthy of skimming through before our next meeting.  In the meantime, here is a picture of a cuddly omnivore which rather took my fancy.  Not all bears are omnivores, apparently, as Polar Bears are carnivores (there being a lack of vegetation on the ice cap I suppose) and Pandas, of course, are herbivores as they munch away on bamboo shoots most of the time. I didn't know that ravens are omnivores.... but Wikipedia assures me that they are.

Canadian PM a Philistine?

Did anyone see the wonderful recent article about the attempts by Yann (Life of Pi) Martel to get the Prime Minister of Canada to read?  Apparently, Stephen Harper, a bland looking chap, is not a reader. Martel struggles with the idea that his PM never reads books: "I don't care if ordinary people read or not. It's not for me to say how people should live. But people who have power over me? I want them to read because their limited, impoverished dreams may become my nightmares".


So, engaging in some positive action, Martel has sent the PM a book every two weeks for the last four years.  Harper has now received 100 books from Martel, each one accompanied by a letter explaining why the book is recommended.  The first one was Tolstoy (The Death of Ivan Ilych which we should read as it is only 60 pages long!) and the 100th was something obscure and French.  Having had nothing but the odd acknowledgment from Harper's office, after 100 books Martel has abandoned his attempts to persuade the PM to read. The whole selection, Martel's letters and details of the story, can be found on the website: www.whatisstephenharperreading.ca

Warning: you can easily loose yourself in the website and Martel's letters are more interesting than the selection of books. The letters suggest to me that the exercise has been an excuse for Martel to write and self publish without having to go the the trouble of writing a book; so it has much in common with this blog!

At a quiz I went to a year or so ago, there were two Life of Pi questions: what is the name of the Tiger and who else was in the boat with him?  Answers on a postcard please.

Our March meeting

In a radical departure from years of tradition, we made an early start last night and those of us left at the end agreed that a 7.30pm start was an improvement - another sign of age perhaps (not applicable to the youthful Catherine of course).  Thank you to Sally D for hosting (and to Ian for selecting a delicious red wine).  We had a good discussion on Madame Bovary which included reflecting on the challenges for the translator in a book which is so delicately descriptive by an author renown for painstakingly searching for "le mot juste". We mused on Flaubert's love hate relationship with his protagonist and although his characters have few redeeming qualities and are mostly self obsessed, the book is compelling. Alison was quick to point out erotic imagery in the bedroom in one of the encounters with Leon - something to do with gleaming brass on the fender and sea shells on the mantlepiece which was no doubt used in evidence in the obscenity trial and which, alarmingly, had passed the rest of us by.

We decided that classics are "A Good Thing" and that, as a group, we usually find them both enjoyable and stimulating and good fare for discussion.  Certainly, moving swiftly from Madame Bovary to Isa & May by Margaret Atwood as I did a few evenings ago, feels to me like sitting on an Ikea chair rather than stretching out on a Chesterfield sofa - insubstantial and lightweight.

Sally D suggested another classic for later this year, inspired by a mention in the Sebastian Faulks TV series.  Fanny Burney has been described as Jane Austen's literary grandmother and Sally suggested we read Evelina (published in 1778) at some point.  There was a good deal of wracking of brains to remember in which Jane Austen novel Fanny Burney was mentioned and our resident doctor got it right with Northanger Abbey.

However, we now need a good modern novel fix and decided that our next read should be something more contemporary; so we have agreed to read Maggie O'Farrell's Costa Novel winning The Hand That First Held Mine.  We have fixed to meet at Catherine's new home (she'll send us details) on Wednesday 13 April.

Inspiration from other groups

I thought it might be interesting to see what other local book groups have read recently or are now reading; would any trends emerge? The results of my random research are not ground breaking but may offer us some inspiration for our next read. 

From Ealing, the report is:  "The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen which after a slow start I really enjoyed. Themes of family bickering, sibling rivalry, elderly parents' illnesses, marriage problems, depression - what's not to like or identify with..... It is however strangely compelling & actually quite amusing".  An American book, published last year, it looks like it is good book group fare and was the winner of the US National Book Award for Fiction.  

From Chiswick (there must be loads of book groups in Chiswick) a report of the Hare with the Amber Eyes (which won the Costa biography award: see blog entry for 19 January) and also the curiously named Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen.  Look it up - it looks like a thoroughly entertaining read and might be a good choice for us. 


Another Chiswick group is presently reading the Booker long-listed The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas.  It seems to have provoked very mixed reviews on Amazon and I'm not in a rush to read it as a result (which is probably harsh but there you have it).

From a rival Kew book group another Costa choice - Witness the Night by Kishwar Desai (again, see blog entry for 19 January).  This could be a good one for us - I'd certainly be keen to give it a go.  Any first novel written at the age of 54 is surely something to marvel at (as, if this photo is half accurate, is Kishwar Desai - I wonder what products she uses). 


From a cross border Barnes/Hammersmith group which is also presently reading the Hare with the Amber Eyes, I have received the following fulsome report: 
"in the eight or so years we've been meeting this [the Hare etc] is the first non-fiction book we've read. Before that, the last book we did was Firmin (most of us were underwhelmed) and before that The Jungle by Upton Sinclair, which was POSSIBLY the most depressing we've ever read. Hmmm, actually maybe The Road wins that title. Totally recommend The Jungle, though; who knew that the meat packing industry in Chicago at the turn of the century could be so rivetting? (Having said that I think we all skipped the socialist diatribe at the end).  Have you read the Helen Simpson short stories Hey Yeah Right Get a Life.  Seem to remember at least one of them was set in Kew so it would be a perfect choice for  your book club."

Having investigated the latter, I'm not sure I could face it despite its Kew connections, as it is a collection of short stories about the "hectic day to day whirlpool of women's lives". Personally, I like to read to get away from all that.


I'm not sure what I draw from this high level research other than the fact that The Hare is a popular read at the moment and the extent to which groups choose books from prize lists.  For discussion on Thursday?