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.