Big Excitement for Big Magic

Oh irony! So this post has been sitting, unpublished, in my drafts for about 18 months... Here is is, in all its imperfect glory:


One of the reasons I started this blog was to keep a record of what I had read, but it soon became more than just a record-keep activity. One unexpected bonus was that I was sometimes able to get even more out of my reading experience, because I had to think more carefully about what I was reading. I discovered things about my thoughts and reached conclusions about the books that I otherwise wouldn't have. I didn’t really tell anyone much about the blog, so I was free to write and muse  to amuse myself. I have since found that, as more and more people read Girlbooker (at least two at last count!!!) I often become more and more worried about what the post will sound like, and worried that everything I have written on here is complete bullshit. Sometimes I prevaricate so much I don't even end up finishing the post. 

Big Magic (Elizabeth Gilbert) is the book to say “it doesn’t matter what other people think of your creations. Just create for yourself, for the sake of creating something”.  It can be really hard to remember that sort of thing when the whole damn world and it’s imaginary expectations are crowding in on you, which is why I would like to re-read this book every year or so. It was very freeing to let go of the baggage and think I could write something just for my own enjoyment. It inspired me to get amongst it all, and do something. In fact, it’s a good thing I had this blog ready to get into, or I may have unleashed some awkwardly realised craft on the world.  It may have involved found objects. It may have been clay and leather jewellery. It may have been an apple and onion tart. 

Aside from making me feel freshly excited about potential projects and other possibilities, I found the book a joy to read. Gilbert covers some really interesting territory. I don't agree with absolutely all of it, but I enjoyed reading about her point of view on things. I really like the way she talks about creative living as being work. Sometimes it is hard, sometimes it is even boring, and only sometimes is it wondrously inspiring. But if it is something you feel compelled to do, and it makes you feel better at the end of each day, then it is important. She also affirms that it is important even if you are the only person to see the finished product. It's about the process for the creator, not about the intended or eventual audience.

There are plenty of other big themes in the book, and I liked nearly all of them. The idea that creativity shouldn’t be expected to pay your rent is one. The idea that getting something out there even if it isn’t perfect is another. I feel like having read Big Magic gave me permission to have fun. It inspired me to get as creative as possible as often as possible. SO I may very well bake that apple and onion tart after all, and keep it to myself.

The Perfect Book

There is something so deliciously satisfying about reading your way through a big, thick book, and enjoying every second of it. It's sort of like pigging out on chocolate, but with no stomachache afterwards. Iain Pears' Arcadia is one such book. I got so engrossed in the story that on a few occasions I lost a sense of time while reading. Because it is so big and heavy I generally only read it at home, but I made sure I carved out as much time as possible to read it. There are several story lines that one gradually begins to realise may or may not be connected to one another. Trying to work out how is part of the fun. The bottom line is: it is a fantastic yarn.

Despite the length and the multi-threaded narrative, it wasn't an especially dense or difficult book. It was huge amounts of fun, and I could see myself in my former bookseller life trying to sell it to pretty much every single person who walked into the shop looking for advice on what to read. Like sci fi and speculative fiction? Read Arcadia! After a beach read? Try Arcadia! Don't want anything too schmultzy? Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia!!!

Lying Empty

Since Baby Girlbooker arrived on the scene, I have been reading much more slowly than I used to.  For those of you out there who do not have children and cannot imagine why the hell everything takes your child-ed friends so much longer to do, just imagine yourself being forced to look after a tiny drunk person. A tiny drunk person who is so blotto that you need to support them to walk, ask them to repeat everything six times because their slurring is so bad, and help clean up the inevitable vomit and other unmentionable acts.

I'm sure you've all been in this situation before at one time or another, but you probably weren't trying to get dressed or cook dinner at the same time... anyway, I seem to have inadvertently turned this into a waffling, directionless parenting blog. The point is this: I read The Diver's Clothes Lie Empty (due for publication in September 2015) very quickly. And I enjoyed it.

I don't think I have read a book written in second person narrative since my last Choose Your Own Adventure some time in the early nineties. It really ratcheted up the tension and sense of immediacy, and worked surprisingly well. I would have finished the book even sooner but I needed a break from it one night because everything was all feeling too dramatic and intense. Parts of it made me too sad to cry, but mostly I was just dead curious the whole way through to find out what was on the next page. And the next, and the next. It was great, but I think I need to read something where people drink herbal tea and honey next.

Twenty-Something

Since I was about a quarter of the way through A Fortunate Age (Joanne Rakoff), I started thinking about how much I wanted to blog about it. Not that I have anything terribly clever to say about it, just that it was a brilliant, fun, engrossing read. I am not a person who prioritises chores over fun, but this week the apartment is a few shades messier than usual. I just had to take every spare moment possible to read. I had to! It was compelling in the way your new iPhone was when you first got the Angry Birds ap. (Come on, admit it; we’ve all been there).

Ok, so why all the gushing? Well the book is set in New York, and the author clearly loves New York. She totally makes you want to go there because you think your whole life would be strolling through brownstone-lined streets in the sun, talking about poetry and philosophy, before ducking into a small bar for snacks and a cocktail and talking earnestly about music, love and fashion.

As well as the fabulous background, so beautifully painted, are the compelling characters. Somehow, I want to be them (or at the very least be friends with them), even when their lives are somewhere between muddle and disaster on the togetherness scale. Their apartments are smaller, jobs crappier and relationships more halting than anyone would ideally like, but somehow this just makes them seem... I dunno... tragically romantic? Or something. Anyway, Hooray and huzzah for A Fortunate Age. I love, love, loved it.

The Secret Lives of 101 Thieves

There are a few phrases that get a little overused in the book title area; I've used 3 of them in the title to this post, but the book I've just finished reading, The Porcelain Thief, only uses one. Not that I'm complaining; it was a really enjoyable read. I love a book that's part memoir, part travel adventure, part learning-about-something-new, and part delving-into-history.

The book is about an American born Chinese man's search for the china that his great-great-grandfather reputedly buried to keep safe from the invading Japanese army in the 1930s. It was packed with information but it never felt too dense or difficult, and it was easy to pick up mid-thread after putting down for a bit. I loved learning about China and also about china. And it made me want to go adventuring.

Fave Rave

I have about 3 or 4 favourite, living authors. Authors whose books I find so astoundingly wonderful that every 6 months or so, I do a search online to see if one of them has a new book coming out. One of those authors is Patricia Duncker. I think she's ace. And it turns out that she's just written another book!

Like all her work, this book has a great storyline, very believable characters, flowing sentences and big ideas stuffed into little crevices of the narrative. And when I come to think of it, that's really the hallmark of nearly every writer that I greatly admire. I loved it, of course, although I think I did slightly prefer her previous book (The Strange Case of the Composer and the Judge). Nevertheless, I am willing to give Sophie and the Sibyl a rating of 'Many Stars' out of 'A Few More Stars'.

Animals

I finished Animals (Emma Jane Unsworth) a good three months ago, and have been struggling, on and off, to write about it. I spent a long time tortuously trying to tell what is a hilarious story when recounted by a friend of mine, and trying to make the story mean something in relation to the book. It doesn’t. Well, except for the punchline, which is someone yelling “YOU PEOPLE ARE ANIMAAAAALLLLS!!!”. 

The book is gloriously frenetic and absorbing in that “I feel faintly unclean while reading this but I simply cannot stop” kind of way. I would recommend his book to anyone who has ever had a glass (or ten) of alcohol, and anyone who has ever had any kind of: disappointing job, awkward relationship, unhealthy friendship, hangover, or pet cat. You will LOVE it!

Literary Witchcraft

I have blogged before about how I like to read books that are well written yet easy to read, and how sparsely they seems to come along. Generally, when they do arrive, it is in the form of something that has beautifully crafted sentences you almost don’t notice, because they have been conveniently packaged into an easily digestible, conventional genre format of sort or other. 

Nobody is Ever Missing (Catherine Lacey) was astoundingly well written, and super easy to read but it was unique. It is made up of a number of things that should not work at all, so I am left a little puzzled trying to figure out how Lacey has managed to pull it off. In form and style it is highbrow, literary fiction, some of the sentences last for three quarters of a page, it’s written in first person (which can be the death knell for readability, especially for a debut novel), and it’s about madness, sadness, suicide and grief.  Despite all of this I found it fresh, breezy, engaging and easy to read, even on the train and during lunch breaks, when heavy fiction is usually a no-go zone.

It’s impossible to explain this conjurer’s trick, but how fantastic that I was lucky enough to read it.  I became obsessed with finding the little gem-like turns of phrase that peppered the book like Easter eggs scattered about in a garden. I felt compelled to keep reading and follow the journey of the protagonist. I never decided whether or not I liked her but I felt enormous sympathy for her, and I was fascinated by her. I was captivated. I have found myself a new favourite author.

Slacktopia

It isn’t that I haven’t been reading for the past couple of months, it’s just that I haven’t been reading anything I felt like blogging about. The “what to do during labour” books unsurprisingly don’t make for very interesting discussion. And in between those (which have been mostly OK apart from occasionally turning me quiet and white-faced with a particularly nasty birthing anecdote), I have been reading cappuccino froth books. I’ve enjoyed them all, but they haven’t left me feeling there was anything much to say. Oh, and I have also had to read endless reams of flyers and booklets from the hospital about the various stages of pregnancy and birth* which has taken up a fair bit of my time.

Anyways, here is a brief rundown what I have managed to read lately:

First Impressions (Charlie Lovett). Quite fun, but dipped too far into the realms of implausible for me, especially in the final 20 or so pages. If I wasn’t on holidays with a cold I am not sure I would have been able to finish it.

The Hawley Book of the Dead (Chrysler Szarlan). A completely silly book about witches and magic that was 43 kinds of awesome. I got totally sucked into it and had an absolute ball reading it. It was a bit like A Discovery of Witches.

Venetia (Georgette Heyer). A pure comfort re-read, and so, so good. Regency romance is not for everyone, but if you can get past that I cannot recommend an author more passionately for sheer storytelling magic. And the hats and dresses are good too.

Tincture Journal (two most recent issues). Actually, this is not frothy at all, but being able to read the stories and articles in bite sized pieces made it feel easier to dip in and out of. I have also contributed to issue 8, and, being the fame-whore that I am, feel to compelled to mention this here AND provide you with a link to where you can buy a copy for yourself: Click here!

As soon as I figure out how to write an engaging blogpost about breast pump operating instructions and/or board books containing one word per page, I will be back up and running with regular Girlbooker amazingness, so watch this space.

*This is a bald-faced lie. I have been given all this stuff, but I have read almost none of it. There is something kind of soul destroyingly boring and sad about things photocopied onto that pale green paper, as if the non-whiteness of the paper underscores the dullness of the content instead of alleviating it, which is, presumably, the intention. It felt pretty good to pretend for 3 seconds that I had been virtuous enough to read it all though!

Wife Drought Love

Zeitgeist. The Wife Drought has hit the zeitgeist square in the eye, like a freakishly timed splash of chilli oil from a Chinese hot, but much less painfully and with far fewer tears.  I was so excited about reading it that I put a picture of the book up on my Facebook account when I received it, and I think the only other post I have received more attention from is the one announcing my pregnancy. In subsequent days, several other friends posted about the book themselves. One lovely lady took herself off and waited for a bookshop to open so she could buy it. I’m not sure that’s happened since the final Harry Potter book was published.

So what is the book about? Put simply, it is about men, women, family and work.  Put slightly less simply, it is about how those four things get matched and mismatched, what society's expectations are, and what they could or should be. It is a conversation I have been very keen to have for a while now, and I am so heartened to see that I am far from alone. The conversation, in inimitable Annnabel Crabb style, is probing yet cheeky, and unutterably thought provoking. It covers much similar ground to Overwhelmed, which I raved blogged about earlier this year. 

To sum up, it’s a fucking awesome book and everyone over the age of about ten should read it. And Annabel Crabb Is my hero. And Annabel, if you are reading this can we get married so I can be your wife? Or you could be my wife. We could BE EACH OTHER'S WIVES! Or we could just be really, really, really great friends who do everything together and go to each other's place for dinner all the time and talk about politics and food and the sisterhood. I mean that in a totally non-stalkerish way of course. I can make a super delicious Greek dish made from chickpeas and zucchini that I think you'd really love...

More Than Cold Comfort

Sorry to be boring; I know I have raved previously about Stella Gibbons (best known for writing Cold Comfort Farm on this blog. I will try not to repeat myself too much as I gush and enthuse about Here Be Dragons, the latest of her out-of-print-for-many-years-but-now-reissued that novels I have just read.

There is a slow, quiet wonder in this book. It is ostensibly a story about some pretty plain and ordinary people, yet it is dreamy and whirling and wondrously, magically descriptive. Some of Gibbon’s turns of phrase are so scrumptious I want to eat them. I have loved the experience of merrily reading the story, and then being pulled out of it to notice a delightful sentence that makes me mentally sigh and clasp the book to my chest in momentary ecstasy.

“… The hush of the dead hour before dawn, and neglect, and the past, lay over the walls gleaming softly in an embossed paper of cream and silver.”

In the more down to earth moments, the book is fully of mid-century English people having tea and cakes, and being organised industriously by competent females. Something about this feels like magic to me too, and it reminds me of so many authors and books I have loved over the years: Mary Wesley, Nancy Mitford, Noel Streatfield. Not to mention a series of books about girls in a Swiss boarding school I read quite obesessively between the ages of about ten and fourteen.

I think the weaving together of the ordinary with the fey is what makes the book such a delight to read. The whimsical passages become more approachable and believable, and one is given permission to relish them, mixed up as they are between more sensible, solid concepts and characters. Likewise, these characters seem more interesting and Romantic than they otherwise would because of the floating passages that sometimes describe their movements and machinations. 

Five tea cakes out of five.

A Return From Hiatus

Poor, dear, sad old blog. So neglected!

I haven't been reading very thoughtfully over the past three months; I've been reading to fill the white noise, the way you do in the waiting room of a doctor's surgery. And there has been a fair bit of time spent there lately now that I come to mention it. I don't mean to make pregnancy sound so dramatic but I have to confess that it is EXHAUSTING! I haven't had the physical or mental stamina to read much, let alone think about what I have managed to read. Perhaps that's why the baby name books are so appealing - no nonlinear narrative or complicated character arcs to keep abreast of. One thing I have learnt, to my surprise, is that there are a lot of names out there that I really hate. 

Rather than list all the baby name books I have been reading, here is a selection of other things that I have read recently, with the few thoughts I managed to have about them:

You Should Have Known (Jean Hanff Korelitz)- a really excellent psychological thriller. A why-dunit rather than a whodunit, it kept me completely gripped. 

Persiana (Sabrina Ghayour)- so far all I have done is look at the pictures and read through a few recipes of this lush and lovely cookbook by a self taught British cook of Middle Eastern background. What appeals to me is that she seems like my kind of cook, ie, taking every possible shortcut (as long as it doesn't involve shit like tinned soup) in the process. I have a few books with some similar recipes in them but these in general seem less complicated to achieve while still looking delicious. I have made what is possibly the simplest salad in the book and it was delightfully fresh.

The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair (Joel Dicker) - I've been reading and hearing a bit lately about the idea that serious literary fiction is doomed to die an inevitable death, because people now read in snippets and snatches of time. This book would seem an excellent resource in support of that argument, as I found it perfect train- and lunchtime-reading fodder. I don't think that detracts from the book though, it was punchy and full of great twists and was was just downright entertaining.

Gossip (Beth Gutcheon) - the mood of this book reminded me of Curtis Sittenfeld's Prep (an amazing read if you ever get the chance) and a tiny bit like Nancy Mitford's novels. I thought it was really fantastic. I'm a bit disappointed I wasn't able to devote a full blog post to this book because I want to rant and rave about it a bit. It was pretty easy to read but wasn't especially lightweight, not exactly serious but less frivolous than the cover and title may lead one to believe. And Gutcheon writes with an assured and light touch that makes one skim through the book like a swan across the water.

Her Salinger Year

Often when I read a good book I think of the different kinds of people who I think would also enjoy it. And that is often what I have in mind when writing about said book on this blog. I am struggling a little with this one, because I loved it so much, that it felt almost as if it were written for me alone. I am very hard pressed to think beyond how much I loved it, and as a result I am unsure whether or not anyone else will like it at all. I can only imagine every person in the world will love it but I know my judgement is clouded.

My Salinger Year is the book industry’s version of The DevilWears Prada. It’s New York, it’s a young female narrator, and its a view into a world that sounds glamorous and dreamy to outsiders. However, there is no nastiness or spite. Instead, there is a dictaphone and typewriter in a computerless office in 1996. Rakoff brings New York to bustling life as a contrast to the cool, dark quiet of the office where she works. She makes both locations covetable, which means the book is a joy to read.

It wasn’t a bombastically life changing book. It was quiet and nice and I looked forward to the end of each day so I could read a bit more. It was also about the struggles of life as a young adult trying to figure it all out. I loved the world the book conjured up, and I loved reading about Rakoff’s journey to figuring out exactly where and how she fit in it. 

The tagline on the cover of my editions says "We all have to start somewhere", and that's a sentiment I really appreciated in the book. I love to learn about people's beginnings; the experiences they have had that have set them on the paths they take. And having spent quite a lot of my professional life in rather humble jobs, it's inspiring to know that such roles can be exciting, enjoyable, enviable and other nice things starting with the letter E.

My Salinger Year spoke to me for so many reasons. It was a book about the person I was 10 years ago, and also about the person I am today. It was about a world I dream about visiting, and also about a world I live in now. The only fault I can really find with it is that I wish it were double the length; it was over way too soon. I would recommend this book to: anyone who can read.

Overwhelmed by Overwhelmed

I am not quite sure how to go about describing what it is like to read a book you have been waiting a long time to read even though you weren’t sure whether or not it existed. It is a fantastic experience. Every page feels packed with meaning and import. Overwhelemed by Brigid Schulte was just such a book for me and I loved EVERY GODDAMN PAGE. Perhaps if you imagine some firework- and people cheering excitedly-type gifs about here you will get a feel for how awesome this book was.

So what is the book actually about? It is a book about feminism in action. And I don’t mean it’s a debate about whether or not lipstick and high heels are pro- or anti- woman. It is about the home, the workplace, childcare, quality of life. 

Overwhelemed is the answer to a big and complicated question: Can women have it all? The answer has to begin with another question, namely, “Can men have it all?” Women need to have equal responsibilities in the workplace, just as men need to have equal responsibilities in the home. This book is about how everyone needs to change their expectations, their attitudes and their behaviours for this to be achieved. Shulte address the prejudices against men (namely, that they are expected to be emotionless breadwinners) as well as against women (who many still expect to be nothing more than walking, talking extensions of a nurturing nipple). Without looking at the whole picture, which includes both men and women, we are never going to arrive at a full answer to the problem.

Despite the very urgent and important nature of this book, I can honestly say that it was a joy to read. It was not depressing or bogged down in dense prose, it was everyday and down to earth and chatty and honest. It was full of hope and it has inspired me to be excited about life. It discussed problems and solutions. Solutions which feel totally achievable. Overwhelmed is one of the most life-changing books I think I will ever have the pleasure to read, and I genuinely hope plenty of others read it too.

Vive la France!

It may look to the casual reader of this blog that I am obsessed with books about France. I’m not, I swear it! However, I am obsessed with books about food (and food itself), and it just so happens that two of the recent food books I stumbled upon happen to be about food in France. The latest is John Baxter’s The Perfect Meal. I am officially declaring Baxter the Clive James of books about life in France. He has written a male Baby Boomer’s amusing and fact-packed take on traditional French food and culture; it was a nice, easy book to read and kept me entertained.

There were plenty of really interesting historical facts peppered throughout the book, and I think that's what I enjoyed the most about it. Sometimes books about food can get a bit too gushy, but this was never a problem in The Perfect Meal, as the focus was more on the various quirks of history than the food itself. I didn't fall in love with this book the way I fell in love with Mastering The Art of French Eating, but I did enjoy reading it almost as much. 

Three roast oxen out of five.

Image credit http://mwoodpenblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/m-wood-vive-la-france.jpg

If You've Been Married Four Times Does That Make You An Expert?

I have been very naughty lately. I have been concurrently reading several books, which meant that it took a very long time for me to finish even one of them. It's taken a while, but I have finally made it! First cab off the rank is Mrs Hemingway by Naomi Wood. It was one of those books where I got sucked right in to the story with impressive immediacy. Even reading in stops and starts on the train didn't alter the fact that about five words in and I was back there - Paris, Cuba, or wherever Hemingway and his current wife happened to be.

Wood draws four very distinct characters for each successive Mrs H, yet manages to make each of them sympathetic portrayals of a woman in love with a loveable cad. Although a work of fiction, she has used a lot of research to built up the story. I don't know a lot about Hemingway so I am not sure what a purist would think but I thought the book was riveting. Not really knowing the ending helped to make it a great read as well. I also rather liked the way some of the marriages made more sense in subsequent chapters; because there was a bit of distance to the depiction.

If this book were a drink it would be a strong, rum-based cocktail with a fancy lime garnish. It was seductive, cool and had a real bite to it.

Je ne regrette rien

I am rather embarrassed to admit this, but I just read a book about a women who spends a year in Paris, and discovers a sense of belonging and joie de vivre through food. I know, I know, Cliche City. But it didn't feel like a cliche when I as reading it, it felt like a great book with some honest writing, local colour, and interesting observations on people, place and relationships. And a fair bit about cheese which I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy.

So, what was the book? Mastering The Art of French Eating by Ann Mah. In true bookie-foodie style, I am going to roast test a few of the recipes. The one that appealed the most was something I have never heard of called aligot which looks to be essentially mashed potato with a lot of cheese folded through it (see below). I am also quite tempted to hunt down a kitschy vintage fondue set in a bid to eat cheese in yet another fashion.

The verdict? Five cheese wheels out of five.

I Eat Everyday

I love the promise of bounty that a cookbook provides. Sometimes just flicking through the pages is enough, although ultimately it's all about eating as much deliciousness as you can. I get very excited whenever a new cookbook joins it's fellows on my jolly yellow shelf, but I don't tend to blog about them all that often. I suppose because I am too busy cooking and then eating.

Today, however, I am inspired to write! A couple of months ago my lovely friend Ashleigh gave me a copy of Karen Martini's Everyday. There is a lot to love about this book. I was sold on the roasted winter vegetables recipe very early on, and have made it on a number of occasions, usually tweaking it a bit depending on what ingredients are to hand and it has been completely scrumptious each time. Last weekend the book got a serious workout, providing us with food for several meals. I made a fresh tomato and lime chutney, and dahl. The dahl quantity was so huge it didn't all fit in the pot I was using, so I omitted the can of kidney beans. This meant the dish was rather watery so I made a soup from the liquidy leftovers.

A few weeks ago I made the completely sensational tasting Coriander and Black Pepper Roast Chicken. It was before Christmas but I can still remember what a beautiful, tasty meal it made; incredibly tender chicken with wonderfully balanced flavours. This means I have broken that rule that says people only cook an average of three recipes from each cookbook. In theory, I have just beaten averageness, and need never cook from the book again. In reality, I will OF COURSE be going back for more. A number of the roasted meats and stews in particular look sensational, so coming in to winter I will be calling on Karen to provide us with some dinner delicacies. I took some food porn shots along the way but none of the pictures looked nearly as good as the food tasted, so my suggestion is just grab a copy of the book and cook it for yourself.

Cheers, Darlin'

Despite the massive amount of shelf space given over to self help and fad diets in bookshops, it's not very often that reading a book can change your life.  So it is with a great deal of enthusiasm that I write this post, because I have a very strong feeling that High Sobriety will turn out to be one such book. It actually made me look at my life and patterns of behaviour, and think about how and why I might change them for the better. To be more precise, it did more than make me think about change, it gave me the tools and the courage to enact change, and that is something that doesn't happen very often.

So what's it all about? Interspersed with vats of facts and figures about alcohol consumption, High Sobriety is the story of Jill Stark's year without drinking. Some of the information is confronting, and some is horrifying.  If you are perfectly happy in the knowledge that you drink a bit too much and are utterly disinterested in changing that then I strongly recommend you DO NOT READ THIS BOOK.

As well as the health issues which - worryingly - are more real on a  far lower level of alcohol consumption than I had previously imagined, the book looks at how and why our society normalises excessive drinking. It made me really think about how often I unthinkingly drink because it is the default position. Many of Stark's most difficult moments during the year are when people pressure her to drink because they are uncomfortable with her sober state.

Despite being rather horrified and freaked out at times while reading the book, I generally really enjoyed it. It is such a pleasure to read something well written AND interesting, and boy was it well written. I found myself swept along for the journey, wanting to know what happened next, happy to read for long stretched of time. It was a beautifully crafted book about a fascinating taboo and I cannot recommend it highly enough except to say I give it five lemon, lime and bitters out of five.

Triple Bill

A little over a year ago, I joined The Classics Club reading challenge. At the current rate, the only way I’ll even get close to finishing all 52 books on my list within the allotted five years is if I am sent to  live in exile somewhere with no access to people, TV or new books.  The challenge is Not Happening. The challenge and I are like two strangers set up on a blind date where one of us is waiting at the wrong venue. It’s not that I’m not reading, I’m just not reading anything from the list. I have a pile of three or four newly acquired books on my desk at work. The reason for this is that they do not fit on the shelf with the other 20.  There is a slim chance that I will leave the book industry and go to work on an oil rig, in which case I’ll pack a suitcase full of classics and some spare undies, and be able to finish the challenge. In the meantime, here’s a little run through of what I have been reading.

The Tea Chest

This is a debut novel from Queenslander Josephine Moon and I loved it. If books were food this would be a fairy cake - sweet but not cloying, nostalgic, a little whimsical and something you want to simultaneously gobble up and save for later. It was a book about tea so how could I not love it when my two favourite things in the world are books and tea?!

The Goldfinch

Mag-fucking-nificent. (Brona, please direct your readers to this page if they want an opposing opinion from your own!!). There were moments where I struggled (like Bron) to keep going but it was SO WORTH IT. It was juicy, compelling, exciting, melancholy, disturbing, evocative, thought provoking and thrilling. In a review in Kill Your Darlings journal, Margot McGovern references a BBC interview with Donna Tartt, where she mentions the desire “to give her readers that childhood feeling of breathlessly turning page after page, greedy to learn what happens next while still awarding each sentence the weight it deserves”. She achieves the aim to perfection, making The Goldfinch practically the definition of "unputdownable".

Colour

This book by Victoria Finlay has been sitting on my bookshelf, patiently waiting to be read for at least two years. I finally ran out of excuses not to read it, and took it down the other day to begin. I am so glad I did. A small part of me wishes I had read it sooner but I am enjoying it so much right now (haven’t quite finished it yet!) that I cannot begrudge my present self the pleasure it is currently bringing me. It is bursting with fascinating little stories and anecdotes and I keep wanting to share the fascinating facts as I discover them.  It's books like this one that make me realise there is nothing better than some well written non-fiction to inspire and enthuse.