Tag: books

Quick book picks for September

fiendfullyreading

Quite a short selection this month, but there’s two novels with clear connections to the modern political and media world, a look at female friendship and perspective, and a fantastic book of poetry by a young poet that tells stories of love and personal struggle in snappy and concise ways. As ever, links in titles to longer reviews.

  • The Golden House by Salman Rushdie – Rushdie’s new novel tells the story of an American immigrant real estate tycoon and his children with a background of modern politics and culture. Highly referential, it is a novel that understands fact and fiction aren’t all they seem.
  • The Beast by Alexander Starritt – The target of comic mockery is the British tabloid press, in this novel about scaremongering and prejudice that follows Jeremy Underwood, a subeditor for The Daily Beast, as he breaks what seems to be a story about a terror threat.
  • The Burning Girl by Claire Messud – Through the eyes of main character Julia, using hindsight to reflect upon the breakdown of her friendship with troubled Cassie, Messud creates a novel about reliability and perception, and whether people are how we think we see them.
  • Bone by Yrsa Daley-Ward – A collection of poetry about growing up, making mistakes, and finding love that will strike a chord with teenagers and adults with its clever and emotional lines and sparsely told stories.

Bone by Yrsa Daley-Ward

fiendfullyreading

Poetry that strikes: Bone by Yrsa Daley-Ward

Bone is a striking and moving collection of poetry that focuses on growing up, love, sexuality, being different, and working through inner thoughts and feelings in stark ways. Daley-Ward’s poems vary from telling vivid stories in a tiny space (‘the not quite love’) and addressing concerns like growing up religious in a concise, direct way (‘liking things’) to longer, heartbreaking stories like ‘some kind of man’. There are poems that will strike a chord with teenagers and adults about love not being with the right people (‘emergency warning’, ‘I’ll admit it, I’m drawn to the wolves’) and poems that can offer advice, optimism, and blunt suggestions of regret (‘things it can take twenty years and a bad liver to find out’, ‘mental health’).

Her writing is distinctive and offers stark stories and emotion. Many of the poems in the book have particular endings, a couple of lines or so that hit you right in the chest. A number of pieces near the end also consider the act of writing poetry and where creation and truth come from, highlighting storytelling and using words to work through difficult things. It is hard to talk about Bone without wanting to go through and point out the best lines in everything; it is a collection of poetry to savour in its blunt emotion and careful expression.

Dunbar by Edward St Aubyn

fiendfullyreading

King Lear the dark comedy: Dunbar by Edward St Aubyn

Dunbar is a modern retelling of King Lear in which Henry Dunbar, a Canadian media mogul, finds himself battling two of his daughters after they get him confined to a care home in the Lake District whilst they take over his company. At the same time, his youngest daughter Florence, who he recently removed from the company due to her lack of interest in his business, is on a mission with some of his other former allies to find and save her father before her scheming half-sisters succeed in their plan.

The novel is St Aubyn’s contribution to the Hogarth Shakespeare series, which aims to retell Shakespeare’s stories in novels by bestselling modern writers. The series has been a varied one, and Dunbar is another instalment with its hits and misses. King Lear is a fairly obvious choice for a business-related retelling and this world of Murdoch-esque media empires strikes a modern chord whilst giving Dunbar a questionable morality even in the face of the more overt amorality of his eldest daughters.

One of the main issues with the novel is the fact that the plot line—old man wrongfully imprisoned in care home and escapes, whilst daughters battle for power and deal with their own personal issues—is more darkly comic than tragic. This retelling takes the ridiculousness of Lear with its infamous Fool and dashing about in the dark and doesn’t quite make it feel more than the narrative of a dark comedy drama (there is also a similarity to one of the plot lines in Cloud Atlas). Even keeping somewhat to the ending of King Lear, the novel’s ending does not feel tragic, particularly as Florence, the Cordelia figure, isn’t really given enough space to be anyone (though the same could be thought about Cordelia).

This isn’t to say that Dunbar can’t be an enjoyable read. The transformation of Lear’s Fool into Peter Walker, alcoholic TV comedian who Dunbar befriends in the care home, is a good choice, and the way his storyline gets bolstered by some of Gloucester’s from the original text adds nastiness to Abigail and Megan, St Aubyn’s Goneril and Regan. Indeed the earlier parts, with Dunbar and Peter’s strangely witty conversations and references to Freud are a clever opening and more enjoyable than Lear’s discussions with the Fool in the play.

Dunbar turns King Lear into a dark caper for the most part, and whilst this might make it more enjoyable for people who don’t enjoy the tragedy of Lear, it is a retelling that has definitely chosen some elements of the original over others in a specific way. In this context, the exaggerated villainy of the modern counterparts to Goneril and Regan makes them almost comic bad guys, sometimes too busy having sex to keep an eye on their plotting, and Dunbar is not so much caught out in a storm than rambling around the Lake District. There’s no reason why King Lear shouldn’t be turned into this kind of story, of course, and Dunbar is a decent novel, but it doesn’t really say or do anything interesting with Lear beyond highlighting elements of ridicule.

[See my reviews of other books in the Hogarth Shakespeare series here.]

The Beast by Alexander Starritt

fiendfullyreading

Horrors of the tabloid press: The Beast by Alexander Starritt

The Beast is a compelling and at times horrifying novel about the modern tabloid press and how it exploits the nation’s fears and current events. Jeremy Underwood is a subeditor for The Daily Beast, which sees itself as the voice of Middle England, and when he comes back from holiday to spot two figures wearing burqas outside the newspaper offices, he sparks off a chain of events that he could have hardly imagined or planned. Fear is in the air as there are escaped suspects at large and The Beast needs a compelling story to keep its circulation up. Soon the staff are off to a secret bunker and the country is being divided by the story that Jeremy has set off.

Starritt’s novel is difficult to put down, partly due to the fast-paced narrative that feels akin to a film or feature-length drama, and partly due to the dark comedy as the events escalate, which carries with it a terrifying sense of observation. The author worked in a newsroom and The Beast’s one is described in careful detail, from its hierarchy to questionable working practices. His depiction shows the level of work ethic and rivalry that goes into making a newspaper, but also charts the way in which a single paper can affect national events and stoke fear and hatred. It is not entirely scathing, but is unlikely to appeal hugely to those who enjoy reading the kind of newspaper it depicts.

Though the book is Evelyn Waugh-esque (the name of the newspaper is the same as that in Waugh’s novel Scoop), its level of modern relevance makes it more horrifying and less light than reading Waugh today. Not only does it depict the media’s involvement in Islamophobia in Britain and look at how terror attacks might be reported, but it touches upon topics of press freedom, print vs online journalism, and how newspapers might make the news rather than report it. The fictional papers within the novel all have fairly obvious real life counterparts and the satire is pointed even for those who have little knowledge of modern journalism.

The Beast is a kind of escalating dark comedy that mostly tips into a tense and horrible narrative about tabloid reporting in relation to extremism and hatred in Britain today. Some readers will find it funny, but its lingering feel is one of exposition, an anatomy of a kind of newspaper that many people read and devour and many others loathe.

4 3 2 1 by Paul Auster

fiendfullyreading

One boy, four lives: 4 3 2 1 by Paul Auster

4 3 2 1 is an epic novel that charts the life of one character in four stories that diverge from the moment he is born. Archie Ferguson, a Jewish American from New Jersey whose grandfather came to Ellis Island from Minsk, is born to Rose and Stanley Ferguson and from that point, his life goes four different ways, with four different Fergusons living and making choices and reacting to what goes on around them. They all battle with love and loss, write and play baseball and basketball, make friends and difficult decisions, all with the backdrop of America throughout the 1950s and 1960s, racism, the Vietnam War, and political upheaval. Every version of Ferguson has his individual story march on towards mortality, for they might’ve all started the same, but they don’t end up that way.

This is a masterful novel, a long ride through different ways that a single character could go, a character that is clearly the same person exposed to different things, allowed to have various thoughts and ideas, and with the people around him acting differently. Ferguson himself is decently complex, an aspiring writer who enjoys sports, learns French, and is sometimes a bit too clever for his own good. Auster doesn’t overplay the conceit too far, allowing central characters to appear across the stories and others to have cameos in one and a larger role in another, but not forcing every character into every story.

It is vital to know the concept before starting to read the book; this isn’t one to have its blurb ignored. Each chapter tells a different part of each story, chronologically, so that you get the first section of a Ferguson’s life four times, then the next section, and so on. This means that it is important to keep in mind which major events happen in which narrative, making Auster’s novel not much of a light read, but something to get stuck into, and it is far more rewarding when it is read in larger chunks.

4 3 2 1 deals with a number of recurring themes and issues—American life, Jewishness, success and failure, love, sexuality, the act of telling stories and writing them down—over its four narratives, making it a microcosm of America in the middle of the twentieth century as told through one character. It is a long novel, no light commitment and may take a little while to settle into the conceit, but it doesn’t let up and is a book well worth making it to the end of.

The Burning Girl by Claire Messud

fiendfullyreading

Female friendship on fire: The Burning Girl by Claire Messud

The Burning Girl is a novel about female friendship, growing up, and whether real life lives up to the stories. The narrator is Julia, a girl from a solid middle-class family, as she describes her friendship with Cassie Burnes, whose relationship with her single mother Bev is often tempestuous, especially after Bev gets a strange new boyfriend. As the pair get older they drift apart, but Julia’s penchant for imagining and creating stories doesn’t stop her thinking about what Cassie is doing, even when Cassie goes to desperate measures to find a life beyond the home that no longer feels like one.

The narrative is written with hindsight through the unreliable eyes of Julia, which makes for a strange yet distinctive style and a real awareness of the longing and loss of friendships drifting apart. At first it is difficult to see how the events will become more relevant, but after a certain point it is quite easy to work out how they will fit together. Despite this predictability, the novel captures very well a sense of growing up and being aware of the adult world in certain ways, a process that can be ominous and confusing. What Messud particularly emphasises is how Julia finds it difficult to deal with the breakdown of her friendship with Cassie—a girl she claims to know better than Cassie knows herself—and the intensity of still knowing all about somebody that you are no longer close to.

The Burning Girl has some captivating moments and a cleverly ambiguous ending reflecting the messages of the book. It can take a little while to get into, but is a novel that can be enjoyed by both adults and older teenagers for its careful evocation of a relatable feeling of lost friendship and imagination.

Blog Tour: The Seven Imperfect Rules of Elvira Carr by Frances Maynard

fiendfullyreading

#MeetElviraCarr

Today I’m hosting the blog tour for The Seven Imperfect Rules of Elvira Carr by Frances Maynard. Check out my review below and the other dates on the tour for more Elvira Carr content!

The Seven Imperfect Rules of Elvira Carr is a memorable and touching novel about being neuroatypical and having to adjust to the unpredictability of life. Elvira is twenty-seven and lives with her mother since her father—who was often away on trips—passed away. She has a “Condition” and her mother has a number of rules to keep Elvira safe. But when her mother has a stroke and has to go into a care home, Elvira has to make her own rules and find ways to navigate the world whilst uncovering the secrets of her father’s past and making new friends, both animal and human.

The narrative is similar to the recent novel Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine in the way it follows the experiences of a narrator with a specific worldview as they must find ways to go beyond their usual boundaries, drawing the reader into their viewpoints through first person narration and the character’s rationality. Unlike Eleanor Oliphant, however, Maynard specifically focuses on autism and the way in which Elvira is treated by others is a major theme in the book.

Elvira is an endearing narrator, who wants to be good to those around her and knows she must try and understand how the “NormalTypicals” interact if she is to get along with them. Despite the focus on her rules, the book tries to highlight that she does not need to change who she is, just understand other people can be different to her and may need different considerations. Unlike the maths genius autistic stereotype often played out in the media, her special interests are biscuits and animals and she is good at being organised, though her mother did not always allow her to do this herself. The point at which Elvira discovers she can talk online with other autistic women who share her experiences is one of its most memorable points, showing the importance of sharing stories and giving everyone the chance to realise they are not alone.

The Seven Imperfect Rules of Elvira Carr is an important novel and a great read, with elements of mystery, discovering friendship, and working out how to be independent in the world. It depicts elements of neuroatypicality, particularly in women, not always shown in popular culture, whilst also being a story about a character discovering the secrets about their parents once grown up.

Tomorrow Berlin by Oscar Coop-Phane

fiendfullyreading

Countdown to the future: Tomorrow Berlin by Oscar Coop-Phane

Tomorrow Berlin is a short, sharp novel about young men struggling to find a future in a city’s underbelly. It follows Tobias, Armand, and Franz, who all end up in Berlin thanks to the ups and downs of life. Once there, they can dance the entire weekend away in the city’s famous clubs, fuelling themselves with drugs and desperation. No matter what happens, though, the downward spiral looms over all three of them.

Translated from French, the novel has a distinctive feel and a snappy pace, moving between the stories of the three characters as the narrative shows them growing up and ending up in Berlin. Once there, the book has a combination of landmarks and U-Bahn stations, detailed descriptions of going into the infamous club Berghain, and references to things like a Club Mate bottle that evoke the city in a minimalistic way. However much it is a story of Berlin, however, it is also a story of the grimy side of many cities, the worlds of drugs and sex and living outside of a seemingly respectable normality. These are not characters who necessarily looked for the path, but it is the one that found them. As the novel says, “the unfortunate ones are punished because they don’t know how to cope with their lives.”

Tomorrow Berlin is a fast-paced journey into the dark heart of a city, built around lost characters and their interactions in a way similar to other novels about the seedy life of cities. Its combination of drugs, clubbing, and a low-key narrative may not appeal to everyone, but it is a stylish read with a melancholy edge and a picture of a city at its centre.

Strange Anticipation: what to do whilst waiting for Stranger Things season 2

fiendfullyreading

I have to admit, I can’t stop watching the Stranger Things season 2 trailer. There’s something about the use of ‘Thriller’ mixed with the Stranger Things theme tune and the way it builds excitement that makes me want to watch it again and again. In the meantime, however, I’ve compiled some books and other things (not just books!) to get people feeling that eighties creepy sci-fi horror vibe.

Things to read/watch/listen to before October 31st:

  • Top of the list has to be something by Stephen King. It is the obvious choice seeing as there’s a new film version out soon and it is about a group of kids chasing something dangerous,  but the book is also incredibly long and very, very weird in parts. Instead, try Firestarter (for Eleven), Cujo (tense and scary), or Insomnia (small town vibe, plus the Fates).
  • The Book of Luce by L. R. Fredericks features MK ULTRA type experimentation, just like in Stranger Things, and also some messiah rock star stuff.
  • Watch The Lost Boys for the 80s trash fun horror thing, particularly after seeing the shots of a teenager party in the Stranger Things trailer.
  • Put on the ‘San Junipero’ episode of Black Mirror for 80s aesthetic sci-fi and similarly relevant use of 80s songs matching up to the story.
  • Listen to this mini Stranger Things playlist I’ve just compiled from my collection of 80s tracks: ‘She’s In Parties’ – Bauhaus; ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’ – Rockwell; ‘Disappear’ – INXS; ‘Subculture’ – New Order;  ‘A Forest’ – The Cure; ‘The Killing Moon’ – Echo & the Bunnymen; ‘Disorder’ – Joy Division; ’Other Voices’ – The Cure; ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ – Metallica.