LonesomeReader is Two Years Old Today!

Two years ago I started this blog without any expectations about what it would turn into. I didn’t even have confidence in my ability to continue updating it. I’m grateful that people have read it and appreciated what I have to say about books. Conversing about books and reading what other people say about their own reading has only fuelled my obsession for reading more. And it is an obsession. Although I read more than most people, I sometimes feel quite down about all the books I don’t have time to read. Recently someone very wise said to me that I feel this way because I want to be on the inside when there is no inside. It seems to be an inevitable state of being for me and many other readers who tend to be more introverted to perpetually feel on the outside of things.

In writing this blog, I’m continuously trying to investigate the state of loneliness. It’s a kind of loneliness that can’t be assuaged by engaging with other people. Feelings of being an outsider, disconnected from the rest of the world, lost in one’s own thoughts. They are a state of mind which can only be settled by connecting with humanity through good literature. I really appreciate the distinction Joyce Carol Oates makes in her recent excellent memoir “The Lost Landscape” that “Loneliness weakens. Aloneness empowers. Aloneness makes of us something so much more than we are in the midst of others whose claim is that they know us.” It’s a sentiment echoed in quotes by May Sarton and Marianne Moore that I’ve put in the sidebar of this blog. Because only in this state of solitude can we live unencumbered by the judgements and projections of other people. That’s not to say I want to live like a hermit on a mountain (as appealing as this sounds from time to time). But I want to find strength in my self when I am alone and faced with a book that allows an entire world to unfurl inside my head.

So my fanaticism for reading more and more hasn’t waned. It’s been fascinating reading books for the Green Carnation Prize recently as it’s made me pick up types of books and genres I wouldn’t normally gravitate towards. This encourages me to not be so methodical in my reading in the future, to let my hand grab books out of sheer curiosity as I used to when I was a teenager wandering through used bookstores. There is a perpetual sense of excitement about where a book might take me when I have no preconceived notions about the author or the subject matter or what anyone thinks of it. But I still love hearing recommendations. Some of the best books I’ve read in the past two years have come from being nudged to read something by readers of this blog or by bookish people on social media.

So what are you reading and what do you think I should read next?

The Lost and the Found by Cat Clarke

Faith is an average teenage girl struggling with typical teenage problems about self image, concerns about her popularity and the emotional complexity of having just lost her virginity. But these issues are overshadowed because her family has been caught in an extraordinary situation all of their lives. When Faith was four years old, her slightly older sister Laurel was kidnapped. Since then her family has been embroiled in a campaign to find her and bring her back. Because Laurel was pretty, blonde, white and from a middle class family her case received a lot of media attention which has had good and bad repercussions for Faith’s family. Now, at this crucial point in Faith’s teenage development, her sister Laurel suddenly returns. “The Lost and the Found” is the story this dramatic reconfiguration of a family told from Faith’s point of view.

Faith regularly makes macaroons with her father's partner Michel to sell at a weekend farmer's market

Clarke is excellent at capturing the small intimacies of family life. The reader feels alternating sensations of comfort and claustrophobia that naturally occur in a household – especially during times of turmoil and strife. For instance, when Faith wants to be alone in her bed at one point she’s aware her mother is outside because she can hear her stepping over a stair that creaks. Faith is extremely conscious of the politics you need to play to maintain harmony within the family. After years of dealing with the press she also possesses a savvy knowingness about the difference between perception and reality. It’s endearing how Faith is still subject to her own contradictory feelings and emotions which she doesn’t understand. Quite often there is a disconnect between what she thinks and what she says. I also appreciated how Faith’s family is unique in that after her parents’ divorce her father struck up a long term relationship with another man. Rather than thinking of this as unusual, Faith finds this arrangement perfectly natural and makes efforts to ensure her father’s partner Michel is included in all aspects of family life.

The reintroduction of a family member after such a harrowing long period of absence is complicated. It makes for a highly captivating story with some twists which lead to a tense conclusion. This novel reminds me of Joyce Carol Oates’ novel “My Sister, My Love” for the way it captures the sibling’s point of view for a sister who has been abducted. But it also puts me in mind of Emma Donoghue’s novel “Room” for the way it poignantly captures the confusion and fallout from a child being held in captivity. “The Lost and the Found” works both as a thriller and an emotionally-engaging young adult novel about a dramatic situation. Faith’s narrative voice is engaging, amusingly ironic and extremely relatable. This is a thoroughly enjoyable novel.

The Alphabet of Birds by SJ Naude

If you don’t feel like you belong in the place of your birth, can you ever really feel at home elsewhere? This seems to be one of the questions at the heart of SJ Naude’s book. The six long stories which make up “The Alphabet of Birds” range in characters and locations, but all describe individuals groping for a connection and an affirmation of identity somewhere “other.” Many of the protagonists are South Africans struggling with an internal battle between asserting that their country of origin is the place where they belong and trying to emphatically dig their roots in elsewhere. Some prominent characters are gay men who meet other men in distant locations as if they are both survivors. There is a consolation in coming together, but there is no suggestion that there will be a lasting fraternity or that the artistic friends’ houses, German castles or drug-fuelled night clubs they find themselves in can ever closely resemble somewhere that can be called home.

A character purchases a Noh mask in Japan which changes emotion depending on how it is tilted

Most notably the female character Ondien who appears in two stories founds a musical group that fuses together world sounds with African instruments. The group dissolves, yet she still seeks to write a music which creates unity. She embarks on a quest to visit her siblings who have settled in America, Dubai and London only to discover they are all in desperate circumstances. Their new homes have transformed into uniquely suffocating traps. She returns to South Africa to live an increasingly impoverished existence. Wherever these characters go they are accompanied by a profound sense of isolation and are plagued by loss. She discovers that “You steal from someone weaker, the stronger ones steal from you. You return to your weaker victim. Things circulate. A life cycle, an ecosystem.” The society portrayed is one founded on transactions of taking rather than exchange. Even when a woman named Sandrien in the story ‘Van’ dedicates herself to a life of philanthropy giving medical care to rural villages, her efforts are drowned in tidal waves of red tape, corruption and indifference.

It all sounds quite bleak and much of the striking drama in this book is undeniably solemn. Yet, Naude has a beautiful way with his prose that makes these stories feel consoling rather than harrowing. It faces up to reality rather than avoiding uncomfortable dilemmas or feelings. Sometimes the thoughtfulness of Naude’s writing grows too abstracted from the action of the story so it’s difficult to decipher what is actually happening in certain parts. Yet, through a persistent accumulation of images, scenes and feelings the reader is left with impressions of experience. This isn’t a light read, but it’s in many ways a hypnotic one. I did come across a rare passage which made me chuckle. One younger character admonishes an older one that “You should leave behind all the gym nonsense; the weight of weights settles into your muscles after a while.” What a fantastic justification to give up the gym! This appears in the final story ‘Loose’ which has a special radiance with its descriptions of dance as a way of strategically carving a way through the space of the world and expressing emotion. The title itself, one letter away from the word “lose,” suggests perhaps that a loss of self can be prevented by remaining in perpetual motion.

Don’t Let Him Know by Sandip Roy

Sometimes characters in novels begin to feel so real it hurts to let them go. This is especially true in Sandip Roy’s novel “Don’t Let Him Know” which is a story that hopscotches back and forth in time through generations of a family. By the end of the book, this multi-layered view of the lives of Avinash, his wife Romola and their son Amit became so fully realized and familiar I was disappointed the novel wasn’t longer. Each chapter focuses on a particular character at a crucial point in their lives. The story isn’t told chronologically, but I didn’t ever feel confused about where I was or who I was reading about. Rather, I felt this gave a deeper understanding of these characters while they made critical decisions about their future. It allowed both the future and the past to inform me about their present. This is a technique similar to a great novel I read some time ago named “Send Me” by Patrick Ryan. The story of “Don’t Let Him Know” also traverses nations moving back and forth between India and America as this family grows and changes through time.

Amit's great-grandmother Boroma secretly makes mango chutney to hide under her bed.

At the centre of this novel is a crucial secret which Romola discovers in a letter soon after she marries Avinash and they move to America so he can complete his studies and research. Their marriage was arranged soon after Avinash’s father death. Both feel compelled to settle for a life which is expected of them despite Romola’s dream of living in England after reading classic English literature like “Alice in Wonderland” or Avinash’s desire to pursue his prior romantic entanglement. Avinash eventually moves with his wife back to India so he can work and take care of his family (including his ingenious and endearing 94 year old grandmother). They give birth to a son named Amit who also eventually moves to America to go to university, but he decides to remain there where he meets his wife and has a son of his own. At the beginning of the novel we meet Romola in her old age when she has moved back to America to join Amit. Here Romola finds a sense of liberation when she finally feels she doesn’t have to follow the script which was written for her life. Instead “Romola felt as if she was acting in her own play.” The transgressive act of setting out to finally eat the McDonald’s hamburger she always dreamed of proceeds an even more assertive act at the novel’s end which allows her to reclaim her past and break through the boundaries of convention.

“Don’t Let Him Know” is a sensitively-told story that confidently leads you through multiple generations. It explores the ways families can both support and oppress one another. There is a fascinating way that perspective shifts between the chapters from the internal to the external. So while I felt incredibly sympathetic with Romola in a chapter about her romance with a future Bollywood star, my feelings changed to extreme anger at how she severely deals with her servant’s daughter who is accused of stealing in another chapter. In this way, the reader is given a more dynamic nuanced understanding of character than in novels which focus only on one character’s point of view. This novel also gives a unique view of the repercussions of a life lived as a closeted gay man in India. But more than anything it tells deeply immersive, funny, moving and relatable stories about characters that I grew to love and care about.

Polari First Book Prize 2015 Shortlist

Last night at the Southbank Centre in London there were a series of readings for the Polari Literary Salon which primarily featured musical ladies and sensitive men. Alex Klineberg read hilarious passages from his short book “Dear Sebastian” about his friendship with the notorious ‘Kind of Soho’ Sebastian Horsley, a truly flamboyant and uncompromising artist/raconteur. Next Andrew McMillan gave an arresting reading from his debut poetry book “Physical.” He’s a particularly effective reader with the hushed intensity of his voice. So his opening poem ‘Choke’ instantly seized the audience’s attention with the emotional power of the words and his confidential tone. Performer Celine Hispiche closed the first half of the evening with a rousing series of impersonations/tributes/songs to lost personalities and performers of London. Her instant embodiment of each past soul was far more convincing than anything Derek Acorah could pull off. Another impersonation/performance was given by female duo ‘All the Nice Girls’ who invoked the theatrical and musical escapades of Gwen Farrar and Norah Blaney in 1920s London. James Dawson finished the evening reading from his new young adult novel “All of the Above.” He spoke meaningfully about the complexity of teenage desire and confusion of sexuality. He also vigorously defended the need for sexual education in schools and scorned the snobbery surrounding novels about teenage experiences.

Writer and editor Alex Hopkins read the books shortlisted for the Polari First Book Prize. I was thrilled to hear Kirsty Logan’s fantastic book of short stories “The Rental Heart” made the list. I read it at the end of last year when it was shortlisted for the Green Carnation Prize. What I appreciate so much about the Polari First Book Prize are the LGBT books it introduces me to which I wouldn’t have heard of otherwise. Bindel’s hilariously titled and rousing polemic about changes in the lesbian and gay movement sounds really powerful. I’m eager to read Al Brookes’ topical novel about assisted suicide after reading this article about it in the Guardian. I’m intrigued by the sound of La JohnJoseph’s experimental fiction. David Tait’s poems mix autobiography and love story. Below is the complete shortlist. I’ll be excited to hear who is announced as the winner next month.

Straight Expectations – Julie Bindel

The Rental Heart – Kirsty Logan

Self-portrait with The Happiness – David Tait

Everything Must Go – LaJohn Joseph

The Gift of Looking Closely – Al Brookes

The Informant – Susan Wilkins

Grief is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter

A few years ago I read Rebecca Hunt’s moving debut novel “Mr Chartwell” about Churchill’s “black dog” of depression which is given a physical form. Similarly, Max Porter gives grief a living body of a crow in his debut. But this is an entirely different kind of book. Inspired by Ted Hughes “Crow” poems, this bird infiltrates the lives of a Dad and his Sons following the death of the Mother. It taunts them, plays games with them, offers contradictory bits of wisdom and makes dirty rhymes. The narrative switches between the three perspectives of Dad, Sons and Crow to form an impressionist picture of the years of grief following the loss of the mother. It would be difficult to classify this book. It could be called a novella or poetry/dramatic monologues or self help or a creative literary treatise. Its genre isn’t important because what “Grief is the Thing with Feathers” does is bluntly convey the fact of profound loss and the complicated ways people react to that loss.

What’s so powerful about this book is the way Porter gives the reader the merest outline of these characters lives, yet I was able to experience and relate to their loss completely. He does this with pointed details of smells or memories or bits of dialogue which draw you into the moment and the feeling. Frequently the revolving set of narrators create stories of “Once upon a time…” which evoke alternate realities in order to make sense of the harshness of the true reality they inhabit. Rather than coming across as fantastical or ridiculous, Crow’s physical presence seems natural. It’s a living form which embodies the extraneous forces which have created emotional havoc in their lives. His presence is painful but needed. Conversely, what’s unnatural is the life which persists outside this enclosed house of mourning. The people on the outside who move on in life and the passing of time without the mother are the things which are monstrous. Because the mother is still so real for the Dad and his Sons, the world’s continuation without her is an abomination.

This is a book to ponder and puzzle over, to read very slowly and cautiously despite its necessary brevity. “Grief is the Thing with Feathers” sparks with sharp humour, sensitive emotion and cutting truth.

The Man Booker Prize 2015 Shortlist Predictions

This year there is a very exciting longlist from the judges of the 2015 Man Booker Prize. What’s so striking about it is the diversity of authors and titles on the list. How thrilling it was to see The incredibly unique dystopian novel The Chimes included which I read earlier this year and adored. I’ve only read 7 out of the 13 listed, but I’m going to make a guess on the shortlist anyway. Because I’ve been so busy reading titles for the Green Carnation Prize, I haven’t been able to read as many others from the list as I’d have liked to. But interestingly, this happens to be a particularly queer year for the Booker prize. From the ones I’ve read including A Brief History of Seven Killings, Did You Ever Have a Family, The Chimes and The Green Road all have either gay/lesbian protagonists or prominent queer storylines. I’ve heard Hanya Yanagihara read from A Little Life and know it’s true for this novel as well. So big cheers for the Booker paying tribute to the fascinating diversity of queer life!

Marlon James, Marilynne Robinson and Anne Enright’s novels all have to be at the top of this list for me. They are three superb books I’ve absolutely loved. Even though I haven’t read Hanya Yanagihara’s book so many people I know and respect say this is a life changing novel that I’ll be shocked if it isn’t shortlisted as well. My last two predictions are shots in the dark. I’ve heard such good things about Laila Lalami’s book it seems like a smart choice. I also think Tom McCarthy or Andrew O’Hagan will be listed because they are literary tricksters and at least one book like this usually appears on the shortlist. I did read Satin Island and, as time has gone on, I remember less and less about it. While there was a lot I enjoyed and admired about Anne Tyler’s A Spool of Blue Thread and Bill Clegg’s Did You Ever Have a Family, I don’t think they will have the support to make it any further. So here are my six predictions and it’ll be fascinating to see what is announced on Tuesday.

A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
Lila by Marilynne Robinson
The Green Road by Anne Enright
The Illuminations by Andrew O’Hagan
The Moor’s Account by Laila Lalami

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And making an early guess, I’m going to pick "A Brief History of Seven Killings" to win the Booker this year. This is an epic novel!

Have you read any books from the longlist? Do your shortlist predictions differ from mine? Let me know what you think!

Volcano Street by David Rain

“Volcano Street” is partly like an Ibsen drama, partly like a Vincent Price creep show, but mostly it is an innovative coming-of-age story. Twelve year old Helen (who likes to be called Skip) and her teenage sister Marlo move in with their domineering aunt Noreen after their single mother is put in a mental institution. The girls have been heavily influenced by their liberal mother Karen Jane who was very anti-establishment and anti-war. Marlo emphatically reads “The Female Eunuch.” In a difficult situation the girls will ponder “What would Germaine do?” So it is quite a shock when they are moved to a small conservative town where Marlo is forced to give up school to work for her aunt. Skip’s tomboy behaviour is deeply frowned upon and criticized. Noreen and many people in the town regularly spout racist or homophobic jokes or insults. There is a fascinating clash in ideologies. As the girls grow and change, they come to know some people who have been outcast and scorned by the majority of the town. Gradually they find a place where they fit in the community and a way to go forward in the world.

David Rain describes Skip’s development so well. She’s the kind of feisty, creative character you really want to root for. Her close relationship with Marlo alters as her sister’s values change and she begins a relationship with a man. The antagonistic relationship between Skip and a local boy named Honza gradually develops into a close friendship. This shows how our connection to other people changes as we grow and find our view of the world altering. At first Skip’s perspective is fixed firmly in the moment and her immediate surroundings. But gradually this opens up to include broader points of reference so that she sees what has come before and how provincial her surroundings really are: “Dull, sensible South Australia was not all it seemed. Volcanoes had once shaken this green corner of the state; riven with fissures, faults, subterranean channels, the earth spoke of strangeness. This hole in the ground was a prehistoric pit. The park above, with its rows of roses, the town hall with its tick-ticking clock, were the merest imposition on a timeless land.” Skip learns that life in this town is fleeting and circumscribed. This shift in perspective is an essential part of development as it shows how opportunities in life need not be limited by the short experience or the small-minded views of those around us. At first we accept everything about our surroundings because it’s all we’ve known, but as we learn about history and radically other ways of living we seek out what’s different to assimilate into places and connect with people we feel a more natural kinship to. Rain’s novel skilfully articulates and beautifully plots out these remarkable stages of development.

“In any situation, ask yourself: What would Germaine do?”

There is a dramatic shift two thirds of the way through this novel when the story breaks partly away from Skip to focus on a different story. Skip has long been haunted from watching the classic Vincent Price flick House of Wax. She is sometimes shadowed by a mysterious man who turns out to be a hidden member of the community that has a fascinating story of his own. Roger was a man who grew up in the town with tremendous promise as an actor. He’s singled out by Laurence Olivier who toured through Australia alongside his wife Vivien Leigh looking for fresh talent. Roger and his lover/mentor Quentin move to London as a consequence of this to launch Roger’s performing career. But soon their relationship deteriorates into a hostile partnership trapped in a squalid room. The inequity and jealousy between the couple is terrifyingly reminiscent of playwright Joe Orton and his partner Kenneth Halliwell. I believe this change in story between Skip’s development to Roger’s rise and downfall is meant to reflect the tension between emerging into the world and retreating back to the place of our origin. While both of these stories are compelling and well-told I’m not sure they integrate fully together as the novel reaches a dramatic climax towards the end. Nevertheless, this is a novel with tremendous force, intelligence and passion. Skip is a wonderfully realized character and certain vivid scenes from “Volcano Street” will stick with me.

A Weekend Visiting Monk's House and Charleston House

Home of Leonard and Viriginia Woolf

My boyfriend surprised me last Friday evening with a weekend away as a birthday present. I was told to meet him at Charing Cross station and we’d go from there. We got on a train and it was quite dark by the time we arrived in Burwash, Sussex where we stayed at Pelham Hall, a beautiful modern B&B. It’s a 14th century house that’s been lovingly decorated by its friendly proprietors. It’s a strange feeling arriving somewhere in the dark because it was only in the morning I saw what a sprawling picturesque countryside surrounded the place. Living in overpopulated London it’s easy to forget sometimes that a short train ride away there are such rural places. A short walk away from Pelham Hall over a field is Bateman’s which was Rudyard Kipling’s Jacobean home. We hiked by to see this impressive property from the exterior, but of course I was much more interested in visiting the nearby properties inhabited by the Bloomsbury group.

Virginia's desk

The first place we visited on Saturday morning was Monk’s House, Leonard and Virginia Woolf’s long-time rural residence in the tiny village of Rodmell. Visitors are only able to walk through the ground floor rooms of this 17th century cottage including the study with Leonard’s odd collection of shells and Virginia’s favourite reading chair, a dining room, a staircase with a pile of books on every stair (apparently upon Leonard’s death there were over 6000 books in the house) and a kitchen partially screened off with a portrait of the Woolf’s cook. There is also a greenhouse at the entrance of the house which has hanging grape vines. We were able to purchase some of these grapes from the shop which only asked for a donation. At the back of the house is Virginia’s bedroom housing artwork by Vanessa Bell and a bed which has a view of the garden. The garden itself is quite large and impressive with many flowers, fruit trees and vegetables growing, a pond and a scattering of statues. One section of the garden has busts of Leonard and Virginia next to which is the tree under which her ashes were scattered. At the end of the garden is a small structure with photographs of the Woolfs and the many guests they entertained at the cottage which they inhabited from 1919 until Leonard’s death in 1969.

Virginia's bookshelf - many are Shakespeare

Guide reading from Mrs Dalloway

Pears and the door to Virginia's bedroom

Fireplace in bedroom painted by Vanessa Bell

What really brought the house alive were the many guides sat throughout the property who were brimming with enthusiasm to talk about the history of the estate and stories about the Woolfs. At one point, a volunteer gave an animated reading from Mrs Dalloway in the garden. It was amazing to learn that almost all of the furniture and decorations in the house are the originals including some famous portraits of Virginia and a shelf of Virginia’s books. What a fantastic experience to come in such close contact with the place where she spent so much time when “The Waves” is a novel which has meant so much to me throughout my life.

Tree under which Virginia's ashes were scattered

Pond next to Charleston House with reclining statue

Next we drove to nearby Charleston House which was the long-time residence of Duncan Grant and Vanessa Bell. This was a much larger establishment and it was thrilling to take the tour through the farmhouse as nearly every room is painted in Grant and Bell’s distinctive styles. The wallpaper, bookcases and furniture are covered in their own colourful designs. Of course, paintings fill nearly every wall ranging from the works of famous artists to local friends. Even the lampshades in some of the lower rooms were decorated with Vanessa’s son’s distinctive colander shades which scatter drops of the fading daylight across the ceiling. It’s easy to imagine how such a large, lively residence could be the central point for gatherings of artists. Although I’m familiar with the broad facts about Virginia’s life, I knew comparatively little about the complex relationships between Duncan and Vanessa and the many other members of the Bloomsbury group. What a complicated state of affairs! I didn’t watch the recent drama series ‘Life in Squares’ about the group, but that evening we downloaded and watched the first episode. It’s a rather silly dramatization, but good indulgent fun.

Before heading out to a pub for dinner we made a final stop at the nearby Berwick Church which contains many murals painted by Duncan and Vanessa. It was interesting to see the style of paintings – so much more realistic than many religious scenes with soldiers and likenesses of members of their immediate family included.

Murals by Duncan Grant

Berwick Church

Mural by Vanessa Bell

Old video where I explain how much I love Virginia Woolf's The Waves

I had the most fantastic weekend and it’s given me a renewed love for Virginia Woolf’s work. I hope to go back and read the Persephone Books edition of her Diaries later this year after I finish reading all the submissions for the Green Carnation Prize. I feel really lucky and grateful to have had this experience. It was an especially thoughtful present.

Have you ever visited Monk’s House or another residence of one of your favourite writers? Did it change how you read them?

Bateman's (Kipling's Home)

Butterflies on Monk's House stairwell

Inspiration for Woolf's fiction Flush

Forster & TS Eliot at Monk's House

Holding The Waves and grapes from the Woolf's garden - they tasted sweet!

Looking in the window of the Monk's house sitting room

Did You Ever Have a Family by Bill Clegg

At first I had trouble with the title of this novel. Something about it sounds too posed and self-helpish or cloyingly sentimental like The Simpson’s character Monty Burns’ hilariously-titled autobiography “Will There Ever Be a Rainbow?” The question this novel poses is taken from an Alan Shapiro poem about the catastrophic loss of a loved one. Not so much a question as an achingly painful statement of fact for a family now broken and lost. At one point in “Did You Ever Have a Family” a character directly posits this statement to another. It’s a way of contemplating the meaning of family and our connection to one another. It takes on layers of meaning over the course of reading this novel making you wonder if families can survive despite how we might tear each other apart or fail one another. Told through a variety of characters’ perspectives, this is a novel that presents points of views about how different families can be shaped and how individuals continue reforming connections even after experiencing devastation.

At the centre of Bill Clegg’s novel revolving around a single disastrous event is a chilly silence. Many of the characters have retreated from the world to grieve and think in solitude. Contemplation is needed because “grief can sometimes get loud, and when it does, we try not to speak over it.” Former art dealer June literally walked out of her life with only the possessions in her pocket and now stays in a distant isolated motel for the foreseeable future. Cleaner Lydia stops working after a dramatic confrontation with gossiping ladies. She lives frugally and her only human connection is with a scammer who calls her persistently on the phone. Lydia wilfully submits to this man who claims she’s won the lottery despite knowing it’s a con. This reminds me strongly of the wonderful debut novel “We Are Not Ourselves” in which a grieving wife Eileen participates in spiritualist sessions which demand large fees despite her awareness she’s not really connecting with her deceased husband again. (Incidentally, author Matthew Thomas is a client of literary agent Bill Clegg.) It’s a particularly insidious characteristic of con-artists to prey upon the grief-stricken who might not be fooled but feel they must offer some monetary sacrifice as penance for ways they feel they’ve failed their lost loved ones.

There are beautiful passages of reflection, but overall this is a very chatty novel. Out of a tale about a house that literally exploded come the voices and opinions of the community around this event with their judgements, sympathy and tales of their own tragedies. At first it’s all speculation and opinion about the central mystery of how this disaster which claimed five lives (including a couple shortly due to be wed) occurred. The disparate voices did at times sound like talk show guests or subjects in a Frederick Wiseman documentary as they are so firmly entrenched and certain about the rightness of their point of view. But, out of these perspectives which ricochet off one another, emerge fuller stories about a scorned wife who gave birth to an illegitimate mixed-race boy named Luke, the tragic foreshortening of his promising future and the unlikely love he found with a divorced woman estranged from her family. There is also the tale of lovers Kelly & Rebecca whose hard-won romance sees them settle into a peaceful life running a motel. Gradually the novel is taken over by the more authoritative voices of June, Lydia, Silas (a wayward stoner with a sexual infatuation with Lydia) and Cissy (a motel cleaner who offers solace to lost souls). The novel takes on real velocity in the second half where the accumulation of details pays off to form a moving conclusion.

“Did You Ever Have a Family” contains a clamour of voices with stories which at times tip into the melodramatic, but at its heart it says something very touching about overwhelming grief and the endeavour to persist because “we are supposed to stick around and play our part.” For a novel containing such sadness, I found a lot of rapturous pleasure in discovering what really happened and assembling the jigsaw puzzle of connections between the characters.

Birthday Read: Mystery Inc by Joyce Carol Oates

It’s my birthday today and, as I explained last year, it’s a personal tradition to read a book I’ve never got around to reading for one reason or another. This year I consciously saved something until today. “Mystery, Inc” by Joyce Carol Oates was published in July this year as a standalone short story by Head of Zeus Books and part of Mysterious Press’ ‘Bibliomysteries’ series. Anyone who is familiar with the bulk of Oates’ writing knows she has a predilection for the macabre and a fascinating engagement with the tradition of gothic literature. This is most evident in her "gothic series" of five novels which first begins with "Bellefleur," but also in many of her short stories and the many novels she's written under pseudonyms. 

I can’t imagine a better story to have saved as a special treat. This book is a fantastically-enjoyable and hypnotically-narrated short crime story. It’s also a bibliophile’s dream as it centres on a beautiful old New England bookstore and includes exhaustive lists of special editions of books that are discussed with reverence: “signed first editions by John Dickson Carr, Agatha Christie, and S.S. Van Dine… 1888 first edition of A Study in Scarlet… first edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles…Charles Dickens’s Bleak House (priced at $75,000), signed by Dickens in his strong, assured hand, in ink that has scarcely faded!” The narrator greedily wishes to obtain these volumes himself and plays with the idea of stealing them. So surprising to read in a book someone recalling with wistful feeling the thrilling rush of shoplifting in a bookshop: “Ah, those days before security cameras!” But the narrator has visited the bookstore while wearing a disguise with the much more sinister intent of poisoning the owner so that he can eventually acquire the shop himself to add to his growing chain of mystery bookshops. The story is sumptuously detailed in its descriptions of the shop, books and artworks displayed. It provoked strong feelings of warm-hearted nostalgia in me as what reader hasn’t felt the pleasure of perusing the shelves of bookstores and all the treasures they contain?

As the plot thickens, the tension rises while the narrator talks with the gregarious owner Aaron Neuhaus over mugs of cappuccino. There is a kinship between the men, but at the same time the narrator sees himself as a predator intent on disposing of Neuhaus to take his business and he even imagines himself taking Neuhaus’ wife! He’s threatened by Neuhaus’ success, particularly the lucrative online bookselling he does. However, Neuhaus has less interest in the business side of things and is more a passionate reader who has a philosophical interest in the genre of mystery. He states that “It is out of the profound mystery of life that ‘mystery books’ arise. And, in turn, ‘mystery books’ allow us to see the mystery of life more clearly, from perspectives not our own.”

Aaron Neuhaus has a print of Goya's stark & haunting painting The Dog in his bookshop

The tale turns as Neuhaus describes the history of his bookshop and the various ill-fates of the previous owners by tunnelling backwards in time like a ghost story about a cursed house. There is a shift in control as the narrator listens and it’s as if the predator has become the prey. The story ends in such a fascinatingly ambiguous way that left me unsettled and feeling a rush of wonder. This short story is in some ways like a compressed variation of the wonderful book-length thriller “Jack of Spades” which Oates published earlier this year. Anyone who is thrilled by this story will want to read this longer novel. It was such a joy reading "Mystery Inc" early this morning in my so-called "book nook" at the back of my apartment while drinking tea and listening to the airplanes somewhere over London humming by.

It felt so perfect and pleasurable reading Oates' story this morning that I felt connected to something greater. Not a higher intellectual or spiritual plane but that common ground of sharing a good story thrillingly told, taking part in that agreement between author and reader to indulge in a fantasy which plays upon the deepest murmurings of the subconscious. Like many people, I've encountered some difficult times in my life so I'm grateful for the peace offered by this solitude to read, participate in such enjoyable fiction and reflect.

Tonight I’m looking forward to seeing Sufjan Stevens perform at the Royal Festival Hall and having some dim sum with friends beforehand. Thanks to everyone who has been in touch with me over the past year to discuss books and suggested more things to read.

Skyfaring by Mark Vanhoenacker

One of the longest flights I’ve taken in my life was from London to Beijing several years ago. Flying over the vast mountains and tundra of northern Asia I was amazed how incredibly desolate it was. Looking at a blank space on a map can’t convey the hundreds of miles of inaccessible emptiness that exists when you glide over it at such a height. Flying has the potential to radically shift your spatial awareness of the world. Or it may just be an isolated amount of time to catch up on reading or watching movies. I find our relationship to flying fascinating and I once wrote an absurdist short story about passengers in an airplane watching people rise from the earth. You can listen to a recording of this story ‘Rise’ being read by the actor Matt Alford at Liars’ League NYC here. Although people have many different reactions to the experience of flying, few have given such a sustained and deeply sensitive amount of thought about it as pilot Mark Vanhoenacker has in his book “Skyfaring.” This is an extended meditation on the process of flying and the way it transforms our relationship to the world we inhabit.

Vanhoenacker has flown all over the planet having worked for around a dozen years as a commercial 747 airline pilot. In this book he combines his technical insight about the mechanics of flight with his poetic sensibility about his place in the world. He focuses on particular subjects such as 'machine', 'air', 'water' or 'night' by combining scientific knowledge with meditations upon his experiences in flight. He's like a modern Antoine de Saint-Exupery who I first read last year. Of course, Vanhoenacker references him as well as many other writers to support different points he makes or illuminate profoundly different ways of viewing the world. He draws upon a wide variety of literary sources from the poet Rumi to Emily Bronte to Joan Didion. The convergence of all these things in this book creates deep-feeling insights on the distance between the self and the world around us.

Watch Mark Vanhoenacker read from and discuss his book Skyfaring at University Bookstore in Seattle.

What's so engaging about “Skyfaring” is Vanhoenacker's beautiful style of writing which provokes deep contemplation. It exhibits both an authoritative understanding and a ceaseless wonder. Stories of his life-long journey towards becoming a pilot are combined with specific experiences he's had flying around the world. There is a curiosity and excitement he shows about the naming of places, the nature of clouds, the poignancy of anonymous encounters which is infectious and makes you want to read more. It also paints the world and skies he sees on his flights with such exquisite detail it helps you re-experience and re-view those times you spent looking out of a plane's window. This book is a deeply thoughtful and enjoyable read.

The Good Son by Paul McVeigh

Something strange happened when I was halfway through reading "The Good Son." I was on my way to work standing on a tube platform waiting for my train and reading the book. Suddenly it was snatched out of my hands and thrown down the platform where it slid off onto the tracks. I turned to see a man in full lady attire and makeup staring at me ferociously. She walked past me while I stared in shock. What just happened? She looked over her shoulder and shrugged while walking away. Looking around I saw a man sat down who shook his head saying, "He/she is crazy!" Anger surged through me and I marched after the man in drag demanding "Why did you do that?" Her eyes were wide and combative. She shouted "Don't get in my face!" over and over. A train pulled up and I got on leaving her on the platform as she was obviously crazy or off her face. It was just a bizarre experience. These things happen now and then when you live in a city. While I was annoyed I'd lost my book, I was more confused as to why someone obviously angry at the world & people in general would take it out on books. Later I tweeted about this strange occurrence and received a kind reply from Blackbird Books in Navan, Ireland who offered to send me another copy. I received the new copy a couple of days later with a lovely note and a nice green tea bag. Please follow them on Twitter at @BlackbirdBks or pop into their shop if you're ever in County Meath. So, although there are crazies out there, my faith in humanity is restored! Now, about the book...

The adolescent narrator Mickey of “The Good Son” is so charming and winsome in his tone of voice you might forget he’s living in the centre of Ireland’s bitter battle between unionists and nationalists were it not for the bracing opening line: “I was born the day the Troubles started.” He’s a dreamy, effeminate boy whose only real friend is his younger sister and who dreams of moving to America to become a Hollywood actor. Mickey is a good student who has been accepted at a prestigious school, but he’s heartbroken when he learns that his parents can’t afford to send him there. Instead he must attend the local and much less prestigious St. Gabriel’s where the majority of the boys who live around him go. The book records the weeks leading up to his start at this new school, struggles with his family and neighbourhood children, his burgeoning sexuality and his accidental entanglement in dramatic events within Belfast’s bloody conflicts.

As befitting the title, Mickey tries desperately to please his mother who is struggling with living on the brink of poverty, her alcoholic husband and her son who has a suspected affiliation with the IRA. Scenes of family life are depicted with warm familiarity and powerfully descriptive lines of dialogue. Here you feel all the accumulation of feeling between family members who navigate through their daily lives together with playfully gentle mocking banter that has undercurrents of a longstanding commitment to each other. There are some scenes which are truly heartbreaking such as when Mickey’s Ma catches him in her purse and starts to punish him, but her reaction shifts when she discovers that rather than stealing he’s putting money he secretly earned into her purse.

It’s fascinating reading about the way Mickey navigates the perilous landscape of his neighbourhood where there is real danger from the warring Catholics and Protestants and the English soldiers. More immediately, he’s alienated from other children his age who mock his “fruity” behaviour. His self-consciousness is captured with agonizing precision: “boys always notice and hate me.” The only connections he find are with children who are habitual glue-sniffers or a girl he’s enamoured with who just wants to use him as someone to practice kissing with. Sometimes Mickey’s narration tips too far into the saccharine as he exhibits enthusiasm for what he thinks of as cool or his dreamy connection with Hollywood films. But being inextricably embedded in his innocence and naivety is necessary for this story as it makes scenes of tremendous seriousness all the more terrifying. It’s particularly effective when he’s taken to task for an insult he’s shouted in the street and he mentally draws back into a fantasy theatre populated by an audience with the likes of Doris Day, John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John, Wonder Woman and Judy Garland.

I found it especially moving reading of the awkward father-son relationship. In one scene Mickey and his father take the boy’s new dog Killer out and he describes it like this: “We walk, not sayin’ anythin’, but that’s OK. Watchin’ Killer is like watchin’ a filim. And you never talk durin’ a filim.” This expertly portrays the companionship of a father and son who don’t speak much, but rather than producing an awkward silence it’s simply a part of their natures not to discuss anything. It’s like a code that they faithfully follow together. The way their relationship changes over the book makes for a compelling plot twist and gives a whole new meaning to the novel’s title.

Holding tight to this copy!

I admire the way Paul McVeigh confidently took on the voice of an adolescent boy to highlight what life is like when he is trapped growing up within a large unusual conflict. It’s not an easy thing to do. “The Good Son” is a startlingly unique coming of age tale which makes the Troubles come alive through the eyes of a boy who has known nothing else, but dreams of better things beyond it.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

It feels like we’re particularly susceptible to bouts of immersive fantasy during our teenage years. We read about superheroes that fly over the earth, handsome boys who are immortal vampires or girls that discover they have extraordinary hidden powers. Personally, some of my favourite books to read as a young teen were Terry Brooks’ Shannara series which contained quests amongst dwarves, gnomes and trolls. Later, I eagerly read Anne Rice’s vampire series as did my boyfriend at the time. He liked to imagine himself as Lestat and signed his notes to me with this name. Obviously, part of the appeal of these fantasies are imagining ourselves greater than what we are and breaking out of our humdrum lives. In his new novel “The Rest of Us Just Live Here” Patrick Ness takes the radically different and clever perspective of a character that is decidedly un-heroic (in any save the world sort of way) and he has no aspirations to become a hero.

Mikey is months away from graduating from high school in a remote town in Washington state with his tight-knit group of three friends. He’s secretly-not so-secretly in love with one of this circle, Henna, but she has a hard crush on a boy who has newly transferred to the school. Amidst the build up towards prom, moving away and the inevitable goodbyes, a strange series of events have been taking place in the background. Beams of blue light keep appearing with destructive force and indie kids keep dying. While an otherworldly quest to prevent the world from being invaded by a group of “immortals” takes place, Mikey and his friends are just trying to get on with their lives and deal with all the real world issues they face such as alcoholic parents, bulimia, obsessive-compulsive disorder and the death of siblings.

What’s brilliantly funny and smart is that Ness heads each chapter with a short summary of what the chapters would contain if this were a standard young adult fantasy novel. It lists how the indie kids get swept up into the background’s dramatic fantastical tale with powerful amulets and romantic trysts with immortal princes, but then the actual chapter contains details of work shifts Mikey takes at the restaurant where he’s a waiter or taking his little sister to a popular boy band’s concert. I enjoyed how the stories ran in parallel to each other where Ness pokes gentle fun at the fantasy genre and satirizes the grandiose self-centredness of the indie kid characters striving to become heroes.

Ness has a great knack for describing the intense feelings which harangue teenagers the most: all the insecurity, patches of cynicism, overflowing passion and boredom of young adulthood. At one point Mikey states “I felt like I was waiting for something to happen. Which has to be the worst part of being young. So many of your decisions aren’t yours; they’re made by other people.” Who hasn’t felt this frustration at the tedium of waiting for change and indignation at some stage of their teenage years? Even many years later I can still recall decisions being made on my behalf when I knew there were better options for me, but I wasn’t allowed to make my own choices. What’s more there is an indignant sense of knowing you’re being seen by older people as just a teen when you have more awareness than they think you have. There is a particularly heartbreaking scene of self-exploration between Mikey and his therapist. This novel describes so well the intelligence and sensitivity of teenagers, but also their fragility and naivety.  

Watch Patrick Ness read from The Rest of Us Just Live Here.

Another thing I particularly admire about Ness is the way he portrays the ambiguous sexuality of his narrator. Mikey casually wonders at a couple of points if he might be partly gay as his best friend Jared is gay. They’ve “messed around” and have strong feelings of friendship towards each other. However, all of Mikey’s sexual fantasies and romantic yearnings are towards girls so he reasons he probably isn’t. What’s refreshing is his complete openness and natural disinclination to label himself as anything. Equally, sporty Jared (who turns out to be a divinely talented person that prefers to be ordinary) harbours nothing but feelings of friendship towards Mikey whilst struggling with his own private burgeoning sexuality which he finds difficult to share.

The overriding feeling this wonderful novel gives is that it is okay to be ordinary. It’s okay not to have everything figured out and to stumble back while you are trying to move forward. One of the characters sums it up best when he declares: “Not everyone has to be the Chosen One. Not everyone has to be the guy who saves the world. Most people just have to live their lives the best they can, doing the things that are great for them, having great friends, trying to make their lives better, loving people properly. All the while knowing that the world makes no sense but trying to find a way to be happy anyway.”

The supernatural is ironically made into something so ordinary that what’s more compelling are the domestic struggles of these teens making the tricky transition into adulthood. “The Rest of Us Just Live Here” is a brilliantly constructed novel that is intelligently and straightforwardly written with humour, wit and a tremendous amount of heart. I wish I had Mikey around to look up to when I was teenager rather than vampires or goblin-fighters.

When the Doves Disappeared by Sofi Oksanen

What happens to people’s sense of national identity when their country is occupied during war? Estonia has a particularly complex history having been a part of surrounding nations or occupied by its warring neighbours for centuries. In the aftermath of WWI, the country fought a battle of independence for two years and finally achieved sovereignty. But with the onset of WWII the country was again seized to be used as a pawn - first by the Soviets and then occupied by the Germans in 1941. This is where the novel “When the Doves Disappeared” begins. The characters are suspended in a state of agonizing tension as no one knows what the outcome of the war will be or where their loyalties should lay. It primarily follows the stories of Roland, his cousin Edgar and Edgar’s wife Juudit. Each character makes different choices and transforms themselves to survive the subsequent crucial few years. During this time the Estonians discover that the German “liberators” are another occupier intent on using their resources and instigating their pogroms upon their Jewish and gypsy populations as well as others. The novel flips back and forth between these years and the 60s when the Soviets have re-occupied the country establishing networks of informants who watch the population and report to the government any dissenters. This complex powerful novel shows the degrees to which people radically transform their identities and how close relationships are destroyed under pressure from the overwhelming onslaught of war.

The novel begins at the grave of Roland’s wife Rosalie. She was mysteriously killed and Roland is determined to discover what happened. Only at the novel’s end do we find out why she was silenced. In the meantime, Roland fights with the resistance while Edgar’s loyalties change with the times. He renames himself while desperately trying to endear himself with the Germans and report to them about the political loyalty or dissent of members of the Estonian public. When the Soviets take the country over again he gives himself yet another name and continues his spying as well as writing outlandish propaganda against enemies of communism. His estranged wife Juudit in a way comes to represent Estonia itself. Rejected by her husband for reasons she never understands, she is at first recruited by the Estonian resistance but becomes a German officer’s lover. When circumstances tear them apart she’s left as a husk living out her days back with her husband Edgar who neglects her and treats her as an invalid. These characters’ intricate tales are played out over a number of years in a way which shows how people’s integrity can be worn down over time while living under oppressive governments.

Museum of the Occupation in Tallinn

It can be confusing and disorientating at first trying to follow characters and the narrative as this novel switches through time and place – especially as some people’s names change over time! However, about halfway through it all fell into place for me and I felt the building suspense of Sofi Oksanen’s heartrending labyrinthine tale. This novel makes you feel the persistent tension people feel when living in perpetual state of fear. There is also the horrific silence which builds when people die or disappear as people are worn down and don’t speak because “Maybe life was so fragile and meaningless that there was no need to add to their troubles.” Beyond physical damage and death, Oksanen captures the way in which people are defeated in their minds. For those who try to be savvy in order to survive by transforming themselves, she shows how they lose an essential part of their being. This is demonstrated particularly in a homosexual character who denies his sexuality and loses himself entirely in his attempts to assimilate to changing ideologies.

One of the most impressive things about “When the Doves Disappeared” is the complex way Oksanen represents time. She observes at one point that “Everyone had his breaking point, and if nothing else destroyed the mind, time would.” Following the entangled stories of the characters in this novel you learn the way war can ultimately tear people’s sense of themselves apart. This is a cleverly constructed novel filled with many poignant and haunting moments.