Playground by Richard Powers

At the centre of this story is Makatea, an extremely remote atoll in the Pacific Ocean. The mayor and its residents (who total less than a hundred people) are presented with a proposition that their island can become a base for a large company's seasteading plans. The novel begins with Powers' short reworking of the French Polynesian myth of Ta'aroa, the supreme creator god. I assume this is a myth which is known to the people of Makatea since it is a real island. This myth comes to have a new relevance to the present day – especially because of the reference to how humans multiplied so much that they came to inhabit all 7 levels of the world that Ta'aroa created – thus connecting to the novel's overarching story about civilisation's expansion into floating islands through seasteading.

However, there's much more going on in this novel and the connections between all the elements Powers presents aren't immediately obvious. It primarily follows four characters: Evie, a French Canadian oceanographer who prefers dwelling under water; Rafi, a black lover of literature from the south side of Chicago; Todd, a white tech geek from a once privileged background who has now made his own fortune; and Ina, an artist who resides on Makatea while raising her children. The narrative slides back and forth in time. There's the immediate concerns of Makatea as they come to a democratic decision about the island's future. However, Todd is also preoccupied with the knowledge that he's suffering from a degenerative illness and might not see his ambitious designs play out having amassed an enormous fortune creating a social media platform similar to Facebook called Playground.

It's notable that at one point during her underwater exploration Evie also thinks of the ocean floor as a playground because of the colour and variety of life found in this eco-system whose workings are little known or considered. The back stories of all these characters are explored alongside scenes set in the present. I loved the passages where Evie observes the wondrous workings and interactions of sea creatures. It's one of my favourite pastimes to watch nature programs – especially about ocean life – and to snorkel myself in the less colourful waters of the Mediterranean. So I also felt enraptured by the mystery and beauty with this vast area of the world that we have little access to. There's a wonderful moment when a huge manta ray passes over her and she engages in a kind of play with it. It's impactful how she experiences first hand the large scale damage to the environment because of pollution and individual suffering, but also how sea life builds itself around the detritus and wreckages left on the ocean floor.

My favourite sections of the novel concern Evie who struggles to establish her desire to work in oceanography because of the sexism she encounters but is able to get a break when an all-female team of scientists embark on an ocean expedition. Her desires are gradually revealed, not just for wanting to spend as much time in the ocean as possible but also for other women. It's moving how she and her husband come to reconcile their marriage more as a partnership where they each find fulfilment in their individual work and their love for their children so it's a much more complex portrayal of a relationship which isn't necessarily romantic. I also appreciated the way in which Ina comes to express herself as an artist and the emotional section where she presents a piece to Todd and Rafi thus revealing her perspective/inner life. Some analogies and descriptions came across as somewhat laboured to me such as a line where Ina's eyes are likened to the Pacific and a poem by Rafi is reproduced. The competitive nature and friendship break between Todd and Rafi comes to feel like the key to the whole novel.

The geeky side of me also enjoyed following the development of Rafi and Todd's friendship – primarily through playing games. I think Powers makes veiled references to the games Risk and Civilisation which I enjoy playing. I've never played the game Go which originated in China but I'm now curious to. It also tickled me realising that the satirical trading cards which Rafi witnessed becoming a fad at school must have been Garbage Pail Kids cards because I remember how popular they were at school when I was growing up. One of my most vivid memories is when I was around 9 years old opening a fresh pack during recess one day, accidentally dropping all my cards and watching in sorrow as a swarm of children grabbed them from beneath me and ran away. Anyway, I liked how Rafi doesn't just see the games he plays with Todd as a pastime but as a way of playing out life's drama similar to what he admires in novels. It's moving how Rafi develops a passion for the humanities in general and reading literature. He follows this despite the expectations placed upon him by his father in particular. The moment where he first visits a library and can't believe that he's able to take a book out for free is so touching. I was also very moved by the section which describes how his progress was impeded before everyone realised that he needs glasses.

As the members of the island come together to make a decision about proposals for its future development and use we see the various central characters coming together with Rafi as a teacher on the island and a now elderly Evie as a resident. Though I feel sympathy with Todd whose personality means he's a kind of outsider, I was less engaged by his sections. It's interesting how Powers describes in this interview with Barnes & Noble that he wanted to establish empathy for Todd despite this character being a tech bro. I was glad to hear what Powers has to say about the various things which inspired and informed him in writing this book. The layered meaning of the title and the novel's themes about playing to win vs playing to keep playing really come through as he discusses it. Also interesting that he thinks of “Overstory”, “Bewilderment” and “playground” as a kind of trilogy.

It's extremely compelling how the final sections of the novel seem to turn the entire story on its head. I had to read it a few times to wrap my head around what it means. It forces the reader to think back and question what has come before. Overall, I appreciated how Powers complexly develops the concepts of games and playing as something integral to life/development, but also as something where this upping of the stakes comes to be destructive to our welfare and the environment. It's an important message for today where a small group of tycoons and powerful companies seem to be steering the future of both our planet and society. However, I didn't find this novel quite as impactful as “Bewilderment” though I think it's very original. Even though the way he develops characters is somewhat similar to “The Overstory” these individuals are varied and unique. And I do appreciate books that end with a surprise twist!

British Academy Book Prize for Global Cultural Understanding 2024

Although I primarily read fiction I also like to explore quality non-fiction. I've followed The British Academy Book Prize for Global Cultural Understanding for years and through it I've discovered many fascinating and enjoyable books about history, culture, science, language and technology. I appreciate how these knowledgable non-fiction authors are able to present their thorough research and knowledge in a way which builds an engaging story. The shortlist for this year's prize was revealed a few weeks ago and the winner will be announced on October 22nd.

The first book I've read from this list is Amitav Ghosh's “Smoke and Ashes” which gives an account of how the opium trade was closely connected to colonialism. Crucially he shows how the patterns of behaviour around this trade and the rhetoric which arrises from it repeat throughout history. This discourse surrounding it continues into the modern day opioid crisis and opportunistic pharmaceutical companies. By focusing on the plant itself as an agent which will inevitably lead to addiction and social disruption, Ghosh shows that regulation is crucial and an emphasis has to be placed on social welfare over profit. Ghosh also meaningfully shows his own familial connections to the history of this trade and discusses the issue in relation to novels he's written which are set immediately before The First Opium War.

The rest of the diverse group of books on the shortlist encompass topics including racism in healthcare/medicine, an exploration of endangered languages through examples of the few remaining speakers of different languages, a new history of colonialism which focuses on humans relationships with animals in the Americas vs Europe, the story of six crucial substances and the increasing expense of mining them and a history of mathematics which focuses on innovators who have often been overlooked due to their race, gender or nationality. I'm looking forward to reading more of these books and the online shortlist event which will explore these books more in depth. This will take place on October 21st and it's free to register to watch it here: https://www.thebritishacademy.ac.uk/events/we-are-the-british-academy/british-academy-book-prize-2024-shortlist-event/

Have you read any of these books? Are you interested in reading them? Who do you hope will win the prize? Are there any other great books of non-fiction that you've read recently?

Creation Lake by Rachel Kushner

I was initially thrown by the description of this book as a spy novel. Instead of the moody suspenseful tale I was expecting I was surprised to find large portions of the book concern a philosophical treatise pondering the early years of Homo Sapiens and Neanderthals. The novel is told from the point of view of a very confident and cooly guarded woman who uses the undercover name Sadie. We follow how she gradually infiltrates an anti-capitalist eco commune through the old friend of its leader and her movements around an agricultural area of France. Presumably the year is 2013 since the sounds of Daft Punk’s song ‘Get Lucky’ can be heard everywhere Sadie travels. A large portion of the narrative concerns her reading and commenting upon the emails of Bruno Lacombe, a reclusive mentor to the commune who lives in a cave and believes he hears voices. His musings are curious to read about but initially I found the overall mode and conceit of this novel disorientating and overly ponderous. Nevertheless, I steadily got into its deliberation about our origins as humans and where our motivations come from. It's also fun to follow Sadie who is supremely judgemental but also a fallible individual who gets tipsy on wine and meets a new gay bestie named Vito.

The reader doesn't know much about this narrator since her profession requires that she remain anonymous. However, she refers to her jobs from the past and why she had to stop working undercover for a US government body after romantically entrapping a young man by convincing him to commit acts of eco-terrorism. Even before the examples were specifically referenced in the novel I recalled the UK undercover policing relationship scandals from the past couple of decades. It's outrageous that there have been numerous cases such as this where officers used a false identity and became romantically involved with the subjects they were spying on and, in some cases, had children with them. So it's logical that Sadie must be a steely individual only concerned with executing her job even if this includes emotional manipulation and morally bankrupt behaviour.

She indicates at one point that she doesn't even have an opinion about the issues at stake because she is simply performing her duty. Sadie believes this justifies her actions but I get the sense that she enjoys feeling superior to those around her. Additionally, Kushner has fun with inhabiting such a judgemental voice as Sadie freely makes catty comments about other people's appearance and French life. At one point she likens terrines to cat food and observes that the older/more rural the Frenchman the higher his pants will be belted. She also points out that only in France will you find talk shows with famous writers as guests because it's the only place where people think writers are interesting. These sly observations provide some levity amidst the more ponderous passages of the novel. Sadie is also extremely confident about her appearance as being attractive but not having any especially remarkable features which will make her stand out and thus she can remain relatively anonymous. However, she does have artificially enhanced breasts which she refers to multiple times and takes pride in and which I assume she had done to aide her in seducing the subjects she's spying on.

Bruno can be a bit of a windbag in his messages and he has eccentric ideas, but I found some of his diatribes pondering the origin of humans and our motivations interesting. Though she's reading these messages looking for clues about potential acts of sabotage, it seems like it's also forcing Sadie to think more in depth about deeper issues. Kushner repeatedly refers to the image of lines of poplar trees as it seems to connect with this long view of history or successive generations of humans stretching back to our most primal form. Bruno's earnestness is also endearing as he's desperately seeking an alternative for the path our civilization has taken. I also have a natural sympathy for people who form intentional communities and different ways of organising themselves. In my early adulthood I even visited a number of communes and considered joining one. However, I eventually realised that it's incredibly difficult to successfully organise a community along new lines without repeating the same mistakes as mainstream society. This certainly seems to be the case with Le Moulin, the commune Sadie enters into where there is a lot of talk and ideals but little practical action. Sadie joins them under the pretence of translating the group's co-written book opposing Capitalism. However, she is really there to report on and monitor their activities in the lead up to a planned demonstration at an agricultural fair and try to provoke one member to take the protest to even further extremes.

Sadie expresses the view that people's belief systems are merely a superficial way to “shore up their own identity.” She goes on to say “The truth of a person, under all the layers and guises, the significations of group and type, the quiet truth, underneath the noise of opinions and 'beliefs,' is a substance that is pure and stubborn and consistent. It is hard, white salt.” This image of the salt at the core of our being becomes quite significant to her and recurs especially towards the end of the novel. Is this a cynical view by an embittered person who has chosen a profession of necessary loneliness with no fixed identity? Are the beliefs that people hold so dearly really only superficial and fleeting? Or does our unique make up and system of beliefs form who we are? I think Kushner is raising all these questions with no certain answers but offers them through the lens of an individual who positions herself outside both mainstream society and the counterculture of this commune.

It's endearing that Sadie comes to feel so fond of Bruno and protective towards him – even remarking that the commune doesn't deserve him. I think she recognizes a kinship with him in his extreme isolation and rejection of society. They seem to have come to the same conclusions but have different approaches to navigating life. They're also both keen on considering deep time by staring into a dark cave of great depth or gazing into the stars in the night sky. This touchstone with history draws them out of the present moment, the present circumstances of our civilization and the (to their minds) tragic trajectory of Homo sapiens. Sadie also seems to want to take the place of Bruno's deceased daughter – however, he doesn't know her and has no idea that she's been reading his messages. So the only connection she can have with him is to engage with his system of beliefs and look to the stars (even if they aren't really stars but satellites.)

As you can see, this novel's spy story is somewhat secondary to the larger questions it raises regarding humanity, individual motivation and the trajectory of our civilization. Those looking for a plot which adheres to the genre conventions of spy novels might be disappointed by this. However, I heartily enjoyed Kushner's creative take on this sleuth's tale as its increasingly dramatic story ponders many prescient issues from a unique point of view. It's also a fascinating character study about an individual with no regard for the people she deceives. Yet cracks begin to show as she is prone to drinking, popping pills and ocular migraines. Kushner also incorporates a good deal of humour in how she presents Sadie's perspective. Additionally, there's an increasing complexity to this spy whose self-interested stance is muddled by the missives of a mysterious guru. There is a slow build up in the story as the first half of the novel is top heavy with Bruno's emails, but “Creation Lake” develops a good momentum as it leads up to the dramatic resolution and a potential reckoning for Sadie.

The Booker Prize 2024 Shortlist

Here are the 6 novels shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize! Some I was really hoping to see and others are... a surprise! A new video is up on my YouTube channel reacting to the list as it's revealed alongside summaries, thoughts and feelings on each book: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmHZojDMnpI

Overall I'm happy with this group as it includes an interesting mixture of narrative techniques and subject matter. Some books are deeply meditative and poetic in style. Others have a more thrilling plot while also reflecting about the past and humanity. All of them are innovative in their approach to storytelling.

It's great to see five female authors included. Especially exciting that there's an Australian author given there's not been representation from Down Under on the Booker list in recent years. Only one English author which I'm sure some will take issue with but I think it's perfectly fine.

In my opinion “James” is a new classic in how it both honours and re-envisions a classic American novel. It's satirical and sharp in relating a truly adventurous tale while deftly steering between humour and heartbreak. I was mesmerised by “Stone Yard Devotional” as its protagonist retreats from the world giving a deeply thoughtful meditation on choices, guilt and the intention to do good in a world fraught with problems. I'm currently reading “Creation Lake” with my online book club. It took me a bit to get into this unique mixture of spy story/essay but I'm now really enjoying its overly-confident narrative and meditation on our human motivation.

I read “The Safekeep” with my online book club last month and this suspenseful story contains great twists and turns while also giving a new view of the longterm repercussions of WWII. It's also great to see some queer representation on the list! I got totally swept up into “Orbital” reflective poetic style following six astronauts circling our planet. It veers between meditations on the beauty/fragility of our world and the curious details about everyday life on a space shuttle. As for “Held” which I gave up on reading... I'm going to try it again but I was initially put off on its lack of character development and overly ponderous philosophical passages. Who knows? Maybe I'll feel differently revisiting it like with “Study for Obedience” last year. We shall see...

Also, I'm truly shocked “My Friends” isn't on the shortlist. I LOVED Matar's novel and it's definitely one of my top reads of the year. Such a poignant story about belonging, friendship and a love of literature. However, it's not short of award attention as it won this year's Orwell Prize for Fiction and was recently listed for the National Book Award in Fiction.

I've really enjoyed reading and discussing all the books listed for this year's list and I'm looking forward to even more chat about them in the lead up to the winner being announced on November 12.

What do you think of the shortlist? Any you are eager to read? Let me know all your thoughts!

The SafeKeep by Yael Van Der Wouden

What “Call Me By Your Name” did for peaches, “The Safekeep” does for pears. I do love a good historically set novel with lots of twists and turns in its plot. So I found this very pleasurable and moving to read as it's a story that has multiple levels. It's a creepy tale with almost gothic “Rebecca”-esque undertones about the claustrophobia of being stuck in a house with someone you resent and feel a growing animosity towards. It's about sexual repression and the transformative experience of all that pent up desire being released. And it's about the weight of history, the calamitous after-effects of war and how to reconcile what has been lost and displaced.

There are a number of reveals in this story so I'll do my best to avoid spoilers. The novel initially centres around Isabel who seemingly has little motivation other than maintaining her deceased mother's house and its contents. It's the 1960s and Isabel lives a severely self-contained existence in a rural Dutch province. Isabel is a real piece of work. She's nasty and rude to almost everyone she meets. There is a special kind of humour and pleasure in reading about a character who so unapologetically brushes aside social conventions because she's someone I'd never want to meet but it's fun to read about her dismissive attitude towards everyone. I did feel this became repetitive at times in this first section of the novel, but overall she's a compellingly unlikeable character. Isabel fiercely guards both the house and its contents and finds it hard to keep a maid because she continuously lashes out at them with judgements and accusations. However, Isabel is little more than a caretaker for this building which belongs to her uncle and it will be passed on to Isabel's older brother Louis when their uncle passes. I enjoyed how small details about both her family life and the contents of the house are dropped into this early section of the novel hinting at a larger story and adding to the complexity of her character.

Other than the maid the most human contact she has is with her younger brother Hendrik who has a teasing rapport with his uptight sister. Hendrik has lived away from this location since coming out to their mother who is now deceased. But Isabel studiously ignored the reality and reasons behind his leaving. It describes how “she could sometimes blur her eyes when looking at something – decide not to see it in full focus, decide to disengage.” This explains a lot about Isabel who uses self-denial when it comes to things that are emotionally difficult – both external and internal. Near the beginning there's a scene which sets this novel's plot into motion. Isabel's older brother Louis arranges a dinner for both Isabel and Hendrik to meet his new girlfriend Eva. (Interestingly in interviews the author has described initially writing this scene as a short story.) There's all the tension of the new girlfriend wanting to make a good impression and trying to get to know her partner's adult siblings, but in return the brother and sister are dismissive towards her because they see her as merely their brother's latest squeeze since he is a notorious womanizer. But there is a difference with Eva because Louis needs to travel for work and he informs Isabel that Eva will be staying with her in her carefully guarded house. Of course, Isabel is vehemently against this plan but she's not given a choice. So when rambunctious Eva moves into the family home it's like she is entering a powder keg ready to explode.

The house itself is like the central character in this novel. It is the safe keep which contains many possessions which are filled with meaning and it has witnessed many people and events passing through it over the years. I do like novels such as “North Woods” by Daniel Mason or “The Dutch House” by Anne Patchett or, indeed, “Rebecca”, where a house is itself a protagonist that possesses emotion. We're shown how The Safekeep has persisted throughout WWII and maintains a lot of secrets from both the personal lives of these characters and larger historical events. Isabel is a fascinating character who possesses a fierce determination to remain independent. There are small glimpses of her early family life and details strewn throughout her abode which I found intriguing as I wondered what the real story is behind Isabel and this house. It also builds a highly-pressured and stifling atmosphere where something eventually needs to break. But I never got a full sense of why Isabel is so fiercely attached to this house and its objects. I know she was following the direction of her deceased mother to maintain the house and she's extremely repressed so this was all she had, but as the full story of the novel is revealed this came to feel more like a plot device rather than something which would naturally occur.

Many readers have been debated about the very end of the novel is too saccharine. I guessed very early on where the novel was going. Part of why I had a strong sense about this is because I knew the author is a big fan of Sarah Waters' “Fingersmith”. I'm sure anyone who has read that novel can see the strong influence it's had upon “The Safekeep”. The books are obviously set in very different time periods and contexts, but I couldn't help feeling like Van Der Wouden's novel is somewhat slighter compared to Waters' impressive yarn. The ending certainly didn't surprise me, but I think the author did a good job at showing how the conclusion for these characters is hard won. There was naturally a lot of mistrust and animosity because of their respective pasts and the lack of transparency between them. I don't think the ending is the main point of this novel as it's more about the tension of the story and what goes unspoken in our personal lives and the political workings/social attitudes of a nation in the aftermath of war.

I really appreciated Hendrik as a character and enjoyed the section where he and his partner Sebastian come to stay at the house. This loosened Isabel up which felt like a relief since her life with Eva was so stifling up to this point. I found it really moving learning of the conflict of Hendrik's early affair with the teacher and how he left the family home to be able to live honestly as a gay man. I wish there had been more about Hendrik and Sebastian's story, but I appreciate that the novel was necessarily centred on Isabel and Eva. If you've not seen this already, I'd strongly recommend reading Van Der Wouden's essay from several years ago 'On (Not) Reading Anne Frank'. It's really fascinating to discover she was never a natural reader and, even more so, her family history when she was an adolescent moving from Israel to the Netherlands and the anti-semitism she experienced there throughout her teens. It's interesting how this personal history could be interpreted as feeding into the underlying conflicts and simmering tension of “The Safekeep”. Overall, I really enjoyed this often gripping and atmospheric novel.

Caledonian Road by Andrew O'Hagan

“Caledonian Road” is a dramatic and epic novel about modern London. It presents snapshots of many different levels of society which mostly circle around this area of the city to the northeast of King's Cross. It gradually forms a grand portrait about how people and the issues they face are interconnected. There's a sense that the economic disparity in this particular area persists despite decades of reforms and that this is representative of imbalances throughout the nation as a whole. From the plight of immigrants, the dangers of criminal gangs, the workings of the media/politics and the immorality of the elite/super-wealthy, Andrew O'Hagan utilizes his journalistic experience to harness many of the most pressing news stories of our day and distills them into a Dickensian tale replete with virtuous and comically repulsive characters.

Though the point of view often switches between many different individuals the most central figure is art historian Campbell Flynn. He's undergoing an artistic and financial crisis having published a respectable biography on Vermeer but now he's written a self help book about men which is projected to be a huge bestseller. He comes from a humble Scottish background but now inhabits the upper echelons of society. Various dealings have left him desperate for money and led him to compromise his integrity and talents to take lucrative jobs ranging from fashion industry write-ups to an inspiring podcast series. He's also an academic that has recently formed a strong connection to his student Milo whose vociferous cultural critiques tap Campbell into something real and modern. However, Milo has his own designs to utilize his skills as a hacker to become a whistle blower reminiscent of Julian Assange (O'Hagan once attempted to ghost write an autobiography for this activist.)

Despite his privilege, Campbell is surrounded by a number of people who regard him with contempt from some of his academic colleagues to the sitting tenant in the apartment of his building. Campbell's good friend Sir William is also going through a crisis as his financial and sexual affairs come under scrutiny. His prosecution and some other dramatic events unravel the secrets and corruption underpinning many of the lives of this large cast of characters – so large that there is a list of the dramatis personae at the start of the novel (a handy reference I frequently flipped back to keep track of who is who.) Although many of the characters are arrogant, corrupt and distasteful (especially amongst the upper set) I enjoyed how O'Hagan reveals their flaws through scenes where they demonstrate how self-justified they feel in their opinions and positions. They're well aware what others think of them but they stick to their guns as they believe they are in the right. A lot of humour emerges from this and keeps the story rollicking along as Campbell moves between the cast. I'm impressed with O'Hagan's ambition to not only present many levels of society and a broad social landscape of contemporary London but to actually inhabit a number of these different characters' voices through dialogue and their mental process. It's brave of him and I couldn't testify to the authenticity of the many different people he portrays but it's handled with confidence. Sometimes it does feel like characters embody certain issues and communities that O'Hagan wants to discuss in a way which makes them feel more representative than authentic. Nevertheless, there are scenes where a psychological complexity and emotional levels develop with certain characters so that I grew to care about several of them and I was intrigued to follow their storylines.

I know some readers have felt somewhat alienated from the book when they're not as intimately familiar with London as a city or British politics, but O'Hagan's evocative descriptions give a strong sense of the environment, people and issues at stake. It's difficult for me to judge how effective this is since I have lived in the city for over twenty years so I've observed how it's changed and I'm more familiar with what's being portrayed. I've even met some people who feel very reminiscent of some of the novel's characters. There's also a pleasure for me recognizing certain aspects of the cityscape in the narrative even when it's something as casual as Byron Burger (a once large food chain which diminished considerably after the pandemic) or Google's enormous new building which is still being build in King's Cross. Many of the characters' routes can be physically traced and followed through the city. I also appreciated how O'Hagan links some characters' experience of the capitol through different imagery (such as swans) and their individual interpretation of these reference points.

The many individual stories of these characters feed into a larger entangled tale of criminal activity, exploitation and economic disparity. It makes sense that “Caledonian Road” is frequently described as a state of the nation novel since so much of the story questions how the country's character and politics is being dictated by greed and a desire to maintain the appearance of power/dominance/being a first world nation. A character comments at one point that the English will do anything for £1million and it's been well reported how much London property is being held as an investment by international tycoons making the city more into a shell rather than a living metropolis. It feels effective how the overarching story is gesturing towards these larger issues and their complexities.

Overall, the story felt consistently engaging to me although I was interested in some characters more than others (Elizabeth, Moira, Jakub being amongst the most sympathetic to me.) However, other characters were intriguingly monstrous such as Yuri, Jake and Antonia. Still others were fascinating in their denial of the truth about what's happening because they are so fixated on their version of reality like Mrs Krupa, Candy and Mrs Voyles. Milo is one of the most contentious characters in the novel. For much of it he feels simply like a counterpoint to Campbell. As a computer wiz who is morally righteous and driven by the loss of his mother/friends, he's intent on disrupting the system and exposing corruption. Rather than feeling invested in his storyline itself I was more interested in how he is one of the few characters not willing to compromise his values in any way. Many characters (gang members, truck drivers, models, pot growers, politicians, writers) set aside their moral sense for the time being as they expect to soon be financially independent enough or socially powerful enough to live by their own code, but the day where that happens keeps getting extended into the future until their actions catch up with them. Campbell seems to be the supreme example of this as his underlying financial crisis/reliance on substance abuse means the more he tries to get himself out of this mess the more he becomes entangled in it until it reaches an absolute crisis point.

I think O'Hagan is effective in demonstrating how difficult it is in this day and age to wholly live by certain moral standards because we're often shielded from how we're involved in a much larger system. The characters' actions show how many of us want to retain our own personal comfort as a priority. Maintaining the status quo is also very appealing. There are certain characters such as a Russian oligarch whose status and actions come across like something directly extracted from a news story - as do many of this novel's plot lines. That's not bad necessarily as the novel uses satire to paint a large canvas with what concerns the English sensibility at this period of time. However, it does add to the sense that some characters come across more like symbols or stereotypes and this feels more problematic for those individuals that come from other nations: the wealthy/criminal Russians, the Polish immigrants, the Irish drivers. Nevertheless, there are moments where I felt emotionally involved with them so I keep going back and forth about how I feel about this novel as a whole. It's one I'd like to return to at some point as I think I'll be able to pick up on the nuances better now that I'm familiar with the characters and overall plot as a whole.

Clean by Alia Trabucco Zerán (translated by Sophie Hughes)

I was captivated by the narrator of this novel who immediately declares that her name is Estela Garcia. She is locked in a room (initially we don't know where this is or why she is being held there) and delivers a monologue about her life to unknown listener(s) on the other side of the wall. She's spent the past seven years working as a maid, cook and nanny to a well-to-do couple in Santiago ever since the birth of their daughter Julia. However, Julia has been found dead and through Estela's circuitous narrative we discover the circumstances and events leading up to the girl's demise. The suspense about whether she was murdered by Estela or someone else or died because of some other reason persists throughout the novel. But the more compelling mystery is about the psychology and point of view of this domestic worker who has been a near-silent presence amongst this family. There is tremendous strength in her charismatic voice though she's obediently followed orders for years. Now she is finally having her say and her observations about the uneasy balance of power in this household is riveting.

There's a sense throughout the book that larger social, economic and political troubles are brewing in the country. News of protests and public disturbances reach the household. At one point their home is invaded by thieves who cruelly humiliate Estela while she demonstrates great fortitude. Though Chile's larger conflicts aren't specifically named or deeply explored their presence adds to the sense that, like Leila Slimani's “Lullaby”, this novel is really a sly social critique dressed as a thriller. Estela initially moved to the city from the near-impoverished countryside seeking better work opportunities and a way to help support her ailing mother. She's worked six days a week for this family for years and been reduced to an anonymous being who is painfully isolated and taken for granted. The parents' rigidly formal manner towards her is gradually soul destroying so that Estela's small transgressions such as putting on the mother's new dress or feeding a stray dog feel like triumphant declarations of autonomy. Sinister descriptions of ordinary objects and actions within the house deftly add to the sense of uneasy atmosphere and building tension of this compelling story. “Clean” is a much more commercial book and less experimental than Zeran's previous novel “The Remainder”, but it's no less politically engaged and maintains an ardent commitment to centring marginalized voices.

The Booker Prize 2024 Longlist

The Booker Prize 2024 longlist has been officially announced and here are the 13 novels nominated for this year's award! It's quite an exciting group of books which includes some novels I've already read and loved. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing each book and the longlist as a whole: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wyJx5_eDyk

I've read 5 of these thus far and I'm currently reading another. I'm especially thrilled to see Matar's “My Friends” included as I've been predicting it will win this year's Booker ever since I read it earlier this year. It's also fantastic that Everett's “James” is on the list as this is a brilliant homage to a classic and a new classic itself. Also, absolutely wonderful to see “This Strange Eventful History”, “Orbital” and “Headshot” included as I think they're all excellent.

The novels on the list differently approach common themes such as community, faith, family, trauma, war, the environment and friendship. They also use a variety of styles and incorporate different forms of genre including the caper, the spy novel, the family saga, the ghost story, the thriller and gothic fiction.

There are three debut novels on the list (“Wild Houses”, “Headshot”, “The Safekeep”) – I'm especially eager to read Colin Barrett's first novel since I think his short story collection “Young Skins” is excellent. I read Bullwinkle's novel while on holiday recently and I was surprised to find a story about female boxers so engaging. I've heard van der Wouden's novel is influenced by du Maurier's “Rebecca” but it's more queer and this makes me so excited to read it!

Authors Percival Everett, Samantha Harvey, Claire Messud, Rachel Kushner, Hisham Matar and Richard Powers have all been previously listed for the Booker Prize. There's a high proportion of female authors on the list with only five male authors included. It's great to see stories from many different backgrounds, cultures and nationalities.

Two books aren't released yet: “Creation Lake” and “Playground”. I know this always frustrates readers but it's possible that the publishers will push forward their release dates now. I'm most sceptical about Kushner's new novel since I had mixed feelings about “The Mars Room”. However, I'm SO excited to read Powers' new novel since I loved “Bewilderment”.

What do you think of the list? Any recent favourites included? Any you're eager to read first? Will you be ambitious enough to read the entire longlist? Any books you're disappointed not to see on the list?

Good books to read in the middle of the night

Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I'll read to lull myself back to sleep. Of course, I need to pick the right sort of reading material or else I'll wake myself up even more. It can't be too thrilling or disturbing, but it also has to be engaging enough that I won't feel bored or annoyed. Ideally, my late-night reading will be something which is beautifully written, soothing and pleasurable. It's a bonus if the prose discusses the strange state of being conscious at night when almost everyone else is asleep or has a dream-like quality to it. Here are some suggestions of books which have been especially pleasurable to read at night and I'd love to hear if you have any of your own.

A deeply thoughtful novel with absolutely gorgeous prose is Marilynne Robnison's “Housekeeping” which follows two sisters that are raised by a series of relatives in the Mountain West area of America. It's such an atmospheric story with deep wells of complex feeling. “Piranesi” is a novel with so much beautiful imagery. Its protagonist inhabits and navigates through a strange enormous structure whose upper levels are filled with clouds and lower levels with ocean water. Meanwhile its infinite halls are populated with large enchanting statues and the story gradually explores his unique psychological state. A luminous novel I read recently is “Orbital” which follows a group of astronauts in a space station as it circles our planet. It describes their observations about our world from this unique vantage point and stories of their pasts as well as their connection to each other and the Earth.

One of my favourite novels of all time is Anne Tyler's “Ladder of Years” which follows a woman who literally walks out on her life to spend an extended period of time in a space of her own just reading. I like how its plot neatly mirrors the nighttime state of being removed from everyday life and reading in peace. A childhood story which continues to delight is Lewis Carroll's books on “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland”. This tale is hallucinatory, absurd and hilarious – as much in its tricksy prose as the weird scenes which sensible Alice navigates through. A great classic series of novels to read at night is Anthony Trollope's 'Chronicles of Barsetshire' which begins with “The Warden”. These follow a range of social, political and romantic manoeuvrings amongst the clergy and the gentry in this fictional English county. His prose are such a delight as he deliciously skewers many of his characters while also showing real affection and tenderness towards them while frequently going on amusing tangents.

An excellent anthology literally designed to be read in the middle of the nights is “Night Walks” edited by Joyce Carol Oates. This includes fiction, essays and poems by authors such as Charles Dickens, Robert Penn Warren, John Updike, Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Walt Whitman, Elizabeth Bishop, Paul Bowles, Jean Rhys and many more. These pieces meditate on being awake in the middle of the night and the bizarre state of sleeplessness. A wonderful memoir which evokes a bygone era is Edmund White's “Inside a Pearl” which fascinatingly describes the several years he spent living in France with much socialising, amorous meetings and artistic stimulation. It's a dream life for anyone who comes from humble small town beginnings. A selection from a decade of Joyce Carol Oates' journals fill a volume which I love to reread for its charming descriptions of the natural world, witty reflections on life and acute observations about the craft of literature. Finally, Edith Hamilton's wonderful book gives many insights into great Western mythology from the vein and squabbling Olympians to a Norse god's attempt to postpone the final day of doom. Reading these tales keys the reader into stories that have enraptured people on the brink of sleep for centuries.

Another difficulty about reading at night is finding adequate lighting. The reading lamp in this photo is from Serious Readers and they've kindly sponsored this blog post. I've been using this light for almost two years and never had any issues with it. It's great at illuminating the pages of my book as overhead lighting is too harsh. Serious Readers replicate the daylight spectrum as closely as technically possible with what they call Daylight Wavelength Technology. So the light feels warm and natural. I have a High Definition Table Light in White with the Lightweight base. Its neck is very easy to manipulate and angle so it shines exactly where I want it. Additionally, there's a dimmer switch so I can easily make the light brighter or weaker. And I can also adjust the beam width so more or less space is illuminated. If you're looking for a good new reading light I'd recommend this one. Have a look on their site at their range of lamps here: https://try.seriousreaders.com/pages/eric/

If you decide to buy one be sure to enter the Offer Code Eric24 when you're checking out as this will save you £100 on a High Definition Light and it will give you free delivery within the UK.

Please let me know if you've also enjoyed any of these books and recommend some of your favourite night time reads!

Butcher by Joyce Carol Oates

Oates does not shrink from depicting violence in her fiction. From her haunting fictionalisation of the Chappaquiddick incident in “Black Water” to a representation of the mind of a Jeffrey Dahmer-like serial killer in “Zombie”, this literature exposes not only horrendous events but the warped reasoning of the perpetrators of these crimes. However, JCO is also a strong advocate for giving a voice to the voiceless by writing about those who are abused, marginalized and discarded. Such is the case for this new novel which is dedicated “For all the Brigits – the unnamed as well as the named, the muted as well as those whose voices were heard, the forgotten as well as those enshrined in history.” Brigit is an indentured servant working at the New Jersey Asylum for Female Lunatics in the mid-1800s. She becomes a patient and assistant to the asylum's director Silas Aloysius Weir, M.D. whose “chronicle of a physician's life” makes up the bulk of this narrative. The novel is a fictional biography by Weir's son as he's gathered testimonies to account for how his father became known as the 'Father of Gyno-Psychiatry'. But, rather than presenting a distinguished career, the book shows how Weir was really an ambitious man whose experimental operations on the bodies of women makes him more of a butcher than a doctor.

In Silas' own words we see how he arrogantly attempts to justify his actions for the sake of science and his version of Christian duty when really it is about proving himself to his father, enhancing his own reputation/wealth, kowtowing to those in power, taking credit for the knowledge/discoveries of others and perpetuating the assumed superiority of white men. Not only are the inept surgical procedures he performs stomach-turning but so is his attitude, egotism and arrogance. I felt so deeply for all the women who he was assigned to see and were forced (sometimes drugged) to receive his inept ministrations. Weir ruthlessly plots to have access to a wider choice of subjects to conduct experiments on with as minimal accountability as possible. Alongside the horrendous violence inflicted upon his subjects' minds and bodies is Weir's total repugnance of the female body. The only thing which impinges upon Weir's sense of narcissistic self-belief is the figure of Brigit. It's curious and fascinating how their relationship evolves as Silas becomes increasingly convinced that this initially deaf/mute individual is speaking to him and they engage in several (imagined) arguments as she becomes the voice of reason and his conscience.

Oates shows how misogyny is built into the medical profession leading to a near total ignorance about how the human body actually works, wrongful treatments and the sense of shame put upon women about their own bodies and natural functions. In the background are the midwives/nurses (Betje and Gretel) who often have much more practical knowledge and applications to treat the issues that women face. Yet they are often dismissed or treated as uneducated amateurs. Gretel is a nurse at the asylum and it's fascinating how she cunningly plays up to Silas' ego suggesting options which he can dismiss and then come back claiming as his own as this is the only way to help the female patients get anything close to practical treatments. It's perhaps Gretel's only viable option working in such an unjust system. This also allows her to achieve more favour under Silas' authority and hence be able to better care for the women.

It's so interesting how the story expands upon the history of indentured servants in America running parallel to the practice of slavery showing how there was a whole other class of people with no rights and no financial resources to turn anywhere else. Of course, even women with more means and status who suffered from physical/mental conditions which the medical profession didn't understand were also vulnerable as women were basically treated as the property of fathers/husbands. Nevertheless, when the bodies begin stacking up through mistreatment or suicide there is a sense of growing outcry and charges begin forming against those in power. This builds up to a dramatic conclusion which is foreshadowed at the beginning of the novel. Oates is particularly skilled at portraying a frenzied consciousness or mob mentality to convey scenes where there is fast action and heated feelings at play.

It's notable how Oates' novel is set in a similar time period and setting to Jayne Anne Phillips' recent Pulitzer Prize winning novel “Night Watch”, but “Butcher” presents a corrupt and terrifying institution rather than the progressive one which Phillips portrayed. Though Oates highlights the way many women in history have been butchered and killed under the guise of advancing science and a misguided version of Christian values, the novel is also commenting on what happens when decisions about women's bodies are left in the hands of men. It feels intentional that Oates has produced this historical novel now when the rights of women are being more constricted in some states in America and continue being minimised in some other countries around the world. I feel like this gives the story a relevance and urgency which makes the violence portrayed have meaning beyond simply being horrific. Oates is so skilled at evoking a psychological intensity with her narrative style which makes it gripping and mesmerising to read. However, there are some sections of this novel which feel less convincing especially in the mantra of a female patient from a higher social class which feels too self-conscious and knowing to be believable as a diary entry. Also some of Silas' sections seem so hopelessly naïve it reads more like Oates is overtly building criticism against him into the story rather than mimicking his voice. Nevertheless, as a fictional amalgam of doctors from this period of history which Oates researched, Weir typifies a kind of arrogant man who will do anything to maintain his own position and dominance so he must believe wholeheartedly in his righteousness no matter how ludicrous.

“Butcher” is a haunting account of the kinds of early experiments performed on human subjects which led to the medical knowledge we have today. It's also a striking representation of a misogynistic mind which is motivated more by self-belief and personal gain than caring for his patients. It's an arresting, horrifying and impactful novel.

My Favourite Books of 2024 (so far)

Here are my 10 favourite books that I've read this year so far! A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing why these are so special: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=764cINHF94k

I've read around 60 titles so far this year and many have been excellent, but these stories all made a big impact, got me thinking, made me want to learn more about their subject matter and were examples of brilliantly engaging storytelling.

From a plot of New England land populated by ghosts over the centuries to three Jewish boys travelling through an increasingly surreal landscape to a cherry farmer reflecting on an early love affair to a newly formed family in Shanghai to a sensitive Libyan man locked into a limbo existence in London to a search for consoling barren landscapes to a daring production of Shakespeare in the West Bank to a trans woman's coming of age in 80s/90s Spain to a runaway slave's quest for independence and his family to a dark and bizarre fishing excursion which leads to a tense beach dance. All these tales were so immersive and resonated with me personally.

Have you read any of these books? Are you interested in reading any you haven't? What are the best books you've read so far this year? I'd love to hear all your thoughts.

Her Side of the Story by Alba de Céspedes (translated by Jill Foulston)

Céspedes was a mid-20th century Cuban-Italian writer whose excellent novel “Forbidden Notebook” I fell in love with last year when a new English translation appeared. There's been a resurgence of her work given her influence on Elena Ferrante and this year a new, lengthier translation of her novel “Her Side of the Story” has been published. This was originally appeared in Italian in 1949 and a heavily edited English edition was originally published in 1952 under the title “Best of Husbands”. The story draws upon the author's own life and experiences as a woman who came of age in Italy before and during WWII. Although the novel is a forceful account of the limitations women experienced at this place and time, it also centres around a frustrated love story which is much less interesting. Where this story shines are in its observations about the social milieu and the imposing force of fascism. However, it feels quite repetitive in several sections and it makes me wonder if the edited version which first appeared in English might be a stronger novel.

I found it immediately engaging following the perspective of Alessandra as she looks back at her life, starting with her childhood and working up to her marriage. She has a kind of doppelgänger in Alessandro, the brother who came before her and tragically drowned at a young age. It's interesting how his loss has a different meaning for every family member and, for Alessandra, he's a kind of shadow she must live under. She also feels him like a kind of devil-on-her-shoulder presence and her mother maintains a stronger superstitious belief in his continued presence - even taking numerous visits from a medium named Ottavia to try to contact him. I found it especially gripping and moving reading about these sessions as her mother Eleonora's grief over the loss of her son is plainly evident. Alessandra gives a highly detailed account of Eleonora's melancholy life and there's a tremendous scene where her mother gives a musical performance. I loved the detail about creating a dress from Eleonora's actress mother's former costume (it felt very Scarlett O'Hara of her.) However, her talents and beauty are suppressed by her controlling and tyrannical husband. The vile remarks he makes to his family (both to his wife and daughter) is truly odious.

Eleanora also harbours a secret passion for a man named Hervey. In a way her mother's maturity feels stunted by being forced to remain in their domestic setting except to give lessons. Alessandra describes how “Her love for Hervey, which others would have judged guilty, in my eyes enveloped her in a magic veil of innocence”. This is such a refreshingly mature perspective showing an absence of moral judgement, but given the enormous lack of affection she witnesses between her parents it's not surprising she was glad her mother could find happiness by aiming her passion towards someone else. The moments where her mother tips over into a more confessional mode (acknowledging it's probably inappropriate to be burdening her daughter with such adult concerns) were very touching and the way her determination to flee with Alessandra is stymied is heartbreaking. But I do appreciate how she notes she might be viewing her mother somewhat through rose tinted glasses since she only exists in her memory.

As a depiction of the social milieu of this Italian era focusing especially on this community of women, I think the first section of this novel is wonderful. Céspedes so powerfully evokes and thoughtfully presents the gender imbalance whereby men maintained all the authority, living for the jobs they complained about and taking for granted the women that raised their children and maintained their homes. I especially liked this line about men's misconception about female desire: “They thought love was a brief fairytale for their companions, a brief passion necessary for a woman to secure the right to be a mistress of her own house, have children, and dedicate her entire life to the problems of shopping and kitchen... none of them grasped that behind every gesture, every bit of self-denial, all that feminine bravery was a secret desire for love.” Sadly, Alessandra's observations and recollections become quite circular. Maybe this is because there was a lot of monotony to her and her mother's days which seemed largely filled with inertia and silence.

However, the repetitive nature of the story continues with the introduction of Francesco, an anti-fascist academic and later leader who Alessandra falls in love with. She is initially wary of his political beliefs because all she knows of the label is from propaganda: “Anti-fascists were outlaws, suspicious individuals, banished”. I like how the novel shows her naivety as a young person who didn't really understand what was at stake and the nature of the different political camps. However, there's a curious lack of development in her maturity and understanding of the war which consumed her country. Despite getting involved with covert operations for the resistance movement she does so more out of a desire to impress Francesco than out of her own convictions. It's only natural that younger people are drawn towards people rebelling against the establishment and are led by love instead of ideological belief but it's like she gets caught in a state of improbable desire and she's incapable of maturing.

Although I found sections of the novel depicting the intensifying war engaging I do wish there had been more descriptions of changes to the landscape and its effect upon the lives of citizens. There are references to hiding in bomb shelters, food shortages and the smell of dead horses after the bombing but considering how the entire cityscape of Rome must have radically changed during that time it felt to me like Alessandra wasn't very concerned or mindful about it. I also wish there had been a bit more context in some scenes such as when during food rationing she gets some rare flour to make pasta, but Francesco returns and insists they must listen to music all day while sitting on the floor. As a consequence the pasta goes to waste when they've seemingly only had potatoes to eat for a long time. I struggled to understand the significance or logic of this though it seemed like some momentous change must have been occurring in the city. I suppose there is a lack of contextual detail because we're completely steeped in Alessandra mind and so she doesn't feel a need to explain the situation. I'm mindful that I'm imposing what I wanted from the story over what the author might have intended but I felt it made this a less satisfying novel. I don't understand how she couldn't mature more or care about the reformation of her country after the seriousness of events like her former classmate who was Jewish and taken away.

I enjoyed how there were some references which led me to learning more about Italian culture in general. For instance, I previously hadn't been aware of the Christian tradition of name day or “Onomastico” in Italy (though it's also celebrated in other European countries as well.) This is a celebration like a birthday where people mark certain days from the saint that they are named after. Sorry if other people were already aware of this but it was new to me. Of course, in the story it merely serves as another reason for Alessandra to feel slighted because Francesco forgets to celebrate her on this day. And when he tries to make up for it it's too little too late. Francesco is definitely not a great partner because he is completely engrossed in his work and seems to expect Alessandra to be the housewife who will always wait at home for his return. However, he really can't ever satisfy Alessandra's neediness because it feels like she won't be happy unless he's constantly staring at her affectionately and repeatedly saying that he loves her.

The dramatic conclusion of the novel felt rushed and unsatisfying to me but maybe that's because I'd grown too frustrated with Alessandra's lack of progression over the course of the narrative. An explanation for her mindset seemed to come with this passage where she described her feeling that “You couldn't buy the body of a slave, but you could enjoy owning the body of a woman. You acquired it with the obligation to maintain it, just as with slaves. But if I had decided to leave Francesco, the law would have recognised his right to remain master of my body. He could prevent my making use of it for years, for my entire life... A slave has greater freedom than a woman.” If this is literally how she felt then it's not surprising she's driven to such a frenzied state. However, I take objection with this logic. Firstly, it seems quite crass to liken her experience to being “worse than slavery” in this way. I think someone who has been an actual slave would disagree. Since Francesco is physically away so much she actually has quite a lot of freedom. She frequently complained about the obligations of her domestic chores but I can't realistically see how maintaining a small apartment for two could be so demanding that she has no time for herself – even while also working a job. She flirts with a man named Tomaso who seems like a much better suitor for her than Francesco yet she refused to accept him as a romantic partner - either as a lover or leaving her husband to be with him. She also refused to simply take the advice she continuously gave to her mother when she was a teenager and leave her husband to start another life. Yes, the nature of the law and social conditions might have meant she “belonged” to Francesco but he seems quite different from her father. I feel like she got in her own way of achieving any sustained sense of happiness or contentment in becoming an adult. Though there was the tragedy of her mother's situation and the example for how a woman must live laid out by grandmother Nonna, it felt frustrating that she couldn't see beyond the confines of these restrictive mindsets.

So I'm afraid I ultimately found this novel disappointing. It seems telling in the afterward by Elena Ferrante that she focuses on the first section about Alessandra and her mother. This felt to me like the strongest part of the novel. Throughout her entire relationship with Francesco the narrative grew increasingly repetitive because she seemed locked in a circular frame of mind. I think this novel could lose quite a few pages while maintaining its central premise and meaning. By the end I felt quite exhausted with Alessandra and I was glad to finish the book. There were many parts I admired but if Alessandra stood in as a kind of cipher for the author herself I don't understand why she couldn't show the protagonist progressing towards a more successful career as Céspedes obviously did herself or Alessandra trying to enact political changes for women's rights rather than imposing a melodramatic conclusion to the story. This book felt bloated in comparison to the novel “Forbidden Notebook” which felt more artfully composed and true to life.

Women's Prize Winners 2024

It's been such a pleasure following the Women's Prize season this year especially since they created a new Non-Fiction award alongside the Fiction Prize. It pushed me to read some fascinating memoirs, extended essays and historical examinations such as “How to Say Babylon”, “Thunderclap”, “A Flat Place” and “Doppelganger” which I probably wouldn't have got around to reading otherwise. So many books listed for the fiction prize were very good and some were excellent. I was especially glad to read the longlisted titles “In Defence of the Act”, “Ordinary Human Failings” and “Nightbloom”. And it was great to see a favourite that I read last year “Western Lane” nominated for another award. The fiction shortlisted books were all of high quality so it's nice to feel in the lead up to the ceremony that I'd be glad to see any of the nominated books win.

I was absolutely delighted to be invited to the award ceremony and made a vlog about the experience. Though it was a bit drizzly at this outdoor party there was still a great atmosphere. My favourites to win were “Enter Ghost” and “A Flat Place” but I'm also a big fan of the winning books “Brotherless Night” and “Doppelganger”. The speeches that V.V. Ganeshananthan and Naomi Klein gave were very impassioned and moving. Both books tell very specific stories that also say much more about larger social and political issues in the world today. It's been wonderful discussing all the nominated books this year with my friend Anna and readers online.

What do you think of the winners? Did you favourites win?

Long Island by Colm Tóibín

A striking thing about reading Toibin's novel “Brooklyn” was how much its emotional power slowly crept up on me. The story follows Eilis Lacey, a young Irish woman who is coaxed into moving to America in the 1950s to find work. While this book was engaging and beautifully written I didn't understand the point of it until Eilis gradually became caught in an unbearably tense dilemma. Suddenly the overwhelming heft of its meaning hit me and I was both utterly engrossed and very moved by it. Since “Long Island” is a direct sequel to “Brooklyn” many readers will wonder whether its necessary to read this earlier book first. This new novel certainly stands on its own and it cleverly keys readers into the drama of the first book in case they're not familiar with these characters. However, there's also a great pleasure in already intimately knowing these characters so I think it's advisable to read “Brooklyn” first and it's certainly worthwhile.

Unlike “Brooklyn”, “Long Island” immediately has a gripping plot as we meet Eilis again twenty years later. She's living a seemingly content life with her Italian-American husband Tony and their two nearly adult children when an unexpected visitor arrives at her home. This stranger tells her that his wife is pregnant with Tony's child and when the baby is born he will leave it on Eilis and Tony's doorstep. The news not only makes Eilis question her marriage and the choices she's made, but brings into sharp focus the limitations of her position. Tony's family close ranks and Eilis is expected to support her husband (and this new child) even though he's betrayed her. Since her mother back in Ireland will soon be celebrating her eightieth birthday, Eilis has a convenient excuse to return to her native country and take some time to think about how she wants to handle this painful situation.

When she embarks on this journey the narrative point of view begins alternating between Eilis, her lifelong friend Nancy who is now running a chip shop whose fumes and rowdy customers disrupt the locals and Eilis' old flame Jim who now runs his family's pub. Nancy and Jim have been through a lot in the intervening years. They've made tentative plans for the future but the reintroduction of Eilis creates new possibilities and problems. In this story Toibin cleverly reproduces the central drama of “Brooklyn” that made it so thrilling while bringing a new spin to the story following the lives of these characters who are a little older and more world-weary. Their options for making big life changes seem to be shrinking, but there are still unexpected possibilities. While this trio are the heart of the story there are a host of brightly rendered individuals from Nora Webster, the protagonist of another novel by Toibin, to Eilis' irascible old mother to Tony's brother Frank who is obliquely referred to as “one of those men”. The communities of a New York Italian/American quarter and a small town in Ireland are brought vividly alive with interfering family members, gossiping neighbours and charismatic banter.

However, Toibin also has a masterful ability to suggest much more through what's left unsaid between the characters. There's the painful silence between a married couple lying in bed together who are awake in the dark. But there are also acute gaps in dialogue between characters. For instance, in one scene a character asks another “Can you say you love me?” and the other character replies “Yes, I can.” But this isn't the same as actually saying aloud “I love you.” Some characters exhibit hilariously blatant contradictions claiming not to be gossips but eagerly spreading rumours. The narrative also seamlessly moves between these characters' thoughts of an imagined future and the actual reality of what they want or need or what's possible. Toibin expertly describes how people keep each other in check and control each other while intending to be supportive. He shows how people want to know each other's business but not openly communicate with them. The story demonstrates the ways communities and families support one another, but also inhibit individuals from realizing their potential if their identity and dreams don't align with the values of the majority.

“Long Island” is a wonderful addition to the ongoing tale of these characters and I hope Toibin continues to write about them from new angles and introducing new drama to this beautifully realised fictional world.

Night Watch by Jayne Anne Phillips

I was greatly anticipating the announcement of the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and made a video speculating what books might be listed for this year's prize. When “Night Watch” by Jayne Anne Phillips was declared the winner I was highly intrigued because personally I'd never heard of this novel before. Some readers I follow who had read this novel were disappointed by this winner, but nevertheless I went into reading it with an open mind. Unfortunately I found reading the novel to be a frustrating and disappointing experience. The plot is not only melodramatic but often feels like a cliched soap opera with double identities, amnesia, separated lovers and a dramatic fire/physical altercation. Of course, these can be elements in great literature but this novels feels somewhat like an unsuccessful mashup of “Wuthering Heights” and “Rebecca” set during the American Civil War. Its heavy reliance on coincidences and artificially conjured emotional situations makes it seem like a cheap and facile imitation of an epic tale.

The story is primarily set at the Trans-Alleghany lunatic asylum in West Virginia in the year 1874 and follows the gradual recovery of a mother named Eliza who is so mentally unwell she's nearly comatose at the novel's beginning. Her teenage daughter ConaLee joins her at the asylum, but pretends to be Eliza's carer because family aren't allowed to live with patients. Both mother and daughter take pseudonyms while at the asylum. Prior to their time at the facility they've been captives of a tyrannical scheming Confederate soldier who insists on being called Papa. The narrative occasionally flashes back to a decade prior at the end of the American Civil War to show different characters' points of view including Eliza's lover John, a wounded Union soldier, and Dearbhla, an Irish healer. There's also an orphan boy nicknamed Weed dwelling at the asylum who oversees many events which occur between the characters. Eventually true identities are revealed, a professionally questionable romance forms and everyone goes on a jolly carriage ride.

The Pulitzer simply declared this to be “a beautifully rendered novel” and in a Publisher's Weekly interview Phillips described wanting the reader to “understand the history of another time, to appreciate it—and the best way to understand,” she says, “is fiction. I want to write scenes where the reader can feel the shattering moments.” There are certainly shattering moments including an unnecessarily extended rape scene whose gruelling nature points to why Eliza is psychologically destroyed. However, I didn't feel the story sufficiently conveyed the dynamics of this long-term abusive situation and I was left with a lot of questions which it felt like the authors skipped or avoided. Despite giving a sense of the facility including reproductions of photographs and documents, I didn't understand how the hospital operated. I don't understand why ConaLee was denied from knowing about her true father for so long. Eliza's neighbour Dearbhla is the kind of character I'd normally be intrigued by and want to read about, but her involvement in the plot felt forced. There was a lot of potential in the story regarding revelations about John O'Shea and Weed's ambiguous nature and origins, but these didn't feel sufficiently developed.

The momentum of the book rests in the damage of the past and this is embodied in the monstrous figure of Papa. However, the primary action takes place in the present as Eliza slowly heals and the story leads to an artificial confrontation. Of course it's inspiring to find that there existed a facility at the time which was so caring to its mentally ill patients as most such institutions during this period were cruel and abusive. But the story and the choice to focus on this benevolent facility don't give much insight into this period of history. Or, rather, they suggest a simplistic sense of hope amidst a devastating period which left many casualties. Consider the example of Keneally's “Schindler's Ark” which highlights an inspiring example of humanity amidst a genocide. Yet the book also doesn't shy from portraying the complex cruelty and destruction of this period of history. “Night Watch” only offers a flattened version of the past with a syrupy plot designed to suggest that benevolence ultimately prevails, but this has little to do with reality of war or its aftermath.