International Booker Prize Longlist 2023

Here is the International Booker Prize longlist 2023! Lot of exciting and surprising titles to choose from - 13 books of fiction translated from 11 different languages. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing these books and the list as a whole: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keaPFG8xFXY

I love how this award helps me to travel around the world through fiction to experience so many different points of view and cultures I might never encounter in real life. Last year's winner “Tomb of Sand” was such a wild, epic journey. I've read several books translated into English in the past year that I was expecting to see listed but I didn't guess any correctly. Looking at other people's predictions I've only seen a few of the books that have been nominated here. Unusually, I've not yet read any of these newly longlisted titles so I'm enthusiastic about taking the plunge and following this year's award closely.

There are stories about the dilemma of being a parent, communities that come together and fall apart, forbidden love, working class undocumented immigrants, a possible new messiah, the personal price of artistic integrity, a clinic for the past, triplets that lead very different lives, a survivor of the Cultural Revolution, the challenges of growing up in a newly unified country and a character who communicates with elephants. They vary from the thrilling to the fantastic to multigenerational sagas. Some of these tales give an epic wider view of a society undergoing change and others concentrate on the life of a single unique individual.

It's really interesting how books nominated for this award tend to be more daring with narrative form. Many are published by smaller, independent publishers who tend to take a chance on fiction others aren't willing to take on. However, this means they discover some overlooked gems and I enjoy how the International Booker highlights so many great titles I'd probably not have encountered otherwise. Now it's time to start reading and I feel spoiled for choice. I'll probably begin with “Boulder” or “The Gospel According to the New World”. I've been meaning to read Maryse Condé for ages.

Let me know what you think of the longlist and if you've read any of these titles. And which book are you hoping to read first?

Cursed Bread by Sophie Mackintosh

When a narrator begins a tale stating “I could say a lot of things, but perhaps it's best to be honest, now” how much can we really trust her? Regardless of how straightforward or truthful she's being, she is certainly earnest in her bitterness. Elodie is a dowdy self-effacing individual from a provincial French town where the painful reverberations of WWII are still felt. In this short but eerie tale she describes her formerly humble existence as a baker's wife. Life irretrievably changed when she developed a twisted relationship with a glamorous ambassador's wife named Violet. At the same time, unsettling things occurred amongst the increasingly hysterical residents of her town. An undertone of violence and resentment fills her account as she reveals small pieces of the puzzle that is her past. Policemen who periodically come to interview her in the present don't get any clear answers and I'm not sure I entirely understood what occurred, but I don't think Mackintosh is interested in solutions. Instead we're offered a novel that possesses a perverse charm as its central character's debasement becomes the self-lacerating tool she uses to discover her own agency.

This story is saturated with Elodie's insatiable hunger - for sex and love but also a life beyond the boundaries of what she's been offered. She declares “I have always been a sort of archivist, glutting myself on what has been left behind.” Memories are presented as sour stuff which she has chewed, swallowed and regurgitated multiple times. She made increasingly desperate attempts to sexually entice her husband and what appeared to be his sweetly earnest desire to produce the best bread in the country was more about his withdrawal of affection. Elodie wanted to simultaneously be intensely close to and become Violet. However, it becomes evident that Violet didn't see her so much as a companion or a confidant, but someone to manipulate for her own churlish amusement. The enigma of who is the perpetrator and who is the victim is teasingly drawn out even after the book's thrilling conclusion so I was left wondering what really happened. Elodie masochistically clings to and inhabits the past commenting that “Pain becomes an animal, walking at your side. Pain becomes a home you can carry with you.”

Though I appreciated the Jean Rhys type mood of this story, I'm not sure it's entirely satisfying in its splicing of fable (in the mode of Mackintosh's debut “The Water Cure”) and fictionalised history. The circuitous nature of the structure became a bit frustrating at points when I wanted to be more enticed by the mystery. Details which might have been clues quickly evaporated as the narrative gradually detached itself from a clear timeline. I enjoyed this book most at points when the private obsessions Elodie nurtured are revealed to be fully known to those around her and used as something they can manipulate. This poignantly shows the vulnerability of someone so fixed in their own perspective they aren't aware of how they can be drawn into a trap. Given how little empathy is extended to Elodie it's no wonder she became so acidic and her testament is effective in demonstrating how the sweetest things in life can so easily turn rotten.

The Baillie Gifford Prize for Non-Fiction 25th Anniversary shortlist

What's the best non-fiction you've ever read? I've been trying to increase the amount of historical accounts and biographies I read and I'm looking for some more top choices. I've read some great titles in the past several months including Katherine Rundell's “Super-Infinite” - a brilliantly innovative biography of the poet John Donne which won The Baillie Gifford Prize for Non-Fiction last year. This is the UK's premiere book prize for non-fiction and it's their 25th anniversary this year. To celebrate they've created a Winner of Winners Award (I keep thinking of this in Drag Race terms – Legendary Legends!) A specially selected group of judges are pitting all past 24 winners of the Baillie Gifford against each other to choose one overall winner on April 27th and that author will receive £25,000. They've now chosen this extremely compelling shortlist of six books.

“Empire of Pain” by Patrick Radden Keefe is one of my favourite books of non-fiction that I've read in recent years. It's a brilliant and riveting exploration of the Sackler family's scandalous involvement in the pharmaceutical industry putting profit over public welfare. I'm now keen to delve into more books from this shortlist. Many of these titles explore pivotal moments in history including James Shapiro's “1599” (the year Shakespeare produced a phenomenal amount of work including Henry the Fifth, Julius Ceasar, As You Like It and Hamlet); Margaret Macmillan's “Paris 1919” (the year of the post-WWI Paris Peace conference); and Wade Davis' “Into the Silence” (documenting the years 1921-24 when British climbers including George Mallory attempted to find a way to the summit of Everest). Barbara Demick's “Nothing to Envy” gives rare personal insight into North Korea, one of the most repressive and secretive states on earth. And Craig Brown's “One Two Three Four” is a kaleidoscopic examination of The Beatles phenomenon.

Let me know if you've read any of these books and which you'd suggest I read next. Or let me know some of your favourite non-fiction that I should add to my TBR list.

Women's Prize Longlist 2023

Here are the 16 novels longlisted for the 2023 Women's Prize for Fiction! It's an exciting and (mostly) surprising group of books. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these titles with some fun info about the list as a whole: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6MJ_Xb4TQ

There are 9 debuts including some which have featured on other prize lists and some I've not come across before. Amongst these is “Trespasses” by Louise Kennedy which I have read and it was also shortlisted for the Waterstone's Debut Book Award. It's such a moving and unique account of a Catholic teacher who has an affair with a married man amidst The Troubles in Northern Ireland.

I'm also thrilled to see “Glory”, “The Marriage Portrait” and “Demon Copperhead” which are all such accomplished immersive reads. In my predictions video with Anna I declared that Barbara Kingsolver will win this year's prize and I'm sticking with that speculation. To be fair, this is hardly an imaginative guess given that Kingsolver has won the award before, this novel is already very popular and she's one of the most respected American authors working today. But I really loved this story and I'm so glad that (even more) people will be reading it now. And... I may change my mind about what book I want to win after reading more of this year's nominations.

I've currently read only 4 of the novels from the list and I'll probably next read “Cursed Bread”, “I'm a Fan” or “Wandering Souls”. But there is so much enticing fiction here which all appears to be high quality (no fluff) so we're spoiled for choice!

What will you read first? What do you think of the list as a whole? Do you have an early prediction about what will win? Any books you're gutted not to see on the list? I'm disappointed “Nightcrawling”, “Fight Night” and “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” weren't listed... but hey ho that's how it goes with book prize lists. Nevertheless, this is a great looking group!

England's Green by Zaffar Kunial

The poetry in “England's Green” describes not only the natural world in this country but the personal and national history embedded in its flora and language. Kunial is so attentive to the construction of words as well as their sounds. In several poems he takes certain words apart to give the reader a unique three dimensional view of them demonstrating how “Words have pockets. Small, deep pockets that go on for ages. We put words on a page and they preserve infinitely more than we mean or guess”. Through this attention to linguistics the author delves into his family's past and converses with writers from Chaucer to Shakespeare to the Brontës. As many authors do, several poems begin with an epigraph however Kunial adds a touching personal resonance when quoting from Iris Murdoch's “Flight from the Enchanter” as he notes the underlinings were made by his mother in her copy of the book. This imaginative and playful collection is awash with emotional resonance which shines through in each carefully constructed and beautiful line.

I also enjoy how alongside the actual past Kunial considers potential alternative paths in life and spaces in time when things could have gone differently. He states “We all have lives that go on without us. Unwritten... a realm between weathers, where losses and times fold, at the crease – clueless as to what it was. Or for whom.” This so wonderfully encapsulates the influence of chance upon our lives as well as the ambiguity of different possible outcomes. Through our ability to recall and reimagine amidst our individual linear narratives he posits how “Life is wider than its page. And days are a cut field, clipped and made to run on.” The resonance of these larger themes coupled with the metaphorical force in these poems makes them utterly arresting to read. I especially enjoyed the way he incorporates nature and at one point describes “the snow drops – tiny tongueless bells – the quietness is still ringing”. With great intelligence Kunial allows us to re-view words and the world around us. This book also has one of the best endings I've ever read in any poetry collection: “The very last thing poetry is is a poem.”

Osebol by Marit Kapla (translated by Peter Graves)

Marit Kapla was born in the small village of Osebol situated in the dense forests of rural Sweden. Though she's often lived elsewhere she's continuously returned to this humble location whose adult population is only about forty. In 2016/17 she conducted a series of interviews with the village's residents about their lives, the history of this location and their points of view. They range in age between 18 and 92 years old. Their accounts are presented in this book in short statements. While it's detailed at the bottom of each page who is speaking and their date of birth (in some cases there is also a date of death because some have since died), the way these narratives are arranged allows them to flow together as a continuous stream of speech. Gradually a larger picture of village life and its past emerges. Reading this book feels partly like watching a documentary about a single obscure location and partly like reading a highly accessible prose poem. It's both surprisingly compelling and comforting. In listening to the multiplicity of voices from this small Swedish village we come to understand the full spectrum of our society in microcosm - as well as getting to know the unique personalities and histories of an endearing group of people.

Though there are some young people still in the village the majority of its residents are much older. Fewer educational and employment opportunities mean the younger population has been moving away for years. Trees are no longer farmed in this region for timber and other industries such as tourism have been flailing which has left both the locals and regional government worse off. As such the public resources are crumbling – in particular a double arch bridge which can now only be used by pedestrians. The only way to drive in or out of the village is over a potholed dirt road leaving it almost cut off from the rest of the country. It's touching how this location comes to feel like a quiet island with its last remaining voices relating stories about a near-forgotten past and people who have long since died. Yet there is so much life and humanity in their stories it makes for compulsive reading. It's also not as melancholy as it might seem because of the humour which emerges from petty grievances which have played out over generations and droll observations such as “You don't see youngsters out on their bikes these days. They've started going out a bit more thanks to Pokemon Go.”

A wide range of points of view are presented concerning how both the shrinking village and the larger country should be governed. There's a more radical liberal who was a leader in a commune that existed in the village in the 1970s and a conservative family who blame a lack of funding for the community on an influx of refugees. There's someone who keeps a holiday home in Osebol and a relatively young person who moved to the village because they prefer small town living to city life. Some residents have family who have lived here for many generations and others are recent immigrants. There's a general sense that the village has gone from having a more communal spirit “when potatoes were grown who actually owned them became irrelevant and people took what they needed” to possessing a more insular nature “People used to get together in their homes and chat. Now you have to be invited before you go.” Naturally, the residents all have very different opinions about the quality of local life and characteristics of the region. The community is small enough that there is no one personality to an Osebol resident. As Istvan Foth observes: “In a place like this you don't have people around you you have individuals. You get closer to one another.” The book presents a beautiful portrait of a village which isn't very distinct on the surface but is filled with meaning because of the diverse people who inhabit it.

The Rabbit Hutch by Tess Gunty

Before I read “The Rabbit Hutch” I was very drawn to the story because the synopsis describes how teenage central character Blandine dreams of becoming a female mystic. This instantly made me think of the 1990 film 'Mermaids' and the pious Charlotte Flax played by Winona Ryder. However, once Blandine's appearance is described in the book I couldn't help picturing her more like the actress Anya Taylor-Joy. Film references aside, I was instantly delighted by the structure Tess Gunty chose for this narrative which alights upon the stories of several residents of a low-cost apartment complex in the financially depressed town of Vacca Vale. We witness different individuals' preoccupations watching television, struggling to care for a baby and performing naked on a webcam for money. Though the many characters are in close proximity to each other and can hear each other through the thin walls and ceilings they have little or no physical interactions. Blandine herself lives with three teenage boys who are also products of the state foster system. They are attracted to her but know little about Blandine as she is mysterious in her habits and what she divulges about her past. She is a complex and damaged character who also possesses an ethereal beauty and high intelligence. The novel describes a series of events one summer leading up to the ominously foreshadowed event where “she exits her body”. Whether this is through spiritual transcendence or death is left tantalizingly unclear until the story's dramatic conclusion.

It's interesting how the novel presents larger issues going on in the community as reflected by the individual perspectives of different residents. A controversial renewal plan is disrupted by creepy protest actions. The motor industry which employed many of the area's residents has departed and left behind unemployment and pollution. An egocentric actress dies in old age but is still remembered as the beloved child star of a schmaltzy sitcom. I enjoyed how these subjects touch the characters' lives like all the ambient noise in the apartment complex so they are involved but at a remove. It's intriguing how a larger picture of life gradually unfolds through this constellation of points of view. However, the primary figures Gunty focuses on throughout the novel didn't feel as compelling as the potential of this narrative design. Both Blandine and a figure named Moses who is the son of the deceased actress Elsie are imbued with a lot of eccentricities which begin to feel more grating than endearingly quirky. I felt much more invested in the relatively down-to-earth figure of Joan whose job is to monitor public comments on a memorial website. But even her character becomes slightly burdened by overtly idiosyncratic detail such as her ability to consume limitless amount of watermelon, the freckles on her eyelids and her penchant for eating jars of maraschino cherries in bed. These descriptions come to feel more whimsical rather than realistically building upon the circumscribed world of Vacca Vale.

I did appreciate the way in which Blandine's near other-worldliness is gradually deflated as we come to understand the truth about her background and a tumultuous affair she had with a former teacher. Given the way in which she's been used and manipulated her flirtation with fervent religious practices begins to feel entirely natural and logical. However, the larger plot in regards to animal sacrifice, obstructions to redevelopment plans and Blandine's radical intervention felt a little contrived. So I was left feeling somewhat unsatisfied. Where this novel really shined for me were in the small moments in the lives of individuals as viewed through Gunty's prismatic lens: a couple's indignity at finding a mouse corpse which has been dropped on their balcony, a woman named Penny who plants herself outside a convenience story with a shopping cart full of Beanie Babies and a young man whose online self exposure leads to empty connections. Our brief time with these characters lead to small glimpses into experience which is both unique and relatable. This is Tess Gunty's debut and it's won the coveted National Book Award, but I get the feeling she'd be a much better short story writer than a novelist.

Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton

Eleanor Catton's prize-winning and best-selling novel “The Luminaries” has a special place in my heart – not only because it's a tremendous story which is brilliantly written – but because it partly inspired me to start this blog in the first place. When I finished reading that intricate and impressive book I felt so compelled to discuss it with other people I went online. It's the first book I posted about here and the conversations which followed encouraged me to continue engaging with the virtual book community. So naturally I'm thrilled that now (nearly 10 years after that novel first came out) she's finally published a new novel “Birnam Wood”. The title is taken from a line in the play 'Macbeth' when the weird sisters predict that “Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall come against him.” It's certainly not necessary to know the implications and meaning of this to appreciate Catton's new novel. The story plays upon themes of ambition and power, but I don’t think the Shakespearian influence is explicit until very late in the book.

At the centre of the book is a New Zealand guerrilla gardening group or farming collective who use the name Birnam Wood. They utilize unused land to cultivate crops to be distributed to those in need. This is both a political act and environmental/humanitarian initiative whose methods aren't often strictly legal. So when the group's founder Mira researches a large tract of land bordering a national forest which has been seemingly abandoned following a natural disaster she sees an opportunity for a large-scale planting project. However, an American billionaire and pioneer in drone technology named Robert Lemoine is under negotiations with the land owners to purchase this tract of land – purportedly to build a doomsday bunker. When Lemoine proposes to the collective that he can charitably fund their activities some members of the group feel that they are making a deal with the devil. What follows is an ecological thriller, in-depth psychological study and social commentary about modern day politics/technology.

Many readers may grapple with getting into this book because Catton front loads the story with a lot of character detail. Long sections describe the primary characters' backgrounds, ideologies, mentalities and conflicts. This means that most of the initial scenes of the novel occur internally as a psycho-drama concerning members of Birnam Wood (especially central members Mira and Shelley), renegade journalist Tony, scheming Lemoine and newly anointed Lord and Lady Darvish who own the property. Reading such a rich portrait of these individuals and their relationship to each other is interesting but there is little action involved until some of the later parts of the novel. It's like spending a long time sitting in a revving car before it launches forward at great speed. But when it does get going the story is absolutely gripping – especially in the final 150 pages. The trouble is that there are 275 pages before getting to that point. I think some readers' patience will have worn thin by then. Again, that's not to say these early sections aren't interesting but they are slow moving. However, I found the thrilling ending and the larger meaning of the book that I was left with extremely compelling. So overall I think it's a worthwhile reading experience and I was glad I went on this journey.

I'm not sure why Catton chose to structure the novel in this way. Typically the information which she relates in great big chunks would be integrated more into scenes where the characters interact and more dramatic action occurs. Yet in this story most of their psychological makeup is related while they scan the internet or their phones or surveillance footage. Characters spend a lot of time justifying their points of view to themselves or projecting into the future how they want events to play out. When verbal exchanges occur such as in a group meeting (hui) or telephone conversation or a dinner party it's more like the characters are delivering monologues without really listening to others. This occurs in a Jane Austen style which makes sense given that Catton recently wrote a screenplay for a new film version of “Emma”.

I think perhaps Catton might be commenting on the way our online lives are so internally focused. When we think we're communicating on the internet we're actually talking more to ourselves or within a narrow group of likeminded people whose opinions are all in agreement. Catton has also commented that when planning the novel each character could be seen as Macbeth as it revolves between their perspectives. This is an intriguing idea to consider in regards to each character's ambition and their relationships to each other and power. However, if these were the things that the author was trying to convey it unfortunately sacrifices the theatrical impetus of a large section of the story. As a result I felt more intellectually involved with this novel rather than emotionally invested. Nevertheless, it's an interesting modern day tale that engages with many environmental and political issues. If Catton weren't an author I had read before I probably wouldn't have finished reading this novel, but this is a book that possesses a subtle power which means that it's worth sticking with till the end.

How Strange a Season by Megan Mayhew Bergman

I absolutely loved Megan Mayhew Bergman's stories in “Almost Famous Women” so I've been greatly anticipating this new collection. One of my bookish resolutions for this year was to read a short story at the very beginning of each morning. That's what I did for the past week with these eight tales and it's been one of the highlights of each day losing myself in Bergman's compelling fictional landscape. These stories focus on the lives of different female characters grappling with desire and dealing with fear. Many are caught between the burdens of the past and the uncertainty of the future because of issues to do with the changing environment, economic inequality and strained familial circumstances. It's extremely moving how Bergman shows how these characters struggle to deal with these larger issues while fulfilling their own ambitions. As a way of not feeling overwhelmed one character suggests “The trick was to believe in your choices.” The author has a wonderful ability to quickly immerse the reader in her characters' reality which meant I was immediately gripped by their dilemmas and emotionally invested in their outcomes.

Bergman builds environments in her stories with rich atmospheric descriptions from a glass-walled seafront property in California to the lazy heat and rotting fruit on a South Carolina farm. Some tales focus on quiet intermediary periods where characters contemplate big decisions which will affect the rest of their lives. Others maintain an immediate dramatic tension as in 'Peaches, 1979' where a serial killer “strangler” is in the area and the culprit might be a part of the protagonist's own family. There's biting inbuilt comedy in the story 'Heirloom' where a woman turns her inherited barren desert ranch into a business where wealthy men can work out their emotional blockages by operating heavy machinery. In 'Wife Days' a woman negotiates a degree of autonomy with her husband by declaring she will only play her role as wife on certain days of the week. However, her ritual of rejuvenation through swimming and washing her face becomes like a circular nightmare rather than a path towards physical/spiritual renewal.

The most sustained and ambitious tale in this collection is the novella 'Indigo Run' (which took me more than a morning to complete as I had to read it in between work demands throughout my day.) It's set on a Southern plantation and primarily involves the tempestuous marriage between Helena and Win and their daughter Skip. Here “The past felt uncomfortably close... as if it were being kept at bay but ready to rush in at any moment and take root again.” It's so compelling how the characters feel duty bound by expectations and the burden of history to play certain roles. However, this impedes their growth and potential for personal happiness. It feels like a metaphor for the larger country. As an extension of this novella there is the compelling final fable-like tale in this collection 'The Night Hag' which charts the life of a figure born from a fish egg who takes “the shape of a woman”. After being used and discarded by a man, she physically and mentally deteriorates until she takes on monstrous properties (both in appearance and her actions.) Aside from this intriguing flirtation with the fantastical, Bergman's stories exquisitely capture the realistic dilemmas of different individuals with great wisdom and psychologically insightful detail.

Memorial, 29 June by Tine Høeg (translated by Misha Hoekstra)

I really enjoy it when novels deviate from using traditional narrative structures to tell emotionally impactful stories in a way which is utterly unique. Danish author Tine Høeg's intriguing “Memorial, 29 June” is a tale told from the point of view of Asta, a young author working on a novel and a book about semi-obscure Polish sculptor Lysander Milo. Her account is related in fragments which feel somewhere between poetry and a non-linear first person account with occasional text message exchanges. Dialogue, observations, thoughts and written communication blend together. This may sound disorientating and it requires a heightened level of attention to keep track of who is speaking and how to situate this information. However, it quickly builds to a meaningful sense of Asta's personality and a more fluid sense of time. In this way it conveys a highly distinct new view of the complexity of youthful bonds, friendships, romance and rivalry.

The novel begins when Asta is invited to a memorial service commemorating the tenth anniversary of her friend August's death. This disrupts her literary work and her longstanding friendship with Mai who is a single mother. It also leads to a blending of the past and present as the text moves between her current circumstances and the heady days of her university life with a tight-knit social group. There's a mystery surrounding August's demise but also the nature of Asta's relationship with him. Intimate scenes between them are related in pieces giving clues concerning what happened to him and the love triangle involving August, Asta and Mai. I enjoyed how this presents a different way of understanding the ambiguity between people when their connection to each other can't necessarily be defined or classified. Small exchanges between them feel all the more poignant when surrounded by so much empty space on the page.

There's also a wonderful use of symbolism in certain details. The sculptor Milo worked clandestinely during his lifetime to memorialise the working class people around him. In a similar way, Asta has preserved her memories of August to solidify their intensely private moments together and maintain his unique personality. Their friendship group had a number of themed parties which descend into debauchery but they also inspire a sense of the carnivalesque which tests the boundaries of gender and sexuality. Asta's friend keeps a perpetual calendar which doesn't specify any particular year. Her account in this novel also defies a sense of linear time as it morphs from past to present. Though Asta's first book was relatively successful and has led to her receiving a residency and invitations to give readings, she humorously observes the shallowness with which some of the public interact with the literary world. It's one of the things which drives her to create new forms of narrative just as this book presents an enjoyable, surprising and meaningful new way to read a story.

The World and All That It Holds by Aleksandar Hemon

The vivid intensity of both love and war are majestically captured in Aleksandar Hemon's sweeping historical novel “The World and All That It Holds”. The story begins with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, the incident which famously initiated WWI. This is witnessed by pharmacist Rafael Pinto who goes out into the streets after making a romantic overture towards a calvary officer. It's an occurrence which permanently changes the course of this poetic and fanciful man's life as thereafter he's conscripted and thrust into battle. There he meets and begins a passionate affair with fellow soldier Osman. We follow Pinto's rootless existence over multiple decades as he is nationless and desperately struggles to survive. The gritty details of conflict are paired with the ardor and enduring bond between these two men in an evocative way. These accounts are infused with Pinto's religious sensibility as a Sephardic Jew – not in a dogmatic way but which expresses the soulful feeling of this emotional individual. It's an integral part of his heritage so informs the way he frames events and the world around him. In doing so, we view this period of history through a striking new lens and witness the story of a uniquely epic romance.

The act of storytelling takes a central role in the novel. This occurs on multiple levels from Osman's charismatic ability to entrance fellow soldiers with his tales to the frame surrounding this book explained in the epilogue. Though Pinto only briefly glimpsed the shooting of Franz Ferdinand he eventually tells and retells the story so many times it acquires many dramatic flourishes. This is a natural consequence when any lived moment subsequently becomes one of historical importance. He comments “I can confirm, from personal experience, that we are always late to the history in which we live.” What might have felt random and fleeting at the time takes on a seismic meaning when we understand what followed. So we follow Pinto as he's haplessly swept into events to do with migration and civil unrest over the decades. As the burden of exile mounts he falls into despair reasoning “God was invented by the lonely people, by those who could not bear to think that no one would ever care about them, spend a thought on their loneliness. We are not chosen, what we are is terribly lonely and unloved.” Rather than faith, the only thing which prevents him from becoming completely disconsolate is his enduring loving connection to Osman and the duty he feels to care for the girl who might be Osman's daughter.

It's refreshing to gain a different view of such large scale conflicts from a point of view not often explored in historical accounts. This is especially true when it focuses on individuals without any particular political conviction who nevertheless become the casualties of war as in the novel “At Night All Blood is Black”. Hemon's novel posits that alongside the bloodshed and madness, passion was also possible. This is portrayed in the encampments where such clandestine sexual meetings between men occur as an open secret or something which is unimaginable to others. Rather than fetishising such experiences, the novel shows Pinto's fierce longing for such sensuality amidst the brutality. It seems only natural that intense encounters between soldiers might turn into loving and sustained relationships. Sebastian Barry also portrayed a same sex relationship which blossoms amidst battle in his novel “Days Without End”. Though that story came with a welcome message of hope, it's more likely true that most homosexual love affairs which occurred in such circumstances ended in tragedy. Though Hemon's novel fully embraces the likely fate of his characters it also shows how transcendence can be found in beauty and passion.

The Hungry Ghosts by Shyam Selvadurai

I'm a sucker for a story involving a fabulous but sinister grandmother and “The Hungry Ghosts” has one who is absolutely fascinating to read about. Set in Sri Lanka during a time of civil war, the protagonist Shivan describes his early life when he and his impoverished mother and sister were forced to move in with his grandmother Daya Nona. This is an intimidating older woman who is kind of a cross between Ebenezer Scrooge and Miss Havisham. The story plays out a bit like a Dickensian tale as Shivan becomes the favoured grandson of this irascible and tightfisted lady who begins instructing him on how to manage her many rental properties. He appears to have good future prospects but as he becomes a teenager the political unrest in the country reaches a degree where it becomes unsafe for Shivan and his sister to remain living there. Though their mother is Sinhalese their deceased father was Tamil, an ethnic minority who were severely persecuted amidst the conflict. Added to this is Shivan growing awareness of his own homosexuality. Despite Daya Nona's objections, the trio move to Toronto where they experience difficulty establishing new lives as immigrants. The narrative relates the story of Shivan's life from a point where he's independently established a good job, apartment and relationship but he must make a crucial decision between his hard-won present day existence and the country he's left behind with all its painful memories.

I was glad to already have some understanding of the recent conflicts in Sri Lanka after reading novels such as “The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida” and “A Passage North” which encouraged me to research more about the deep-set political divisions in the country which led to much bloodshed. The complex and tragic situation has been fought for decades with periods of egregious discord and genocide. Though it mostly occurs in the background of Selvadurai's novel it influences and effects the lives of its characters to such a degree it's necessary to be aware of the stakes involved. The novel explains this somewhat and helped broaden my understanding even further. It's extremely effective how the larger conflicts within the country suddenly become very personal at a certain point in the story and how some individuals used the larger political strife for their own personal gain and advancement. This increases the characters' complexity as they find themselves caught between opportunity, loyalty and justice.

At the centre of this tale is Shivan's conflicted sense of being as he obtains certain freedom and safety in Canada, but longs for his homeland. At one point he remarks: “Rising in me was a great longing to be back in Sri Lanka and also, paradoxically, a revulsion against being there. These two irreconcilable feelings pressed tight against each other.” These feelings are very connected with his grandmother who is both his supporter and partly responsible for inhibiting his freedom. It's impressive how their relationship develops more and more layers as revelations are uncovered and events dramatically unfold. Equally, it's poignant how the novel shows that parts of the gay community in Canada which Shivan desperately wants to join is plagued by racism which makes him feel even more cruelly ostracised. Though it's moving how the story roots the reader so strongly in Shivan's first person point of view, the narrative wobbles somewhat as we switch in some sections to the mother and grandmother's perspectives. I'm not sure if we're meant to believe these are their actual thoughts/experiences or Shivan's projection of their points of view. While I understand the author wanted to give a balance to the story and delineate these figures' states of mind it confuses the novel somewhat.

Another aspect of the novel running alongside Shivan's personal account are Buddhist stories which his grandmother relates to him. These act as parables which comment upon the characters' actions and decisions. I enjoyed how this sense of storytelling becomes so infused with his sense of being. Of course, I felt very sympathetic to Shivan since he is naturally bookish and it's pleasurable how he drops in the names of many titles and authors he reads. Alongside the strength of his character, the evolving dynamics of his relationship to his mother and grandmother are very compelling. However, the tensions between Shivan and his longterm boyfriend feel more inscrutable. This becomes the most prominent aspect of the later part of the novel and makes the book less satisfying than if it had stuck more closely to Shivan's immediate family. Nevertheless, I greatly enjoyed this tale which evocatively brings to life two very different and distinct environments and a boy caught between them.

The Shards by Bret Easton Ellis

It was useful reading Bret Easton Ellis' debut novel “Less Than Zero” before diving into his latest “The Shards”. In this new novel a fictional version of 17 year old Bret is working on that first book and in this autofictional mode presents the story of his early life as a confession about the dramatic events which occurred during that formative period. (At the conclusion of the novel we're assured that this book is entirely a work of fiction.) It's 1981 and Bret is entering his senior year of high school in this uber-privleged side of LA with its mansions, servants, flashy cars, easy access to drugs and designer backpacks. Like in “Less Than Zero” we bear witness to this extremely beautiful and wealthy set of youth engaging in endless parties and sex. However, there is also a serial killer who has been dubbed “The Trawler” stalking the city's elite and murdering them (and their pets) in a gruesomely ritualistic fashion. The perpetrator(s) could be a deranged loner, a satanic cult prowling the city or the mysterious new boy at school, Robert Mallory, who charismatically worms his way into Bret's friendship group. Worrying signs reveal that the killer is getting closer and closer to Bret who becomes increasingly anxious and unhinged as his world of entitled excess implodes.

At its core, this novel is a very effective thriller with a rich atmosphere of suspense and tension. Real hazardous signs of violence appear even as we grow increasingly mistrustful of our narrator, a progressively paranoid (and medicated) Bret. As a writer for the large and small screen, Ellis is very adept at integrating elements such as creepy telephone calls, suspect vans which follow characters and a carefully judged release of information to consistently surprise and titillate readers. Bret's obsession over Robert is both intensely erotic and full of dread which builds a powerful sense of salacious danger. There's a clear propulsion to the story which builds towards its much foreshadowed “ironic and tragic conclusion”. The novel does feel overlong which is probably a hangover from it being initially written and released in serial form on Ellis' podcast. Though the author has stated a large chunk was edited out for the physical publication it still feels bloated as we get the back and forth gossipy details of these rich teenagers' vapid lives. The overly dramatic and cinematic denouement also feels a bit forced and unsatisfying with its gallons of bloodshed. Nevertheless, I felt mostly engaged throughout the bulk of the novel.

The book is also a kind of revisionist teen fantasy where Bret casts himself as being part of the most popular social group at his school. He's with a rich beautiful girlfriend whose father is a studio executive and he also gets to have lots of sex with two incredibly handsome guys on the side – details of which are related in highly descriptive detail. Though it doesn't actually happen, Bret even has a possibility of lunching with one of his literary idols Joan Didion. In this way, the novel feels like a curious blend of wish-fulfilment and nostalgia. Interestingly this pull toward the past was also present in “Less Than Zero” as Clay gazes longingly at buildings from his personal history. “The Shards” also reveals the degree to which Bret was inhibited by the sexual norms of the time. He felt pressured to have a girlfriend though he really longed for sex and a relationship with another man. There's an aching resentment over this but, of course, Ellis isn't the kind of writer who'd directly address this kind of oppression as a societal issue because it would involve engaging in identity politics – something I assume he rolls his eyes at.

It feels like a missed opportunity for emotional sincerity and showing the importance of gay rights as a means of attaining personal fulfilment. Of course, one could argue novels shouldn't have to engage in politics in this way but I believe if Ellis had done this the novel would have been more striking as it'd show growth and maturity. Instead what we get is very competent suspenseful fiction which refashions the same subject matter he first dealt with forty years ago. Only this time we get much more explicit detail about hot young guys and hot sex with those hot young guys from an author pushing 60. Sex positivity is one thing but it feels to me like this falls into yet more wish fulfilment by a man recasting his youth. On another level, Ellis does address a political issue but in a darker way. In one scene Bret accepts an invitation to lunch with Terry Schaffer, a powerful studio executive, about potentially writing a film script. However, it's abundantly clear that this is really an opportunity for this much older lecherous man to have it off with sexy 17 year old Bret. They do have hot sex and Bret walks away with a bleeding anus. Though he realises that he probably won't get the chance to put forward his script he comments when glancing in the mirror “I looked not only remarkably composed but as if I'd actually accomplished something – it wasn't what I wanted but it wasn't so bad. I was okay.” Given the very prominent discussions surrounding the MeToo movement in the past several years, it feels like this a direct rejoinder to this conscious fight to make accountable those who abuse their power.

Sure, it was a different time and it's just one character's personal experience but the way it's presented feels callous and disregards the vulnerability of younger individuals involved in a situation where the physical and emotional consequences can't always be anticipated. Instead of actually engaging with the complexity of this issue which has provoked many nuanced debates, Ellis presents a situation which blithely dismisses it. The larger consequences and meaning of such an exploitative exchange aren't addressed in “The Shards” any more than they are in “Less Than Zero” when protagonist Clay passively watches his best friend prostitute himself to pay off his drug debts. Certainly fiction should encompass all points of view, but personally I prefer them to be more sophisticated and artfully presented as in the novel “Vladimir” which shows the effects of power dynamics in cross-generational sexual relationships with more complexity. You could argue that Ellis shows the karmic consequences of this instance because Terry Schaffer gets his comeuppance but only in a melodramatic way that's not actually concerned with justice.

The annoying thing is that Ellis would probably eye any such critiques of his novel with a wry smile because I'm playing his game; I'm reading and discussing his novel; I'm making it all about Bret Easton Ellis because that's the subject matter Bret Easton Ellis is most interested in. In “The Shards” he comments that in writing “Less Than Zero” “it was about mebut there was no story”. So in this new novel he makes himself the protagonist as well as giving us a plot. It's effective on that level but the more I ponder this book and consider the way Ellis publicly presents his opinions the more it feels like a hollow egotistical exercise. I guess he wants to generate divisive opinions because it keeps him as the focus of attention – a technique successfully used by many populist leaders and megalomaniacs. So I'll sum this up by saying I'd recommend this novel if you're looking for a competent thriller, but bypass it if you're looking for anything more substantial.

Vladimir by Julia May Jonas

There are many elements in Julia May Jonas' debut novel “Vladimir” that make it such a tantalising and compelling read. In the story's prologue its unnamed fifty-something literature professor narrator casually mentions that she's staring at an unconscious Vladimir who she has tied to a chair. He is an extremely sexy forty year old husband, father, respected novelist and visiting professor who she's infatuated with. Naturally there's the thrilling tension throughout the novel as we wonder how things came to this point and what will happen after the “liminality” of this scene ends. The narrator herself is in a different kind of tense and uncertain position throughout the book. Her husband John who also teaches in the English department at her small university has been accused of misconduct after having a number of affairs with students over the decades. The narrator was aware of these dalliances but they have an open marriage. Now she's also come under the scrutiny of students and her fellow faculty. Some see her as a victim because she's a wife who has been cheated on by a disgraced husband. Others view her as a conspirator who enabled and permitted her husband's affairs. She patiently (with begrudging tolerance) listens to their concerns and points of view, but she absolutely believes that because the college students her husband slept with consented to the relationships there was nothing wrong with these affairs.

Throughout the novel we're thoroughly entrenched in the narrator's highly educated and convincing point of view – so much so that we can be lulled into a definite stance on issues to do with consent and questions concerning power dynamics in sexual relationships. But as the events of the story dramatically unfold these arguments and issues are revealed to be much more complicated. The narrator herself also unravels as her deeply-ingrained insecurities about ageing, beauty and status as a writer become apparent. This all filters into her desire for Vladimir who is experiencing his own sense of inner crisis despite superficially being a success. Matters are further complicated as we hear the voices of John and their adult daughter Sid who is scathing about her father's behaviour but in some ways mimics it. This all makes for a juicy novel filled with a lot of intrigue and it's a fascinating way to approach these topics. As the story is dominated by the narrator's point of view the slight shift at the end to consider the voices which have been conspicuously absent throughout the book make a big impact and left me with a lot to ponder.

French Braid by Anne Tyler

In an entry from 1977 in “The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates” she remarks that “Anne Tyler's imagination turns (instinctively?) toward her central theme of staying-in-one-place / running-away. Taking on responsibilities / ridding oneself of all responsibility.” This is certainly noticeable in many of Tyler's novels – most notably in “Ladder of Years”. There's a persistent tension for many characters between maintaining the life they've built and leaving it behind. In her latest novel “French Braid” we have an example of a character who, in a sense, has it both ways. Mercy is the matriarch of the Garrett clan. Though in her younger days she fantasized about walking out on her life she has loyally loved and supported her husband and three children for decades. But her natural domain isn't the domestic. Once their youngest child has flown the coop she embarks on pursuing her passion for painting and gradually moves out of the family home into her artist's studio. She's developed a technique for painting a family's home by focusing on one aspect which is represented in high detail while the rest remains a bit of a blur. Mercy's living arrangement mostly goes unspoken amongst the family so she maintains her position while achieving a kind of independent freedom. It's an excellent compromise for a riddle that has been threaded throughout so much of this author's meaningful body of work.

The novel begins in 2010 before leaping back to a rare Garrett family holiday in 1959 and skipping forward through the decades alighting focus on several different members of the household. Similar to Tyler's “A Spool of Blue Thread” we get a broader picture of these individuals by seeing brief snapshots of them in different periods of time. Gradually we come to understand how this family has maintained loose bonds while living separately and largely unknown to each other. Though they are reunited for some holidays and anniversaries, other occasions such as weddings aren't always marked with the traditional get together. Tyler presents instances when they do see each other with a wonderful amount of detail and dialogue which captures all the awkwardness and uncertainty of people who are united through coincidence of birth rather than natural affection. Men in the family revert to bland discussions about the traffic getting there. Women side-eye the choices of dishes brought to the dining table. These are familiar figures who are of a certain type – yet they are also unique and distinct. Mercy and her husband Robin's son David doesn't conform to his father's masculine expectations. The rift this causes is subtle yet severe in creating a longstanding distance which is never entirely broached. It's just one example of how this family has drifted apart while still remaining roughly connected. Though Robin might be simply viewed as a domineering dad he's depicted with a lot of compassion and sympathy showing how evenhanded Tyler is when writing her characters.

The title of the novel is acknowledged as a metaphorical cliché when an older David observes how this style of hair arrangement which leaves waves in the strands when undone is “how families work, too. You think you're free of them, but you're never really free; the ripples are crimped in forever.” It's a bit of hard-won terse wisdom which is a platitude but still essentially true. However, the real understanding of family life comes from looking at members as individuals caught in different periods of time and circumstances. This is the technique Tyler has employed and which Mercy might have depicted visually if she painted people rather than objects. It's wonderfully affecting as the novel builds to say so much more than any of its finely-observed parts. Tyler's ability to find profundity in the mundane without any overly dramatic plotting is unparalleled and highly accomplished.