Tag: book review

I’ll Eat When I’m Dead by Barbara Bourland

fiendfullyreading

Death, drugs, and betrayal in the fashion world: I’ll Eat When I’m Dead by Barbara Bourland

image

I’ll Eat When I’m Dead is a tense and exhilarating satire of the fashion world with a mysterious death at its heart. When Hillary, a top editor from RAGE Fashion Book, is found dead in the office, it seems like she starved, though her friend Cat thinks there’s more to the story. She starts doing her own detective work based on a mysterious bottle found in a bag of Hillary’s and soon she is drawn into a world of drugs, lies, and danger, all whilst dealing with the glaring public eye on social media.

In content, Bourland’s novel is Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney for the digital age, where staying at the top requires hard work, luck, and sometimes killer instincts. In style it is far more straightforward and less pretentious than either, satiric and full of detail but still tensely written. The characters often seem to be teetering on the edge, fuelling themselves on whatever works to get them through the cutthroat world of the fashion magazine business in an age where digital media is key and paying people to wear brands on ‘Photogram’ – a transparent stand-in – is more effective than a full page ad. This environment is vividly drawn and brutal, a female-dominated version of the world of novels like American Psycho, and it forms the crucial backdrop for the fairly simple mystery death narrative.

The real force of the novel is Bourland’s satire of the industry and of other elements of the digital age. Offhand comments about dieting and image make for dark and at times horrific moments of self-awareness, summed up in the novel’s title. I’ll Eat When I’m Dead is the female-led modern version of 80s and 90s alternative American satirical fiction, exposing darkness in an industry full of drugs, sex, and battles for the top.

The Genius of Jane Austen by Paula Byrne

fiendfullyreading

The Genius of Jane Austen: Jane Austen, The Theatre, and Why Hollywood Loves Her by Paula Byrne

image

The Genius of Jane Austen is a fascinating book about Jane Austen’s connection to and interest in the theatre and how her reworking of comedic drama and farce in her novels is comparable to the reworking of her novels into film and television in the modern day. The majority of the book is part biographical and historical account of Austen’s theatrical interest and part close reading of her works in relation to major drama and other comedic work of her time. This is a reissue of Byrne’s earlier book Jane Austen and the Theatre in time for the bicentenary of Austen’s death this year, but with a new look at Austen in Hollywood and on TV to close the book.

From the introduction, Byrne sets out to show the importance of specifically English stage comedy to Austen’s work, but also to the influence of drama in her life and her novels. The first section focuses on Austen’s experience of the theatre, giving details about private performances and about professional theatre at the time. It is an interesting introduction to the theatre of the period through the lens of a famous novelist. References to other works bring in a sense of the literary scene of the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century, from how Northanger Abbey uses theatre references to parody Burney’s Evelina to pointing out that Austen saw (and greatly enjoyed) the pantomime of Don Juan that Byron famously mentions at the start of his poem.

The second part of the book is about the theatre and Austen’s novels, with a straightforward structure of chapters focusing on certain novels and then interrogating both theatrical sources and theatrical techniques within these works. Casual fans of Austen and students working on certain texts may skim past to their favourite novels, but as a whole it provides an illuminating if rather detailed explanation of many interesting elements of Austen’s novels and how they relate to other texts and to dramatic conventions and stock figures.

The final chapter—the one which allows the word ‘Hollywood’ to be so prominent in the book—is possibly its most enticing part, a fairly critical look at Austen adaptations that argues that the best adaptations actively ‘adapt’ Austen, keeping the spirit of her comedy, but making it work in a different format. Byrne highlights key flaws in many Austen adaptations and gives an extended discussion of the film Clueless and how it adapts Emma more successfully than most straight adaptations of Emma that is fascinating to read. At the end, this seemingly unrelated chapter is brought together by comparing these less traditional adaptations of Austen with her own transformations of dramatic comedy of the eighteenth century, albeit briefly.

Byrne’s book is a great read for Austen fans, with enough depth and footnotes for further information, but without being an unapproachable book of literary criticism. Instead, it serves as an illuminating account of the early nineteenth-century theatre, an interesting take on various parts of Austen’s novels, and a ‘state of the nation’ type look at film and TV adaptations up to the present day. Even those with more of an interest in the general period and its literature than Austen in particular can find good material from the first section in particular, and the final chapter has interesting points that can be related to other overly adapted writers as well, such as Shakespeare who Byrne compares Austen to from the start.

All The Good Things by Clare Fisher

fiendfullyreading

All The Good Things by Clare Fisher

image

All The Good Things is a well-written and heartbreaking novel about a young woman, Beth, who is in prison and encouraged by her therapist to write down whatever good things she can think of. Though this list and each explanation, her story emerges: how her life lead to the incident which ended up with her in prison. It is a gripping and moving book which shows how there are different sides to the story, even your own story.

The structure of the book means that events are told episodically in roughly chronological order, but with enough references early on to work out in broad strokes what has happened to Beth. As the narrative reaches these events, it becomes clear that her story is about how bad things can keep leading to more bad things, even though good things happen on a smaller scale. The novel is not particularly sensationalist despite the subject matter, but instead gives Beth real and human problems such as the way in which trauma and mental health issues affect all aspects of her life, from relationships to getting trapped in payday loans. Her narrative draws to a climax both in the story she is telling of her past and her present in the prison, as it becomes clear that she has never really been given the help she has needed.

Fisher paints a vivid and moving picture of how a person can be let down both by people and by the system, creating both a gripping novel and a stark reminder of the human cost of cuts to services for children, vulnerable people, and prisons. It is definitely one of my top books of the year so far.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

fiendfullyreading

Sometimes fine isn’t enough: Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

image

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine is a heartbreaking and powerful novel that is difficult to put down, drawing the reader into the life of the main character. Eleanor lives by a simple routine, eating the same meal every day, wearing the same clothes to work, drinking the same vodka to help her forget. She lives within her carefully arranged boundaries in order to survive. However, a series of small events make her change this routine and try to understand a world she has purposefully been avoiding whilst remembering the darkness in her past that she had been protecting herself from.

Honeyman’s debut novel is about a character with a very distinctive worldview, built up as a coping mechanism, and how terrifying change can be when it upsets such mechanisms. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear not only how horrible elements of Eleanor’s past have been, but how much she has repressed to enable her to get through each day, at the expense of human connections and the unpredictability of life. It does not represent every experience of trauma and mental health because it is just one story, but what is important is that Eleanor discovers she is allowed happiness and the book celebrates how other people can be better than expected whilst not undermining the terrible things that have occurred.

Through an immersive first-person narrative, Honeyman creates a novel that draws in the reader, both dark and touching, with a message of finding human connections—in whatever shape or form—even when you’ve given up on them. The epigraph is from Olivia Laing’s The Lonely City and this is very pertinent: Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine takes Laing’s look at loneliness amongst people and shows how the intersection between loneliness and mental health can be very difficult, but also that friendships and connections can be formed that can save a person’s life.

House of Names by Colm Tóibín

fiendfullyreading

Greek tragedy rewritten: House of Names by Colm Tóibín

image

House of Names is a novel about revenge written with masterful and haunting prose. It tells the story of Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife left behind after he has sacrificed their daughter and sailed off to the Trojan War, and how her thirst for revenge impacts her and her children, plus those around them. This tragic story of family killing family is also a detailed look at individuals waiting for revenge and hoping that it will bring catharsis.

Tóibín uses names and narratives from Greek mythology and dramatic tragedy by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripedes, but uses modern language and new characters and events to provide a very fresh take on this ancient material. The cursed House of Atreus is here for those who know classical material, but at the same time, the novel works well for those unfamiliar with the other material, a gripping novel about murder and revenge. Reflections upon the gods and the loss and change of systems of belief is another major element to the book which gives it a modern feel, showing how revenge can substitute for belief when it seems as if one’s belief system has failed.

The style of House of Names, particularly in the sections from Clytemnestra’s point of view, are its particular strength, capturing an ancient feel of revenge alongside her personal emotions. Tóibín’s novel is a fantastic reworking of myth and tragedy into a thrilling and enjoyable read.

The Finding of Martha Lost by Caroline Wallace

fiendfullyreading

Lost and found in Liverpool Lime Street station: The Finding of Martha Lost by Caroline Wallace

image

The Finding of Martha Lost is an enchanting novel about a sixteen-year-old girl who was found in Liverpool Lime Street station as a baby and has been wondering who she is ever since. Martha runs the lost property office at the station, but when a series of mysteries start popping up—is there somebody lurking in the tunnels under the station? why is there a Roman soldier in the station every day? could a suitcase hold the fortunes of an Australian man?—and her position in the station becomes under threat, it is time for her to really become found.

Wallace creates a vivid picture of the station in the 1970s which is the backdrop for a moving and charming story about a girl who is both wise and innocent and who believes she is the liver bird of Lime Street station. Neither Martha or her friends in the station have had easy lives, and their found family dynamic forms the real heart of the novel, making it clear that Martha is not lost around them. Wallace touches on a number of problems whilst keeping the narrative an uplifting and enjoyable read, one perfect for anybody who is looking for a heartwarming book set in the later half of the 20th century and infused with the music and culture of Liverpool at the time.

Peculiar Ground by Lucy Hughes-Hallet

fiendfullyreading

Back to the old house: Peculiar Ground by Lucy Hughes-Hallet

image

Peculiar Ground is a novel of divisions and connections, of the Berlin Wall going up and down and the changing world after the Restoration, of the young giving way to the old and the estate of Wychwood standing throughout. In 1663, the grounds of Wychwood are landscaped by Mr Norris, who watches the family as he plans the hedges. These same grounds provide the backdrop for a party in 1961 where eight-year-old Nell overhears the adults talking but scarcely understands their world of Cold War spies and love affairs. In the ensuing decades, Wychwood continues to stand as a place where the same people gather and play out the intrigues of their lives as a new world dawns with the Berlin Wall coming down and the grounds of Wychwood used as a tourist attraction.

Hughes-Hallet creates a varied novel with a wide cast of characters across both the seventeenth- and twentieth-century portions, using different narrative styles and perspectives to get across their differences. The seventeenth-century parts are largely narrated by Mr Norris in an archaic – but not overwhelmingly so – style, making them feel quite different to the Cold War narrative that forms the bulk of the book. The parallels drawn between the two are clear and expected, but this trope serves to show how the ‘peculiar ground’ of Wychwood bears drama across the centuries.

The narrative is controlled tightly, with mystery and ambiguity, hinting towards later events or details that will not yet be fully revealed. This is one of its main strengths: a sense of being drawn into the world of Wychwood in 1961 and watching the characters then and in the two subsequent periods in which they are shown, revelling in their triumphs and problems, waiting for more secrets to be known. Stand out characters are often the ones who are outsiders brought into the scene, like the art dealer Antony whose secrets everybody seems to know.

Peculiar Ground is an epic kind of English country house novel, but one that works to reflect the world around it, from Andy Warhol in the early 70s to Salman Rushdie and religious tension in 1989. The seventeenth-century part adds interesting parallels and ideas about religious difference, witchcraft, and garden landscaping, though it is less compelling that the large middle of the novel focused on the years when the Berlin Wall was standing, which has a more intriguing set of characters and events. The novel may appeal to fans of Hollinghurst’s The Stranger’s Child or Stoppard’s Arcadia, but also to anyone who enjoys novels spanning across changing times, watching as characters react and a crucial location stands still.

The Lesser Bohemians by Eimear McBride

fiendfullyreading

Love, innocence, and drama school: The Lesser Bohemians by Eimear McBride

image

The Lesser Bohemians in an in-your-face, beautifully written novel about an eighteen-year-old Irish girl who arrives in London to start drama school. Despite her naivety, she is quickly taken in by the city, but it is when she meets an older actor and learns to shed her innocence about love and lust that she really becomes sucked into London and into the life it has offered her. It is a novel about the intensity of a love affair and overcoming the lingering past, with a 90s London backdrop and a distinctive style.

McBride writes in a poetic and stark way, a style that hurtles through the excitement, passion, and fear of  Eily’s point of view, using a kind of stilted stream-of-consciousness that takes a moment to get into, but works well once you are. It might not be readable for everyone, but it makes The Lesser Bohemians stand out as a book that gets across the intensity of her new life in North London through this unusual writing. The narrative mainly focuses on characters’ feelings and secrets than events, with the acting very much in the background, giving yet more sense of how Eily’s emotions have drowned out everything else. This is a stylish, exciting novel, a kind of harsh poem about the highs and lows of love and youth.

(Sidenote: The Lesser Bohemians was on the Bailey’s Prize longlist this year. Also check out my reviews of Hag-Seed and The Essex Serpent, both also on the longlist, and, even more importantly, Stay With Me and The Sport of Kings, both on the shortlist right now.)

The Valentine House

fiendfullyreading

The Valentine House by Emma Henderson

The Valentine House is a family saga with a French Alps backdrop – a novel full of the intrigue and ambiguity that is to be expected from its spanning generations of the same family and their time in their summer house in the mountains. The story is held together by Mathilde, a girl from a local farm who goes to work at the house in the summer of 1914, surrounded by the mountaineer Sir Anthony Valentine and his family. As her story unfolds, so does the tale of the summer of 1974 when Sir Anthony’s great-great grandson George comes to visit the house and old secrets are brought back out.

The plot line is much to be expected from this kind of novel, with scandal, arguments, and hidden secrets being revealed by showing the impact of multiple generations of a family and the location they kept returning to. The remote mountain setting allows for some interesting points about the effect of les anglais (as the novel calls them) on the locals and how these intruders are seen. It also adds to the kind of claustrophobic feel of a family all coming together and staying in one house, out of the way of most of humanity, which is reflected in the oppressive heatwave of 1974. Henderson plays around with bits of French and with language barriers in a way that highlights the differences between the English and French characters, particularly in terms of the lack of French much of the former speak. These moments add colour to the novel, adding interest beyond that of the family intrigue.

This novel is an enjoyable read, similar to others focusing on the span of generations of a family in a certain place, but with a setting that brings an interesting look at cultural exchange and language as a sideline. The twists in the narrative are quite easily worked out, but the various descriptions of the mountains leave a lasting impression. The Valentine House would make a good, fairly light holiday read of a more literary nature.

Best friends celebrated in poetry

fiendfullyreading

Best Friends Forever: Poems About Female Friendship edited by Amy Key

Best Friends Forever: Poems About Female Friendship is a heartwarming and often brash collection of poems that explores different female friendships, young and old, sisters and best friends. It is a refreshing breath of honesty about the small details and big feelings in friendship from The Emma Press, a UK independent publisher.

Many of the poems focus on the intensity and specific feelings of teenage friendship, such as ‘Snakebite’, Catherine Smith’s wonderful poem about feeling grown up and invincible, and ‘Agnosia’, Martha Sprackland’s poem about friendships changing when a shared hometown is left. On the other hand, Kathryn Maris’ hilarious ‘Will You Be My Friend, Kate Moss?’ is one of a few poems looking at making friends when older. The vivid retro aesthetics and female dangerousness of ‘I Want To Be In Your Gang’ by Andrea Quinlan and ‘Roller Girls’ by Camellia Stafford are a particular highlight in the collection, as are the details and ordinariness of ‘best’ by Laura Webb and ‘Stars of the County Down’ by Fran Lock.

The collection can’t help but make readers reflect on their own friendships and on the details that make them special. It is an emotional anthology, and one that contains some exciting poetry as well as a nostalgic feel. Buy it for your best friends, or keep it for yourself and make them read it over your shoulder.

(Note: I got the ebook from their website here.)