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).