On the Calculation of Volume I by Solvej Balle (translated by Barbara J Haveland)

I was naturally drawn to reading this novel because when I was younger I loved movies about time travel such as 'The Time Machine' (1960), 'Somewhere in Time' and 'Back to the Future'. Of course, there's also 'Groundhog Day' and Balle's novel also features a protagonist caught in a time loop. Such sci-fi stories are pleasurable brain-teasers, but they also get us to think outside the boundaries of ordinary reality and our subjective experience of the world. Balle's novel begins on the 121st day Tara Selter has experienced November 18 and we follow as she evades meeting her husband Thomas in their own home. She goes on to explain that this bizarre occurrence first started while she was away on a work trip and how she's come to this point. She continues to document her experiences until she's spent a year of her life in November 18. Unlike 'Groundhog Day' she grows older and changes though everyone else wakes up to this day (apparently) exactly the same and as if they've never experienced it before.

To me, Balle's novel functions on two levels...

On the first level there is the plot and how time has “fallen apart” for Tara. There's much intrigue which arises from her predicament regarding why this is happening and the “rules” of her time loop since the effect she has upon objects isn't always consistent. It's curious to follow her experimentation over the course of a year from staying awake as long as possible with her husband Thomas to meticulously taking notes and memorising what's happening around her to keeping certain objects close by to see if they'll return to their original positions when Nov 18 restarts. It appears that anything which becomes materially connected to her such as food remains gone when the day restarts, but there are also physical objects such as certain books and a telescope which she's able to keep (whereas others such as an ancient Roman coin and some books she purchases return to their original positions.)

There are also some other questions I'm left with and experiments I wish Tara had conducted over the many days. I'm somewhat unclear about what moment Thomas returns to his “starting position” in bed on Nov 18 given that the couple successfully stay awake together into the 19th. Tara notes how at one point Thomas forgets everything she's told him and what they've experienced throughout the 18th, but I don't think she records when she falls asleep during this process or how far into the 19th she ever makes it. On her first time experiencing November 18th she gets burned and this heals over time. Though she physically changes I'm curious about what physical effect she can have upon other people and animals from day to day. If she cut Thomas would he still have that wound the next day? Leeks disappear from the garden when she eats them, but would her effect on other living things like trees or animals also carry over into the next day? When she returns to Paris later on and notices a dog tied up outside of a shop I wondered what would happen if she took that dog. Would the dog still be there in her hotel room the next day if she keeps it with her? Given that the things she purchases and eats from the kitchen in her home and local shops disappear after she's consumed them I also wondered if anyone notices these disappearances. Surely Thomas might notice a thing or two missing which he expects to find in the kitchen and a shop would notice that their stock has been massively reduced. But these reactions or lack of reactions aren't recorded by Tara. She notes at one point that no matter what she spends her bank account remains the same so I wondered what would happen if she added to her finances by gambling or playing the lottery when she knows what the results of these will be on Nov 18. If she did so, would that additional money still be with her or in her account the next day?

Although I wondered about all these questions while reading the novel the fact that they weren't pursued by Tara didn't spoil my enjoyment of the story. I'm sure there are innumerable experiments or theories she could have pursued but finding the ultimate answer for why this is happening or how it works doesn't feel that important (at least not to me.) Any overall explanation for how or why this is happening would probably feel unsatisfying anyway. The fact that I'm musing upon it just shows that I was engaged by the theoretical problem of the novel and Tara's plight. I felt like I really went on a journey with her as she grows increasingly anxious over the year about how she can escape from this time loop. If she is caught in it forever and as she is aging surely there will come a day when she becomes so old Thomas won't recognize her anymore or she might die (and presumably the recurrence of Nov 18 will stop.) This brings me onto how this novel also raises larger issues about existence, life and relationships...

On the second level there are many larger philosophical and symbolic questions which arise from Tara's condition in this novel. This book has prompted me to read HG Wells' classic “The Time Machine” for the first time (even though I'm already familiar with its story through the film adaptation.) In it The Time Traveller (as he's referred to) raises the point how humans normally only think about the three dimensional nature of reality. However, there is also the fourth dimension of time which we don't usually factor in because “our consciousness moves intermittently in one direction along the latter from the beginning to the end of our lives.” Tara's dilemma is that she is trapped in everyone else's present time while she herself is progressively moving towards the end of her life. As such her mentality changes throughout the days and months which pass only for her. So the story considers how we relate to time in both a material and mental way. Also, the volume of objects are typically measured by multiplying their three dimensions. Given that Tara experiences a disruption of the fourth dimension the title of this novel suggests that time also has an impact upon our material reality.

I find all the science behind our material relationship to time really interesting (although I only understand the bare basics of it.) Due to gravitational time dilation, it's a fact that time goes faster the farther away you are from the earth's surface. Even though humans can only experience this to a tiny degree it's interesting to consider. Of course, for Tara time isn't moving faster or slower but on a loop. There's also the fact that we only get her subjective experience of this phenomenon. Does everyone else in the world go through to November 19 but Tara is pulled back to the beginning of November 18? Are there a series of multiverses where everyone else is living a different future based on Tara's actions on the 18th? Or is Tara the only one experiencing the future while everyone else and the world itself is caught in a loop? I enjoyed how the novel raises these interesting questions while not answering them.

Tara's experience immediately made me think of the circumstances of lockdown during the recent pandemic. Primarily staying inside had the bizarre effect where every day felt the same. I also became attuned to patterns of my husband's behaviour and the environment of my home (when the mail arrives/the routines of neighbours/the way sunlight changes in different rooms at that particular time of the year) in ways I wasn't previously because we'd go to our respective work spaces. I also felt thrown out of time so that my meal routines changed. Sometimes I'd forget to eat when getting up and find myself having cereal early in the afternoon. So Balle's story had a poignancy in thinking how our experience of the world changes when we have an enforced stasis like this. It also raises an awareness of everything that occurs in the world without our knowledge because we are in our own subjective experience. However, Tara is able to learn about all the things she wasn't previously aware of because she was in her own day - before that day became the only day.

The story also made me think about the nature of relationships. It feels significant that Tara is away from home when the loop starts occurring. I was also struck by the fact that both Tara and Thomas' names begin with T and their business is T. & T. Selter. So it appears like there is some sort of doppelgänger or mirroring situation going on, but Tara becomes the anomaly who changes while her husband stays the same. It's quite sweet at first that they get lost in the “fog” of days enjoying each other's company – although she has the annoyance of needing to explain to him every morning about her condition. There's a great love and intimacy between them. However, this isn't sustainable and Tara gradually moves into the guest room and eventually into another local house entirely. I was struck by the lines: “Thomas has a set pattern in his house... It is his pattern and I have no place in it.” In a way, the story feels like an interrogation of romantic relationships. What happens to a couple when one person stays the same and the other steadily changes? Even if a couple is happy would that happiness endure if they were forced to re-experience the same day over and over? Tara grows to feel so alienated from both Thomas and the immediate world around her that she comes to think “Thomas is the ghost and I am the monster.”

From the tone of the beginning of the novel I immediately wondered if Thomas was dead and her experience of him being caught in an eternal present was a sort of magical thinking on her part. So there's a poignancy to this as she notes the routine and all of Thomas' movements. But it's also creepy! It's frightening to consider from Thomas' point of view what it'd be like to be monitored without his knowledge in this way. From Tara's account Thomas seems to fully accept her condition and he only raises objections when she starts spending more time away from their home and devising a way to break out of the routine by returning to Paris. It'd be curious to consider what would have happened if he did journey with her. Would he still be there when she woke up in her hotel room again? I wonder if his objection to her leaving and refusal to join her was an intended part of the story's meaning or if it'd have created a technical difficulty with Balle's plot leading it to a place she didn't want it to go.

I thought it was interesting how Tara begins to think of herself as a monster as she is relentlessly consuming and taking from the world while everything that's consumed by others is restored when the day restarts. This made me think about our concerns over the environment and a consciousness about our own carbon footprint. From a certain frame of mind it's difficult not to anxiously feel like every individual is negatively impacting the planet and must minimize their damage. However, Tara eventually reasons “I do not take much from this world, I think to myself, not when you consider its size... That's how little the monster is. That's how little difference I make to the world. That's how little the activities of one person matter on the eighteenth of November.” It was fascinating how her predicament leads to meditations about the micro vs the macro (Tara as one small individual vs the universe.) This reminded me of “Solenoid” as at one point the narrator of that novel inhabits the consciousness of a dust mite. However, Tara starts to take comfort in studying the stars, movement of sky and the constancy of the moon: “The heavens are vast and untouchable, the universe opens up and you become an insignificant little monster taking tiny bites out of a gigantic world.”

Part of me is attracted to the idea of being caught in a time loop where I'm not subject to the responsibilities of daily life and being able to spend endless time looking at the night sky – or reading everything I want! Of course, there are major downsides to it as well as Tara discovers. So the story has made me think about the tension between carving out personal time for myself versus engaging with life in the larger world. For a relatively simple concept, Balle's story yields a lot to meditate about and I think that's due to the skill of her prose which embeds the reader so firmly in Tara's consciousness and reasoning. The style of writing is quite straightforward with many declarative sentences as she enumerates the facts and this has the effect of insisting on the fact of her evolving reality and emotional state which is in opposition to the rest of the world.

This is the first book in a planned series of seven novels. I'm very curious to see where it goes next – especially as this first novel ends with a sort of cliffhanger. However, I have reservations about whether my interest will continue throughout all seven books. I assume Balle has a large outline and plan since she's declared there will be this amount of books and she's working writing the final two at the moment. So hopefully she'll be able to sustain the momentum. Regardless, I'm very glad I read this novel as it was very enjoyable and it's left me a lot to mull over.

The Dream Hotel by Laila Lalami

I felt very tense reading this story set in the near future given how plausible and real it feels. Lalami's tale taps into an anxiety many of us probably share about how our conversations, search histories, identities and daily life are being recorded by the technology we use. Nevertheless, most of us submit to this because the convenience and benefits outweigh any immediate fear about how this information might be used by corporations or government bodies. In many ways the protagonist Sara is a typical American going about her life when she's suddenly yanked out of her routine at the airport because it's suspected she might commit a crime (and she offends the egos of those questioning her.) Part of the reason for her high risk score is due to dreams she's had which have fed into an algorithm that has categorized her as a potential threat. She's kept in a retention facility for what she's told will only be a few weeks, but it extends much longer. Following the increasingly degrading conditions of her life, the intense suspicion which surrounds her and the steady wearing away of her freedom is terrifying. I found it especially horrifying how her own husband seems to eventually suspect she must have done something wrong to be in this situation. Given the potential for so many aspects of our lives to be under surveillance and measures that governments take to retain people under suspicion it feels like a potential situation that's not too far from our present reality.

Of course, Sara's heritage plays a part in the story as well. Since her last name is Hussein and her family come from Morocco she's grown up accustomed to automatically being under more suspicion – especially in situations like US airports. An American friend of mine has an Arabic surname and she's told me how she wears loose fitting clothing whenever she flies in and out of the US because she knows she'll be strip searched every time though she's never committed any crime. It's terrible the way in which people continue to be profiled and treated differently in ordinary circumstances. It was moving reading the section about Sara's memories regarding how her family reacted to these situations, veering between a desire to completely comply to avoid getting into trouble and an impulse to rebel against unfair treatment. This sliding scale of natural reactions is mirrored in the facility in which Sara is incarcerated to be monitored. Though there's a wide variety of women of different ethnicities and backgrounds in the retention facility, it feels significant the story is focused through Sara as someone especially vulnerable to being targeted. Naturally this must be a source of ever-present anxiety and the outrageous persecution she experiences is like a manifestation of the threat she's always lived under.

The novel initially moves between the details of the incident where she's stopped at the airport and her time spent in the retention facility. I found it effective how it shows this encounter at the airport as a seemingly benign annoyance, but then it becomes terrifyingly dangerous as she's determined to be a risk and taken away. Maybe this is because we're all accustomed to occasionally needing to submit to such questioning at places like airports. However, after following Sara's encounters with a number of other women being held at the facility the narrative skips to the story of inmate Julie who has been released. Now that Julie is back home after only a few weeks it's revealed she was a plant from Dreamsaver Inc who went inside the facility to collect data directly. Though this adds to the plot of the story, I felt surprised Julie's experiences in the facility didn't cause her to question the morality of either her company's work or a system which was incarcerating innocent people under strained conditions. I suppose she is so ingrained in the system that she fully believes in it and feels above it so that the possibility of her own real indefinite retention seems impossible to her. It reminded me somewhat of Kushner's choice in “Creation Lake” in its focus on an immoral character. However, since we only briefly get a section with her and Sara's discovery about Julie's identity doesn't really lead anywhere this felt like more of a distraction from the primary focus of the story.

I found it effective how the retention facility is in a former school. This adds a constant solemn sense that this used to be a building focused on education and now it's a place which grinds down the lives of innocent individuals. There are occasional references to children's things on the walls which remind Sara that it used to be a school and this comes to feel like a sad commentary on how the world has changed. This is also a location which wasn't originally designed to be used for this purpose and its inadequacy becomes even more clear when there is the threat of the wild fires which mean they must be temporarily moved. The chaotic and improvised nature of their being evacuated increases the draconian measures taken to incarcerate them like criminals rather than people merely being monitored. I appreciated how this element of the story also reminded us that there are considerations such as climate change which are affecting increasingly harsh regulations and add to the pressure society is under.

I enjoyed how Lalami built up an understanding how this facility wasn't so much about keeping people safe from potential threats but enhancing the profits of companies which capitalise on both the cheap labour of the inmates and the products which the detained must purchase for themselves – especially if they want to communicate with the outside. There's a section which recounts a series of messages between Sara and PostPal which felt especially effective because who among us hasn't faced difficulties with companies where the service or product we've received is inadequate, but trying to get compensation through phone calls or emails feels like communicating with a computer which only gives rote and insufficient responses?! I could really feel Sara's mounting frustration. There's the irony that Sara must act impeccably during her retention but the system holding her continuously experiences faults. These faults may be intentional to put pressure on the detained or they might be real mechanical difficulties. In either case, the government and corporations are not held accountable for these faults. This adds to the sense of injustice within this whole situation and all power resides within a faceless system or the petty power trips of authorities in the facility like a character named Hinton. Sara is continuously told by the authorities, her legal advice and family that she simply needs to “follow the rules” but the story shows how this is actually impossible.

I enjoyed how how there's an ambiguity to the story's end which left me pondering not only the novel as a whole but the reality of Sara's present circumstances. Reading this book has certainly made me think more carefully about how much I'm allowing myself to be monitored and actively sharing information with companies which claim my privacy will remain secure. However, as we all know, there have been countless stories of data leaks or companies inappropriately selling off user details. I found it especially intriguing that the author describes how she wanted this book to feel more like history than a speculation about the future and how she created this sense in the novel by including documents like archival material. I think this does make the novel more effective and I appreciated getting small insights into what was happening outside of Sara's immediate experience. I felt the novel as a whole was mostly successful but some parts came to feel a bit too repetitive and, though it made sense there was such a large cast of characters, the brief glimpses we got of their stories weren't always sufficient to understand their experiences. Overall, this book came across as a refreshing take on serious and relevant concerns about technology and personal security.

Days of Light by Megan Hunter

This was the perfect novel to read over the recent long Easter weekend because not only is it beautifully written and utterly absorbing but the book begins on Easter Sunday 1938. It follows the story of Ivy who is on the cusp of adulthood and uncertain what she wants to do in her life. She lives in an artistic and bohemian household (“the most secular house in England”) in the countryside where her mother Marina dedicates as much time as possible to painting. This situation is heavily inspired by The Bloomsbury Group where Ivy is partly a fictionalised version of Angelica Garnett, artist Vanessa Bell's daughter. This collective of writers and painters had very complicated romantic entanglements as Angelica discusses in her memoir “Deceived with Kindness”. When she was in her 20s Angelica married writer David Garnett. Not only was David a man over 25 years her senior but he'd known her since her birth and he was once the lover of Duncan Grant, Angelica's biological father. It would have been easy for the author to sensationalise this story, but she does something much more subtle and moving with its architecture. Instead we follow the character of Ivy over several decades and each section focuses on a day in her life at different points. The story traces her intense connection with the natural world, evolving sense of spirituality and a love affair she has with another woman over many years.

It's important to note that the names, personalities and stories of Hunter's characters diverge from the historical figures of The Bloomsbury Group in many ways. I was frequently surprised where the novel went, how the events of WWII enter into the story and the way Ivy herself changes over time. A crucial event from the beginning casts a shadow over the rest of the novel. This involves a person disappearing and a mysterious occurrence where Ivy views a strange flash of light. Questions surrounding these mysteries linger throughout Ivy's development especially in her familial relationships and a growing connection with religion. I'm not someone naturally inclined to read about spirituality but the way the novel poetically describes Ivy's soulful sense of being is extremely moving. Though she has dabbled in the arts Ivy doesn't feel proficient in painting or writing. At one point it's observed how “One phrase of poetry had remained with her: exquisite risk. Where was this, she wondered, in this comfortable world of sofas and flowers in vases? Where was the risk? She supposed it was here: in the brushstrokes, the attempt to create life on the canvas. But she found - had always found - that she wanted more, for the risk to be discovered outside the studio. In life itself.” Ivy valiantly forges her own relationship with the world and sense of artistic expression in the process of living.

Light itself becomes a thing of inspiration and wonder. It's something that Ivy's artistic family seek to capture in their paintings. It's like a message from the firmament guiding Ivy's spirit. Light also becomes more prominent in the English spring when the days lengthen and brighten. It's noted how “Ivy loved how each spring announced itself as a new event: unprecedented, entirely original.” This seems so true to how we often experience this season of rejuvenation and renewal. In creating an account of Ivy's life through a series of days separated by decades Hunter forms a unique view of history and a hopeful way of approaching life with all its disappointments and opportunities. It's touching how Ivy's relationship with her aunt Genevieve (a fictional equivalent of Virgina Woolf) develops. I also love how the writing in this novel feels inspired by Virgina Woolf's poetic way of representing consciousness especially in “Mrs Dalloway” and “The Waves” (my favourite novel of all time), but “Days of Light” also does something distinctive and unique in its prose style. It offers a different slant on the process of living. Our roots may be formed in our own families and circumstances, but the story shows how an individual can spring forth to forge their own path. Ivy emerged from a group of people dedicated to experimentation and she herself creates a different way of life that's suited for her own distinct personality. Though “Days of Light” is very different from the pared down style and dystopian atmosphere of Hunter's debut “The End We Start From”, this new novel possesses an equally graceful style of writing which is an absolute joy to read.

Mothers and Sons by Adam Haslett

There's a tremendous emotional complexity to the lives of Adam Haslett's characters which isn't fully understood until sticking with them for a sustained period of time and following the full arc of their stories. This was the case in his previous novel “Imagine Me Gone” and it's certainly true in this new novel which (as the title suggests) explores the dynamics of several mother and son relationships. By its conclusion I was in tears because the impact was so strong. The story primarily focuses on Peter, a gay asylum lawyer in his 40s living in New York City, and his mother Ann who runs a women's retreat in rural Vermont with her female partner Clare. Peter and Ann have been estranged for many years after a dramatic incident and great loss which occurred many years ago. Each of them works really hard in their lives to enact positive change for other people, but without sustaining their own emotional well being. As Peter takes on new client Vasel Marku who is a gay Albanian seeking asylum in the US this lawyer gradually confronts what he's suppressed about his own past and how his mother is a key part of being able to progress forward in his life.

The narrative moves back and forth between these two central characters' perspectives, with Peter's story told in first person while Ann's tale is related in the third person. The nature of the gulf between them is gradually revealed and circumstances lead them together – a reunion that's partly facilitated by Peter's chaotic and vibrant sister Liz. I especially appreciated getting a detailed representation of Peter's life working with his clients who might be deported and the difficulty of building a case to grant them asylum. This feels especially topical given the mass deportations occurring under the new administration in America right now. Though Peter is openly gay he lives a very restrained existence, regularly seeing a man only for sexual convenience and building no lasting ties. It's poignant how Haslett presents the psychology of a man who fully accepts his sexuality but has trouble forging emotional connections with other men. Ann's story is equally compelling as she made the decision to leave her husband for a woman when Peter was a teenager. Though she's in some ways settled her present life is still evolving and I really felt the intricate nature of the longstanding partnership she's built with Clare over many years.

There are also a number of other compelling mother/son relationships presented alongside these central characters including Vasel and the mother who helped him flee Albania, one of Peter's female clients and her American-born son and Peter's teenage friend (and first love) Jared and his young mother. The contrast between these various relationships show how such connections often contain a lot of tension. While many mothers make tremendous sacrifices for their sons they also run the risk of smothering them. As sons strive for independence they often don't appreciate or acknowledge the challenges their mothers are facing. Ruptures occur through these disconnections and that can lead to deep loneliness. Re-opening honest connections can be incredibly difficult and it's solemnly observed “What a waste a closed heart is.” However, the novel also pays tribute to the special bond of this familial relationship and its potential to become nurturing in a vital way. It's admirable how Haslett's writing draws on classic themes, but it also feels powerfully bold and modern.

The Book of Disappearance by Ibtisam Azem (translated by Sinan Antoon)

I was drawn to the bold premise of this novel where one day all Palestinian Arabs suddenly vanish from the State of Israel. This challenges the notion that if Palestinians were to leave the region it would solve the biggest problems of this area of The Middle East. It's an inventive way of considering this longstanding conflict and, sadly, continues to feel extremely relevant today though the book was first published in Arabic in 2014 (with the first English translation appearing in 2019.) The narrative brings this sudden occurrence to life through the voices and competing opinions of those who remain, but it's primarily focused through the lens of Israeli journalist Ariel who reads through the notebooks of his vanished Palestinian friend and neighbour Alaa while writing news articles on reactions to the ongoing situation. But before the big event occurs I was immediately emotionally drawn into the story with Alaa's description of the death of his beloved grandmother. I felt his deep sense of grief which is represented in the often repeated metaphor: “Longing for you is like holding a rose of thorns!” It's touching how her charismatic presence and staunch devotion to Jaffa seem to fill this novel even though she dies at the very beginning. Her loss which proceeds the entire Palestinian people's disappearance seems to underpin a question posed in various ways throughout the novel: what remains in a physical landscape after part of its people and their culture have gone or been destroyed?

It was compelling how the initial disappearance of the Palestinians is viewed from a number of different characters in the community whose lives are immediately impacted by the loss. Inconveniences and larger immediate problems such as the loss of manual labour, delayed buses, closed shops and the cancellation of a medical operation gradually build to larger tensions concerning how the State of Israel will function without any Palestinian Arabs. The state anxiously requires that everyone must register their citizenship as a way of definitively categorising who belongs and who doesn't. I appreciated how the author represented a wide range of perspectives from highly prejudiced to fearful to sympathetic to indifferent. From what I understand some of these points of view were taken from or at least inspired by real interviews and speeches. Though we're only given a small glimpse of a number of characters' lives, I found the way this was structured to be effective because it gave a snapshot of so many different voices and reactions. It shows the deep seeded dangerous rhetoric believed by some that Israel is the only democratic nation in this area and the Palestinian Arabs are a threatening inconvenient presence that need to be controlled. However, others assume that their disappearance must have been somehow orchestrated by the Israeli state and worry for their welfare.

I found it interesting how both Alaa and Ariel's fathers are absent for different reasons and how the reasons for their fathers' deaths influence each man's beliefs and how they are perceived within their communities. Though they are friends and there are accounts of how they socialised with one another, there are also sections which describe how they have very different beliefs which stem from competing ideological stances and their respective positions within the society. Initially I felt uncertain how much I believed in their friendship and I think that's partly with how the novel is structured, but I gradually came to feel that they have quite a complicated connection with each other. In particular, there's a very powerful scene where Alaa has a very public rant at how Ariel isn't seeing his point of view.

Ariel is quite a complicated figure as he's in some ways liberal but also adheres to Zionist beliefs. Alarming scenes from his past are gradually shown and it also grows increasingly disturbing how Ariel freely colonizes Alaa's apartment even though he's only been gone a short time. Ariel reads Alaa's notebook, sleeps in his bed, drinks his wine and finally plans to change the locks. Though they shared a friendship, it feels like Ariel reverts to the stance that any space which is abandoned by Palestinians can be freely taken and he feels justified in doing so. However, there's a tension because he hears noises as if the space is being haunted or that Alaa may return at any moment to reclaim his space. There's also an unsettling painting in Alaa's apartment of a cloaked figure staring out as if continuing to bear witness.

One of the most devastating sections of the novel concerns a much older former Israeli soldier named Dayan's memory of witnessing and being involved with the rape and terrorisation of an Arab woman and man. He's continued seeing the woman on the street for many years but now that the Palestinians have vanished he's not able to ask her for forgiveness and paradoxically he resents her for depriving him of that opportunity. This passage seemed to function as both a literal account, but it's also symbolic of how if the Palestinians were to disappear there would be no way for the Israelis to atone for their oppressive actions. Some members of my bookclub posed an intriguing question considering whether the woman in this section is Alaa's grandmother and if Dayan is related to Ariel. It certainly seems possible but I didn't think this was the case because I believe the woman disappears with the other Palestinians rather than dying before that occurrence, but maybe that's my own interpretation. I'd be keen to hear if other readers wondered this or have other theories/possible answers.

The novel feels somewhere between a documentary and piece of speculative fiction to me. The points of view of various individuals give a sense of the narrative a nation creates about itself to justify its actions and policies. This statement stood out to me: “An illusion is enough to live the lie that later becomes the truth.” As the Palestinians are being pushed out of the country, imprisoned or killed there's the danger their narrative and point of view will disappear or be erased. Alaa maintains a notebook partly because “I write to remember, and to remind, so memories are not erased. Memory is my last lifeline.” Though the novel describes a fantastical occurrence which is never explained it doesn't feel as much like speculative fiction because the disappearance of the Palestinians has been occurring in a literal way ever since the beginning of the Nakba and 1948 events which the grandmother recalls.

Some readers have expressed concerns over whether this novel gives a balanced take on this conflict given the author is Palestinian. Certainly the writer is coming from a certain point of view and she's also a journalist. However, this isn't an article or piece of non-fiction. It's a novel and like all artistic creations is by its very nature from a subjective perspective. I'm in no way an expert in this conflict, but the atrocities being experienced by both Palestinians and Israelis in the region is well documented. This novel made me think about the recent documentary 'No Other Land' (which won an Oscar earlier this year.) It feels especially relevant given that at the centre of the documentary is a friendship between an Israeli and Palestinian who are activists. It's a really powerful film and I'd highly recommend watching it.

Overall, I felt that this novel meaningfully shows how a place truly comes to life through the multiplicity of experiences and perspectives of its different citizens. The grandmother viewed Jaffa in a certain way. Alaa viewed it a different way. And Ariel views it another way. Just as Alaa longs to speak with his grandmother again to see her perspective, Ariel desires to speak with Alaa. So the loss of each individual is not only a physical absence but mean that an essential part of this place's character has also been lost. Though this is a very specific story its concept and ideas could easily be applied to many different areas of the world which have been colonized or where there are deep seeded conflicts between different cultures, religions or nationalities. It made me think of the novel “Exit West” by Mohsin Hamid as it uses a fantastical occurrence as a way to differently consider a larger political issue. As some readers have remarked and Azem has cited Jose Saramago's excellent novel “Blindness” also feels like an influence. But Azem still does something very unique in this book – not least of which is portray a grandmother/grandchild connection which feels very emotional and true.

Stag Dance by Torrey Peters

I had such a fantastic time reading this book! It's smart, joyful, scary, sexy, challenging, weird and messy in the best possible way. The three short stories and novella included in this collection range wildly in style and subject matter, but all of them imaginatively inspire different ways of thinking about gender and trans experience. There's a manufactured contagion where everyone must choose and maintain whether they are female or male. At a boarding school a popular guy pursues his secret desires with the soft body of his roommate while boisterous lads demonstrate their masculinity. A week-long Las Vegas event for cross-dressers and trans women leads a vulnerable individual to make an extremely tense decision. And, in the book's titular longest story, a group of lumberjacks perform a unique ritual to satisfy the simmering repressed desires which accompany living in an isolated remote forest. These tales dramatise how none of us simply inhabit pure masculinity or femininity but exist in different shades which are constantly changing. The collection also cleverly probes the blurred lines between being cis and trans and questions whether such lines even exist.

After Torrey Peters' breakout “Detransition, Baby” many have been eagerly awaiting the next book and some will no doubt be disappointed that this follow up isn't a novel. However, the imaginative range found in these stories make each of them memorable. They show how the strength and support which can be found within communities, friendships, relationships and sisterhood are also accompanied by instances of jealousy and backstabbing. Within all groups there are hierarchies based on relative beauty and power, but especially amongst marginalised communities. These things can be difficult to discuss and it's brilliant how Peters gets into the nuance of individual experience in this imaginative fiction. I admire that she doesn't feel the need to sanitise this complexity or present virtuous examples of queer life. There are desires which some can only admit online or under certain circumstances and which morph as they leak into reality. I found it highly relatable the vulnerability some of these characters experience as they tentatively step into a like-minded community and relationships. It can be so disorientating and frightening trying to forge real connections while still trying to figure yourself out and avoid those who want to take advantage of naïve newcomers. Peters presents all this in a way which doesn't shrink from this darkness but it also feels celebratory and so very funny. This is queer excellence.

Under the Eye of the Big Bird by Hiromi Kawakami (translated by Asa Yoneda)

“Under the Eye of the Big Bird” is definitely not a traditional sort of novel but more like islands of events separated by space and time. Hundreds (or even thousands) of years sometimes pass between sections. The chapters aren't chronological either. These could be taking place far in the distant future or perhaps the past. Certain characters seem to overlap between sections, but often these turn out to be distant relations or clones of their predecessors who use the same name. Some advanced technological progress has been made (being able to sync consciousness with others, hovercrafts) but other technologies like flying airplanes has been lost and then later hovercrafts become outmoded. There are references to calamitous events which nearly wipe out the world's human population or periods of environmental instability, but the focus is on the experience of various individuals caught in the circumstances of their particular time and community. Some of their lives more closely resemble our own, but others have been genetically modified or evolved to have different physiological traits (extra eyes, the ability for photosynthesis, etc), extra-sensory powers or artificial intelligence. Lifespans drastically differ from story to story so that some individuals only live for a few decades while others live for hundreds of years. Rather than following any individual's story across the narrative, this book is more concerned with the destiny or a possible eventual extinction or rebirth of the human race. In its quest to survive and adapt throughout the ages questions are raised concerning identity, community, intelligence, creativity, motherhood, romance and religion.

While reading this book I felt like the ground was constantly shifting under my feet as whenever I thought I could almost grasp a timeline or character's trajectory things would change. At first I tried to map out what was happening but this soon proved to be too difficult and I decided instead to let the story wash over me instead of trying to follow it like a traditional narrative. I was glad I did this because it meant I was able to ease into and enjoy where the novel took me even though I felt very disorientated. The story also (somewhat) comes together in the final two chapters where previous events are somewhat over-explained. Now that I know the meaning of many of this story's puzzle pieces I think if I went back and reread it I'd see more clearly how they all fit together. I'd be eager to do so at some point because I think this book is quite a creative imaginative feat and I'm fascinated how it challenges many of our assumptions about free will and predestination based on genetics, social engineering or technology. Later on in the novel it's observed “While you may believe that you have freely adopted your values out of the entire field of possibilities, that is hardly the case. From the beginning, your limited value systems are built up only in a single, predetermined direction.”

A curious small detail which is mentioned a couple times in the early sections of the novel is a carousel. This image haunted me while reading the book because a carousel feels very reminiscent of childhood and this novel often focuses on young people trying to orientate themselves and develop in a world which is often strangely different from what we know. Like a revolving carousel when it stops the era where these individuals end up is subject to chance. And the carousel spinning around also comes to feel like civilisation itself going through the same cycles across thousands of years. Being spun around is also very disorientating – much like the experience of reading this book! Perhaps I'm reading too much into it but this came across as quite a symbolic image which stuck with me throughout the novel.

I enjoyed how a collective who jointly raise the children in many of the communities within the stories are merely referred to as “the mothers”. This feels quite mysterious at first but it's eventualyl explained. Except for the few great mothers “the mothers” are only referred to as a collective. This made me think of “Embers of the Hands”, the non-fiction book on Vikings I read recently. The author Eleanor Barraclough remarks how almost all the historical Viking personalities we know about are male warriors and male leaders because that's what is recorded in legends and history. However, there obviously wouldn't be a next generation if there hadn't been women there giving birth, raising children and caring for the family. I wondered if Kawakami was partly referring to this sense of limited historical knowledge when using the anonymous label of “the mothers” because there's often no other way for us to know these past generations of women who ensured the survival of our species. When the identity of “the mothers” is revealed it's fascinating how this challenges traditional notions of what form nurturing should take. Being guided through time by “the mothers” is different to the often-destructive unwieldy and war-torn direction where (often) male leaders take society. It's remarked at one point that “It is never guaranteed that those of you who hold positions of power are able to look firmly and unblinkingly into the future of their own. If anything, in fact, it is more common that once you gain such positions, you become disconnected from a rational point of view.”

Individual identity is also confused as specific people are cloned to continue throughout history and retain memories of the past. This uncertainty comes into the narrative with the use of pronouns where in one section there is little distinction between “you” or “me” and in another part it's declared “Every me is me.” One tribe only uses numbers rather than names. The genetic makeup of some are mixed with technology or animals so this raises the question of what makes us human and what makes us unique. In one section there's a question over whether a character named Emma Jackson is human because she has special powers but she declares “I was as human as they were, but I could never be one of them.” A popular topic in our culture at the moment is the concern about what impact AI will have on the entertainment industry – if music, novels and movies start being AI generated does this mean the death of creativity or won't that matter if they still produce satisfying experiences? I think Kawakami is encouraging us to contemplate all these issues. We see throughout the book how individuals spring up who are different and creative (even if they've not been raised or programmed to be so.) One child loves to dance and continuously expresses herself in this way. Other characters fall in love and/or feel inclined to mate with one another even if they've not been authorised to do so by the watchers or overseeing government. So the personality of individuals and innovation breaks through cracks in this oftentimes rigidly structured society. This is sometimes encouraged and other times it's repressed/eliminated – such as a shocking scene where an individual becomes violently intolerant about a certain tribe.

So this book obviously raises lots of interesting things to consider by contemplating human civilization over a long span of time, but does that make it a satisfying read or just an intellectual exercise? Personally I was delighted by its weirdness, surprising variations in human life/social organisation that pop up over the span of years and how it questions the nature of humanity. However, it required an adjustment of expectation about what I wanted from the story. There were certain sections I'd have liked to know more about and sometimes just when I was getting a clear understanding about the complexities of a certain character the novel moved on. Oddly horrific elements like an instance of consensual cannibalism aren't developed as much as they could have been. Because of the structure, it required a lot of explanation from whoever was narrating that particular section about the nature of the present reality. I felt some narrators worked better than others. When the narrator had to overtly explain the structure of the current society in order to make it clear for the reader it felt forced – such as the chapter 'The Lake' and also 'Destination'. While this later section helpfully explained so much it also came across as a little too tidy and information-laden for me.

I found it exhilarating how this novel encouraged me to think about big questions concerning civilisation from a unique point of view. Its ambitious structure means that character development is often sacrificed so I'm not sure it worked as well as “Oryx and Crake” by Margaret Atwood or some other far-future set literary sci-fi. However, it clearly does something different and the author didn't intend to develop a traditionally structured plot. I was impressed by its creativity and the surprising strangeness of various sections. It's also satisfying how the final chapter gives the book a pleasingly circular feel and turns it into a unique origin story.

Women's Prize Shortlist 2025

Here are the 6 novels shortlisted for the 2025 Women's Prize for Fiction! It's a surprising group, but I'm sure these books will inspire a lot of discussion and a range of opinions. There are an impressive four debut novels here (“The Safekeep”, “Fundamentally”, “The Persians” and “Good Girl”). There are also established authors such as Elizabeth Strout and multi-faceted artist Miranda July (whose novel “All Fours” has been nominated for many different book awards.) Yael Van Der Wouden was also shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize. Many of the novels utilize humour and satire to explore serious ideas and stories. Issues to do with belonging seem to be a strong theme throughout these titles – whether it's belonging in a nation, a culture, a home or a family. I've currently read five from this list and feel it's a good group overall. I'm most disappointed not to see the novel “Nesting” by Roisin O'Donnell here as that's been my favourite from the longlist so far. So it's really difficult to know which way the judges might go when picking a winner on June 12. I'm also keen on reading more books from the shortlist for the Women's Prize for Non-Fiction.

What do you think of the shortlist? Are there any novels you're keen on reading or that you're disappointed weren't listed? Let me know all your thoughts.

The Persians by Sanam Mahloudji

This entertaining and exhilarating debut novel is like a literary equivalent of the show 'Absolutely Fabulous'. At the beginning of the story outspoken, materialistic and status-obsessed Shirin is accused of attempted prostitution by an undercover policeman. With her lofty manner she utterly dismisses the accusation, but her conscientious niece Bita obtains legal representation and helps build a case for Shirin who is at risk of losing her American event planning business, serving jail time and having her US visa revoked so that she'd need to return to her native Iran. The dynamic between Shirin and Bita is irresistibly funny as the former acts hideously while the later strives to do what's morally responsible.

Shirin's case is at the centre of this novel, but the story builds out to represent the lives of multiple generations of Iranian women who come from a once illustrious family. Shirin's mother Elizabeth and daughter Niaz who continue to live in Iran also contend with their own struggles. As events unfold and secrets are uncovered the truth brushes uncomfortably against how these women have defined themselves. As Elizabeth remarks at one point, “We are so far from what we think we are in our minds, you and me.” It's interesting how the story portrays how expectations and cultural understanding shift with each succeeding generation. It delves into the tumultuous recent history of Iran and explores shifting hierarchies within current Persian culture. Each woman is strong-willed in her own way as this family navigates the world and contends with an inherited sense of entitlement. This was a very enjoyable novel though it sometimes focuses more on comic hijinks than the heart of the story.

Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I've been a longtime fan of Adichie's books. She's an intelligent and empathetic individual who writes meaningfully on a wide range of subjects including class, grief, feminism, family, love, race religion and nationality. These are all issues which are dramatised in this latest novel. But after reading the book and carefully considering statements she's made in interviews over the past several years, I feel extremely frustrated. It doesn't please me to write this but I feel that Adichie has been negligent in certain discussions that she herself has started and I think this should be taken very seriously especially with what's happening in the world today. I'm not writing this to be sensational or censorious. I don't think Adichie should be “cancelled”. I hope she continues to write and speak and engage in debates while considering a range of opinions. I'm glad she expresses her beliefs and has conviction in her opinions. I'm also not trying to convince anyone not to read her. However, I think a lot of readers are concerned about the controversy surrounding Adichie so I want to explain my understanding of it and give my own thoughts, but I'm not trying to be prescriptive. I just want to describe my own journey reading Adichie and personal thoughts about debates concerning whether to read her work or not.

I know some people will be annoyed that I'm writing about Adichie's beliefs and issues surrounding them rather than just focusing on the new novel. Believe me, in many ways, I wish I could just do that. There's a lot to appreciate and enjoy in this novel and I will comment on that as well. And I also know some people will be annoyed that I read this novel at all. Some like to separate the art from the artist and, of course, writers are complicated individuals with a range of beliefs. If we take issue with every problematic statement expressed by a current or historical author we'd be left with nothing to read. And this is why I did read Adichie's new novel even though I've been very concerned about the debate surrounding her. However, we don't read books in a bubble and I can't ignore how statements Adichie is making could easily contribute to social division and reinforce stigmas surrounding marginalized groups rather than fostering pragmatic debate. So I personally can't in good conscience discuss this author or book without taking this into account.

This is Adichie's first novel in over a decade and in the intervening time between novels she's become a controversial figure because she has repeatedly stated “When people talk about, ‘Are trans women women?’ my feeling is trans women are trans women.” She's elaborated on this by explaining “I think the whole problem of gender in the world is about our experiences... it's about the way the world treats us, and I think if you've lived in the world as a man with the privileges that the world accords to men and then sort of change gender, it's difficult for me to accept that then we can equate your experience with the experience of a woman who has lived from the beginning as a woman and who has not been accorded those privileges that men are.” There's a certain truth in this statement and I can see how it's a reasonable point to make. The trouble is that this suggests that trans women are inherently privileged because of their upbringing and possess advantages. It doesn't account for the sense of social stigma, discrimination or gender dysmorphia that's common to trans experience. Furthermore, this logic easily feeds into conservative rhetoric which further stigmatizes and legislates against the rights of trans people. I don't think Adichie intends this to be the case but it's nonetheless a serious consequence.

This is the real issue I've come to find with Adichie. It's not so much about what she's said, but what she's not said and how she's not engaged in a more nuanced debate on this subject despite having ample opportunity to do so in print and in interviews. This leaves the intention and meaning behind her statements uncertain. I don't think Adichie is transphobic (and it's simplistic to dismiss her as such) but I also don't think she's acknowledged reasonable concerns about her position regarding this issue. In this interview, when asked to elaborate more she mentions certain closed loop debates regarding who can use what toilets and whether trans women should participate in women's sports. I'm not saying these debates are inconsequential, but they are the ones which have come to dominate the media and distract from the material ways in which trans people are oppressed. It's dangerous to ignore this because now there's an American president openly making transphobic statements and just recently has presented to the state of Maine (where I was born and raised) an ultimatum to keep transgender athletes out of girls' and womens' sports or the state will lose its federal funding. I don't believe Adichie's values are aligned with this president or the political right as she's stated “There's a refusal in some parts of the right to acknowledge basic things about humanity.” But she also doesn't acknowledge how the statements she's made can so easily be weaponised and lead to oppression. So when Adichie defines the identity of a marginalized group to which she does not belong she ought to be very clear about her intentions and meaning. I don't think she's done this and this is negligent.

I am not trans, but I am an ally and I believe when it comes to issues concerning trans lives the people who we should be listening to are trans voices. I'd really recommend reading Shon Faye's book “The Trans Issue” if you're looking for more context about this in general. There's also a lot more to say on the debate about statements Adichie has made and if you want to consider this further there's a very good discussion on the podcast For Harriet which thoughtfully responds to Adichie's views.

But, before I move on to talking about this novel, I want to briefly approach this from a personal perspective. I feel the way in which Adichie speaks about labels can be applied to any form of identity because she considers that it's not useful to group everyone under one overall category. By this logic if someone were asked if gay men are men, the reply 'gay men are gay men' would be just as reasonable. However, as a gay man I'd find this offensive because my behaviour frequently doesn't always conform to stereotypical masculine standards. Because of this from a young age I was sometimes made to feel like I wasn't a “real man” and I've had to wrestle with feelings of shame and insecurity as a consequence. This logic also adds to social stigma and legislation against the rights of gay people in countries like Nigeria. This leads to persecution and a situation dramatised in this novel where the gay friend of one of the narrators is blackmailed because of his homosexuality. I appreciate how Adichie highlights that such persecution takes place. But this discrimination partly originates in a dangerous form of logic that categorizes and divides rather than acknowledging the humanity and respect which should be accorded to all human beings. Again, I'm not saying this is the intention behind what Adichie has said but in many interviews when she's been asked to expand on what she means and consider reasonable criticism she often refuses to speak more about it. I can understand she doesn't want to stoke more backlash and it's wrong that so much hate has been directed towards her, but when a public figure makes certain statements they need to be accountable for them. And it's especially important for a writer to carefully consider the potential consequences of the language that she uses.

Adichie doesn't directly address trans issues in “Dream Count” and I certainly didn't read the book searching for opinions about this or to find things to object to because of statements she's made outside of the novel. However, the story does spend a lot of time expressing frustration with a section of liberal academic society who dismisses nearly everyone and everything they encounter as “problematic”. One of the narrators of the book is Chiamaka who is a travel writer that comes from an extremely wealthy family and has a tempestuous romance with art historian Darnell. Darnell and his social circle find fault with well-meaning Chiamaka by diminishing her and sneering at her. Although Darnell purports to be a progressive he dismisses much of what Chiamaka says as “hormonal”. I'm glad Adichie highlights how some liberals are intolerant of people expressing their views or even allowing certain questions to be asked especially by those who aren't university educated. From some people I know who work in academia there's a real difficulty with fostering meaningful debates in classrooms because some students simply label everything as “problematic” and then refuse to discuss it. So this is a real problem worth highlighting. But just because such sneering attitudes exists in some sections of liberal society doesn't mean there aren't also real issues worth raising which lay behind such vociferous criticism. So I felt an undue amount of space is taken up in this novel skewering certain kinds of liberals in this way.

There's also a small line which feels like a veiled reference to the comment which landed Adichie in such hot water. Chiamaka is having a conversation with a lover about travel writing when it's remarked “He said he thought much of poetry was really travel writing and I said much of poetry was poetry and he laughed.” I can only assume Adichie was thinking about her controversial statement when writing this and perhaps it's just her way of trying to be lighthearted about something which has caused a considerable backlash against her. But it also feels somewhat mocking as if to say “Are you going to cancel me for saying poetry is poetry as well?” The couple in this scene met in an online Jan Morris fan club and Morris was an influential travel writer who was also a transgender woman. Adichie has remarked in interviews that she knows trans women exist because she's read Jan Morris for years. But merely acknowledging that certain people exist is not the same as speaking about them in a way which grants them the respect and rights that they deserve as a marginalised group who is frequently persecuted.

Even though I find Adichie's remarks on trans women objectionable and potentially harmful, of course I don't think it invalidates what she has to say on a whole range of other subjects which are dramatised in this novel. The story revolves between the points of view of four distinct women who wrestle with issues to do with work, love, faith, motherhood (or potential motherhood) and finding purpose in life. This also primarily takes place through the recent pandemic and it poignantly captures the strangeness and uncertainty of that time. It's moving the way it shows how our views on the people we were once romantically in love with can change so radically once a certain amount of time has gone by. That sense of thinking back and wondering 'why was I so in love with this awful person?' There's a line I found really striking where she remarks that “Love can be self damage if in fact it is love”. I found a certain scene absolutely heartbreaking where one character was expecting to be presented with an engagement ring. These women's feelings towards their romantic partners are also complicated by social and familial pressure to find the right man to settle down with and their awareness that they ought to decide if they want to have children soon as they are getting older.

This novel has important things to say about beauty standards in the world today, especially for girls and young women. At one point it's remarked that “If our daughters do not know how beautiful they are just as they are then surely we have failed.” Misogyny impacts these all these women's lives though it does so differently because they are from different economic and social groups. The story shows how today women who succeed in business are frequently vilified and women who speak up about rape are frequently vilified. One of the most impactful sections of the novel was based off from a real rape case which never went to trial – not because of a lack of evidence for the crime but because the female victim was demonised. Racism and issues to do with immigration factor into this case as well. So I found this section of the novel to be really meaningful but it did feel like it was somewhat crowbarred into the larger story involving a woman, her friend and her cousin.

There's a really touching and beautiful moment in the book when a character experiences a small act of kindness from a stranger. It's remarked how some kindness we don't forget but keep inside us and savour. The story also approaches issues to do with religion and faith from an interesting angle where at one point it posits that “maybe logic isn’t the point of faith, maybe succour is the point.” A lot of the story concerns the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters and how the form and nature of these relationships change over time. It's really interesting how the corruption of banking and business are exposed in this story. It also deals with the characters' very complicated feelings about American society. There are a lot of strident opinions expressed by different characters in a way which is often humorous. The character Omelogor runs a newsletter called ‘Dear Men’ and several of these cutting and funny newsletters are reproduced in the text. So this novel deals seriously with a wide range of issues, but takes a very humane approach to them so I frequently felt emotionally and intellectually involved with its story.

It's really unfortunate then that my engagement with this novel is overshadowed by Adichie's statements about trans women. I'm sure some people will feel that this is my fault as a reader and I should set my reservations aside to appreciate the novel separately. But personally I feel this issue is too important to simply ignore and it's not the fact that Adichie is expressing her beliefs which has frustrated me, but that she's not been clear about her intentions in making them or fully engaged with reasonable discussions about them. I'm really confused about why she hasn't done this because Adichie is such a thoughtful and powerful writer. But also when she knows how much her statements have effected her reputation as a public figure and the trust between her and her readership why wouldn't she discuss this further? Her refusal to do so has made me lose faith in her as an author and impacted my experience reading this novel. So I really hope Adichie continues to discuss her thoughts and particulate in meaningful conversations in the future.

The Artist by Lucy Steeds

Last year I went on holiday to Provence in France at the height of lavender season. The heat, rich earthy smells and country sounds were so intense and this heady atmosphere is lavishly replicated in the prose of Steeds' debut novel. It's set in a remote house in this region inhabited by famous artist Edouard Tartuffe and his quiet, devoted niece Ettie. It's 1920 and ambitious journalist Joseph comes to interview the notoriously reclusive “Master of Light”, but he's quickly turned into a model for the painter's next great work of art. In their ensuing time together tensions rise as Tartuffe has an explosively tempestuous nature and disdain for anything outside his discipline of his painting. This is unnerving to Joseph but Ettie takes it in her stride while discretely attending to Tartuffe's every need. However, these characters also possess secrets which are gradually uncovered over the course of the story. The reveals are compelling but it's also meaningful how this tale delves into the trappings of hero-worship, the misogyny within the world of high art and the traumatic effects of WWI. Moreover, it's an engrossing portrait of a highly creative personality who has lived a strictly sheltered life and the challenges of emerging into the wider world.

Provence, July 2024

It's vivid the way in which Tartuffe's arrogance and controlling nature is depicted. I felt a jolt of shock with every outburst and tantrum from “Tata”. Though he's such a revered figure he's shown to be pitifully childish scooping handfuls of honey to suck and lashing out as a way of covering how much he fears being left alone. Though Ettie is only in the background at the start of this story she gradually emerges as a complex figure. The romantic element of the novel wasn't as compelling to me as the way in which her quiet personality gradually unfurls to show how she possesses great resilience and resourcefulness. I enjoyed how just as the dynamic between this trio began to grow stale there's a visit to the house from a colourfully outrageous and pretentious group of “artistes” who proclaim that they are “hunters of pleasure, gatherers of inspiration”. It's wonderful how the famous collector Peggy Guggenheim is amongst this group and the way she becomes a character in the novel. Overall, this is a thoroughly immersive tale which cleverly skewers the way egotistical men are praised in our culture while talented women are often overlooked or shunned.

Nesting by Roisín O'Donnell

After having first read O'Donnell's short fiction year's ago in the excellent anthology “The Long Gaze Back” it's exciting to see that this talented Irish author has published her debut novel. The story takes place in 2018 and follows Ciara Fay who lives with her husband Ryan and two young children in Dublin. Before her marriage she was a teacher and spent time living in South America. But since starting a family Ryan has demanded she give up working and cut her off from any friends so that Ciara has become increasingly isolated and dependant upon him. Though he is charming, handsome and successful on the surface Ryan is actually controlling, coercive and manipulative in private. Ciara has made failed attempts to leave him in the past and she's been considering doing so again for some time especially now that she's pregnant again. But one day on the spur of the moment she decides to finally do it and she leaves taking their children with her. The novel follows Ciara's extremely difficult experiences over the course of a year as she seeks to completely extricate herself from this toxic relationship, achieve a sense of independence, create a truly safe space for her children and not return to this odious man.

It's powerful and heartbreaking how this narrative fully drew me into the difficulty of Ciara's immediate circumstances. From the moment she walks away there's the pressing need for money and housing. Even though she has family behind her and there's a small amount of social care, the stress over where they'll sleep and get their next meal from is a constant pressing need. There are many challenges to getting support as a domestic abuse survivor. This is further complicated since Ciara states she's not been physically or sexually abused by her husband. However, his intimidating nature made life with him excruciatingly stressful and the dark truth of their existence together is subtly layered into the narrative. Finding work is extremely difficult for Ciara especially since she is expecting another child. Added to the difficulty of Ciara's immediate circumstances are the demands of her children whose petty complaints are ever present. I grew so frustrated with their eternal griping but, of course, it's only natural that they wouldn't understand the psychological, social, financial strain their mother is under because they are only young children. Their presence also means that Ciara must maintain frequent contact with Ryan as he threatens her with legal measures if he's not allowed to see them. Of course, this also provides him with an opportunity to attempt to turn them against Ciara and force more frequent contact with her. I truly felt like the weight of the world was upon Ciara's shoulders. It's impactful how O'Donnell captures the visceral experience of her many dilemmas and this emotional journey.

Women's Prize Longlist 2025

Here are the 16 novels longlisted for the 2025 Womens Prize for Fiction! A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these titles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNcZNaEWJjE I'm glad to see some books I've read and enjoyed, some I've been wanting to read and others I've not heard of before.

It's an interesting group of authors who are not only novelists but include poets, short story writers, playwrights, academics and script editor on a soap opera. A few of them have been previously nominated for or won this prize before including Elizabeth Strout, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Laila Lalami. However, a wide range of new talent is being highlighted as there are 9 debut novelists on the list including Yael Van Der Wouden, Rosanna Pike, Kaliane Bradley, Lucy Steeds, Roisin O'Donnell, Saraid de Silva, Nussaibah Younis, Sanam Mahloudji and Aria Aber. In my predictions video with Anna I correctly guessed 3 of these books and Anna guessed 4.

Some of these books have been nominated for other book prizes such as “The Safekeep” (Booker Prize 2024), “All Fours” (National Book Award for Fiction 2024), “The Ministry of Time” (Waterstones 2024 Debut Fiction) as well as “Crooked Seeds” and “Somewhere Else” which are currently on the Republic of Consciousness Prize shortlist. There are some authors who have previously won or been listed for this prize who I was surprised not to see listed such as Ali Smith, Eimear McBride and Elif Shafak's “There Are Rivers in the Sky” who some (including myself) not only predicted would be listed but probably would win this year's prize.

Of course, there's also the Women's Prize for Non-Fiction longlist which I've already enjoyed reading a couple titles from. But I'm excited to start reading more books on the fiction list and continuing to discuss the ones I have already read. “Tell Me Everything” is an absolute delight as it not only presents an emotional mystery concerning a reclusive man charged with murdering his mother, but it continues to explore the evolving relationships and lives of characters from Strout's previous novels. I'm most surprised and delighted to see “A Little Trickerie” which is such an immerse story about a young woman in medieval England who struggles to survive so devises a scheme to con people out of money by pretending to be an angel. “The Safekeep” is such a tense, twisty story which also gives a complex view of post-WWII Europe. “The Ministry of Time” is an inventive and entertaining mixture of sci-fi, romance and social commentary. And “All Fours” manages to treat its autobiographically inspired sexually-intrepid protagonist with absolute serious while also gently poking fun at her. I'm sure there will be many others from this list I'll enjoy reading.

What do think of the longlist? Are there books you've read from the list that you'd recommend or others which you're eager to read?

The Empusium by Olga Tokarczuk (translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones)

I've had mixed experiences reading Tokarczuk's work in the past. I didn't get on with “Flights” but loved “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead”. So I was curious to see what I'd make of “The Empusium”, especially just after reading “The Magic Mountain” as the bones of this story heavily inspired Tokarczuk's novel. This follows 24 year-old Mieczysław Wojnicz who is suffering from TB and another initially mysterious condition as he journeys to a “health resort” in the Silesian mountain range. There he encounters a number of highly opinionated men who take him on rambles through the countryside, drink a hallucinogenic alcohol named Schwärmerei and engage in conversations on a range of topics from politics to religion to the nature of reality, but most of these discussions devolve into horrifically misogynistic statements. The narrative follows Wojnicz's increasingly unsettling experiences as rumours of ritual killings in the forest and witches abound alongside persistent unsettling noises around the property. However, we also get frequent memories from Wojnicz's past as he lived under his imposing father (who is also a massive misogynist.) The story leads to a scene of intense crisis and an opportunity for new possibilities for Wojnicz.

The title of the book comes from Empusa or Empousa (who was a shape-shifting female from Greek mythology who seduced and fed on young men) but the name is combined with the word symposium. I enjoyed the chilling atmosphere of this novel where we're almost immediately presented with a body on a dining table! Threats abound from devils, the town's working class, women and even the landscape (according to his friend Thilo.) There's the question of who Wojnicz should really trust – the doctors, the gentlemen residents, terminally-ill Thilo with his cryptic warnings, the local women or the strange noises/voices that surround him. There's some gore especially surrounding food (there's a duck soup scene which is utterly stomach-churning) and the novel considers the cruelty towards/consumption of animals which is strongly reminiscent of Tokarczuk's “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead”. One of the most unsettling images are some creepy dolls (tuntschi) which are made from natural material by locals and used for sex before being left in the forest. Though the novel is subtitled as a “horror story” it's not so much about nail-biting terror, but it's fairly effective at creating a persistent eerie sensation.

It gradually becomes clear that the true horror comes from prevailing attitudes and systems of thought concerning a hatred towards women. Not only that but Wojnicz is frequently under pressure to conform to stereotypical notions of masculinity. I grew up in rural Maine where I was forced to spend time amongst groups of men on camping and hunting trips. Though they weren't outwardly misogynistic there was pressure to fit into this high-testosterone atmosphere, rise to physical challenges and submit to men's need to be “right” in whatever argument they were making (whether I agreed with them or not.) So I definitely felt for the pressures Wojnicz experienced among such men.

Interestingly, the narrative switches between a past-tense 3rd person following Wojnicz and a collective first person account in the present from some undefined entities (labelled in the opening cast list of the novel as “Nameless inhabitants of the walls, floors and ceilings”.) I liked how this later narrative voice added to the creepiness of the story as it felt like I was travelling amongst ghosts, spirits, nature or some other unknown entity. It adds to the sense that although misogynistic men control the social order of this location there's a perspective outside of this judging, undermining and wryly commenting on the proceedings. But it was also such a curious way of shifting focus from the larger action to the micro: the chinks between the slate roof tiles, droplets of water, clumps of grass, etc. To me this felt very cinematic like in David Lynch's Blue Velvet where the view of a seemingly idyllic neighbourhood narrows down to creepy undergrowth.

The novel’s story has a superficial relationship to Thomas Mann's “The Magic Mountain” with its hero newly arrived at a sanatorium, plot structure centred around conversations between gentlemen and setting prior to WWI. Tokarczuk has commented that she rereads Mann's novel every few years so it's in some ways a homage and in some ways a corrective or, as she describes, a way of “sparring” with that classic. Having just read Mann's novel, I was immensely relieved that the diatribes from different gentlemen were greatly condensed since there were so many long essayistic chapters in “The Magic Mountain”. Nevertheless, there was a meandering sense which remained in Tokarczuk's story which meant the plot felt a little lethargic in places: another day, another stroll that descends into misogynistic nonsense. However, I enjoyed how Tokarczuk explored issues surrounding Polish nationality/independence and a new take on time/space by considering both a 2 and 4 dimensional reality. I also liked that Tokarczuk reproduced the odd homoerotic imagery of pencils being stroked in adolescence which was also in Mann's novel. There are several other parallels in imagery/ideas between the two books. I certainly don't feel it was necessary to have read “The Magic Mountain” as Tokarczuk's text doesn't play off from that original in the same way that the recent novel “James” worked in parallel to “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”, but I'm still glad I read Mann's book because it is its own strange beast.

There's a surprising twist in the story and the final sections of the novel are quite thrilling. These reinforce Tokarczuk's message that reality doesn't exist in simple absolutes but in different perceptions and in-between spaces. Overall I think this was a fascinating and through-provoking read. Though I definitely wouldn't want to harken back to this time of more rudimentary medicine/treatment I did like the idea of champagne being prescribed as a cure. There are certain odd images which will stick with me such as a toad sitting on a pile of potatoes. Though the finale is gripping I felt it played out a little too quickly with the narrative summing up afterwards for all the characters. In this case I kind of preferred how Mann concluded his novel in a way which was haunting and ominous regarding the advent of WWI. The really bracing thing to me was the author's afterward where she states how the misogynistic views expressed by her characters were paraphrased from texts by some of the foremost Western thinkers/writers from the past including Charles Darwin, Sigmund Freud, Shakespeare, Yeats, etc. It shines a light on how the core of our culture is threaded through with misogynistic ideas and thus calls into question our very foundations.

The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann (translated by John E Woods)

I was encouraged to finally read this great big German classic after stopping in Davos during a holiday. We tried to visit the hotel and former sanatorium which apparently inspired Mann's novel. However, we nearly died as Google maps mistakenly directed us to drive on what turned to be a mountain footpath which became increasingly narrow as it perilously curved around the cliffside and over a fragile wooden bridge. Since we barely survived and never made it to the location of the Waldsanatorium where Mann's wife once stayed while recovering from a respiratory disease, I've decided it's best to only fictionally visit this location through Mann's sprawling tale. The story centres around Hans Castorp a young man who is about to embark on an engineering career. However, he first visits his cousin Joachim who is attempting to cure his tuberculosis by staying at this sanatorium high up in the Swiss Alps. Hans only plans to stay there a few short weeks but his stay is continuously extended and lasts for several years. During this time he becomes entrenched in the routines and insular nature of this specialised hospital while engaging in many discussions with its European residents. This all takes place in the decade leading up to WWI and the looming spectre of this upcoming conflict casts a shadow over the entire narrative.

I found this novel both challenging and fascinating as it includes humorous encounters, beautiful descriptions, an artful structure and deep philosophical diatribes about life, illness, sexuality, society, time and war. It's a kind of stalled coming of age tale as Hans Castorp is about to launch into his adulthood when he's diverted to this location. He does grow as he falls in love with the elusive Madame Chauchat, learns about a range of subjects such as science and music and considers intellectual ideas from men who seek to mentor him. However, after consulting the sanatorium's doctors he also becomes overly preoccupied with his health, obsessively takes his temperature and becomes ensconced in the sedentary life in this place far removed from everyday reality. Though he has a somewhat priggish and conservative nature, I felt endeared and protective of Hans as he was orphaned during his adolescence and he's an impressionable youth who falls under the sway of this persuasive society in miniature. Yet there's something ominous about its lure where the theoretical is valued over the practical and all tangible progress is halted. Patients who die are furtively taken away while the remaining residents engage in a ceaseless cycle of rest cures and lavish meals. Only occasionally does an objective point of view outside the sanatorium's boundaries shine through. One example is when Hans' uncle visits to enquire when Hans will complete what he perceives to be a holiday in this place and the uncle nearly gets sucked into the same extended stay which Hans is trapped within.

Amongst the sanatorium's residents, Hans primarily falls under the tutelage of the humanist Lodovico Settembrini and the Jewish Jesuit Leo Naphta. The narrative relates their extended speeches about a wide range of subjects including social ideals, totalitarianism, the nature of war, morality, romance/sexuality and the triumph of mind/reason over the body. These essayistic passages certainly tried my patience as they often felt removed from the flow of the story. They also often represent outmoded concepts which can be easily dismissed such as attitudes towards women. At one point it's questioned why women would present themselves in a desirable way when they can no longer bear children and in another section it's stated “A woman primarily regards herself as an object.” There's little about these sections which feels edifying, but instead they give an insight into prevailing European attitudes of the time. Seeing these theories being bandied about gives insight into the many pressures which led up to the widespread conflict of WWI. Within the story it also leads to a shocking physical altercation between Settembrini and Naphta. Though Hans tries to reason that the gentlemen's disagreement is merely intellectual abstraction rather than a personal attack, the older men resort to their base natures where points of contention can only be settled through violence. I think that's what gives the inclusion of these speeches a continuing relevance as they represent how spirited conceptual positions can bleed into reality and lead to civilisation's conflagration rather than its advancement.

Outside of these lengthy speeches I enjoyed many scenes and characters such as Hans' first x-ray by the doctors where an examination of the inner workings of the body raises questions about the relationship between emotions and the physical being. Hans also carries with him an x-ray of Madame Chauchat's chest in a way which he intends to be romantic but it's actually creepy. At one point Chauchat leaves the sanatorium for a time but returns with Mynheer Peeperkorn, a new lover who is one of the novel's most lively and entertaining characters. Peeperkorn entices many of the residents to engage in extended bouts of drinking and gambling. His presence also creates a curious love triangle with Hans and Chauchat. I also heartily enjoyed the imposing character of a nurse who sells Hans a thermometer and dismisses any pursuits outside the realm of convalesce as mere twiddle twaddle. A mysterious Danish teenager named Elly Brand is introduced late in the novel who possesses mystical abilities and conducts a number of seances with the residents. This leads to a curious supernatural interlude during which someone who has died reappears and foreshadows the death of soldiers in the upcoming war. It's an eerie and utterly compelling chapter.

My favourite section of the book is merely titled 'Snow'. Here Hans goes skiing by himself in what turns out to be a disorientating snow storm. It's contemplative and sublimely beautiful how the author describes Hans' solitary journey. He adopts a position of individual defiance amidst the elements of nature and the social trappings of the sanatorium. On the snowy mountainside he experiences “one solitude opening onto the next” but also becomes completely lost and lapses into an unconscious state filled with terrifying nightmares. It shows how Hans experiences a respite out of space and time lost in the flurry of a blank canvas, but the course of humanity and inevitable progression towards death still resides within him. This is a portion of the novel I know I'll want to return to and re-read on its own because its so exquisite, thoughtful and hypnotically surreal.

I was thoroughly engaged by the way Mann considers the nature of time within passages of dialogue and in the book's very structure. Since the sanatorium is physically removed from larger civilisation time seems to function in a different way here. Its high elevation also means that the seasons of the year aren't experienced in a typical way as the weather changes rapidly and doesn't adhere to the temperatures of Winter or Summer. Months and years can pass by in what feels like a relatively short amount of time. The narrative considers the way in which time is subjective in this way because routines make it pass quickly. It's clever how the first year of Hans' stay is described in lengthy detail because this simulates how his new experiences in this place makes time initially pass more slowly for him. However, as he becomes caught up in the habits of daily life years skip by at a more rapid pace. An authorial voice occasionally interjects as well so one section presents a fascinating consideration of the representation of time in novels.

The ending of the novel is extremely poignant. Though Hans naturally comes to feel abstracted from larger society and the progression of time, he is still trapped within it as the reality of war imposes itself throughout Europe. I finished the book feeling melancholy about leaving this boy who didn't get to live life to its fullest even though he got to enjoy a rarified existence outside of the normal obligations of work and integrating into larger society. It left me wondering about what equates to a fulfilling life: one which is spent in contemplative abstraction amidst monotonous stability or one which is experienced through the challenges of a constantly shifting social landscape. Though this book utilizes the formalistic elements of realism, I was delightfully surprised at how strangely surreal and fantastical it becomes in certain sections. It's one I'll continue to contemplate and feels like a literary hurdle that I'm glad to have experienced.