The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K Le Guin

I've been meaning to dip into more classic sci-fi for a while so I'm glad my physical book club chose this slender novel by Ursula K Le Guin for us to read. It won the Hugo Award in 1973 and was nominated for several other book prizes. The story is set on the fictional planet Athshe where an outpost of people from Earth are rigorously clearcutting the planet's vast forests. Wood has become a valuable resource since Earth (referred to as “Terra”) is now hopelessly polluted. This is devastating for Athshe's native population, a series of peaceful tribes of Athsheans who are small hairy green beings – given the derogatory nickname “creechies” by humans. The forest is not only their habitat but it's intrinsically linked to their culture. However, the majority of humans not only ignore how its loss impacts the native population but they enslave the Athsheans and treat them cruelly – sometimes raping and murdering them. When a creechie called Selver suffers a horrific loss he resolves to stand up to the colonial intruders and launches a war for the planet. It's an imaginative tale which vividly invokes a range of perspectives to relate dramatic events.

I appreciated how the novel begins with the point of view of Captain Davidson, a human commander of one of the logging camps. He's in many ways a repulsive and hyper masculine figure but it's valuable getting his initial skewed perspective on the creechies as sub-human. Since this native race is completely invented I initially bought this point of view even though Davidson is clearly prejudiced. It felt like an inventive way for Le Guin to encourage the reader to never make assumptions – especially when it comes to encountering living beings we are ignorant about. I also feel like the author had a lot of fun creating the voice of such an awfully aggressive and misogynistic character. When the narrative switches to Selver's perspective we see how Davidson is horribly misguided in his attitude and judgement of the Athsheans. They actually have a very strong sense of community and unique way of inhabiting consciousness. The line between waking/sleeping and reality/dreams aren't as clearcut for the creechies as they are for humans. This was a unique way of thinking about other ways of perceiving the world as well as creating different forms of community.

While I enjoyed the sense of adventure the story invokes and obviously felt sympathetic to its message, I'm not surprised this novel has been criticised for being a polemic. The message about the inevitably destructive effects of colonialism is extremely clearcut. However, it feels like Le Guin is making an important point. There can be no denying how destructive such colonial enterprises are to native populations and the environment. The story has clear parallels with the Vietnam war which was reaching its devastating conclusion in the time around when Le Guin wrote this novella. So it's impactful how the story is imbued with so much emotion. Nevertheless, I felt like it was somewhat simplistic in the way it depicts the harmonious nature of the Athsheans and the permanent ill-effects to their culture once the concept of war is introduced to them. I appreciated how a human scholar named Lyubov becomes an important bridge between the two races and adds more complexity to this tale which has clear lines between good and evil. So overall I felt this was an entertaining novella with some inspired world building but it could have been more thought provoking and complex. I've been told some of Le Guin's other books have more layers to them so I'm eager to explore more of her work.

Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

There's a long tradition of literature that vividly shows how the liberties of citizens can be systematically stripped away by totalitarian governments. From Orwell's “1984” to Yevgeny Zamyatin's “We” to Atwood's “The Handmaid's Tale”, these dystopian stories pinpoint the way that language and technology are used to manipulate the public into obedience and complicity. It's something every society must be continuously vigilant about because the designation of power in any form of government will always give rise to some form of abuse and corruption. Now there is a powerful new modern novel which stands alongside these classics. Paul Lynch's “Prophet Song” details a nightmarish fictional version of Ireland where increasingly draconian laws and policies lead to the suppression of all personal freedom and the disappearance of individuals designated as potential dissidents. It focuses on the point of view of Eilish who is a scientist, wife and mother of four. When her husband comes under scrutiny and restrictions increase her life and community gradually unravel in an alarming way. It's a harrowing story which grows increasingly gripping and acquires more contemporary relevance as Eilish's reality spirals out of control.

At first the style of this novel might seem unnecessarily confusing because quotation marks aren't used in the dialogue. It also blends any speech into the overall narrative to create big chunks of text. However, it's usually clear who is speaking and, as the story progresses, this form takes on more significance as it adds to Eilish's sense of claustrophobia and chaos. Eventually the crowded narrative comes to feel like a stream that cannot be stopped and it becomes oddly hypnotic. As a busy individual trying to balance a demanding job on top of caring for her four children and a father struggling with dementia, much of her life is composed of the chores and small details in her day to day existence. There's little time for taking a stand against the government or working to preserve her liberties. The oppressive system relies on this and gradually strips away her autonomy. Of course, she raises her voice when obvious illegalities are turned into policy but if the government disappears those who violently object to it or remains mute there can be no recourse. It's observed at one point that “they take something from you and replace it with silence and you're confronted by that silence every waking moment and cannot live, you cease to be yourself and become a thing before this silence”. A sense of dread increases as the story goes on, but nothing can be done as normal checks and balances fail and her circumstances become dire.

I sympathised with Eilish's sense of helplessness when faced with a larger system that feels like it can't be changed or even questioned. I encounter this issue on varying scales from my work to my community to the government of my country. It's a constant process of negotiation about how much I'm willing to take a stand when falling into line is much easier or might even be the only option given other obligations. However, alongside this strong message about the individual being caught in larger systems, this novel also movingly represents changes in personal relationships over time. Eilish's 12 year old son Bailey is at a precarious stage in life and when the authoritarian pressures increase his development is affected. There's a striking scene where Eilish is challenged by this son. She can simultaneously see him as a boy and as a growing man. This is something anyone who has known an adolescent will understand. It's impressive the way the novel captures these in-between stages where individuals inhabit multiplicities that are warped by the stress of living under oppressive circumstances.

Though this story is set in a nebulous alternative present or possible future in Ireland, it also feels like it draws upon real elements of history. Aspects of the plot resembled the recent novel “Black Butterflies” which so vividly describes the Siege of Sarajevo from the inside and other parts of the novel reminded me of the people who went “missing” during Argentina's “Dirty War”. However, it also comments on the international reaction to strife and warfare occurring within a particular country. At one point Eilish's daughter comments “They are calling it an insurgency on the international news, Molly says, but if you want to give war its proper name, call it entertainment, we are now TV for the rest of the world.” As the book progressed, it made me think more and more of the war on Ukraine which came to dominate the news in 2022 though the conflict had really been going on for many years prior as described in the memoir “The Death of a Soldier Told by His Sister”. In these ways, it felt like this novel speaks to our present day as well as potential dark paths our society might take in the future.

“Prophet Song” is certainly an unsettling read, but it never feels too dreary because of the elegant use of language. Paul Lynch conjures images of startling beauty in short descriptions of the environment such as a pond where there is “a swan gliding whitely through wrinkles of sun”. Of course, the potency of this verbiage also intensifies scenes of horror. It's particularly effective when things occur rapidly during a catastrophic event. It's very challenging to convey this on the page but Lynch does an impressive job of dramatically representing that experience. Both the psychology of the characters and the physical details being portrayed feel so realistic in these moments. Overall, there are many memorable scenes in this book and impactful ideas. These make this novel such an arresting read which also leaves a lasting impression.

Announcing The LonesomeReader Book Club

As I near the 10th anniversary of this book blog, I've decided to launch my own bookclub on Patreon. This is so exciting and I've been thrilled by the enthusiastic members who've joined so far: https://www.patreon.com/TheLonesomeReaderBookClub

We'll vote on a different book to read every month, engage in weekly discussions as we progress reading our book club choice and I'll make a video for each selection talking about our reactions to it. As well as having more personal discussions about particular books, this is also a way to help support me as a creator. I love reviewing and discussing books with other readers and I want to spend even more time doing so while creating better content. I never expected this book blog and my BookTube channel to become such a big part of my life, but it's now such a passion project.

I hope you'll consider joining and that we can form a tight-knit community of readers who regularly engage with each other about what we're reading and what we want to read next!

Promise by Rachel Eliza Griffiths

It's tragic how the connection between childhood friends can be gradually poisoned by social issues. An instance of this is vividly described in poet Rachel Eliza Griffiths' debut novel 'Promise'. It's a story about Ezra Kindred, her younger sister Cinthy and Ezra's friend Ruby. They're adolescent girls growing up in the late 1950s in a small town in Maine. Though they're conscious of being one of only two black families in the area, the Kindreds create their own humble oasis in a book filled home set in a beautiful location. The sisters are raised to be smart and strong as their parents are well aware of how harsh the world can be – especially for black Americans amidst the growing civil rights movement. Ezra and Ruby's friendship forms naturally but it soon becomes apparent that differences such as Ruby's whiteness and poverty matter a great deal. In a striking early scene the trio of girls intimately examine themselves and each other to try to understand whether there really is a difference between them. Over time, underlining fears and prejudices come to play a prominent role in their relationship. The novel focuses primarily on clever and defiant Cinthy's perspective as the community grows increasingly hostile towards her family and dramatic events unfold.

Griffiths' poetic leaning is evident in the prose. There are lush, beautiful descriptions of the landscape, the food and their home. The sometimes testy relationship between the family members is also well conveyed in dialogue which crackles with personality. I appreciated how the tumultuous history of the parents is built into the nature of their characters. There's a reason why the father is so eager to forget the past and the mother smothers her pain with drinking. The story of their lives is gradually revealed in a way which is effective. I especially liked the later introduction of a charismatic grandmother who is so vivacious and strong. As a family unit they're very compelling to read about because each generation has been so differently effected by the circumstances of the time. This means that there are frequent misunderstandings and tensions which arises between them. However, there is a unifying love and commitment to one another which is very endearingly portrayed.

Ruby's personal story of adversity and survival is also initially effective when a teacher's untimely death leads to an opportunity for her own good fortune. Unfortunately, the course of her tale felt a bit more confusing when she comes under the sway and guardianship of a monstrous woman. Of course horrific people motivated by bald-faced racism exist but I couldn't figure out the larger schemes of the perpetrators in this novel. Perhaps they were motivated by nothing more than a desire to alienate, harass and kill the black families in the community but it seemed like there were also other motives beyond this especially when it came to Ruby. It is interesting how their influence comes to deeply change Ruby and especially how this causes such a bitter clash in her relationship with the Kindred sisters. Overall, the story came to feel somewhat perplexing as the tragedies pile up and history seeps into the present. In the later part of the book the characters are also prone to didactic speechifying. These aspects lessened the sense of realism so the novel didn't feel as impactful as it could have been. However, I appreciated this book on the whole. There are some beautiful and moving passages towards the end. It's also poignant how it builds a layered meaning about the potential promise we hold both personally and as a nation.

A Little Luck by Claudia Pineiro (translated by Frances Riddle)

As someone who now lives far away from my region of birth, I find stories about characters returning to their origins especially poignant. In “A Little Luck” Mary Lohan returns to the Buenos Aires suburb of her early life after a twenty year absence. She has a new look, eye colour (with the aid of contacts) and name which is handy because she's desperate not to be recognized. Though she nominally goes for work she's also curious to reconnect with this place that she abruptly left under mysterious circumstances many years ago. This novel drew me in on multiple levels over the course of the story. Firstly, there's a compelling tension about what made Mary initially leave and what her relationship is with someone who recognizes her. This is enhanced by a short crucial scene from her earlier life which is described multiple times like a recurring nightmare. When the significance of this event is revealed it's truly shocking. Next there's the emotional connection I felt as we get Mary's full back story. It's truly heartbreaking and tragic as she was caught in a situation with no easy answers. And finally there's the larger meaning of the story which contemplates issues such as chance, the loyalty of family and the precarious nature of insular communities.

The circumstance Mary found herself in is so difficult because the choices she made are understandable but it led to a horrific accident. Because the community is wracked with grief it's easier to blame Mary and conspire against her rather than forgive her. It made me reflect on incidents from my own past which could have turned out very differently for better or worse. The story also asks a powerful question about how strong we are as individuals, as a family and as a community when we're tested by terrible circumstances. The relative success or failure of individuals is often due more to chance than willpower. Mary reflects how “Some mothers have all the luck; life never puts them to any kind of test. I only have a little luck.” It's poignant how the novel details how Mary's own mother was the victim of bad luck herself. Though she is severely tested, Mary also finds an opportunity to recreate herself with the help of another kind soul. While this story is centred around a tragedy it's beautiful how it also offers a hopeful message as she is able to survive the worst kind of loss.

Lie with Me by Philippe Besson (translated by Molly Ringwald) - novel & film

Nothing tugs on the heartstrings like a tale of tragic teenage love! I finally got to Besson's short novel before seeing the new film adaptation and I'm glad I took the time to read the text first. The story follows famous author Philippe who glimpses a man walking by and suddenly he's swept back to memories of the past. Having grown up in a rural agricultural region of France in the 80s, he was frequently bullied and felt alienated because of his sensitive bookish nature. He was also fully cognizant of his own homosexuality and didn't hide it. His openness means that his handsome, popular and quiet classmate Thomas feels emboldened enough to proposition him for a furtive fumble – basically demanding a series of secret trysts. Given Philippe's powerful attraction towards Thomas he gladly acquiesces to this attention though it's entirely stripped of romance. After a number of meetings and candid discussions they develop a deeper passion for one another.

Philippe naturally wants their relationship to continue believing they can find a place together outside of their provincial home town. However, Thomas won't deviate from his expected familial role continuing his father's business, finding a wife and remaining in their native region. He also believes there is a fundamental difference between them stating “We come from different worlds.” Their split leaves an indelible haunting mark upon Philippe who abruptly loses his first love. After an extended opening section about their teenage affair the story leaps forward to decades in the future when Philippe gradually discovers the shocking truth about Thomas' life. The novel brilliantly calibrates the release of information to surprise the reader and stir a sense of aching longing for those fleeting moments of intense youthful passion. It also cleverly plays with notions of the truth since as a novelist Philippe is a professional liar. But, in choosing to live a more “honest” life that conforms to expectations,Thomas spends his personal life lying about his true self.

The book's structure presents an interesting dilemma for the filmmaker because the later two sections are almost entirely composed of dialogue. If the story was adapted in a straightforward way it'd make for long visually static scenes. However, director/screenwriter Olivier Peyon came up with a clever way to centre this tale in the present using frequent flash backs to Philippe's tender early love affair. The movie builds to a corporate lecture Philippe has been sponsored to give as the visiting literary artist in his native region and through a surprise encounter he learns the truth about what happened to his first love Thomas. Through this interplay between past and present we get a strong sense of the longing and loss which informs Philippe's writing. A more complex drama unfolds in the contemporary time period which also includes a distinct female character who wasn't in the novel. Gaëlle begins as a figure of light comic relief but gradually she's shown to have more depth and complexity as Philippe is overwhelmed by revelations about his past love. It's a highly sensuous and emotional film. It's also very moving how this story demonstrates the way we can feel so much regret even when we've chosen the best path in life.

If I Survive You by Jonathan Escoffery

Imagine being constantly asked by strangers “What are you?” as if your existence isn't valid until you can be properly categorized within a particular ethnicity and racial identity. Of course, many people don't need to imagine this because it's a daily reality. 'In Flux', the opening story of Jonathan Escoffery's debut book of fiction, conveys how demoralizing and exhausting it is for a boy named Trelawny to grow up in America being persistently quizzed about this. It's especially frustrating for him because he doesn't know the “correct” answer since his skin tone and accent don't fit into any one group or people's common conceptions about individuals from his background. Neither his family, friends or a blood test are able to provide a definite conclusion which will satisfyingly answer this question. With sharp-toothed wit and tremendous feeling, the story reveals the truth of his experience using the second person. In doing so, it's as if Trelawny is condemned to not only be plagued by this question but to internalize it and turn it outward. Though this book branches out to sympathetically portray other members of his family, it's bookended by this viewpoint and rooted in his experience.

Family dramas often involve siblings battling for favour and the inheritance of property, but this book gives such a uniquely structured and vividly personal view of one such struggle. It revolves around Jamaicans Topper and Sanya whose move to Miami in the late 1970s eventually results in a self-built home and the birth of sons Delano and Trelawny. However, the lives of these characters are related in pieces showing how their experiences and perspectives leave them physically and psychologically distant from each other. It also builds a larger plot concerning patriarch Topper's dream house which is plagued by hurricane conditions, subsidence issues and an ackee tree whose growth has been stunted by his axe-wielding progeny. Along the way it traces Trelawny's pressing economic struggles as he lives out of his car while finding various work teaching, raising rent for elderly individuals in subsidised senior housing and catering to the masochistic/narcissistic fetishes of people from classified ads. The struggle for money and acceptance often leads to exploitation and violence. It's impactful how these stories show the barefaced reality of racism which becomes something to be weaponized in plays for power while the lived experience of it must be passively accepted.

In consciously choosing not to write a more traditionally structured linear tale through a single voice, Escoffery allows the reader to imaginatively build a larger story and meaning. I understand why some readers find it an uneven book as being offered such slivers can feel jarring and not all its sections have the same powerful effect. But personally I enjoyed following the surprising pathways this fiction takes to explore a variety of points of view and the growing tensions between these family members. Individual characters often fail to understand the challenges and disappointments the others face leading to conflict. I only wish there had been a story focusing on the mother Sanya whose progression we learn about in bits and pieces, but it would have been interesting to get her own perspective and how she is also unaware of aspects about her family's struggle – such as Trelawny's desperate circumstances which he conceals from her. However, it makes sense that this series of interconnected short stories focuses primarily on Trelawny himself as he feels like the heart of the book. Though he's sympathetic he has his own prejudices and shortcomings. There are also a number of peripheral characters whose fleeting presence is distinct and memorable. Together these stories build to a larger portrait of a unique multi-cultural landscape at a particular time. Though oppressive issues weigh heavily upon the inhabitants' daily lives, survival is achieved through cunning, compromise and a wry sense of humour.

Western Lane by Chetna Maroo

I was initially a bit apprehensive about how much I could connect with this novel's story as I knew it centres around a girl who plays squash. Since I have zero interest in sports I approached it cautiously. But I instantly felt involved in this tale which has a wonderful quietness to it. Beneath the surface action there is a lot of subtle power which arises through finely crafted descriptions of this family's life. It gradually shows how there are silences which can grow between family members until they become monumental. At the beginning the narrator, Gopi, informs us that she was 11 years old when her mother died and we follow the aftermath of her loss. She's left with her two older sisters and brooding father living in a town on the outskirts of London. Instead of dealing with or discussing their grief, the father trains his girls to play squash in a sports centre called Western Lane stating to them “I want you to become interested in something you can do your whole life.” In other words, this is an activity that can potentially stave off the void that's been created because of the loss of their mother.

Gopi develops a passion and talent for playing which her Pa fosters leading up to a local tournament. She spends so much time refining her technique in this empty box of the squash court repeatedly hitting a ball against the wall. It turns into a space which has a timeless quality to it where neither her adolescent development or the loss of her mother matters. The story traces this period showing no matter how much we'd like to remain suspended in the present moment change is inevitable. This becomes apparent through gradual shifts which occur in the family's routines between work, school and home life. Their restrained interactions are charged with an aching sorrow because of the loss of Gopi's Ma and all the emotions they're suppressing. What her sisters and father are truly feeling can only be guessed at in brief moments of overheard conversations or uncharacteristic behaviour. At the same time, the prospect of Gopi's own displacement becomes more probable as her aunt and uncle offer to take her into their home to relieve her father of the burden of raising three daughters on his own. It's heartrending following Gopi's lonely journey as she becomes more and more disciplined in her training while the conspicuous absence within her family grows larger.

I admire Maroo's pared down narrative style which builds precise details of action and dialogue to give an intricate portrait of Gopi's world. As time moves on and their lives necessarily progress without Ma there are reminders that she's gone. Gopi attends a Gujarati school in addition to her English education. This was her mother's primary language. There are moments when one sister still tries to speak to Ma using it or when their father seems to see Ma in a living room chair. While each member of the family mourns in their own way, the aunt and uncle as well as the Gujarati community hurriedly move in to provide instruction for the motherless girls and fill their kitchen with food. The narrative gracefully moves between tender private moments of family life and more public demonstrations of being a functioning unit. While it's definitely a melancholy story there's also a lot of warmth and joy to it. The sisters share such a close physical bond often climbing into each other's beds but they all have distinct personalities. There's also a sweetness to how adolescent Gopi invests so much energy and focus upon this tournament when we know in ten or even five years time the result won't matter to her because she'll have grown and moved beyond it.

It's also a story of an immigrant family and community in Britain who have connections between India, Kenya and Pakistan. While there are subtle tensions which arise from this such as a wariness about Gopi and Pa developing close relationships with a white woman and her son Ged at Western Lane, it's not dramatised for the sake of the plot. It's simply there in the background as part of their lives and I appreciate how this is presented so naturally. Though the family possesses a strong sense of self through their place in the community there's still an ambivalence about how to interact with each other given the tremendous loss they've sustained. Equally, Gopi is so uncertain in how to communicate openly with Ged though there are strong feelings between them: “We were shy and afraid because there was all this feeling between us and we didn't know who we were.” It's beautiful how moments like this capture all the awkwardness of adolescence where so many emotions are present but can't be adequately expressed. At the beginning of the novel her sister Khush assures Gopi that “Things are going to be okay” and we know this will be true despite the depression which could overwhelm them. But it's very touching how this novel shows the way Ma's absence will always be a part of their lives but it won't be the main thing which determines their future.

I imagine some readers might grow impatient with this novel or feel its plot is too slight, but I felt very moved by the gentleness of its story. It's interesting that Chetna Maroo worked alongside author Thomas Morris in The Stinging Fly's workshop program. He's a writer that similarly writes about scenes of contemporary life in a way which stirs a lot of subtle emotion. “Western Lane” feels like a promising debut and I hope Maroo writes more.

The Booker Prize 2023 Longlist

Here are the 13 novels longlisted for the 2023 Booker Prize! A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing an overview of this list and each of these books.

I've only read 2 so far but I'm absolutely thrilled to see “In Ascension” receive this recognition. It's one of my favourite books that I read this year and loved it so much I immediately read it again. MacInnes' tale is a soul-searching journey that inspires wonder! I also recently read debut novel “Western Lane” as part of my Summer Reading list. There's a quiet power to this story narrated by an adolescent girl who has recently lost her mother. It describes in aching detail how she and her father avoid dealing with their grief by losing themselves in the sport of squash.

The judges considered 163 submissions to arrive at this list. The group includes three previously listed authors: Sebastian Barry, Paul Murray and Tan Twan Eng. There are four debut novels including “Pearl”, “All the Little Bird-Hearts”, “If I Survive You” and “Western Lane”. A number of the authors are also poets – which isn't surprising given that Mary Jean Chen is one of the judges. There's great Irish representation with authors Sebastian Barry, Elaine Feeney, Paul Lynch and Paul Murray!

I read the first two stories in “If I Survive You” earlier this year and loved them but got distracted by some other required reading I had to do. So I'm eager to return to this book of interconnected short stories. Given that they centre around the same family and area I guess it can be counted as a novel. Books of short stories aren't usually eligible for the prize but there are plenty of examples of such books from previous years that have made the list. Personally I love this form of fiction.

The rest sound fascinating as well with a number I've been meaning to read including “A Spell of Good Things”, “Old God's Time”, “Study for Obedience”, “This Other Eden” and “The House of Doors”. I've not previously come across most of the other nominees so I'm eager to explore them. The only novel I'm slightly hesitant about is “The Bee Sting” - not because of the size (though it is the longest book on the list at 643 pages), but because I read Murray's previous novel “The Mark and the Void”. For me, it was interesting but not very successful. However, I've not yet read his previously listed novel “Skippy Dies” which most seem to agree was a better novel. Nevertheless, I do like the sound of this new book about a family's fall from affluence so I'm willing to give it a try.

I am SHOCKED not to see “Demon Copperhead” on the list. This novel has been snatching trophies everywhere and it's one of my favourite books from the past year. I know it doesn't need any more promotion, but quality is quality. It's also a shame Zadie Smith's new historical novel “The Fraud” and debuts “The New Life” and “Mrs S” didn't make the list. But who knows? Maybe some of the longlisted books I've not read yet will become new favourites. We'll see and I'm eager to dive into this tempting reading pile.

What do you think of the longlist? What are you planning on reading first?

Love, Leda by Mark Hyatt

It's always fascinating to read a re-discovered piece of queer writing. Though Mark Hyatt actively brought out poetry in the English bohemian scene of the 1960s, his novel “Love, Leda” has only been published posthumously this year. It's a fascinating snapshot of gay London life from that period in the time leading up to the Sexual Offences Act of 1967. The book's eponymous hero Leda has no fixed abode and bounces between male and female lovers while earning a bit of cash from low paid jobs in metal work and kitchens. He's estranged from his family and for good reason – when he feels obliged to visit with his parents and siblings there's a horrifically violent encounter with his disapproving father. The narrative veers from moments of raw emotional confession “Sometimes I find that I am humiliated by myself, and my thoughts get out of hand, becoming absolutely evil, and immediately I am nothing” to frivolous fantasies “during the long time of waiting for the train I appoint myself as Jesse James in full drag waiting for this very train and about to steal all the cash belonging to the G.P.O.” Moreover, it's fascinating following him as he navigates the back streets of Soho putting flowers in his hair and dabbing perfume behind his ears while dipping into the lives of outcast artists, dissidents and bored housewives. All the while he consumes countless cups of coffee and frequently lapses into poetic reverie.

There's something refreshing about reading a novel that's so organic and unpolished. That's not to say the book isn't sophisticated because it contains some absolutely beautiful lines, vivid descriptions and thoughtful commentary. But I can imagine the narrative would receive a complete overhaul in a contemporary creative writing class because it's quite chaotic. Some of the passages and lines of dialogue feel disorientating with their convoluted logic. Perhaps if Hyatt had the chance to work with an editor these would have more clarity. But, on the whole, I think it's better that the text has been preserved in its raw emotional form. The fascinating forward and afterward explain how Hyatt came from a working class background and received very little formal education. Learning how drawn the author was to suicide, it's hard not to read the story as autobiographical. There are frank passages describing his sense of alienation. He laments at one point that “I am far too feminine to be living in a man's world.” In another section he reflects how “My own experience tells me that more love goes into the thought of homosexuality than the practice.” Though he may have heated and powerful hookups, none lead to a loving connection.

This leaves him adrift and while he certainly possesses a melancholy streak, he also emits catty asides and biting humour along his journey. He even emanates a pissy arrogance when walking down the street and when someone bumps into him he indignantly muses “Why don't people look where I'm going? Walking into me like that.” There's a wonderful extended tragi-comic scene towards the end of the book when he's charged with looking after two little boys on a seaside trip. It's hilarious how indifferently he tends to them while they consume enormous amounts of sugar and cause havoc. But there's also a sadness to this as he's feeling so estranged from life: “I think I live without knowing myself and I laugh at the world to kill my pain. I cry because I can't understand it and I am constantly in dreams that somehow I hope time will not cure.” It's extremely touching reading such insights from a man so frankly discussing his queer experience from decades in the past and it's wonderful being immersed in this bygone urban landscape of Lyons' tea shops.

The Fraud by Zadie Smith

Zadie Smith's new book “The Fraud” is many things. It's a historical novel primarily set in 19th century London and Jamaica; it's a courtroom drama; it's about an unusual love triangle; it's about the ambition of novelists with some delicious appearances by Charles Dickens who makes bad jokes; it's about the end of slavery in Jamaica; and it's about what happens to truth when viewed through the lens of politics, the media, public debate and the craft of fiction. The story concerns a now semi-obscure historical novelist William Harrison Ainsworth (some of his titles outsold Dickens at the time) and The Tichborne Case, a famous trial that ran from the 1860s to the 1870s concerning a man who claimed to be a missing heir. Though this legal battle captivated the public at the time it's also now nearly forgotten. Between the author and the trial there is this novel's central character Eliza, a widow who is in some ways financially dependent upon Ainsworth. She is his housekeeper and reader. She's an abolitionist who forms a bond with Andrew Bogle, a man born into slavery who is one of the trial's key witnesses. Also, Eliza is fond of a long walk during which she observes Victorian London in tantalizing detail.

Eliza is a shrewd observer sitting in on discussions amongst prominent literary circles and watching the statements made in the courtroom by men whose demeanour often says more than their words. In this way we get a sly view beyond the surface of these interactions and the male dominated society surrounding her. However, as the novel progresses Eliza becomes a figure of intrigue herself. Between her intimate bond with William's deceased first wife Frances, a one-time intimacy with William himself and her late husband's illegitimate family, we get flashes of the truth Eliza either can't or won't openly accept. As the novel moves backwards and forwards in time we follow her journey towards acknowledging the reality of her personal life as well as the larger politics of her society. However, it's challenging to do this when there is so much unconscious misunderstanding and wilful deception surrounding her. She observes how “We mistake each other. Our whole social arrangement a series of mistakes and compromises. Shorthand for a mystery too large to be seen.” With so much confusion concerning what's true about other people's lives, acting in an ethical way can be extremely difficult.

In part, the novel is about how fiction comes to eclipse reality and how public consensus can eclipse truth. William writes historical novels which are based more in his imagination and stereotypes than facts. In this way readers come to know figures from the past through his distortion of the truth. Equally, “The Claimant” at the centre of The Tichborne Case achieves a large following that believes and partly funds his legal defence. Their faith in his claim is partly supported by Andrew Bogle's staunch conviction that “the Claimant” is the heir who went missing at sea. But how can Andrew's understanding of the truth be comprehended without knowing his own backstory or the legacy of slavery that was part of the British colonial empire? Eliza becomes the lynchpin towards seeing through the sensationalism of the case – partly because she has empathy enough to try to get to know Andrew himself. As his fascinating backstory is divulged, Smith shows the more complex personal realities at play within the more prominent public debates.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Smith about her new novel at a pre-publication event.

It's intriguing how this is a historical novel which seems to be critiquing historical novels themselves, the profession of writing and literary circles in general. At the beginning of one chapter, Eliza hilariously reflects: “God preserve me from novel-writing, thought Mrs Touchet, God preserve me from that tragic indulgence, that useless vanity, that blindness!” She sees how William's ambition to write removed him from being more fully involved with his family life (his first wife and his daughters) and his romanticisation of historical events distorts many people's understanding of history. Sitting in on their literary salons she's also privy to the pretensions and backstabbing which occurs amongst authors. In particular, Dickens is shown in quite a critical light. Smith seems highly attentive to the shortcomings of her profession and colleagues while also attempting to show in this novel what the best kind of fiction can do: expand readers' empathy and broaden their point of view to see the larger complexity of things. It's a tricky tightrope to walk and, for the most part, she gets the right balance.

Though Eliza is a highly sympathetic character who exhibits a lot of goodness, by the end of the novel it's shown she has her own shortcomings and areas of blindness. I enjoyed the way the story even gives a rounded view of such side characters as Sarah (the second Mrs Ainsworth) and Henry (Andrew Bogle's son). Their lives are fully fleshed out in many different scenes with witty dialogue and sharp observations. However, the structure of the novel is perhaps a bit too ambitious as it covers a lot of ground over a long period of time. It comes to feel a little unwieldy as the reader is continuously pulled into the past while the narrative also tries to delineate the complex events of the present. However, overall the story contains many moments of pleasure and it's a tale which leaves the reader with a lot to ponder. Like all the best historical fiction, it sparks a curiosity to want to read and understand more about some forgotten corners of the past.

Zero-Sum by Joyce Carol Oates

I'm continuously impressed by the creative flair of Oates' writing which fearlessly treads into forbidden areas of our psychological reality. She dares to reveal what we don't want to look at and asks questions which won't permit polite answers. Her new collection moves through three distinct sections from intimate stories of family life and young adulthood to a novella about the collapsing mental health of a modern literary “genius” to dark dystopian tales. There is a group of teenage girls who set a wicked trap for lascivious men, a mother who becomes intent on taking her baby off-grid and a privileged teacher secure in his home while the world outside literally goes to hell. These stories present a sense of uneasy progression where fulfilment seems just out of reach and unspeakable horror may wait around the corner. Oates has a mesmerising way of drawing the reader into her stories and deep into her characters' point of view to show an entirely new perspective. This is fiction which delves into the dynamics of love and personality with courageous intensity.

One story explains “In game theory, a zero-sum game is one in which there is a winner and there is a loser and the spoils go to the winner and nothing to the loser.” Throughout the book this sense of competition plays out between men and women as well as different individuals, friends and spouses. It's expressed as a particularly American sentiment which frequently leads to terrible violence. In some stories the characters recognize a double who might supercede them as only one can be victorious. For instance, in the title story a philosophy student who longs for the favour of her esteemed teacher envies his physically disabled daughter and in 'Monstersister' a growth on an adolescent girl's head develops into a feeble twin who becomes the focus of her family's attention. Yet, throughout these tales there are also hints that contentment can be found when equality is truly achieved and egoless love is offered. An ill-fated academic remarks that “To G___, life was not a game of who might win. Love was certainly not a game.” This suggests that the secret to real success might be in striving for mutual support rather than domination.

In the longest story within this collection the famous writer at the centre is simply referred to as “The Suicide” rather than being given a character name. His draw towards self-immolation as a kind of sacrifice to higher art becomes the defining characteristic of his identity. He struggles with mental illness, bouts of medical treatment and increasing paranoia. In following his manic logic we become increasingly aware of how his supportive wife's identity and health becomes completely subsumed to his own. Oates is scathing in portraying his selfish behaviour but also expresses sympathy for the author's dilemma. His longstanding plan for suicide is wrapped up in his egotism about his reputation as a great writer. This is a veiled portrait of the later part of David Foster Wallace's life. In her previous work, Oates has demonstrated a talent for fictionally paying tribute to revered writers such as Edgar Allan Poe, Mark Twain, Robert Frost, Henry James, Ernest Hemingway and H.P. Lovecraft by simultaneously recognizing their accomplishments as artists while severely critiquing them as fallible men. It seems apt there's reference to Hitchcock within “The Suicide” because the masculine drive of certain artists is also scrutinized by a character much like the actress Tippi Hedren in Oates' story 'Fat Man My Love' from her collection “High Lonesome”.

As well as interpersonal conflicts, these stories also focus on the heartrending internal dilemmas of characters who struggle with a sense of belonging and being wanted. In the very short tale 'Take Me, I Am Free' a child is literally left by the curbside with other unwanted items to be taken by anyone. Alternatively, in 'Sparrow' a woman learns from her mother who suffers from memory loss that she might have been adopted to replace a deceased child. The highly imaginative 'M A R T H E: A Referendum' contemplates a dominant race of computers that debate whether to keep alive the last remaining homo sapien whose life has been artificially extended. It's powerful how these different situations contemplate whether an individual's inherent value can be quantified and the ways that this becomes measured through their relationships with others in the world. Such vibrant storytelling pulses with life and has the ability to haunt the reader with urgent dilemmas that feel all too real.

You can watch me discuss “Zero-Sum” with Joyce Carol Oates here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hL1BB1hKPq4

A Fairly Honourable Defeat by Iris Murdoch

The more I read of Iris Murdoch the more impressed I am by her keen attention to the complexities of friendships and love affairs. In fact, she dynamically shows that these two states can naturally blend into one another. The definition of this closeness comes to feel immaterial against the evolving feelings people have for each other as long as they lead with kindness and honesty. This was true in her novel “The Bell” and it's explored with even more tenacity in her 1970 novel “A Fairly Honourable Defeat” where several friends and family members uncertainly step over the line into romantic love. They are ushered into unfamiliar territory by a mischievous character named Julius King who acts as an agent of chaos meddling in the relationships of several people. These include happily married Rupert and Hilda with their wayward son Peter, Rupert's gay brother Simon and his longterm older lover Axel and Hilda's sister Morgan who is estranged from her husband Tallis. Inspired by A Midsummer Night's Dream, Julius tests their commitment to one another by sending false messages to suggest hidden desire. This provokes a betrayal of trust and jealousy which rattles the harmony of their relationships and inspires deep introspection. The result is a moving tale full of vibrant exchanges and an entertaining plot set in modern London.

Even if it strains credulity, the story functions like a contemporary piece of Shakespearean theatre where big philosophical concepts are tested in real working relationships. One of the central notions explored is that plain goodness is dull and evil actions make life exciting. Certainly Julius could be dismissed as a villain, but Morgan's glib handling of his feelings and other hidden aspects of his life make him into a much more complex character. Conversely a more conscientious figure such as Rupert has untapped desires and insecurities which rise to the surface when his core beliefs waver. An issue such as the characters' uneasy relationships to capitalism are demonstrated in Morgan's compulsive buying habits and Peter's shop lifting. Then there is the relentless bullying and hate spewed from Tallis' father Leonard. The personality and detail Murdoch imbues within each character made me believe and care about them while giving a compelling perspective on a range of weighty issues.

One of the most intriguing bonds which comes under strain is that between Simon and Axel. Murdoch always sympathetically included gay characters in her novels, but the nuance and care she showed towards this couple make them one of the most compelling examples of a long-term homosexual relationship I've ever read. Between younger Simon's promiscuous past and conservative Axel's uneasy sense of inhabiting his queerness, these tensions play out in their dialogue and manner towards each other in an entirely convincing way. What perhaps isn't as persuasive is when Simon's lust for a male Greek statue reaches such a feverish pitch he not only strokes the marble but licks it! It's an image so over the top I can only assume Murdoch meant it to be comic. There's also a frank discussion between Rupert and Hilda at the beginning of the novel which engages with many stereotypes surrounding homosexuals with Rupert's welcome assertions that essentially there's little difference between gay and straight relationships. There's complexity in Simon and Axel's bond which is influenced by either embracing or rejecting a gay identity, but their relationship is also troubled by things which would impact any other couple.

Overall, this is a satisfying and pleasurable read. The relative power imbalance between different couples and the question of how much honesty a relationship can take is teasingly played out in the story. Probably the most sympathetic character is Tallis who is coldly rejected by Morgan, taken advantage of by Peter and continuously scorned by his father Leonard. All the while he diligently tries to earn a living teaching and writing his own work. It makes for quite a contrast with the easy privilege and wealth of Rupert and Hilda. So it's especially interesting how he sounds through as the voice of reason and his interactions with Julius add an interesting layer to this tale. I think this is only the fifth novel I've read by Murdoch so I'm glad there are still many more of her novels for me to discover.

The Vivisector by Patrick White

I've always been curious to read Australian author Patrick White so plunged into his epic “The Vivisector”, the longest of his novels. A few years after it was published White won the Nobel Prize for Literature and this novel was posthumously chosen as one of the six books shortlisted for the “Lost Man Booker Prize” of 1970. It describes the life and creative journey of Hurtle Duffield who is born to a poor Australian household, adopted by a wealthy family and rises to become a highly successful artist. The title refers to his often cruel ability to artistically dissect his subjects and his general emotional distance from people in general. Though he is an often cold and contemplative individual, he encounters a range of charismatic personalities who are vibrantly detailed throughout the story. Some of his most crucial connections are with his adoptive sister Rhoda who has a physical deformity and, later in his life, Kathy Volkov, a musical child prodigy. The story poignantly considers whether it's possible to dedicate oneself to an artistic life while also living as a fully rounded human. In doing so, White captures the perilous loneliness which is endemic amongst those who devote themselves with fervour to a meaning beyond their own circumscribed existence.

It's intriguing how the story initially feels akin to “Great Expectations” as the boy finds an opportunity to make his fortune and rise out of the meagre circumstances he's born into. Though Dickens' protagonist is eminently likeable and “good”, Hurtle is much spikier and I believe the reader is intentionally meant to criticise his demeanour as he ages and establishes himself as an artist. His aloof and haughty attitude is understandably hurtful to many around him who only want to enhance his life and wellbeing. It's as if Hurtle believes that he can't maintain his objectivity and artistic integrity if he allows himself to become emotionally close to anyone (especially those he's most drawn to.) In doing so, he refuses to engage in the common practice of kindly looking past the less savoury aspects of human nature. Instead he lays them mercilessly bare in his artwork. Is this a radical way of confronting the truth of existence or a brutal inability to love people with all their so-called flaws? I don't think the novel seeks to give an answer but offers a sustained meditation on this question. It also poignantly considers the meaning of success since Hurtle takes little satisfaction in his monetary gain or heightened reputation.

One of the most poignant images the novel offers early on is the chandelier Hurtle discovers in the Courtney's grand house. He comes to feel this form of glass and light within himself like an expression of the spirit. Some of the more comedic and enjoyable aspects of the novel come with the wealthy couple who adopt him. Mr Courtney makes him read out smut to test his literacy and despite Mrs Courtney's heartfelt concern for the downtrodden of the world she's unable to take much practical action so frequently feigns busyness. There are some particularly wonderful scenes involving a Planchette which Mrs Courtney believes connects them to the spirit world. While being frequently funny, this couple and their feisty daughter also come across as very sympathetic. The same is true for a prostitute named Nance whose diatribes express her emotionally volatile sensibility. Though he has a longterm affair with her and she serves as an important muse to Hurtle, he's incapable of valuing her beyond this purpose. As his life progresses, the author increasingly keys us into commentary about Hurtle from those around him adding to his sense of isolation. While following this artist's long life I kept recalling Mrs Courtney's remark that “There’s nothing so inhuman as a human being”. It's a chilling sentiment which this novel explores with a hard-edged and sustained dedication.

Mrs S by K Patrick

This novel is awash with so much sexual anticipation and sensuality it perfectly encapsulates the heady experience of falling in love. It's that feeling when passion becomes all consuming it infuses everything and time is measured by encounters with the desired individual. At the beginning of K Patrick's debut novel its Australian narrator has just arrived in England to work as a matron at a rural girls' boarding school. As she gradually acclimates to the environment and traditions of this old institution, she develops a deep attraction for the Headmaster's wife known simply as Mrs S. The story follows their interactions while building tantalizing suspense with the question of “Will they or won't they?” But it's also an excellent invocation of this emotionally charged environment with the budding egos of the girls and cloistered routines. As more is revealed about the narrator's difficult history with her family and her own discomfort within her own body, her yearning becomes movingly layered with a rich level of psychological complexity. Desire is truly shown in a new light which is both very specific and universal.

The writing in this novel shines with straightforward prose which are so precise and perfectly encapsulate the emotion and personality of the narrator. It's also satisfying how classic the story appears in its texture but how revelatory and new it feels in its meaning. The setting of the boarding school is filled with so many antiquated procedures it's groaning with centuries of routine. Details such as radiators which can't be turned off even when it's hot outside and soggy breakfast toast add to the all-consuming atmosphere of this place. There are also uptight figures such as the Nurse and the local Vicar as well as the doddering Headmaster. Everywhere are the tender personalities of the schoolgirls who sometimes cluster into antagonistic groups and other times drift in melancholy isolation. Their fiery energy is directed at boys, each other and sometimes the narrator: “The girls know about humiliation. They trade in it.” Other than Mrs S, perhaps the narrator's only true point of connection is with the Headmistress who becomes an ally in being a confirmed lesbian. However, their friendship is tinged with the resignation of knowing they only really have each other to rely upon being the most outwardly queer people at the school. Rising above all these other figures is Mrs S whose canny wisdom and prestige allows her to freely move throughout this environment. But she also has a mystery and air of dissatisfaction about her circumstances which adds to the total charm she casts over the narrator.

The narrator's infatuation with Mrs S becomes clear not only through the focus placed upon her, but in the way she describes her relationship with time. She details encounters with Mrs S and how she knows she will compulsively mull over them while mourning for any small detail of that experience which has been lost. This reminded me of Annie Ernaux's book “Simple Passion” in which the author recounts being so swept up in the heat of romance she is thrown out of the present. The mind becomes consumed with memories of past meetings and the anticipation of when they might meet next. Also, certain objects become laced with significance. At one point the narrator furtively conceals a portion of a smashed stained glass window depicting the figure of a woman which she makes a gift to Mrs S. This is filled with unspoken meaning about giving someone's independence back to themselves which may be misjudged by the narrator or misunderstood by Mrs S. Throughout the school there are also reminders of a deceased famous author who once attended this institution. Her strong presence is everywhere but she's essentially unattainable.

Though the novel functions as a romance, its deeper impact is about the question of how fully someone can inhabit themselves in such a location. It's a place which is intended to allow individuals to grow but only within the confines of certain borders. Though there's little opportunity for the kind of self expression which would allow the narrator to test out different ways of being she nevertheless finds opportunities to transcend the limitations of how she might be seen. When Mrs S takes her swimming at one point she remarks “If I could choose a different body, I choose this water”. Her expression of self is indelibly linked to her sincere desire and wish to completely envelop Mrs S. Many other characters such as the Headmistress, the girls and Mrs S struggle to find any such outlet so rebel in small and large ways against the constraints of their circumstances. It's a conflict which is thrillingly teased out in this story which is so compelling that reading it becomes its own kind of obsession.