Ghost Music by An Yu

Song Yan is a gifted pianist who gave up pursuing her own musical career to marry a dedicated businessman and start a family. But her husband Bowen staunchly refuses to have children. At the same time, Bowen's mother has moved into their apartment and frequently nags Song Yan about having children. Caught between these two conflicting opinions, Song Yan longs to become pregnant. She directs her maternal feeling and talent towards children who she instructs to play the piano. As she gradually discovers hidden aspects from Bowen's past she has strange dreams about glowing orange mushrooms. She also connects to a mysterious individual named Bai Yu who was once a child prodigy and star pianist who disappeared many years ago. This is an absorbing novel which explores the psychological tension of a woman wrestling with issues to do with creativity, ambition and belonging. It also blends in surreal elements of talking mushrooms and a whole village which becomes covered with a strange orange pollen. An Yu has a fascinating way of depicting quietly transformative moments in life when we enter into realms of being separate from our ordinary day to day existence.

Mushrooms are something the characters consume but they also take on a symbolic force in the novel as Song Yan dreams about them and tries to tend growing them herself. Perhaps they stand for hidden desires which grow in the dark or the struggle for Song Yan to find purpose in a perilously isolated life. After discovering shocking details about her husband's life she observes “Solitude is tolerable, even enjoyable at times. But when you realise that you've given your life to someone, yet you know nothing but his name? That kind of solitude is loneliness. That's what kills you.” Though her father desired that she become a famous pianist, Song Yan realised there were limits to her talent. The figure of Bai Yu stands as a counterpoint to the celebrated musician she might have become as he renounced his fame to live in seclusion. I think the novel tries to show how fulfilment isn't necessarily found in the larger life goals we set for ourselves but in experiences where we're able to truly express ourselves. It's enjoyable following Song Yan's uneven and dreamlike journey, but there were some elements of the story which felt like they could have been developed more fully such as Bowen's absent sister and the meaning of the orange dust. Overall I appreciated the subtle shifts in her character through strange encounters which lead Song Yan to a new independence.

Really Good, Actually by Monica Heisey

Heisey's debut novel is a lighthearted and funny modern story with the kind of high “relatability” factor found in the tradition of “Bridget Jones's Diary” and “Heartburn”. Maggie is fast approaching 30 and her marriage to Jon has just ended. There was no big dramatic breakdown in their relationship; it just stopped working. And while Maggie wants to strive for a “Good Divorce” her life slowly spirals out of control even as she desperately tries to hold it together. Plans for self improvement with mental and physical wellbeing regimes frequently falter. Her experiences on dating apps veer from amusing to cringe. She engages in late-night online shopping binges which result in unsustainable hits to her dwindling bank account and her need to return many items. She is pursuing a post-graduate degree in Shakespearean studies, but isn't so devoted to it or her teaching to find them fulfilling. Maggie's loyal circle of friends and a new fellow divorcee bestie grow impatient with her. And the more she strives for an amicable break from Jon the more distant and silent he becomes. In essence, her story captures how she's approaching a time in her life when everything should be coming together but instead it appears to be rapidly falling apart.

As a former screenwriter on the excellent sitcom 'Schitt's Creek', Heisey's skills at writing awkward comedy really come through in the narrative. There's plenty of bad logic humour with lines such as “Tragically I was the victim of a supportive home life” and Maggie's musing that her brief romantic forays with other women mean “I’m not sure I’m bisexual enough to count.” Personally, I feel there's no better comedy than a sad blundering threesome scene and this novel contains an excellent one. There is plenty in this story which made me chuckle in appreciation – if not laugh out loud. I enjoyed the creative approach of interspersing Maggie's account with revealing text exchanges, Google searches and fantasy interludes which further reinforce how little control she has while trying to keep it together. Also, there are some wonderfully cutting scenes where other characters reveal just how wacky Maggie's behaviour has become in a way that she herself hasn't divulged to readers.

The trouble is that the novel begins to feel too drawn out as Maggie becomes eminently unlikeable with an increasingly unbelievable lack of self-awareness. This partially undercuts the more meaningful message of the book about a newly independent woman learning to love herself. As sympathetic as Maggie is with her restlessness, body issues and contemporary romantic problems, I wanted to like her more. Certainly unlikeable central characters are a stalwart of great stories and offer a lot of potential for great comedy, but it ultimately felt like Heisey sacrificed her protagonist's integrity by striving to get more jokes in. It's an issue similar to what I found in reading “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine”. I definitely found Heisey's novel funny and enjoyable, but while it's unquestionably heartfelt it doesn't quite capture all the emotion it could have.

Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis

In the opening lines of “Less Than Zero” Ellis seems to lull readers into believing that his debut book will be a comic coming of age novel. 18 year old Clay has just returned to his native city of Los Angeles during the winter break of 1984 and been picked up at the airport by his ex-girlfriend Blair who comments that “People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles.” When this novel was first published in 1985 I don't know if LA folk discussing driving was as much a cliché as it's become – so much so that the SNL sketch “The Californians” made a hilarious daytime soap parody where car talk drowns out any other dramatic issue. But the emphasis on the frivolous mechanics of navigating the complicated road networks makes Clay immediately realise the importance of the superficial over the substantive in this city where he originated. As we follow his month of partying, drug taking and emotionless hookups with women and men, the humour initially found in all this meaningless consumption and frivolous interaction takes on a feeling of dread. After a while the reader realises that amidst the spectacle of these ultra-privileged young people's lifestyle there is a looming emptiness and soullessness from which there can be no return. So much so that being a passive witness can be the only response when confronted with death, rape and destruction. It's no wonder that when discussing this novel Ottessa Moshfegh remarks “If this book is an existential satire its actual premise is that the world is hell disguised as paradise.”

Of course, it's only a paradise for people who desire a landscape populated with beautiful young people engaged in endless parties with their seemingly inexhaustible funds as their parents are all wealthy from the film industry or real estate business. Those parents are conspicuously absent or, when present, act as badly or worse than the children. Clay's own parents show little interest in his life or well-being beyond enquiring what he wants for Christmas. The only thing close to morality in this affluent world comes through empty words spouted by televangelists on money-motivated religious programs. As Clay stumbles through this city of drug-fuelled revelry and gossip many people's names begin to blur together but this is apt because the characters frequently refer to individuals whose identities they can't recall. A sense of quiet desperation gradually comes through. The words “Help Me” are anonymously scrawled in a buzzing club. Clay inexplicably cries in a bathroom or stares vacantly into the distance while standing naked in a window like an Edward Hopper painting. Visiting places from his childhood give no sentimental feeling because they aren't connected with any firm emotions. Julian, his best friend from high school, just wants money from him. This eminently photographable rarefied environment steadily becomes less amusing as it's revealed to be completely hollow and frighteningly sinister.

What's so effective about this style of narrative is the way it normalises violence and impending disaster. Since everything is underpinned by emptiness there are no stakes. So as increasingly horrific things occur they come to feel meaningless. Drug addiction, poverty, mutilation and even murder are just a joke to this elite group. Real life and film increasingly blur. Rumours of impending disaster become present with houses falling into the sea, earthquakes, inhumanly high temperatures, roadside accidents, sexual assault, exploitation and physical attacks. It's all fodder for more anecdotes blithely recounted at another party. Anyone sensible will know that such a superficial lifestyle will be unfulfilling, but the point seems to be that our culture continuously glamorises and strives to maintain this style of living which will always collapse because it has no foundation. The question shouldn't be why such violence occurs in the novel, but why do we continue to believe that such frivolous beauty and ravenous consumption at the expense of others will ever lead to fulfilment? How can such an environment be so repulsive but also so compelling to watch? Many will want to turn away, but Clay is tragically trapped in this horrific reality. So even though I didn't love reading this novel I appreciate that it has meaning and a message.

Vista Chinesa by Tatiana Salem Levy (translated by Alison Entrekin)

The difficult details of what happened in our parents' lives before we were born often remain secret. This short, startlingly impactful novel is composed in the form of a letter which Júlia writes to her twin children. She confides in them about a violent incident which occurred long before they were conceived during which she was raped. In 2014, Júlia went on a run in the forest of Rio de Janeiro before a planned meeting about her architectural project of constructing an Olympic village in the city. She was sexually violated and physically attacked at gunpoint. The perpetrator was never found. Though she is aware that “now when people look at me they no longer see the body of a woman destroyed”, the damage is always emotionally present even if it is no longer physically visible. “That was my despair. The world went on, and my body, too, my work, my relationship, the things I wasn't sure about, my issues. My life was still there, even though it was over.” In describing her experience of surviving the attack, the police case which followed and the excruciating difficulty of life afterward we gain a complex and vivid portrait of the damage which persists after such a horrific assault.

The author notes at the end of the book that it was created through long conversations and a collaborative effort with her friend who was raped. They could have written a nonfiction account of her experience but it's fitting that it was transformed into a fictional narrative to more adequately represent the psychological reality of the victim. The style of the novel cleverly represents Júlia's state of mind to give a visceral understanding of her experience. Memories are both clearly present and jumbled. She's asked to describe what her attacker looked like for a police sketch and identify suspects from line ups, but it's moving how she conveys the agonizing difficulty of recognizing her attacker when “Looking in the mirror... I don't even recognise myself.” Sometimes sentences in the novel extend at a rapid pace showing the confusion of thoughts, emotion and her sense of time. Sections move back and forth between details of the attack and her life afterward. Though clarity becomes ever more elusive, while with her therapist she desperately thinks “If I talked about nothing else, if I only repeated the same story every day I came here, putting all of my versions together, maybe I'd get there. At some point, I'd get it all out and free myself of this past.” Sadly, there can be no escape from what happened to her but this account does a great deal to instil understanding.

Tatiana Salem Levy has an artful way of presenting individual experience framed by issues to do with nationality as in her previous novel “The House in Smyrna”. In this new book she shows the disconnect between the protagonist's life after her assault and the authorities' agenda. Police are more focused on closing the case than finding the right suspect. At one point the female investigator suggests that Júlia was partly at fault for jogging in an unpopulated area at a certain time of day. There's a buoyant attitude in the country surrounding the World Cup and Olympics while issues of public safety are being swept under the rug. Factors such as this shows why some victims of rape choose to not report or pursue justice because the continuing emotional trauma and further damage is too difficult. It reminded me of the clearsighted way Kandasamy's “When I Hit You” shows why reporting domestic abuse often results in further punishment for the victim. Levy's novel is full of bravery and insight in how it conveys the painful reality of sexual assault.

Sugar Street by Jonathan Dee

Who do you become when you leave your identity behind? The unnamed narrator of “Sugar Street” has abandoned his home, family, friends and job along with any identification. He goes to great lengths to avoid leaving any detection of himself as he drives to a remote town with nothing but a large bundle of cash. Here he finds lodging at a ramshackle house owned by a wayward woman who doesn't even care to know his name. In his dank upstairs room he simply exists, gazing out of the window and the only technology he allows in his space is an old radio. The mystery of who he is and what he's run away from persists through much of the novel especially as he cautiously plants several red herrings so the reader of this account won't be able to decipher his identity. At the same time, his story prods at existential questions to do with the meaning of life and whether being a “good” person is possible especially as a well-meaning white, heterosexual man from a comfortable background. He declares “I want peace. A just and lasting peace, peace in our time. I've always wanted peace, and I used to imagine that made me some kind of radical. But now I get it that peace is self-serving; peace protects the status quo and those who like it.” Stripped of everything in life but the bare essentials he pursues whether it's possible to exist in a morally wholesome way in modern America or if this is just another egotistical trap. While this might sound like a lot of liberal hand-wringing the story conveys a sense of deeply-felt crisis.

Much of the action of this novel is concerned with the painstaking measures he takes to avoid cameras, being logged on any system or giving any indication which could connect him to his origins. As he acknowledges, this is practically impossible in today's world when most large venues use CCTV and even searching the catalogue of a library requires a form of ID. It makes for quite a meagre, sad and lonely life as any tentative connections he forms with other people cause him to become paranoid. Of course, any interaction he experiences is also amplified as so much of his days are spent sitting in his dingy darkened apartment. He can sway from extreme acts of generosity to lashing out against those who disturb his placid afternoon. Many readers might grow frustrated or impatient with this novel as the plot becomes so concerned with the minutiae of these details. However, there are occasional moments of sly humour like when he refers to himself as Bertha Rochester (the so-called “madwoman in the attic” from “Jane Eyre”). He also asks difficult questions of readers and the inherent value of literature: “What are books anyway, though, in this world? Little antiquities. A library is a sort of roadside museum.” Many readers believe books give us an accumulation of knowledge and points of view along with entertainment, but this is a concept he has completely lost faith in.

What's more he's lost faith in humanity in general and cynically feels: “every effort to change the world has failed, is doomed to fail, as long as people are involved. Because people are a nightmare. Any system predicated on the idea of innate human decency is a joke. We're proving that now, as we have been for centuries.” Most people believe that human society is making incremental progress towards the betterment of all, but he seems to posit that this is an impossibility if we're to believe Sartre's maxim that “hell is other people.” Certainly anyone who has become involved in social media with the hope of it providing an earnest exchange of ideas where everyone is allowed to have a voice will quickly become disillusioned with its integrity. In fact, he dispels with the belief that individual perspective contains any essential importance: “in the end you are not a voice. You are not a name, not an identity; all that is vanity. In the end you are a body. That is the most, maybe the only, useful thing at your disposal. You must not flatter or deceive yourself about that.” Though these views about the illusion of individual existence veer towards some Buddhist philosophy, the narrative remains resolutely irreligious in his search for answers. However, it's interesting that his ultimate conclusion similarly suggests the necessity of obliterating the self (or some version of oneself). Those prone to such angst will find much to meditate on in this brooding tale.

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrell

With her latest novel “The Marriage Portrait” Maggie O'Farrell proves that she's one of the finest historical novelists working today. The basis of her inspiration comes from using that classic trick of plucking a semi-obscure figure from the distant past along with a bit of gossip to conjure a tale from between the pages of history. The subject is Lucrezia de' Medici, a noble daughter from Florence who was married to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara in 1558 when she was only thirteen. A year later she died from what was labelled as “putrid fever” but it was rumoured that she had been murdered by Alfonso. Although this new novel is set in the mid-1500s (only a few decades prior to her previous novel “Hamnet”) the stories are worlds apart. We follow Lucrezia's life as she is born into a busy privileged Italian household and ostracised for being the strange daughter of the family. O'Farrell imaginatively transports readers to this era with sumptuous, lavish, gorgeously-rendered detail of palace life with its many ornate rooms and hidden corridors, trysts and shady dealings and a menagerie of exotic animals kept for Cosimo, the Duke of Tuscany's amusement. When Lucrezia ventures into the depths of the palace to spy upon her father's new acquisition of a tigress she feels a momentary connection with this wild beautiful animal that stirs her spirit.

The narrative alternates between the story of her upbringing and her time at the remote “hunting lodge” of her husband Alfonso when Lucrezia is suddenly convinced “that he intends to kill her.” Is this true? Is she delirious from illness? Is she paranoid? Is there any way she can survive? These questions remain tantalizingly suspended throughout the story until the exhilarating and clever climax. There are so many compelling characters: vain sisters, bratty brothers, a wise nursemaid, seductive suitors, mysterious artists and scheming friends. As heads of the family, Eleanora and her husband Cosimo provide a model example of rulers of the region in their productivity and determination to educate all their children – both the boys and girls. However, their great flaw is underestimating their daughter Lucrezia. Here she is placed at the centre of the novel as the consummate outsider and forgotten child whose artistic talent leaves her teachers in awe. Though this position naturally makes her somewhat lonely, it's also advantageous as she can see the workings of things more clearly from a distance. Lucrezia's keen skills of observation and ability to discern power dynamics serves her well. She probably would have remained sidelined by her siblings if her elder sister Maria hadn't died from illness which means Lucrezia is ushered to take her place in marrying Alfonso.

I felt so drawn into the dynamics of palace life. O'Farrell is very skilful at evoking this period as well as creating a mystery around Alfonso who comes across as so charming but secretive. It's a tribute to the author's ability that she can build such a strong sense of hope while also making readers dread an impending doom. I was kept in suspense throughout while being spellbound by the heady experience of Lucrezia's wealthy but cloistered life. What's especially intriguing about this historical novel is the way the author allows you to see how things could have played out so differently if fate had blown in a different direction. If Maria hadn't died from disease and married Alfonso her outcome would have been very different from Lucrezia's. If Alfonso hadn't been so ruthless in his desire to produce an heir and allowed Lucrezia to become his equal partner, they could have ruled in as harmonious a way as Lucrezia's parents. O'Farrell shows how certain events dictate history, but they don't determine the future. And through the inspiring conclusion she establishes an ingenious way for us to re-view the past.

Spare by Prince Harry

My curiosity got the better of me and I read Prince Harry's memoir “Spare”. In the opening section he describes meeting with his father and William who state they don't know why he's done what he's done so he begins by saying “Pa, Willy, World... Here you go.” And I think the main point of his justification is stated later in the book when he says: “My problem has never been with the monarchy, or the concept of monarchy. It's been with the press and the sick relationship that's evolved between it and the Palace. I love my Mother Country, and I love my family, and I always will. I just wish, at the second-darkest moment of my life, they'd both been there for me. And I believe they'll look back one day and wish they had too.” Throughout the memoir he recounts the events of his entire life and states his case against the press and his family's failure to act on his and his wife's behalf.

Most of us have probably seen some of the shocking revelations and statements that Harry and Meghan have made lately in interviews and through their documentary series. This couple have been everywhere! Many are aware of the horrific abuse they've received by some of the press and public, the bickering between Harry and his family leading up to a physical fight with William (which is detailed in the book), the testy relationship between Meghan and Kate – all of which lead Harry to officially break away from the Royal family. I think it's been well covered already how Harry openly talks in this book about his drinking and drug use, losing his virginity and what were probably his biggest public gaffs of wearing a nazi outfit to a fancy dress party and using a racial slur when talking about a friend because he “wasn't thinking” and because of a “failure of self education” which he humbly admits he needs to improve. However, there were several things I read in Spare which I found surprising and I discuss them in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRdsfxXzWwI

There's no doubt Harry has undergone an extreme amount of physical and mental hardship and he's shown great resilience. He's clearly a talented and dedicated soldier (and it's a shame he wasn't able to continue in service because of risks to him and his colleagues). He's in some ways an ordinary guy who shops at TK Max, eats Nandos (bizarrely he places an order for this during the birth of his first child while sucking down laughing gas to help calm himself) and binge watches Friends – but he's also obviously in an extraordinarily privileged position. As one example, he labels himself a Chandler and later physically stays at Courtney Cox's house. So there's this odd mixture of the mundane with the extraordinary throughout the book which I guess is the thing that really makes us so fascinated by the Royals and what Harry calls his “fancy captivity”.

I felt a limited amount of sympathy towards him after reading this book and I think it's effective in showing his point of view but I don't know if I'm convinced he's right and those he's speaking out against are wrong. Or that anyone in this situation can be completely right or wrong. Many claims are made about leaks from within the Royal House to the press and how the Queen's close aides were basically manipulating her before her death. However, most of this comes across as conjecture and paranoia with little evidence apart from his word - though it's not at all surprising Harry would be highly suspicious given all the backstabbing and dirty deals that apparently go on in these circles.

How much should we trust his word? He states early in the memoir that he has an extraordinary memory for spaces but not dialogue from the past. There are many conversations recounted throughout the book in which he comes across as supremely reasonable while others sound irate. Should we trust that these were the things actually said? They might be roughly true but it feels like they mostly emphasise the fact that this is a one-sided account. Overall, I'm just left feeling the entire Royal mess is in a sad state of affairs. I'm not sure if this book will work positively towards fixing things or just fuel the fire which he seems so desperately to want to put out. But it makes sense that he'd put this book out there and it seems remarkable that we now have such a candid account from someone in the inner circle. I wouldn't recommend reading it unless you have a keen interest in the Royals and are really intrigued by such a personal account. However, if you do read it don't expect any clear answers.

The New Life by Tom Crewe

Crewe's debut novel begins in the summer of 1894 as John Addington makes the important decision that he won't deny his sexual and romantic longing for men any longer. He's middle aged and married to a woman named Catherine. They have multiple children who are now adults themselves. The few sexual encounters John's previously experienced resulted in repentance and a return to the sublimation of his desires. After he meets a man named Frank at a nude swimming pond in London he longs for the kind of domestic closeness any couple in love wants. Most modern readers will naturally recognise that John has repressed his homosexuality because of Victorian attitudes which not only condemned gay relationships but criminalised them. The consequences of such laws were made famous by Oscar Wilde's 1895 trial which casts a shadow over this story.

Obviously John's life has been painful and we want to see him find happiness. What's so engaging and innovative about this novel is the way it shows the full complexity of trying to obtain such happiness. How do you change laws which criminalise such desire without first dispelling widespread prejudice? How do you change the attitudes of the public without first changing the laws? How do you reconcile your own innate desires within the framework of a society which teaches you to repress them? How much are you willing to obstruct the happiness of others' to achieve your own? Many scenes in this novel are more concerned with the way such questions intrude upon moments of these characters' lives leaving them in a tense state of ambiguity and uncertainty. In doing so, it causes readers to ponder their own assumptions about what is just and what is right.

Running parallel to John's story is that of a shy young man named Henry who enters into a non-traditional marriage with Edith. The couple share a strong intellectual connection and commitment to working towards “the New Life” as Henry feels “we must live in the future we hope to make”. Henry and Edith maintain separate residences as Edith is engaged in a romantic relationship with another woman named Angelica. Henry also has secret sexual proclivities which he finds excruciatingly painful to admit. He exchanges letters with John as they write a book together titled “Sexual Inversion” which seeks to establish an intellectual and medical basis for homosexuality. They hope this will lead to changes in the larger society and help usher everyone into this ideal conception of a “New Life.” However, historical circumstances and the impact this publication has upon people connected to the book dramatically complicate these aims.

These matters create such an intriguing and unexpected plot which plays out over the course of nearly two years in these characters' lives. Crewe's academic speciality for this period of British history gracefully informs the story and imbues it with tantalizing atmospheric detail. It also allows the author to adeptly deviate from historical fact and the actual men who inspired these characters in a way which serves the fiction extremely well. There is a striking scene where London is covered in such a thick fog that boys with lanterns need to be hired to guide people from one spot to another. This fog provides a natural metaphor for the dilemmas of the story as well as a romantic opportunity for desires which ordinarily must be concealed to be expressed in the open. The writing is highly sensuous (as one would hope it would be given the subject matter) and unashamedly captures the object of these characters' desires as well as how their yearnings manifest. It makes it a very sexy novel (albeit in a very English way) falling naturally in line with the work of Alan Hollinghurst.

I found it particularly moving how John has such a strong sense of being watched even in private moments and how this has inhibited him for most of his life. Yet, when he becomes adamant about being open about his desires it impedes upon the lives of others such as his wife Catherine who speaks up at a crucial moment in the story. As total disclosures are made it also turns some who are sympathetic and supportive of John against him. This creates more haunting questions for the reader concerning what liberty we actually possess to confess all that we are to the world. How much honesty can our relationships and larger society take? Equally, the characters' earnest desire to establish a “New Life” compellingly teases out the vaguely shifting lines between being and becoming. There are no easy answers to these problems and by casting us back to a period of history that we believe we've progressed far away from, Crewe cleverly makes clear how the past is actually still present.

Winter Flowers by Angelique Villeneuve (translated by Adriana Hunter)

I admire a quiet novel that allows emotional significance to arise from the facts of history rather than dramatic or showy events. “Winter Flowers” is set directly after WWI in late 1918 when soldier Toussaint returns to his wife Jeanne and daughter Leonie in Paris. He's been away for years and has been wounded and facially disfigured in battle. Though his much anticipated return is welcome, everyone has been heavily changed by the war, disease and poverty. The majority of the story takes place in the confined quarters of their humble abode where Jeanne spends exhaustive hours painstakingly shaping fake flowers to adorn women's attire in upscale boutiques. This family must slowly readjust to each others' presence. Their interactions are often awkward and Jeanne must guess at the thoughts of the often silent Toussaint. It's a meditative experience following this family as they readjust to each other, grapple with grief and accept what's been lost. It also presents a focused portrait of the state of a country which has been traumatised by war.

It's intriguing how even though Toussaint and Jeanne share a bed again there is still a mental, emotional and sexual gulf between them. Jeanne must mull over his cryptic brief remarks and is reduced to following her husband when he makes unannounced excursions. Her desperation to better understand him is palpable. It's moving how the story delicately presents this example of a couple who aren't able to share their innermost thoughts and feelings. There's also an uncertainty for the characters concerning what's happening in the country. This is presented in an innovative way in one chapter where there is a list of speculations which all begin with the line “Word is...” In this way the author shows how the community is united in their struggle to understand what's happening and how they should best prepare for the future. It reminded me somewhat of the way the author Annie Ernaux is able to simultaneously represent both the individual and the collective psyche in her books through the shifting concerns and preoccupations of a group of people.

Not only is there an aching tension in the relationship between this husband and wife, but also between Jeanne and her daughter Leonie. When Jeanne lashes out against her adolescent girl at one point it's shocking, but also indicative of how they struggle to effectively communicate despite living together in such close quarters. Additionally, there's an absence in this home from a lost family member which is delicately woven into the narrative. The novel presents the continuing impact of many different kinds of loss for both this family and their neighbour Sidonie who once had a large family but is now perilously alone. So even though the central family are lucky to still have each other there are sorrowful gulfs between them. For such a seemingly lowkey story, the author powerfully presents how bereavement creates both barriers and bonds between individuals who rely on one another and the hard-won love between them.

23 Classics to Read in 2023

I enjoy making a New Year's resolution to challenge myself to read or reread some classics that I've never got around to. As encouragement I make a reading list for the year inspired by certain books celebrating an anniversary based on initial publication date or an author's birthday or a new reprint. You can watch me discuss these 23 books here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28oc5Vel0lA

The titles I've chosen for this year's list range from novels first published two hundred years ago to fifty years ago. Certain books such as “Around the World in Eighty Days”, “The Good Soldier Svejk”, “Catch 22” and “Sula” are celebrated and widely read classics. Some include less well known titles from famous authors such as Mary Shelley, Thomas Hardy, Joseph Conrad, Willa Cather and Aldous Huxley. Some such as “Ourika”, “Thy Neighbour's Wife” and “Bobbin Up” are now more obscure books due for a resurgence. And others are from authors whose work is being reprinted for the first time in many years.

I've tried to include a diversity of titles so that some will probably be familiar while others might be from authors you've never encountered before. I discovered some surprising connections when researching my list such as Virginia Woolf's short story which is a precursor to her tremendous novel “Mrs Dalloway”, the influence Jaroslav Hasek had on Joseph Heller and how a Willa Cather novel greatly inspired F. Scott Fitzgerald in writing “The Great Gatsby”. It's wonderful how reading classic titles will naturally lead you on to finding other titles to enjoy till literary history begins to resemble a patchwork quilt of connected books.

My Top Books of 2022

Here are my top 10 books of 2022! A video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these titles and why they made the tippity top of my year's reading pile: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2R6z-i1zDws

As usual, I followed a lot of book prizes this year. The winner of the Booker Prize ended up being one of my favourite books. It was a thrill to be able to attend the award ceremony and learn that Shehan is a fan of my YouTube channel. It was wonderful to be able to interview Joyce Carol Oates again this year about her most recent novel as well as the new film adaptation of her novel “Blonde”. Of course, a real highlight of the year was having two books of my own published. I was commissioned to write these titles suggesting 50 great romances and 50 great mystery novels. It was a fun project and they’ve been turned into two lovely little books.

I read around a hundred books in the past year but these are some which have made the most impact. From a mother struggling to find out how her daughter died to a recently deceased war photographer seeking his killer, these are gripping tales with characters embroiled in emotionally dramatic journeys. Many portray historic battles and wars through a personal lens. Others depict the deep personal impact chronic illness has upon the lives of families and lovers. These books bring to life the unique personality of characters caught in wide scale social and societal change. Some draw on the models of classic literature while others seem to invent their own form of storytelling.

A few such as “Demon Copperhead” and “Nights of Plague” stretch to hundreds of pages while others such as “Elena Knows” and “The Swimmers” are so slender they could be read in a day. There are scenes of heartbreaking cruelty as well as exquisite tenderness in novels such as “Bolla”, “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” and “Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies” which stick out in my memory. Books like “The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida” and “The Colony” made me laugh as much as they made me cry. Some I read at the beginning of the year, but I only read “Trust” a few weeks ago and I was so struck by its inventive structure to reexamine the way we view history, capitalism and those in power.

Have you read any of these? What are the best things you've read this year?

Cocoon by Zhang Yueran (translated by Jeremy Tiang)

“Cocoon” begins with a tantalizingly eerie, almost gothic, setting where a young woman named Li Jiaqi returns to her grandfather's palatial house in the winter. Here “Great swaths of snow are coming down now. As if God were flinging back at humanity every letter we've ever sent him, ripped into tiny pieces.” Not only is there a layer of snow but “This ancient country was under a thick layer of dust, and leaving would feel like being cleansed.” Her respected and reclusive grandfather is seriously ill. While staying with him she goes to see Cheng Gong, a childhood friend who she hasn't spoken to in some time. As they recollect and sift through the past, the narrative alternates between their perspectives and the troubled lives of the proceeding generations are gradually unwound. Their parents and grandparents were traumatized or perished amidst the strident political conflicts of the previous decades and the Chinese Cultural Revolution. However, Jiaqi and Gong were never informed about exactly what happened or the truth about the bloody events their families lived through. As wilful and defiant children in the 1980s they felt their lives were hampered by seismic events of the recent past, but only now that they're older can they get a better understanding of how their families were impacted by this history.

Though there is a sharp contrast between Jiaqi's stoic grandfather and Gong's grandfather who remained in a coma for many years, they are equally distant and inaccessible to their grandchildren. The generational schism between the grandparents and parents is also palpable. But it's difficult for Jiaqui and Gong to understand where the blame is located and who the real victims were. They embark upon their own investigations as “I definitely had a strong desire to walk among these adults and take on their burden of culpability. Maybe because my life was so empty, I needed to enter a world that didn’t belong to me in order to find meaning.” Neither of them have been able to find positive purpose or success in their lives. In a sense they are haunted by the recent history which neither is able to access or fully understand. However, through their discussions they gradually piece together some aspects of the past.

I enjoyed the moodiness of this novel and the way it portrays these generational divides especially when the country has undergone such violent recent change. It reminded me somewhat of the Chilean novel “The Remainder” in how it depicts how children can never fully access the traumatic history which has inadvertently shaped them. Jiaqi continuously has nightmares about matryoshka dolls which seems an apt symbol as no matter how many containers of the past she and Gong open they aren't ever able to get to the true meaning of what preceded them. There's also a bitterness to these wilful individuals which is endearing in a nihilistic way as they believe “Memory is selective, and my memory would rather cling to suffering.” There's a memorably horrific scene where Jiaqi discovers a fetus in a toilet, but this is questioned as it might have been something she invented. In contrast to the central characters are Jiaqi's cousin Peixuan who is diligent, honours her parents/grandparents and started a new life in America but is scarred from an early encounter with Gong. And there is Jiaqi's father's mistress Wang Luhan who is a hard won survivor. While these characters keep an eye on the future, Jiaqi and Gong are determined to stew in the past. This story presents a complex puzzle of these characters lives with pieces which seem to vanish as soon as they are fitted into place.

Trust by Hernan Diaz

It's impressive when a novel draws you so fully into its story only to pull the rug out and make you question the validity of what you're reading. Diaz presents four different manuscripts about Wall Street tycoon Andrew Bevel and his brilliant wife Mildred in a way which makes you reassess and question the legitimacy of what came before each part. Every section creates a persuasive picture of these figures and their role in financial affairs which led up to the Great Depression. Though the novel continuously reframes the same characters and events it shows them from radically different angles. Far from being convoluted or repetitive, this gives a dynamic understanding of how narrative can be shaped to fit the ideologies and points of views possessed by different authors. Moreover it's captivating how it lulls the reader into the magnetic glamour and power of these individuals who are at turns sympathetic and suspicious, seductive and repulsive, the saviours of America and the scourge of the nation.

Diaz cleverly plays off from the double meaning of words such as “trust”, “bonds” and “futures” which refer to financial arrangements as well as human relationships. In doing so, he shows how business isn't simply a matter of mathematical equations because there are real world implications and its motives are often based in human emotions. The novel interrogates a capitalist system which allows high proportions of a nation's wealth to be in the hands of relatively few people. The way the story plays out makes us question the honesty behind the stated moral imperatives of moguls who claim to be acting in the best interest of the general population and their country while also increasing their own power and wealth. Crucially, the story also depicts an example of a man driven by communist ideas who earnestly endeavours to query the system and spread news of an alternative ideology. However, his schemes seem as egotistically driven as the financial leaders he scorns. Threaded through the stories of these domineering men on either side of the political divide is a virulent misogyny which leads to the suppression of women's voices. So it feels only fitting that the final two narratives of this novel are handed over to female characters who relate their points of view in a memoir and diary entries.

The novel is deeply compellingly in its series of dramatic reveals which cleverly prompt the reader to piece together an understanding separate from any single one of these narratives. But I think it's also a valuable exercise in questioning how we view history and the motives behind certain stories – especially those that are spun by people in power. Excessive wealth is so often justified by tales of individuals who have earned it through hard work and ingenuity. It's condoned through philanthropy which washes clean any cut throat measures or misconduct which led to its creation. These persuasive mythologies lead to complacency. However, as Diaz demonstrates in this book, there are multiple viewpoints which give very different perspectives on how and why such fortunes are built. It's a message and methodology we should carry with us whenever reading the news or listening to the self-satisfied stories of those in power.

Nights of Plague by Orhan Pamuk (translated by Ekin Oklap)

Now and then it is such a pleasure to get lost in a long, immersive and well written epic! I've had this feeling in the past with novels like “The Luminaries” and “The Eighth Life” whose long page counts allow enough space to fully reimagine a bygone era and intricately involve the reader with the many twists of fate a large cast of characters experience over many years. Set during the beginning of the 20th century, “Nights of Plague” sits comfortably alongside these other bewitching tombs. The Ottoman Empire is gradually disintegrating and the Sultan sends a few emissaries including the Royal Chemist, the Sultan's niece Princess Pakize and her doctor husband on a ship bound for China. However, it first stops at the (fictional) island of Mingheria which is suddenly beset by a virulent disease. As the governing forces try to repress rumours of a plague these three characters find themselves closely involved in the resulting chaos which unfolds. The instability causes religious, economic and national divides to come to the surface. Murderous plots, scandalous affairs and grabs for power ensue. Pamuk deftly handles the many threads of his story in a way which is fairly easy to follow, creates plenty of intrigue and reveals many surprises with dramatically gripping scenes. This novels works as both a historical epic and a murder mystery with a Sultan who is hilariously keen on the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

It's narrated from the point of view of Mina Mingher, the fictional female author of this tale, who explains at the start that the book is both a novel and a historical account informed by Princess Pakize's letters and records from Mingheria's past. This authorial voice occasionally comments upon the action and interjects to give context to events. Initially I was worried this device would feel too artificial or complex, but it doesn't intrude so much that it detracts from the pleasure of the narrative. It also raises interesting questions to do with how to account for people's past actions and understand history. The killers in this story can be deduced from evidence given throughout the story, but the real perpetrators behind these crimes and the many plague deaths which result because of government action (or inaction) are a different question. Naturally this history still feels very relevant when viewed next to recent world events. Mina enters into the story itself towards the end of the novel in a pleasing and poignant way.

Alongside the immediate action, I was fascinated by the way this novel depicts the rapid formation and transformation of a country. In its skilful depiction of the rise and fall of governments we also follow the dramatic lives of those who might be the most powerful person in the nation one day and a vilified rogue the next. Like all totalitarian governments a great deal of suppression and torture is used to silence unpopular opinions. It's noted how “You really couldn't solve a problem in the Ottoman Empire without throwing someone in prison.” Through blending Mina's fictional recreations and historical accounts we gain a better sense of the path of justice. We also get a female-centred view of the past and what a possible matriarchy would look like compared to the venal male leaders focused more on power than the welfare of the people. Since she is narrating retrospectively we receive a contextual understanding of events versus the country's myth building which is taught in school and emblazoned on national banners and monuments. It forms into an expansive and impressive chronicle which could have only been created by a masterful storyteller.

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde

Great coming of age tales are enthralling because we can all relate to the awkward transition from childhood to adulthood. However, they can also attune us to the challenges some face because of a particular individual's identity or circumstances. “Zami” draws on much of Audre Lorde's autobiographical experience to form what she calls a “biomythography”. It's a process of understanding and defining herself as separate from the ways in which she has been categorized by her circumstances and the way other people view her. We follow her piercing observations of the world around her being raised in Harlem through to her independence and early adulthood in the 1950s. She charts her journey towards being proudly “Black, female, gay and out of the closet” in a time and society with widespread racism, sexism and homophobia. With evocative and emotive detail Lorde captures the difficult process of establishing an independent state of being within the circles of family, friends, lovers, community and country. It also endearingly charts her progress towards becoming a great reader and writer.

The depths of loneliness Lorde felt being so different from those around her is powerfully related in celestial terms: “I grew up feeling like an only planet, or some isolated world in a hostile, or at best, unfriendly, firmament.” This intense sense of alienation is carried forth as she is sensitive to the hostilities of other people's opinions and the ways they look down upon her. It has a persistent physical effect upon her as she describes: “I could feel bands of tension sweeping across my body back and forth, like lunar winds across the moon's face.” This is such a clever way of framing her mental and physical state in her early years. By casting herself as a planetary body she shows how she is at once cognizant of her inherent greatness but also painfully aware of her distance from others.

There's so much powerful imagery from her childhood which brings this bygone era to life. From descriptions of her glasses which frequently broke to a briefly known playmate we come to understand the world of her youth through the things she valued the most. One of my favourite sections is about the West Indian pestle and mortar in her family kitchen. It's both a symbol of the Caribbean island her mother came from and a beautiful object which she attends to with an almost hypnotic intensity. Seemingly everyday items such as this are elevated to near religious significance when understood within the context of a household because it's what ties this family to a particular lineage, culture and history.

Lorde also deftly differentiates her understanding of her environment as a child from what she knows now viewing it in retrospect. For instance, there were occasions when out in public white people would spit at her but her mother explained it away as people who were simply careless. She realises that “My mother and father believed that they could best protect their children from the realities of race in america and the fact of american racism by never giving them name, much less discussing their nature.” So it was only through experience and her own rationale that she came to truly understand her position in this society as a black woman.

I appreciated how there are detailed accounts of her economic struggles as a young woman who found it especially difficult to find steady and decently-paid work because of the colour of her skin and her educational background. Gruelling experiences of working in a factory are described with such intensity. The paltry safety measures in place had to be ignored in order to produce the demanded workload leaving employees dangerously at risk to exposure or injury. However, one point I found it difficult to understand was her self-proclaimed lack of typing skills. She describes how with every move to new lodgings she made she laboriously carried with her a typewriter which she used to write poetry. Yet at every job interview she insists “I had never really learned to type” which closes many opportunities. I'm guessing she means she never learned how to type a certain amount of words per minute, but because this was such a barrier to finding jobs other than manual labour it seems strange she didn't teach herself to properly type while regularly using a typewriter.

It feels especially meaningful that even when Lorde is able to enter liberating spaces as a young woman she discovers there are barriers which prevent her from finding true happiness or being truly equal to those around her. She feels an instinctual desire to move to Mexico and there “Wherever I went, there were brown faces of every hue meeting mine, and seeing my own color reflected upon the streets in such great numbers was an affirmation for me that was brand-new and very exciting. I had never felt visible before, nor even known I lacked it.” Yet, such freedom is short lived as she must return to America. Also, when she gradually discovers a lesbian community she finds they are united in a belief that “as lesbians, we were all outsiders and all equal in our outsiderhood... It was wishful thinking based on little fact; the ways in which it was true languished in the shadow of those many ways in which it would always be false.” Lorde pointedly describes how there's still discrimination and aggression because of her blackness which is mostly unspoken because an oppressed community doesn't want to believe they are also capable of being oppressors.

An interesting stylistic choice of the book is how the linear story of her development is interspersed with short italicised sections. Earlier in the text these seem to be youthful poems and later on they become more narrative-driven to articulate her burgeoning understanding of the world. These poignantly add to the sense of her evolution as a writer and intellectual. It shows how her growth as a literary artist has been an ongoing process running alongside larger issues to do with family, work and lovers as “Writing was the only thing that made me feel like I was alive.” It's such a gift that Audre Lorde insisted upon documenting her experience and thoughts in this way for future generations. Jackie Kay, a contemporary writer I admire, commented that “I came across Audre Lorde's Zami, and I cried to think how lucky I was to have found her. She was an inspiration.” Reading this book is an enriching and wondrous experience.