Kololo Hill by Neema Shah

What is it like for a family to be forced to leave everything behind and start again? This is the terrifying question at the centre of debut novel “Kololo Hill”. The story hinges upon a significant moment in Ugandan history when in 1971 an officer named Idi Amin became dictator after a military coup. Amidst the brutalities of his new regime, he forcibly removed the entrepreneurial Indian minority from Uganda. I first learned about this shocking period of history when reading another recent debut novel “We Are All Birds of Uganda” which describes the desperate flight from the country. Neema Shah positions Amin's decree halfway through her novel so we follow a family's life in the before and after of this enforced expulsion. This makes it a dramatic and gripping experience because just as we become familiar with the daily life of this family they are uprooted and flung into a new life in England. For couple Asha and Pran who were recently married it presents an even greater complication because they have different passports so are no longer allowed to live in the same country. The catastrophe of the expulsion and the violence this family experiences and witnesses transforms each individual as they struggle to adapt and adjust to their changed circumstances. It's powerful how this novel prompts the reader to question how they would cope if suddenly forced to leave behind the only home they ever knew.

The question of nationality and the meaning of home become so complicated when considering the history of colonialism and the economic disparity between classes in Uganda. The family's community built on an area known as Kololo Hill has clear demarcations between the higher area inhabited by the prosperous Asian community and the lower area with cramped accommodation for black Ugandans. Shah sensitively probes the tensions of these divisions while faithfully representing a family caught in a larger thorny social and political system. The question of their moral responsibility is intriguingly represented in a central mystery concerning what happened to the family's “house boy” December. It was moving following their emotional and physical journey through the revolving perspectives of Asha, her mother-in-law Jaya and her brother-in-law Vijay. Each has a very different point of view and way of coping so I thought it was clever how the author split the story between them. It's especially poignant the way the family recall to each other specific details about Uganda that they loved as a way of not allowing the harrowing experiences of their escape from dominating the memory of their lost country. I found it really powerful how the novel artfully represents this complex history. It left me wondering how I would cope with being forced to flee my home and how it would transform my familial relationships.

The Manningtree Witches by A.K. Blakemore

In times of social, economic and religious strife within misogynistic societies women are much more likely to be unfairly persecuted and suffer at the hands of authoritarian men. One historical example where this was made blatantly obvious was in the mid-17th century witch trials in England – especially during the civil war and Puritan era. There's a blood-curdling sensational aura to the witch hunts that occurred as they are endemically associated with hysteria, the occult and horrific means of state-sanctioned punishment. But A.K. Blakemore brings an insightful and refreshing lyrical realism to her fictional depiction of a period in East Anglia and the Home Counties when hundreds of women (and men) were condemned by a charismatic and pious man named Matthew Hopkins who proclaimed himself to be a Witchfinder General. Thankfully this opportunistic charlatan isn't at the centre of the novel and Blakemore focuses instead on the much more interesting perspectives of a group of women who were often persecuted because they were convenient scapegoats or simply didn't conform to the accepted norms of the time living more on the fringes of society. 

The story is told from the point of view of Rebecca West, the daughter of a lively, opinionated widow who is looked down upon by her community and struggles to eke out a living within this gloomy landscape. Rebecca is very clever, observant and seeks to become educated by a scholar she fancies named John Edes. But her plans for romance and social progression are stymied when local speculation about supernatural occurrences reaches an increasingly feverish pitch. It's very effective how Blakemore conveys the gradual transformation of the local population's sensibility. This combined with chilling and creepy atmospheric descriptions means that the narrative which starts at a slow trot eventually develops a galloping pace and becomes absolutely gripping. Though there is no mystery about the tragic fate of the accused witches, the story shines in the sympathetic and complex portraits of these women who come alive through their high-spirited dialogue. It's also so compelling seeing what leads to a crucial decision Rebecca makes amidst the psychologically and sexually twisted interactions she has with Hopkins. This skilfully written historical novel fully transports the reader to these bleak and desperate times while bestowing integrity to these vilified women.

The Rathbones Folio Prize 2021 shortlist

It's always exciting to see what books are listed for The Rathbones Folio Prize. This is an award which is shaped by The Folio Academy and its members (who are mainly writers and critics) play a strong role in putting nominees forward for the prize. So it's essentially a book award where writers celebrate what they consider the best new work of their peers. I'm especially keen to peruse this year's shortlist and see which book is selected as the winner on March 24th because the excellent group of judges include poet Roger Robinson, writer and broadcaster Sinead Gleeson and novelist Jon McGregor. I really respect their taste and I've currently read half of the eight books on this shortlist. 

“Indelicacy” by Amina Cain is an original ghostly, feminist fable about a cleaner in a museum who marries a wealthy man and pursues her desire to write. The debut poetry collection “My Darling From the Lions” by Rachel Long was also shortlisted for the most recent Costa Book Awards and I enjoyed the sly sense of humour of these personal and political poems. Carmen Maria Machado's highly inventive memoir “In the Dream House” describes the experience of being in an abusive relationship by recasting it as a fairy tale filled with fantasy, pleasure and horror. The brilliantly imaginative “The Mermaid of Black Conch” by Monique Roffey was the overall winner of this year's Costa Book Awards and it's impressive how this novel works as a fantastical love story as well as a clever reexamination of the history of colonialism in the Caribbean.

I'm also keen to experience the four books I've not read yet. I've been a big fan of both Sara Baume's novels so I'm especially keen to read her most recent book “handiwork” which is a short narrative about the nature of art, grief and a life lived well. Elaine Feeney is another Irish writer on the list whose debut novel “As You Were” concerns a tough, driven and funny property developer with a terrifying secret that she only confides to a shiny magpie. Yet another Irish writer and poet on the list is Doireann Ni Ghriofa whose “A Ghost in the Throat” has become a bestseller in Ireland as it won The Irish Book Awards' 'Book of the Year' and it's also currently on the Republic of Consciousness Prize longlist. Its narrative is a creative blend of memoir and history as it explores how the 18th century poet Eibhlin Dubh Ni Chonaill becomes a haunting presence in the life of a contemporary young mother. Finally, as someone who lives in south London, I'm very eager to read Peckham poet Caleb Femi's debut collection “Poor” which celebrates the lives of young black boys and the architecture that shapes them. You can watch me discuss all these titles more here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpg5SNOgTgg

Overall, this is a really fascinating group of books and I'm excited to see which will win on the 24th. An Irish readathon is taking place this month so the group of books I've not read will give me some great inspiration to join in! 

Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope

It's been such a pleasure continuing my first reading of Trollope's Barsetshire series. While “Barchester Towers” greatly expanded on the characters and dilemmas first met in “The Warden”, the two books seemed to neatly follow on from each other. So it was interesting to find “Doctor Thorne” takes a broader view of the geographical region and introduces entirely original dramas and a host of vibrant new personalities while only occasionally still featuring small appearances from previously met characters such as the Bishop and Mrs Proudie. 

The primary story of this third book involves the dilemma of Frank Gresham, the son of a gentry family that is in dire financial difficulty. It's repeatedly impressed upon him that he must marry for money but Frank falls for Mary Thorne, a young woman with no money who was born out of wedlock. Mary has been raised by her morally upstanding uncle Doctor Thorne who is the only one that knows the scandalous history of her true parentage. The other main plot points of this novel concern a lineage of alcoholism in the Scatcherd family who've achieved substantial wealth from patriarch Sir Roger Scatcherd's success building railways across the country. The story also follows his troubled campaign to be elected to Parliament.

These aspects result in a compelling portrait of mid-19th century England whose society was rapidly changing with the advent of industrial growth and the prospect of marriage between different classes. Many families of high social ranking found they needed the help of new money to maintain their privileged lifestyle and Trollope teases out the uncomfortable tension and hypocrisy that results from this. I think I've got a good feel of Trollope's sensibility and style of writing now which mixes lively social commentary with touches of delicious satire. This creates some truly funny, touching and memorable scenes as his vibrant characters get into squabbles, engage in romantic trysts and form supportive bonds with each other. 

It's pointed that Trollope named the novel Doctor Thorne when it could be argued the real hero of the story is Frank. There are long chapters which follow this young man's uneasy introduction into society where he meets a suitably-wealthy potential wife, attends a hilariously impersonal Duke's dinner at a castle and takes violent revenge upon his sister's ex-fiance. Yet, Doctor Thorne hovers behind the story as the only one with special knowledge regarding his niece's true origins, the beneficiary of the Scatcherd's will and the medical condition of several characters. The plot really hinges upon what he chooses to reveal and how he chooses to act. I often felt frustrated with his character until later on in the novel when it's remarked that because of his values he believes we must take serious responsibility for our actions despite what we may think or feel. It struck me then how Trollope is meaningfully considering the position we're all put in when choosing how to conduct ourselves and what it means to be a good person. So for this reason and because of his involvement in the central plot, Doctor Thorne is really the person with the most agency and binds the novel together.

Trollope himself playfully speculates within the narrative about the title of the novel and when Doctor Thorne is absent for a number of chapters he humorously reintroduces him. A distinct aspect of Trollope's writing is the way he speaks directly to the reader and self-consciously discusses the plot or how he'll tell the story. A later section of the book is wonderfully told through an exchange of letters between women discussing a marriage prospect. Trollope discusses reverting to this epistolary form of narrative and we discover later on why it was so important to have these women writing in their own voices because there were biased motives behind the advice which was given. This is a delightfully clever and effective form of storytelling.

It also frequently and unashamedly presents the author's own affection towards some characters and prejudice against others. Trollope is scathing in his descriptions and the storylines he creates for characters such as Mr Moffat, a suitor for one of the Gresham girls with high political and social aspirations. Trollope is also entertainingly critical of privileged families and their properties describing them in disparaging terms. Characters the author feels great fondness for such as Mary Thorne and Lady Scatcherd are described in much warmer terms. He also presents such a compelling and dynamic portrait of Martha Dunstable, a wealthy heiress who multiple gentlemen in the novel scheme to capture as a wife. Yet she is extremely aware of their motives for courting her and hilariously dismisses or confronts them. This makes her my favourite character that I've encountered in Trollope's novels so far. However, Trollope seldom wholly portrays his characters as heroes or villains and depicts most of them as dynamic and complex. For instance, Frank's naivety is evident but he's also a young, idealistic man so his fumbling and misadventures are understandable and this made him quite an endearing character.

Something I've noticed about Trollope's novels is that he can get a bit repetitious in some chapters. Later on in the story we get some conversations insisting on Frank's need to marry for money even though this was made abundantly clear already. I think the author unintentionally tests the reader's patience when repeatedly discussing the conflicts his plots revolve around as a similar thing happened in the previous novels when debating about who would be the warden of Hiram's Hospital. Perhaps this is just a side effect of the deliberate narrative style that Trollope chose and it's his way of keeping his plots ticking along to their heavily foreshadowed conclusions to allow space for his wonderful characterisations, dramatic scenes and social commentary. It's a small quibble to make about his books which overall I find such a comfort and entertaining joy to read. So I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the Barsetshire series as well as more of Trollope's books. It's also been great participating in the Trollope Society's fortnightly bookclub meetings focusing on this novel as getting the engaged perspectives of other readers and Trollope fans has really enhanced my experience and understanding of the book.

Unsettled Ground by Claire Fuller

It was thrilling to see Claire Fuller's “Unsettled Ground” recently listed on this year's Women's Prize for Fiction. I've read and admired all of her novels ever since her debut “Our Endless Numbered Days”. Fuller's settings are typically in remote locations and this new novel primarily revolves around a cottage on a rural farm and country estate. Twins Jeanie and Julius are 51 years old and have lived here their whole lives with their mother Dot. But when Dot dies at the very beginning of the novel these sheltered adults struggle to manage the practical difficulties of keeping the cottage, paying the debt their mother has left behind and determining how their lives will continue going forward. Gradually family secrets are uncovered as their impoverished situation becomes increasingly dire. It's a heartrending story, but also a compassionate portrait of individuals not often represented in fiction. 

Jeanie's life has been fairly harmonious up until this point keeping her garden, playing music and enjoying the steady companionship of her family. But there's also a danger to this insular pastoral lifestyle because now she's a middle-aged woman who has never had a paid job and who can only read at an extremely rudimentary level. It's moving the way we follow her uneasy steps in trying to adjust to living in the larger world and how she falls into desperate circumstances. She also has a wonderfully creative side and musical talent. Fuller incorporates the lyrics of a number of folk songs into the text. Using a lot of richly-imagined atmospheric detail, the story vividly portrays how she connects with the natural world more than people. As someone uneasy in social situations and who possesses a lot of pride she also struggles to accept help when it's offered to her. This is portrayed so sympathetically and realistically that I felt a great amount of compassion for her so it's very tense how the story plays out.

I'm someone who really values stability and is generally resistant to change. But it's unrealistic to expect that things can always stay the same and the novel suggests how we limit the possibilities of life by sticking too closely to our own familiar circumscribed realm of experience. Julius describes how “Sometimes, I reckon, we need something to come along and trip us up when we're not expecting it. Otherwise, one day we're kids playing with the hose pipe, and the next we're laid out on an old door in the parlour.” It's harrowing how the story traces the development of people who are so firmly set in their ways and how they seek a new form of independence. It's also interesting the way the novel approaches memory and how we have to radically readjust our sense of self when we learn new life-altering information about the past. At one point it's stated 'It is hard to rewrite your own history.” So I found it compelling how the book approaches the idea of rewriting not only the future we were expecting but the past we thought we understood. This is such an original and poignant story unlike any I've read before.

Gay Bar by Jeremy Atherton Lin

Journalists have been noting the rapid closure of gay bars for years and the economic strain of the past year's pandemic has certainly added to the demise of many more of these venues. So it feels especially poignant to read Jeremy Atherton Lin's nonfiction/memoir “Gay Bar” now as he catalogues his personal experience going to gay bars and other historic examples of notable establishments where gay people congregated. From this he considers the meaning of gay identity itself, notions of intimacy and the political/personal importance that these physical locations played in queer communities. The subtitle of this book “why we went out” feels especially poignant when considering why he and his long term partner 'Famous' went to bars to make friends, view the “scene” and have sex with other men. I really valued how candidly and explicitly he describes his experiences and what a positive example this gives of how sex is a part of Lin's own evolving sense of being a gay man and how an open long term relationship can work. His life, sensibility and values are very different from my own but I appreciate the intelligent and skilful ways he considers how experiences in gay-designated spaces can positively and negatively contribute to our personal and collective sense of gay identity. 

Though Lin's experiences span decades and nations, it's perhaps telling how surprisingly small the gay community really is given that a number of the bars he describes are places I've been to and even some of the people he encounters I've met myself. I'm not someone who enjoys going out that much so I understand how the experience of gay bars can sometimes be tedious and even stifling given how self-conscious the gaze of men in these venues can make me feel. Yet, I've also had some wonderfully empowering and liberating experiences at gay bars whether that's been dancing to Kylie in a Prague bar, drunkenly playing pool with a stranger in a London gay pub or having a heart-to-heart talk with an older drag queen in Cleveland dive. What Lin describes so well is how these experiences are, of course, particular to the individual but they also allow the potential for instant connections no matter where you are in the world. The interactions that occur in these spaces also contribute to an ongoing community conversation we're having about how to negotiate living in a largely straight society as gay men. I think it's clever how the author balances playful points such as how San Francisco blow jobs differ from Los Angeles blow jobs with more series accounts of how gay bars became meeting grounds to launch gay liberation and inspire AIDS activism. This book is a valuable historical document which manages to be both intellectually rigorous and arousing.

Women's Prize Longlist 2021

I've been looking forward to following the Women's Prize for Fiction this year more than usual because it's just a joyous communal reading activity and a relief from the stress of the world. So I'm excited for all the discussion and debate that we'll have over the next few months – especially because this is a really interesting group of novels and there's a lot to say about them. There's a real mixture of styles and subject matter in these novels. Six of the authors are debut novelists. For some such as Brit Bennett, Susanna Clarke and Yaa Gyasi this is their sophomore novel. Other authors such as Amanda Craig and Clare Chambers have written quite a few novels before so it's great to see them receiving award attention. Ali Smith is a previous winner of the Women's Prize. Avni Doshi was also shortlisted for the Booker Prize last year. 

This is the fifth year that Anna James and I have got together to make a predictions video. Both of us found it a challenge to only include sixteen books because there's such a wide selection of quality novels from the past year to choose from. Between us we only managed to guess six correctly. However, I've actually already read nine on the longlist so I can attest that many of these books are truly excellent. Some titles such as “The Vanishing Half”, “Burnt Sugar” and “Summer” are among my favourite books that I read last year. Other novels I've read this year and loved include “Piranesi”, “Luster” and “Transcendent Kingdom”. 

I had quite mixed feelings about “No One Is Talking About This” but it'll be really interesting to see how more people respond to this novel. I feel like it's a book that had an instant fan base because of Patricia Lockwood's popularity on social media so I'm keen to hear what a wider readership that's not familiar with her online personality makes of it. I'm currently reading “Unsettled Ground” by Claire Fuller and I'm so happy to see this on the list because I've been such a fan of her work since her first novel. I also look forward to reading the other novels on the longlist. 

It's going to be really difficult to call what might be shortlisted this year – let alone what might actually win. Some of these novels are so strong it'll be a challenge to hold up one as more worthy than another, but that's also the fun of these competitions. Maybe it’s because I’m still so enthralled with its story having read it recently, but if I had to make an early guess I’d predict “Transcendent Kingdom” will win. I may feel differently after I finish reading all of the longlist though! You can watch me summarize and discuss all of the books here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAS01UzkdOk 

What do you think of the list as a whole? Any early favourites? What books on this list are you most looking forward to reading? 

A Burning by Megha Majumdar

Megha Majumdar's debut novel “A Burning” begins with an incident where more than a hundred people are killed in a fire bombing on a train as part of a terrorist attack by unknown assailants near the slum of Kolkata. There is public outrage and a need for someone to blame. A young working class woman named Jivan views an angry online discussion about it on a phone she feels proud to have recently purchased. Being naïve about the real world repercussions of engaging in virtual chat she posts on Facebook positing that the government is just as culpable as the terrorists. This turns her into a convenient scapegoat as she is imprisoned and faces the serious charge of orchestrating the bombing. Though the evidence against her is entirely circumstantial, the public's desire to see her punished and the government's need to take action means she's incapable of receiving a fair trial. She hopes to help defend her case with the help of character witnesses PT Sir, Jivan's former physical education teacher and Lovely, a hijra who Jivan has been teaching English to. The narrative revolves between the perspectives of Jivan, PT Sir and Lovely as the trial proceeds. The story movingly shows that everyone is capable of corruption in a skirmish for advancement within a struggling society. 

It's become commonplace to read inspiring stories about how justice is served after a hard-won battle where a humble individual endeavours to bring down a tyrannical system. So there is something noble in Majumdar's painfully honest depiction of someone who isn't reprieved from false charges because of the corruption and moral failings of individuals as well as the media, politicians and the courts. Though it makes for a depressing read, it's probably more often the case that vulnerable individuals are sacrificed as part of these larger social mechanisms and schemes of personal ambition. PT Sir's desire for political advancement is fuelled after he happens to attend a rally because his train is delayed. His quest for advancement and its privileges means he turns a blind eye to the many people who are unfairly persecuted along the way. Equally, Lovely's dreams of becoming a film star means she's unwilling to face possible public scandal from being entangled in Jivan's case. As we follow the advancement of both these characters we're given more of Jivan's backstory as someone whose family has faced absolute poverty and persecution as Muslims. It's skilful how Majumdar has constructed this novel because it shows how the odds are really stacked against Jivan and her acute personal suffering is wilfully ignored by those who could defend her.

The novel includes many painful scenes but the voices give an energy to the story in faithfully relaying their idiosyncratic perspectives. I was most drawn to the sections by Lovely who is so spirited in her interactions and snappy rejoinders she gives to members of the public who sneer and look down upon her. There's also a compelling depiction of the hijra community (a class of intersex and transgender people in India) through her perspective. I've previously only read about hijras in the novels “The Parcel” and “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness” so I was glad to get another perspective on this particular group and it was moving reading about Lovely's romantic difficulties. It was also effective in how I initially felt very sympathetic towards her but grew to feel more critical as she succumbs to her own shallow fantasies. In fact, all of the characters seem enthralled by the glinting surface of convenience and the illusion of prosperity which makes them ignore a harder reality. The trajectory of these stories mean that “A Burning” is certainly not an easy read but it is one that can cut to the truth of things with devastating effectiveness.

Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi

I loved reading Yaa Gyasi's debut “Homegoing” so much that I felt a slight sense of trepidation picking up her second novel “Transcendent Kingdom”. Could it live up to the quality of the first book? The answer is yes, but it also surprised me because it's a very different novel and a more self contained story of family life. Instead of creating an expansive saga about multiple generations as she did in her debut, this new novel is about the collapse of one particular family until only the narrator is left. We know this from the beginning and it's riveting and moving to gradually learn how this promising young woman comes to be left all alone. It's also a story that gives an impactful personal take on larger issues. There have been many books about the tensions between religion and science, but “Transcendent Kingdom” eloquently ponders it from a unique perspective asserting “this tension, this idea that one must necessarily choose between science and religion, is false.” Narrator Gifty had a strict Christian upbringing and now studies neuroscience. Using lab mice she researches the mysterious workings of the brain and whether hard-wired behaviour can be altered within all that grey matter. Her work is primarily motivated by a need to find answers about why she lost members of her family to drug addiction and depression. Of course, there's no easy answers but she also meaningfully considers the psychological and sociological factors at play. It's a tremendously meaningful story that completely gripped me. 

The question of faith can't be so easily dismissed when someone is raised to whole-heartedly believe in a certain religion. Gifty certainly sees through the hypocrisy and frequent misinterpretations of the Bible as practiced in the Alabaman community she was raised in. However, Christian practice and belief is a deeply encoded part of her personality so that she feels “'I believe in God, I do not believe in God.' Neither of these sentiments felt true to what I actually felt.” She's experienced the brutal way that some people use religion to justify their own prejudices (whether that's Christians in Alabama or Christians in Ghana) as well as the intolerant attitudes of budding young students who dismiss any notion of religious belief. It frequently leaves Gifty feeling painfully isolated as her distinctive sensibility doesn't allow her to feel like a part of either of these groups. These attitudes also don't reflect the way religion was practiced by her family in their home – especially in times of crisis. It leads her to the complex notion that “My soul is still my soul, even if I rarely call it that.”

It's moving how the narrative becomes a reckoning with the self as the story is interspersed with pieces from a diary Gifty kept growing up. These are her conversations with God where she desperately asks unanswerable questions but they're also a thoughtful attempt to understand the world around her. The tenderness of this child self paired alongside the more hardened solitary scientist she is today creates a heartbreaking picture of a sympathetically lonely woman. Therefore the defensive, withholding way she conducts her personal and romantic relationships (with men and women) makes sense and I felt for her stance. The circumstances she grew up in and her self consciousness about society's superficial assumptions also means that she ardently wants to be viewed as an individual freed from identity labels: “I didn't want to be thought of as a woman in science, a black woman in science. I wanted to be thought of as a scientist, full stop”. 

I was very struck by the tense relationship with her brother Nana who becomes addicted to opioids after he sustains a sports injury. The story portrays the agonizing pain of trying and failing to help a loved one overcome addiction. But it also confronts the attitudes surrounding drug addiction and how it's often connected in the US with racial prejudice. Gyasi is quite rightly excoriating about the behaviour of the community that celebrates Nana's athletic achievements and coldly turns their back on him when he becomes entangled in addiction and can no longer play basketball. This judgemental attitude is something Gifty wrestles with herself reflecting how “I would look at his face and think, What a pity, what a waste. But the waste was my own, the waste was what I missed out on whenever I looked at him and saw just his addiction.” This reminded me of the continuing stigmas fostered by America's “war on drugs” as described in “Chasing the Scream” by Johann Hari. Gifty comes to understand the suffocating social factors which encourage Nana's addiction and contribute his tragic downward spiral. The legacy of shame she feels from this is powerfully depicted. 

This is a brilliantly accomplished novel which is captivating in the way it shows the methodical way its narrator searches for answers to complex, deeply-felt questions.

Before My Actual Heart Breaks by Tish Delaney

On the outside it feels baffling that two people who marry and spend their lives together can be virtual strangers to each other, yet this is the reality of many arranged relationships. Tish Delaney movingly depicts the life of one such Northern Irish woman in her debut novel “Before My Actual Heart Breaks”. Mary Rattigan once dreamed of moving far away and being with her sweetheart, but those aspirations were dashed by the reality of her circumstances. When we meet her at the beginning of this novel it's 2007. She's estranged from her husband and her five children have gone away. Now there's nothing to bind her to the rural farm she's been confined to since she was sixteen but she finds herself questioning the heady plans she made in her youth and finds it difficult to articulate what she now desires. Over the course of the novel we discover the story of how she got to this point as well as a vivid depiction of The Troubles as experienced by a Catholic girl growing up in the 1970s who felt the alarming proximity of this long-term and bloody conflict. It's a story that powerfully represents the tension between the life you wanted and the life you've lived. 

As much as it feels like the Irish immigration novel is its own category, there's also been a rise in novels about Northern Irish women who never leave the place of their birth. Books such as “Milkman” and “Big Girl, Small Town” explore the interior lives of young women whose voices are often ignored by the larger community. Though Delaney's novel fits neatly alongside these others it's also very much its own piece as it poignantly presents the perspective of a married woman who comes to learn the habits and nature of her husband over many years but tragically fails to understand his heart. It's also a captivating coming of age tale as we follow the painful abuse she suffers at her mother's hand and how her sexual awakening becomes a form of rebellion because the worst thing she could ever become is a T.R.A.M.P. Though she finds it liberating to transgress the moral expectations placed upon her she soon finds the enormous longterm consequences of this brief pleasure which is over in “less time than baking a sponge cake”. It's heart wrenching when she realises that her parents would honestly prefer her to be blown up by a bomb rather than be “in the family way” as an unwed teen.

While the novel meaningfully portrays the suffocating effects of the religious and familial strictures in her life, it also shows the intelligence and humour of her wry perspective. Mary makes deliciously cutting observations about the tragic waste of sectarian conflicts and the way emotions aren't discussed in family life. At one point she describes how the Irish substitute for love is tea. She also forms some tender connections with certain individuals who inspire her and provide a steady source of comfort. The spectre of her grandmother is at times glimpsed in the distance as well as a good-natured soul named Birdie who becomes a kind of substitute mother for her. However, most of her relationships often include gaps of understanding so she comes to understanding the painful irony in how “No one knew us better than each other and we didn't know each other at all.” I enjoyed the way the story creates a building sense of tension concerning what Mary will do now that she's on her own and truly knows what she wants. Delaney's powerful novel shows the precarious bonds that exist between people who've had to abandon their dreams and the unexpected love that can be found when honest connections are made.

Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro

“Klara and the Sun” is the first novel Ishiguro has published since he won the 2017 Nobel Prize in Literature which – of course - means that this is one of the publishing events of the year, but given this author's output producing a new novel roughly every five years means it's also coming right on time. I was entranced by his most recent novel “The Buried Giant” which reads like the most psychologically-compelling fable or fantasy tale. Yet, even though I have a high regard for his work, I was initially skeptical of the premise of “Klara and the Sun” which is told from the perspective of an Artificial Friend or AF who at the beginning of the story is waiting on a shop shelf for an adolescent child to purchase her. It sounds similar to the film series Toy Story or perhaps a bit like Pinocchio. This isn't a coincidence since Ishiguro described in a recent interview how he initially conceived of this story as a children's book. Additionally, given that this new novel is also about genetic engineering, the question of what it means to be human and it's set in an unspecified future point means it's also reminiscent of his novel “Never Let Me Go”. But the magic of Ishiguro's writing is that any reservations I had were quickly forgotten as I got into the drama of this suspenseful and moving story. 

It's difficult to discuss this book without giving spoilers, but I'm going to do my best to avoid them. This isn't simply a saccharine tale because it's sweetness is also what makes it unsettling as we follow Klara's gradual understanding of the world around her and the expectations placed upon her. She's a naïve, highly perceptive and well-intentioned AF who has no qualms with the purpose she's been designed for: to support, nurture and give unqualified friendship to her child owner. When she is eventually purchased she does exactly that and her loyalty means that she goes to great lengths to be the best companion she can. Her faith in the power of the Sun drives her to perform a charmingly ardent act to help her child and around this time we also learn about the deeper purpose for which she was purchased. This means that these two narrative threads which are light and dark intertwine at almost the same point making the reader feel beguiled as well as horrified. It's a powerful effect which makes it a gripping story as well as one which raises lingering questions about the binding force of love. 

Ishiguro is brilliant at withholding information and providing tantalizing details which fully draw the reader into the story. Things are revealed at just the right moment so they blossom into a startling revelation. The fact that we're locked into Klara's perspective as she retrospectively considers these events means our view of this world is filtered through a perilously subjective focus. She is (as one character dismissively calls her) simply a machine so the way she perceives reality isn't how we would. A sometimes surreal effect is produced from the way she processes shapes and makes sense of what's around her. At one point she thinks she's looking at a multi-limbed monster which turns out to be two people passing by each other. It adds to the unsettling effect the author builds in the lead up to understanding what's happening in the immediate reality of this family as well as wider changes concerning the ill-effects of genetic modification and the way this is producing a more classist and divided society. Klara's limited point of view means that (perhaps too conveniently) Ishiguro doesn't need to fully flesh out or delve too deeply into how this dark future is organized or how it's adversely effecting people. It's a very handy method commonly used in sci-fi and, though it left me slightly frustrated wanting to know more about this world, Ishiguro gives enough information to see the logic of how good intentions on both a personal and societal level can go very wrong. 

Recently I read Edward Carey's novel “The Swallowed Man” which retells Pinocchio from the perspective of Geppetto when he's trapped in the giant whale. It made me realise how this fairy tale is really about loneliness and a desire for companionship so fierce that a person is willing to delude themselves in order to have a friend or child. Similarly, “Klara and the Sun” delves deeply into this question as Klara herself comes to realise “what was becoming clear to me was the extent to which humans, in their wish to escape loneliness, made manoeuvres that were very complex and hard to fathom”. This is explored in different ways throughout the story. Not only do the child and her mother use Klara as an emotional stand-in, but the child and her friend Rick form a co-created future plan to protect themselves from being overwhelmed by an impending darker reality. The relative bonds people share in the story means that their solitary struggle might be assuaged by friendship or a character might resolutely choose to be alone. As Klara describes to a character named Miss Helen at one point: “Until recently, I didn't think that humans could choose loneliness. That there were sometimes forces more powerful than the wish to avoid loneliness.” These delicate relationships and the way different individuals negotiate the truth that they're willing to admit to themselves and others throughout the story is very moving and left me pondering their deeper implications. 

In “Klara and the Sun” Ishiguro demonstrates his considerable ability for telling a riveting tale and creating characters you can't help but fall in love with by following their harrowing struggles. He does this while also engaging with larger issues about technology, the environment and social divisions. It's also hard not to interpret his choice to name a character Melania Housekeeper and what happens to her in the story as a sly commentary on the former First Lady. Although he said in an interview that this wasn't a direct reference and he simply wanted to use a common Eastern European name it's impossible not to make the connection or deny that this must have been on some level intentional. This and other such details add a welcome playful tone to this impressive story which skilfully balances terror with insight and deep-felt heartache.

Square Haunting by Francesca Wade

One of my ideal ways of spending a morning is listening to an audiobook of my favourite novel “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf while I'm walking or riding on a bus around London. There's an added pleasure of experiencing the text while travelling around the streets that Woolf herself walked while observing the people and shop windows (an activity she referred to as “street haunting”). For the past several months of the pandemic this “haunting” has taken on a different meaning whenever I walk through central London because it's mostly deserted. Naturally, I've had a long fascination with Woolf and the Bloomsbury group so I've previously made a pilgrimage to Monk's House, followed the trail of “Mrs Dalloway” and I like to musingly wander by Woolf's statue in Tavistock Square where she had a longterm residence. However, until picking up Francesca Wade's fascinating and creatively-written group biography “Square Haunting” I wasn't aware of Mecklenburgh Square which exists on the edge of Bloomsbury. 

It's striking that Wade begins her book with the partial destruction of the square she's writing about. In 1939 Virginia and Leonard took up a lease at 37 Mecklenburgh Square after the noise of nearby construction work at Tavistock Square got to be too much for their nerves. This book is partly about their short time at this residence which was bombed in a German air raid in 1940. Luckily the Woolfs weren't in the building when the bomb hit, but Virginia had to dig through the rubble to save her diaries. Wade's book is also about the (sometimes intersecting) lives, careers and interests of four other trailblazing female academics and writers who also resided in this square at different periods of time during the early 20th century. These accounts are skilfully organized in a way that tunnels back not only through their personal histories but how they contributed to the intellectual and political battle for gender equality.

I'd not encountered these fascinating women before but after reading Wade's succinct and compelling accounts of their lives I'm keen to read their work and know more about them. They include H.D. (a pen name created by Ezra Pound for the modernist poet and novelist Hilda Doolittle); the detective novelist Dorothy L Sayers (who lived in the same building that H.D. had previously inhabited); the classicist and translator Jane Ellen Harrison; and the historian, broadcaster and pacifist Eileen Power. All of these talented women had their ambition and desire to intellectually engage with society through their writing stymied in different ways by the dominant patriarchy. Wade details the particular challenges they faced and the individual ways they successfully challenged a system which hampered their ability to be taken as seriously as their male counterparts. The spirit of “A Room of One's Own” takes a direct relevance in their stories as these women established their professional and personal lives in the homes they made while living in this square. Wade's accounts of these five lives are filled with tantalizing details about their unique struggles to live, love, work and write in the way that they most desired.

I admire how Wade artfully weaves these lives together to show the overlapping influence or friendship these different women shared. In a way this makes the book feel like a wonderfully compelling collection of interconnected short stories. Occasionally there will be other figures such as a charismatic landlady, members of the Bloomsbury Group or leading intellectuals such as Sigmund Freud who appear in their separate stories. It brings this physical location to life as you see the series of coincidences and incidents in common which formed the web of experience these women shared rather than viewing their individual lives as a collection of self-contained historical studies. Recently I visited the square during a rare snowy day. It was moving to look at the plaques dedicated to these different women while imagining how they lived in these stately old buildings and walked these streets. Of course, the weather further enhanced the feeling of “haunting” and made me feel like the ghost while pondering the exuberant experience of reading Wade's group biography.

No One is Talking About This by Patricia Lockwood

As soon as I saw the online hype surrounding Patricia Lockwood's debut novel I knew I was out of touch with the internet. I wasn't even aware of Patricia Lockwood. *epic fail* Of course, whenever someone is trending who everyone seems to love but I've not heard of or couldn't recall I did the thing you're meant to do and googled her. The abbreviated biographical understanding I got from the succinct biography provided on wikipedia was that she first gained fame on twitter (having successfully baited publications like The Paris Review into joining in jokey banter), published two collections of poems as well as the poem “Rape Joke” which went viral in 2013 and the memoir “Priestdaddy” in 2017 which the Times included on its list “The 50 Best Memoirs of the Past 50 Years” and the Guardian named as one of its “100 Best Books of the 21st Century”. Oh, so I had heard of her! Or, at least, I saw mention of her on these lists and was intrigued but (like hundreds of other writers) haven't got around to reading her work yet. And so, I merrily plunged into reading Lockwood's “No One is Talking About This” because suddenly (at least within my online bubble) everyone seems to be talking about this debut novel. 

This is a story about an online personality who has become so famous on platforms like twitter for tweets such as “Can a dog be twins?” that she travels around the world giving talks and lectures. The text is divided into brief sections which give an impressionistic sense of her life and the people within it without ever providing a completely clear picture. It's an intriguing and surprisingly poignant style of narrative similar to Jenny Offill's novels. Here Lockwood uses it to show how the internet has modified her narrator's sense of self to become both individual and collective. It's also reflective of the distracted attention span that comes from scrolling online and how concepts can be compressed down into crystallised pithy thoughts before being quickly abandoned for a new idea or trending discussion. This is a clever way of commenting upon the effects of the internet in the very structure of the way Lockwood tells her tale. 

In the first section of the novel we get anecdotes and impressions about her travels and interactions from the virtual world to the real world as well as meditative asides about the meaning of our online lives versus our real lives. This amusingly expresses a lot of the existential angst and carnivalesque absurdity of our devotion to screens and the internet (which the narrator refers to as “the portal”). I loved how she captures the way this online existence has changed the way we use language as well as how it's reconfigured our psychology. Terms and phrases such as “shoot it in my veins”, “it me”, “toxic” and “normalize” have taken on specific meanings through their repeated use and become their own kinds of internet speak. Lockwood shows both the joy and frustration of this noting how if you don't keep up with this evolving speech you're quickly left out of the loop.

As someone who spends a lot of time online but doesn't feel like I fully understand what many people online take as collectively understood (such as who Patricia Lockwood is) I found it amusing and relatable how Lockwood describes the scramble to keep up with what's happening and what everyone is talking about. Sometimes her summary of the experience of online life movingly spills into the poetic: “Someone was dead, she had never met him, yet she had zoomed in on the texture of his injuries a dozen times, as she might squint at the pink of a sunset she was too lazy to meet outside. And that is what it was like.” This also shows how the tone of our experience is so chaotically jostled by what we witness while scrolling online. Our emotions can so rapidly veer from humour to grim fascination to heartfelt sympathy that we're left wondering what responsibility we possess to act or react. Lockwood richly expresses how the portal is an arena ripe with possibilities that can also feel like a hellish hamster wheel.

In the second section of the novel the narrator is called into action by her mother who summons her home. Her sister experiences complications with her pregnancy and gives birth to a girl with severe birth defects. The narrator undergoes a change in this section as her preoccupation with an online existence is often surrendered for her real world experiences with this uniquely beautiful girl. It's challenging to maintain a sardonic distance or distil meaning into glib humour when she's confronted with this luminous reality. Yet she still mediates much of her interactions through the filter of the curious ego that was formed within the portal and this creates a kind of crisis: “If all she was was funny, and none of this was funny, where did that leave her?” Though I hoped this second part of the novel would be an engaging reckoning with the narrator's struggle to recalibrate the value of herself and her actions I found it strangely flaccid. Perhaps Lockwood was trying to portray the difficulty of being caught in a habitual need to find the funny in framing every observation with cooly detached irony, but it mostly left me feeling unmoved. 

I wonder what readers who don't engage in social media and the raging debates online will make of this novel. There are many references to specific memes and online community trends which spark a feeling of fond recognition if you're aware of them or create a disgruntled feeling of alienation if you don't. I'm sure I missed a lot of specific references but I don't think that spoiled my understanding or appreciation of the book. Personally I laughed out loud at Lockwood's summary of the generic plot found in Hallmark movies and in the way her mother misunderstands the more sordid connotations of using certain emojis. In a way it feels worthy to capture in fiction fleeting online obsessions like the nannying demand that people wash their legs so we can ruefully muse at a future point why our collective willpower was steered toward this trivial issue, but like the question of the internet itself I wonder how much value there really is in it.

Lockwood is pondering this too especially when there is a looming threat of a political figure referred to as the dictator and she considers how much online activism can challenge this real world threat. These questions are framed in a more immediate and personal crisis when her sister must undergo difficult decisions and finds the state seeks to regulate her body. There's a poignant tragedy expressed when the narrator realizes the limitations of her influence when she often feels so empowered by having a substantial amount of followers within the portal. Though “No One is Talking About This” certainly gives a lot to enjoy and contemplate I didn't feel like the story fully followed through to portray the consequences of how the narrator grapples with the challenge of managing a healthy relationship with the portal. Or maybe this isn't possible and that's the point. Nevertheless, many nonfiction books and articles have written about the myriad ways our psychology and culture have been changed by the internet so I'm glad Lockwood has written a novel giving a creative and powerfully subjective take on these larger issues.

Diary of a Film by Niven Govinden

Niven Govinden writes beautiful and extremely thoughtful novels often centred around intimate relationships, artistic communities and the creative process. His novel “All the Days and Nights” focused on the life of an ailing female visual artist and his novel “This Brutal House” dynamically depicted the politics of NYC's embattled drag scene. His stories raise compelling and complex questions while capturing the emotional uncertainty flooding through these richly-imagined characters' lives. This is equally true in is new novel “Diary of a Film” which follows a number of days in the life of an unnamed auteur at an Italian film festival as he presents his new movie based on sensitive novel “The Folded Leaf” by William Maxwell. Scenes of chaotic ribaldry and champagne sipping amidst interviews and photo sessions with the press are very much in the background of this surprisingly intimate story of artistic collaboration and friendship.

The auteur (who the other characters refer to as maestro) wanders from the bright lights of the festival and meets an intriguing woman named Cosima in a cafe. He's enthralled by tales of her past and her tragic relationship with a graffiti artist who committed suicide. Not only is the maestro keen to view one of this artist's still-existing murals but he also tracks down a novel she wrote which inspires him to plan out a new film. His conversations with her are interspersed with time spent with his lead actors Lorien and Tom. They play lovers in the film but are also now lovers in real life. Given the men's age difference and the novel's Italian setting it's easy to think of parallels with the film 'Call Me By Your Name'. The comparison with Aciman's work also seems apt because Govinden's narrative similarly revolves around individuals who strike up strong bonds through chance encounters and have extended high-minded conversations about the intricacies of human relationships. However, I find Govinden's style of writing much more engaging.

There's an intriguing tension to the affair between Lorien and Tom as the intensity of their passion for each other which developed on the film set now has to withstand both public scrutiny and upcoming physical separation as they move onto new acting roles. The story presents a counterpoint to this blossoming gay love affair with the maestro's longterm marriage to a male writer. It's poignant the way the maestro contemplates his desire to create films which demand extended periods away from his home versus the deep comfort to be found with the family he's created with his husband and their son. They've found an amicable balance over the years, but this depiction of the maestro's life is another way which Govinden explores what it means to be an artist as a profession. In what way does life inform the work of an artist and in what way does the artistic process prevent the artist from fully living? The maestro feels that he is an “observer in the shadows; watching life but somehow not being part of it”. This sense contributes to larger questions about what sacrifices are needed to be an artist and the question of whether creating a meaningful work of art is worth missing out on life.

Before the maestro took an interest in her writing, Cosima's novel was all but forgotten. Yet she grows to feel very uncertain about the maestro's plan to interpret her writing through film because it's like taking possession of her artistic vision. She comes to bitterly feel that “This is what your precious imagination boils down to: stealing and hoarding.” Such reservations feel surprising at first, but Govinden delicately shows the discomforting way egotism (perhaps necessarily) plays a role in artistic creation. There's also an unsettling way in which gender factors into this especially in the world of film where male directors dominate. It's interesting how the author presents this situation where questions of ownership of art and ideas surrounding the process of inspiration and creation arise from the maestro's earnest intentions.

The novel is comprised of chapters of block text which entirely fill the pages without breaks or quotation marks. Because it's narrated from the maestro's point of view, this gives the sense of being boxed into his thought process. It's not at all difficult to follow the story, but I know this style of writing will create a practical imposition for some readers as we follow the uninterrupted stream of the maestro's experience, feelings and memories. As the novel goes on it felt to me like being fully enveloped into his world and his singular vision of it. However, this is interrupted by the perspective of others such as a comic scene at the beginning where his romantic gazing at a fish market is broken by the sellers and buyers who are frustrated that he's getting in their way. This shows the way he isn't ever able to be fully present as he is so consumed with his own ever-evolving artistic vision and the story intriguingly plays out the consequences of this. It's a distinct and elegantly rendered journey that I found very moving and enjoyable.

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M Danforth

Since I've been reading more 19th century fiction in the past year I have been hungering for a contemporary writer to utilize the particular kind of authorial voice often found in these classic books. I'm sure this has been done in other recent novels but going into Emily M Danforth's “Plain Bad Heroines” I was thrilled to find it includes a narrative voice that self-consciously interjects and steers the story. It only shows up occasionally so as not to be intrusive but it does add another dimension to the story and there's something so playful and comforting about this “dear reader...” style of telling where we all agree to sit down to lose ourselves in a riveting, imaginative tale. Of course, it's a technique that's most commonly and potently used in ghost stories and gothic tales so it's ideally suited to the content of Danforth's creepy and darkly playful novel. The text is also beautifully illustrated with evocative drawings making it feel even more like a Victorian novel. 

This book is partly a historical novel about a fictional New England boarding school for girls called Brookhants which briefly existed at the beginning of the 20th century. A number of girls are found dead amidst mysterious circumstances which gives rise to rumours and local legends. Interspersed with this tale is a contemporary story about a Hollywood film being made about the deaths of these girls and the supposed curse upon this school. As the book progresses and we move slyly between the past and present, there are numerous twists and turns in the plot which skilfully tread the line between the supernatural and the realistic. The story thrillingly shows how certain characters utilize or exploit this grey area for their own purposes. It's such a richly immersive read for its atmospheric detail that gives the spooky ooky factor while also making me desperate to know what happens next. 

One of the great pleasures of this novel is that it's awash with literary references in a way which adds to and enhances the plot – as well as giving little sparks of joy for book geeks like me. Titles such as Henry James' “A Turn of the Screw”, Oscar Wilde's “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and the (problematic) work of HP Lovecraft are dropped into the story. There's a reference to Willa Cather's 'Paul's Case' which prompts the author to step in to encourage the reader to seek out this famous queer short story. A modern day character named Merritt has written an account of the Brookhants deaths which is being used as a basis for the film. Her profession means many literary allusions are naturally dropped into the story as well as her planned project to write an alternate version of Truman Capote's infamous unfinished book “Answered Prayers”. Most of all, Danforth incorporates into her story the work of the writer Mary MacLane who became notorious for the openly bisexual and feminist autobiographical books she published at the beginning of the 1900s. I must admit that I initially assumed Danforth had invented this author and her book “The Story of Mary MacLane” but she was a real writer and I'm now very keen to read her work.

As well as honouring Mary MacLane who is now relatively unknown the spirit of her books and ideas serve as an important part of the plot. Some girls and women at Brookhants avidly read MacLane and are inspired by the “forbidden” content and opinions they find there. MacLane's emotional and sexual bonds with other women serve as a touchstone to a queer sensibility which validate the girls' own same sex attraction and/or feminist feelings prompting them to form a club of plain bad heroines. This naturally leads more conservative characters to try to suppress and forbid her text being read. The story also toys with the idea that MacLane herself is a mischievous haunting presence. I love how this highlights the vital importance of queer antecedents and how their influence can wreak the most marvellous and riveting havoc to the established order.

The novel wonderfully plays upon Hollywood tropes and conventions as much as it does on literary ones. The film being made about Brookhants isn't a conventional one as it's about manipulating the public's desire for the production to be cursed as much as it is for creating a cinematically tense story about a legendary curse. The mythology surrounding the creation of films such as 'The Shining' and 'The Omen' is consumed as tantalizingly as the movies themselves. When the director in the novel tries to manipulate the actresses and writer to create hype for the production things don't go exactly as planned. It's satisfying how Danforth draws out the tension of whether the creepy scenes you're reading about are really happening or an elaborate hoax. This is another fascinating way this novel asks questions concerning what we want to be true and what's actually true whilst producing a really fun story.

Overall, “Plain Bad Heroines” is such a joy to read and I was glad for its relatively high page count which allowed the author to fully flesh out the complexities and many layers of its delicious plot.