Too many books, too little time

I start to stress at this time of year that there are so many recently published books I've still not read. Almost all the books on this packed shelf have been published within the past couple of years and I'd like to read them soon – though I know that's not likely. Not only do I have all these tempting stories waiting but I'm also receiving many advance copies of exciting new titles which will be published in early 2024. So it's difficult not to feel overwhelmed. However, I've learned to take my time and work my way through a prioritized list while still occasionally picking up a book on a whim.

I'm often asked how I choose what to read next. I pick books to read because of a range of reasons: a great review, a personal recommendation, an author I've enjoyed reading before or an intriguing summary. Or I might just like the look of the cover. There are a couple books I'm eager to get to first. I recently re-read “1984” in preparation for Sandra Newman's version of the story from a different character's point of view so I definitely want to get to that. “Blackouts” is also a priority because I've heard nothing but amazing things about this now National Book Award winning novel. If you spot a book on this shelf that you think I should read sooner rather than later let me know!

Despite my intense desire to gluttonously read all these, the great thing about books is that they will patiently wait on the shelf and I can only read one title at a time. As winter is fast approaching and the sunlight fades sooner in the day there's a pleasure in discovering each unique story while being cozy inside and reading with my trusty lamp as a companion. For over a year I've been using this High Definition Table Light from Serious Readers. It illuminates the page beautifully in a way which feels warm and natural. If you're looking for an excellent gift for a literary loved one or for yourself I'd really recommend getting a reading light from Serious Readers. Find out more about what makes their lights so special through this link https://try.seriousreaders.com/pages/sr458 and, if you decide to buy one, be sure to enter the Offer Code SR458 when checking out as this will save you £100 on a High Definition Light and provides you with free delivery.

Let me know the books you're aiming to read before the end of the year and if you have any suggestions of what I should read first from these shelves.

This Other Eden by Paul Harding

It's curious to discover in this novel details about the true history of an island off the Maine coast which isn't far from where I grew up. Previously, I knew nothing about its tragic story. The opening of the book quotes from the Maine Coast Heritage Trust that in 1912 the state evicted a group of 47 mixed-race residents from the homes they'd inhabited for generations on Malaga Island. The subsequent story fictionalises an account of these residents through the time of that eviction as well as the cold-hearted and bigoted government process of expelling this group of people. Harding presents poetic descriptions of the islanders' everyday life and reflections on the families' history at this location which they'd inhabited since the Civil War as a haven isolated from the larger country. Passages about the residents are juxtaposed with formal accounts of events leading to the eviction and institutionalisation of some of the residents to emphasize the lack of consideration for the individuals and families whose lives were judged and displaced. It's ironically noted at one point that it's “Terrible how terribly good intentions turn out almost every time.” In this way the novel evokes a tremendous story of a community of unique individuals that forged its own path, but couldn't escape the morals and standards that the larger society imposed upon it.

Though the island community was viscously mistreated by the state, Harding doesn't idealise their lives or history. Any isolated group of people who try to subsist on their own especially on a relatively spare Northern island will encounter a hard life with limited shelter and meagre amounts of food. But there is also no outside help available for residents who experience debilitating illnesses or abuse from within the community. It's a complex situation and I admire how Harding simply presents this story in a way to allow readers to make up their own minds. I grew to care deeply about these characters – especially grandmother Esther Honey with her feisty spirit, the mysterious Zachary Hand To God Proverbs who dedicatedly carves the inside of an oak tree and her grandson Ethan who possesses natural artistic talent. Matthew Diamond is also an interestingly conflicted character. He teaches the children on the island, helps support the residents by delivering charitable donations and advocates on their behalf to the government. But he's also an acknowledged racist. The way he grapples with his own prejudices and religious feelings while interacting with the residents makes him a compelling intermediary between the state and the islanders.

Harding's prose flow beautifully in a way which fully embedded me in the sensory experience of their island life, relationships with each other and memories of the past. There's a gentle dignity to the narrative which makes the dictates of the state and “scientific” experts evicting them feel all the more cruel and hateful. It also makes occasional instances of horrific violence breathtakingly shocking. Being so isolated, the people on the island have also developed their own singular culture and way of communicating. The influence of their mixed European and African heritage through songs, stories, practices and legends is so unique. I enjoyed how this was integrated into their daily lives and dialogue. It left me feeling not only angry about the injustice carried out, but a sense that something very precious and special has been coldly decimated. I really appreciated this quietly dramatic story which says so much about belonging, family, spirituality and prejudice.

The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch

It often takes me a bit to get into a Murdoch novel because usually there are several central characters with complex relationships to each other. But once I get to know them all and into the drama of the story I'm totally gripped. The primary conflict in this tale is between Bradley Pearson, an aspiring writer who has published very little, and his frenemy Arnold Baffin, a bestselling prolific author whose work Bradley looks down upon. Bradley is determined to write his masterwork but finds himself distracted by a group of people's messy issues and he unexpectedly falls in love with a much younger woman. Murdoch shows how ambition, jealousy and desire play out in a highly dramatic scenario with tragic consequences. Though Bradley has lofty ambitions to write a literary masterpiece it's ironic and hilarious that this narrative mostly told from his point of view (with significant forwards and afterwards from other characters' perspectives) focuses on the kind of salacious story he sneers at. However, it's a novel that perfectly demonstrates Murdoch's tremendous ability for writing in a way which is highly entertaining as well as artful.

I enjoyed the way this cleverly structured novel explores the debate and assumed division between “highbrow” literature and popular “readable” books. Arguments in the story concerning quality versus quantity in literary output and criticism made about new literature feel like they must have been close to Murdoch's heart. In her usual temperate manner, she approaches these issues with both great seriousness and a sly smile. The characters often represent sharply divided points of view or embody certain ideas. However, they also come alive as individuals and feel realistic in much of their evocative dialogue. Murdoch was such a master at writing compelling and fun books which also explored profound ideas and made frequent literary references. Shakespeare is an important touchstone in her work and this novel specifically plays upon 'Hamlet' in character parallels and overt discussions about the play's meaning and how it relates to Shakespeare's life as an artist.

It was initially challenging for me to get into this novel because Bradley is in many ways such a loathsome character. He's pretentious, cruel to his friends, dismissive towards his suicidal sister and seduces a woman less than half his age. Given that his voice dominates the narrative I didn't know if I could stomach his story. I often enjoy reading about unlikeable characters but his arrogant and self-centred manner is particularly irksome to me. However, he became a character I loved to hate as Murdoch subtly undermines him through the structure of her plot showing how his world implodes and he's served a delicious form of punishment. At the same time he's presented as thoroughly human and allotted a good measure of integrity. There's a lot more that happens in this story and a large cast of compelling characters from Bradley's wealthy ex-wife Christian to her cash-strapped gay brother Francis who makes the outrageous claim that Shakespeare was “The greatest homosexual of them all.” These figures all play off from one another in an enticing way.

It was especially pleasing that the BT Tower (formerly called the Post Office Tower) plays a role in this novel. It's such a distinct London landmark and there's a fun scene where two characters have dinner at the revolving restaurant at the top (which no longer operates.) Details such as this and the sensibility of the characters bring to life the sensation of 1970s England. It's interesting to contemplate what things have changed and what's stayed the same while also pondering all the universal issues that the author dramatises. I've still only read several books from Murdoch's impressive oeuvre of twenty-six novels. Reading “A Fairly Honourable Defeat” over the summer was such a pleasure, but I think “The Bell” is one of my favourites so far. I look forward to continuing my journey of reading through her complete works.

Study for Obedience by Sarah Bernstein

There are some books which I find difficult or disappointing when I initially try to read them. I don't feel it's necessary to finish reading a book I'm not enjoying or understanding because there are so many more titles waiting to be read. However, some books warrant a second attempt. When I first tried reading “Study for Obedience” late this Summer I found it so arduous I put it down after fifty pages. The protagonist's subservient personality and cryptic narrative frustrated me. However, many readers who've appreciated this novel urged me to give it another try and it's since won the Giller Prize in Canada as well as being shortlisted for the 2023 Booker. But, more than being intrigued by any hype, I primarily picked it up again out of a curiosity to see if I could understand the meaning of Bernstein's book. I'm glad I did because I subsequently appreciated it much more. I can't say it's an enjoyable experience because it's often frustrating and there are elements I still don't understand. However, it's worth persisting with it. I think it partly worked better for me because I went into it without the expectation I'd get a traditionally plotted story.

The premise of this novel is quite straightforward. An unnamed young woman moves to an unnamed northern country to become the housekeeper for her eldest brother. She doesn't speak the language of this rural territory though her ancestors came from this region. As she gradually tries to become part of the community she's treated with suspicion and blamed for unfortunate events which occur. That's really all there is to the story and that's all that happens. Readers who require more drama in their novels will be disappointed by this book. Instead, this tale embeds us in a discomfiting personality and creates a certain mood. It's difficult to sympathise with the protagonist because she makes herself compliant, accepts the blame for things which aren't her fault and remains wilfully ignorant (or appears to do so.) She's not so much a character I want to root for but shake and tell her to stand up for herself. Once I let go of the desire to like her I became more compelled by the alternative perspective she offers.

There is little overt violence in this story but there is a sinister edge and a building tension. She is perilously isolated and her best efforts to integrate only further ostracise her from the local population. In fact, actions such as spreading decorative twigs around the town and volunteering instead make her a target for the villagers frustrations. We're limited to her perspective so it may be that her actual interactions might be different from how she presents them. There's a question about how innocent she really is because she realises that “it seemed to me that my obedience had itself taken on a kind of mysterious power. And if I had been granted this power, by some grace, against my wishes, must I not then make use of it in some way?” The villagers overreact to her presence in an exaggerated way. This highlights the absurdity of groupthink in certain communities which needlessly ostracise people who are different or who aren't native to the region. It also shows how fear and superstition often lead to violence.

This meaning is underpinned by the fact that the narrator's ancestors from this area were persecuted for being Jewish and there are overt references to the Holocaust. However, the lack of names used for locations or people only emphasizes the universal nature of this struggle. It's easy to think of contemporary parallels where large groups are forced out of their homes or killed because another group of people believe they are entitled to that space. The narrator doesn't see herself as blameless in these ongoing struggles. Rather, she states “Every single one of us on this ruined earth exhibited a perfect obedience to our local forces of gravity, daily choosing the path of least resistance, which while entirely and understandably human was at the same time the most barbaric, the most abominable course of action. So, listen. I am not blameless. I played my part.” This naturally caused me to reflect on the ways I might minimize myself in order to comfortably get by or remain blind to horrors unfolding around me on both a local and global scale.

In this way, the novel compelled a level of self-reflection and contemplation that I wasn't expecting after first trying and failing to read the book. I believe there's a special power and uniqueness in this novel. However, unlike some difficult books which took me a lot of time to appreciate this isn't one I'll be eager to revisit anytime soon. It's unrelentingly bleak and the protagonist still aggravates me. Her meandering perspective is like listening to someone who has been isolated in a cabin for years that I want to make a stealthy escape from, but I suppose in that way it's faithfully representing what this character goes through. Despite all this, I found reading the entire novel a worthwhile experience and expect it will have a lasting effect upon me.

Papyrus by Irene Vallejo (translated by Charlotte Whittle)

It's a solace knowing that my propensity for acquiring vast shelves of books isn't an oddball impulse because book hoarding and the cultivation of large private libraries has been around since the first book was created. Vallejo has composed an ambitious and fascinating history of physical books from scrolls initially created using papyrus plants in ancient Egypt to the development of digital books. The story follows not only evolution of books as objects but the way they've been an integral part of building our culture and civilisation over the centuries. It emphasizes how fragile books are as objects being prone to deterioration, loss and purposeful destruction. While the author mourns the loss of certain texts and writing which now only exists in fragments, she also celebrates the miraculous way certain key books have survived over the centuries.

I found it especially fascinating that creating essential reading lists is also a process as ancient as books themselves and such hierarchies created by dedicated readers heavily contributed to why certain books have survived the weather of time over others. She gives fascinating examples of how female authors have been de-prioritised over male authors over the centuries and she makes a compellingly strong case for why original texts shouldn't be revised to remove offensive ideas and terminology. Alongside accounts of intriguing historical figures from literate leaders to scribes to book traders to fearless librarians, Vallejo occasionally interjects the personal role books have played in her own life. I appreciated how this added an emotional undercurrent to this well-researched and knowledgeable history of my favourite object.

Forbidden Notebook by Alba De Cespedes (translated by Ann Goldstein)

There's a deceptively simple premise to Alba De Cespedes' 1952 novel which has recently been published in a new English translation. Office worker and housewife Valeria Cossati impulsively purchases a notebook to secretly record her thoughts and reflections. She has the sense that this is a transgressive act and when her family consider the possibility of her keeping a diary they find it laughable because they assume she'd have nothing to write about. So the notebook is kept hidden and she becomes increasingly anxious it might be found. It's challenging to keep it concealed because her lower-middle class family live in a small apartment. This adds to the feeling that this is an individual with no space of her own and the notebook becomes her refuge. We're the only ones privy to her writings which become a journey of self discovery as well as a record of the transition her family is going through over a period of several months. It's profoundly moving following how Valeria articulates her desires and negotiates her position in the world through this conversation with herself.

There's an increasing dramatic tension as there are developments within her family but there's also an increasing fear this notebook might be found and read by a family member. Of course, it's possible someone else might be reading her notebook without her knowing about it. She becomes increasingly candid discussing her thoughts about her husband, children and romantic feelings that develop between Valeria and her boss at work. Her children are almost adults so she must re-negotiate her position as a wife and mother. It's significant her own husband Michele now calls her “mamma” instead of her name as if her identity is only centred around her being a mother. It's fascinating how she wants to break free of the constraints of this role, but she also embraces and loves her position within her family. Yet the very act of secretly writing the notebook means she must stay up late at night. This adds to her sense of fatigue on top of keeping a job as well as cleaning and cooking for her family.

So many thoughts and feelings have been building inside her for years. Now that she's found an outlet for them through the notebook it becomes almost an obsession to her. She remarks that “It's strange: our inner life is what counts most for each of us and yet we have to pretend to live it as if we paid no attention to it, with inhuman security.” It's stunning how meaningfully this narrative presents the divide between her inner and outer life. The act of writing is like dipping deeper and deeper into a well of suppressed emotion. It also presents her specific position as an Italian post-war woman grappling with financial pressures. She's caught between her more liberal daughter Mirella and more conservative son Riccardo. Even though the diaries are necessarily only from her perspective, the narrative also gives a sense that her husband and boss have their own private lives whose expression is being suppressed. Her husband Michele has written a racy film manuscript and her boss Guido goes into the office on Saturdays as a respite from the demands of family life. In this way the novel illuminates how this tension between the inner and outer life is universal.

I naturally felt very sympathetic towards Valeria and the position she maintains. But I can also see why her family would grow impatient and fearful of her. Scenes she recollects in the notebook show how she often presents quite a strict and steely exterior. It's understandable she feels the need to conceal her notebook but it also feels like a tragedy that her family can't understand her as fully as the reader does because she won't allow them to know about her inner life. At times I almost wished they would discover it in order to get a better insight into Valeria's struggles. The situation raises poignant questions about how close we really are to the people we think we know the most and what levels of honesty are possible within the structure of our familial and romantic lives. Since this novel was written over fifty years ago it also makes me reflect upon past generations of my own family and consider the secret inner lives my grandparents led which I won't ever know about. This novel is a testament to those lost interior worlds but it's also a highly compelling story which describes the human condition with candour and insight.

Lonesome Reader is 10 years old!

I started this book blog back in 2013 on a whim, but updating it and becoming involved with online bookish activities has become a daily part of my life. Not only has it given me the opportunity to articulate my thoughts on what I'm reading but I've had so many meaningful interactions with other readers and received many great book recommendations. To my surprise, it's also opened opportunities to interact with the publishing world from reviewing newly released titles to being closely involved with book prizes to interviewing favourite authors such as Joyce Carol Oates, Zadie Smith, Richard Powers and Martin MacInnes. Though it's time consuming to write posts and make videos about books all this activity has spurred me on to read even more than I did before blogging.

As a fun way of celebrating my blog's birthday I set myself the goal of picking a favourite book from each year of the past decade. Here you can watch me reminisce about some of my top readers from the past ten years: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1edH0pNkZ14 It's a pleasurable (and slightly tense) process!

I still like to write about individual books in blog posts but recently my time has been largely taken up with the online book club I started a few months ago. It's been wonderful that so many readers have joined leading to lots of casual chat and close reading of our monthly book club picks. The murky world of online life and social media certainly has its pitfalls, but mostly it's been a positive experience full of energetic discussion and meaningful exchanges about literature. Reading is a necessarily solitary activity but all the activity and relationships which have grown out of this blog has shown me that being part of a community of readers means that I won't ever be lonely.

The Bee Sting by Paul Murray

I've been somewhat hesitant to pick up Paul Murray's new novel – not because of its 600+ page length – but because his previous novel “The Mark and the Void” was a disappointment to me. It had an interesting concept but I felt it didn't have much heart. Conversely, “The Bee Sting” is filled with so much emotional tension I was riveted. It also has an increasingly suspenseful story and explores a number of meaningful issues. And Murray makes a very bold choice with the ending which has got a lot of readers talking! My online book club spent the past month discussing it and it's so interesting reading everyone's point of view.

This novel is a big contemporary family saga set in a small Irish town. We follow the perspectives of the Barnes family from their different points of view during a specific period of time. They are going through a crisis as a family as well as having their own serious individual issues which might take them over the edge. It deals with economic instability, environmental decline, the sometimes repressive nature of community, infidelity, internal and external homophobia, and the silences which exist within the home when family members aren't honest with each other or themselves. This is all couched within a very dramatic plot with many mysteries and misdirects which make it increasingly thrilling to read.

It's so clever how Murray focuses on the perspectives of all the family members in turn to sympathetically portray their different points of view. I was convinced by each version of this family's story which moves from teenager Cassandra to adolescent PJ to the mother Imelda to the father Dickie. Even when I had something like a complete portrait there were still lots of gaps and misunderstandings which are dealt with in the final section of the novel. As well as creating suspense, this gives such a strong sense for how so many conflicts and contradictions occur within one family. Though this appears to be a normal family from the outside and they broadly support each other, there's a lack of emotional openness and there are an increasing number of lies which fill their household. Even the title of this novel is a lie. It begins to feel absurd that they can live within such close physical proximity but have so much psychological distance that they don't really see each other anymore. There's also a tragedy to this because knowing what we do about each family member's inner life we know if they were honest with each other they could help each other in meaningful ways. The novel shows how this is such a common state of affairs for families to fall into and how it can lead to great heartache and potential tragedy.

There are so many details within this novel which could be discussed at length, but one of the most striking things about it which any reader who completes the book will want to talk about is the ending. I'll get into spoilers here because it's impossible not to if I'm going to explain my own theory about it. The noteworthy thing about the ending is that it gives no conclusion. Dickie and his friend Victor are hidden in the forest preparing to shoot the man who has been blackmailing Dickie. Meanwhile, his children and wife Imelda are separately trying to find him though it's night and there's a torrential rain storm. Just as there's a click where Dickie might shoot one or all of them the novel ends. Though this later section has switched to a second person narrative with lines attributed to different characters the final line of the book simply states “You are doing this for love.” Which “you” and what “this” is remains unknown. The ambiguity of this ending is in many ways the point of this book. It prompts reflections about our own family life and why honest communication is difficult but necessary.

I can't help speculating on what happens in the moment after this book ends. Having grown to intensely care about these characters and intimately know their lives, I can't help wondering about what happens next in their story. Here are the two likely scenarios I envision: Dickie and/or Victor unintentionally or intentionally shoot one or all members of the family prompting Dickie to shoot himself and/or Victor OR that a shot is fired and misses the family creating a moment of nearly averted crisis and the beginning of an open communication/reconciliation that Imelda, PJ and Cass were hoping to start by finding Dickie. There are an infinite number of variations and mixture of these events which could also occur. However, we can speculate about likely outcomes given details and foreshadowing which have come before.

To start with, there's the very first line of this novel: “In the next town over, a man had killed his family.” This local tragedy casts a shadow over the story as this unknown family and their now empty house have become the subject of gossip and morbid intrigue. It's poignant thinking that if things also end in tragedy for the Barnes' family they'd also likely become just another subject of gossip for the community. In fact, they already are with their failing business and the corruption surrounding it. However, this local legend also conveys the sense that Dickie might shoot his family as well as himself. This is reinforced by Dickie's later conversation with Victor where Victor says the only way to be sure to keep Dickie's secret from his family is to kill them.

Eilish, a member of my online book club, pointed out that at the beginning of the novel Cass feels very anxious about climate change and when the entire family becomes lost in the forest during a storm it's like the environment itself is threatening their lives. There's also the character of Imelda's Aunt Rose or her adopted Aunt who apparently has psychic abilities and in her delirious state seems to express warnings of a forthcoming tragedy. She stresses to Imelda that Cass shouldn't return and makes reference to a squirrel which could be PJ. Additionally, when Cass and PJ were younger they'd play a game in the forest where they were squirrels being hunted by their father. Cass makes reference to this in the very last line from any of the characters.

So, every sign seems to be pointing to a tragic conclusion which is about to occur. However, I have a theory that things might actually continue in a more positive direction for this family. Murray has structured this novel in a way that many sections end with a cliffhanger. Chapters that focus on a particular character end with the sense that something really bad might be about to occur. This is partly what makes this book such a compulsive read despite its considerable length. But when we finally find out the result of these suspenseful moments it often turns out to be okay. The threat Murray has created dissipates and the story continues. In doing so, I think the author is saying our lives can veer towards tragedy but we don't often go over the edge of the cliff. I think Murray has been steadily preparing us for this final moment of crisis and if we continue with this line of logic, no one would be fatally shot. There might be panic; someone might be wounded, but I'm guessing that being pushed to the brink of destruction would cause these family members to finally start being honest with each other and hopefully move towards positive changes in their life together because, after all, they are connected by love.

We'll never know for certain how their story ends and I think the lack of resolution is poignant. I believe Murray made the right decision in not giving us a definite conclusion. But I know some readers have found this too frustrating. There is a whole other level of discussion to be had about this ending. Does it rely too much on coincidence? Is it believable that Imelda, Cass and PJ would all suddenly have a change of heart and care about Dickie when previously they'd mostly ignored or dismissed him? I think like a lot of dramatic plots it relies on some contrivances. But personally I can forgive that because it made the story so engaging and ultimately it produces a powerful message. Like all the best epics it was both a pleasure to read and increasingly engrossing so that I didn't want it to end.

The British Academy Book Prize for Global Cultural Understanding 2023 shortlist

Since I primarily read novels, I want to incorporate more history, biography and literary journalism into my reading. A favourite non-fiction literary award, The British Academy Book Prize for Global Cultural Understanding, recently announced their 2023 shortlist and you can watch me discuss it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgrdpXAqRdk They recognise work that searches for truth and reason in difficult places and books which highlight the connections and divisions that shape cultural identity worldwide. I've started reading through the six books on this year's list and they're taking me on some fascinating journeys.

First, “Papyrus” is an enjoyable and insightful look at the history of books in our ancient civilisation. Not only does it explain how the very first books were created in the form of scrolls, but it shows how there have been book hoarders and literary list makers since the very first books were created. Good to know we've always been around! Irene Vallejo draws in her personal history and contemporary references to show our close connection to the earliest books. I've also just read “Red Memory” which offers penetrating accounts from people involved with or affected by the Cultural Revolution. It's in turns shocking and psychologically insightful getting these first hand accounts of the atrocities which led to so many deaths and betrayals within Chinese communities. I was especially interested in reading this after having read the novel “Cocoon” last year.

Additionally, “Black Ghost of Empire” re-examines the history of emancipation in the US and British Empire showing how slavery turned into another form of subjugation for many people. “The Violence of Colonial Photography” explores how the early photography was used as an instrument of warfare within colonial conflicts. “Courting India” traces how English diplomat Thomas Roe forged connections with the Mughal Empire in the early 1600s & impacted relations between Britain and India for centuries. And “Ritual” explores what ritualised practices in different cultures say about our personalities and how they sooth, excite, divide and unite us.

Have you read any of these books or are you interested in them now? Is there any other non-fiction you’ve read recently that you’d recommend?

There will be a free online event with the shortlisted authors on October 30th and the winner will be announced on October 31st.

The House of Doors by Tan Twan Eng

One of my favourite kinds of literature is novels about novelists. So it was inevitable I'd be drawn into Tan Twan Eng's tale about Willie Somerset Maugham's 1921 travels to Penang and the inspiration he found there for his short story 'The Letter'. He and his secretary/lover Gerald stay with Willie's old friend Robert and Robert's wife Lesley. The narrative revolves around the uneasy companionship formed between Willie and Lesley. It's very compelling how Eng portrays this relationship because they aren't exactly friends but they're not enemies either. Each makes assumptions about the other, but both are at a crisis point and possess secrets. As more about their lives is revealed they form a special connection and understanding about one another. This is a novel primarily about the dynamics of romantic relationships. It's about how to balance levels of truth and intimacy in a marriage. It also vividly brings to life an area with a colonial past and the stirrings of political revolution. And it's about the process of creating fiction: which stories are memorialised, which are forgotten and how the past is manipulated through storytelling. It's a tale whose power became more evident the more I read and it's left me with a lot to think about in regards to all these issues.

I found this book immediately compelling because of the beauty of the writing. Eng's descriptions of the landscapes, the food and the society is so immersive. I felt like I could visualise the environment of Malaysia and feel the sensations being described. There's a transcendentally gorgeous scene where two characters swim in a sea that's filled with bioluminescent life. Not only did this brilliantly capture the feeling of this experience, but it also represented a poignant moment of liberation for the characters. The central metaphor concerns the titular House of Doors which is a structure that houses and displays beautiful old doors salvaged from buildings which have been destroyed. It develops a richer meaning over the course of the story suggesting gateways into the past which lead nowhere, stories whose truth can't be known and doors that open to new possibilities. It prompted me to wonder what is preserved and what is lost. This location is also an important focal point for the plot of the novel.

Lesley conveys to Willie the story of her close friend Ethel who was put on trial for murder after shooting a man. This formed the inspiration for Willie's fictional story, but we learn there is an even more complex and scandalous tale behind the one which Willie writes. Additionally, Lesley is more complex than she initially appears as details about her personal history, marriage and desires are revealed. Though certain sections concern the personal, professional and financial struggles Willie is going through, the narrative really belongs to Lesley and she takes control of her own story through this novel. At one point she realises: “we all had the power to change our pasts, our beginnings – or our perception of them, at least – but none of us could determine how our stories would end.” This epiphany allows her to take some agency in her life rather than be a victim of her circumstances. It also allows the reader to romantically imagine what might occur with her character after the end of the novel. This is such a superbly written and psychologically-rich novel I'm now eager to read Eng's previous two novels.

The Booker Prize 2023 Shortlist

Here are the 6 novels shortlisted for the 2023 Booker Prize! A new video is up on my YouTube channel where I give my live reaction to each book as I discover it's been listed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MID-r2k20l8

It's a really surprising group – even though I predicted three of them. An interesting diversity of styles and subject matter. It includes two debut authors and three authors named Paul! As it's been commented on social media, there are more writers named Paul than female authors on the list!

I’m very happy to see “Prophet Song”, “Western Lane”, “The Bee Sting” and “If I Survive You” here. I’m a good way through Murray’s doorstopper and I love the twists and complex view of family life that’s formed through their varying perspectives. I’m reading this with my new online book club and we’re having such interesting conversations about it.

I’ve not read “This Other Eden” yet but looking forward to it. Now… I did not finish “Study for Obedience” after only 40 or so pages. It felt way too tedious to be worth it. But keep in mind the judges have read all 6 books at least three times. Sooo… maybe it’s worth a revisit. Should I? Or I might not bother.

I’m very sad “In Ascension” didn’t make the cut and I’m also currently reading “The House of Doors” and I’m shocked it didn’t make the list.

What do you think of the list? Any favourites, disappointments or books you're looking forward to? Let's get discussing and it will be exciting to see which book wins late in November.

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.