My Men by Victoria Kielland (translated by Damion Searls)

“My Men” is the story of a young Norwegian woman who moves to America towards the end of the 19th century, changes her name and establishes a new life. Eventually she's discovered to be a serial killer responsible for the deaths of at least 14 people. Kielland reimagines this historical case of Belle Gunness from the inside of her troubled consciousness. Yet, rather than poring over gory details or building a thickly plotted story of dread, the author traces the shifting emotions of this woman whose life is driven by loss, loneliness, bad faith and bad logic. There's a bewitching nature to the poetic prose style which is at once claustrophobic and achingly tender. Rather than offering an explanation for why and how this occurred, this novel is moreover concerned with meticulously recording the state of its heroine's mind.

There's a cumulative sense of Belle's bleakly abiding aloneness in the world and fractured relations to other people. It's noted how “Bella stared into life and saw herself lying all alone at the bottom” and “The world was a whole, she could see it, but it was like she was standing just outside it and there was nothing she could do but cry.” This sense of complete separateness seems to foster a sense of absolute independence where she is wholly self-reliant and governed by her own sense of righteousness. In doing so the story traces how she comes to feel fully justified in her murderous actions: “Her carnivorous heart was exactly that simple, moments of closeness, a big black wound. A whole European map of dead men.” It makes for a very unsettling and strangely haunting read.

Parasol Against the Axe by Helen Oyeyemi

How would a city respond if it were being trolled online? That's what Oyeyemi presents at the beginning of this curious, inventive and mischievous novel. Prague cannot be contained in a weekend but by following the experiences of three old friends who venture there for an uncommon hen party we see how their lives intersect and meld with the city's past. It's a riotous adventure travelling with them through the winding streets. Like anyone who attempts to take an idealistic stroll through a place which is new to them, things rarely go to plan. There are some especially funny scenes involving petty conflicts and bickering with the people they encounter.

The chequered pasts of these characters catch up with them while the metropolis' history and living present impresses itself upon them. Their colourful biographies reveal many surprises involving criminality, artistic differences and alternative names. It made me think about how we like to imagine that our identities are robust and fixed things that can slotted into an online profile. But really we're susceptible to changes as the world around us – especially a bustling city with a lively persona - demands attention.

The story about a bookstore which doesn't accept currency but works through an exchange of titles was extremely appealing. I was intrigued by the shapeshifting book Paradoxical Undressing which accompanies them. It shows how every story cannot be contained just like every personality cannot be classified. The way in which Hero engages with its text reminded me how any book which I take on a journey becomes a part of my travels as I dip into reading it at various points while experiencing new landscapes, meeting fresh people and learning about local tales. “Parasol Against the Axe” feels baffling at times but I was dazzled by the originality of its style and charismatic oddity. Oyeyemi's writing can be likened to Ali Smith and readers who require a strong plot should be cautious, but if you're in the mood for getting lost in a tangle of idiosyncratic stories her books are a joy to discover.

Women's Prize Longlist 2024

Here are the 16 novels longlisted for the 2024 Women's Prize for Fiction! It's an eclectic group that includes contemporary novels, historical fiction, political tales, coming of age stories and sci-fi. A new video is up on my YouTube channel unboxing and discovering all these titles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2j7ytX2h388

It's quite exciting how there are stories here which span the globe including Canada, the Caribbean, Great Britain, Ireland, Africa, the Middle East, Australia, East Asia and Sri Lanka. Former Women's Prize winner Kate Grenville is here alongside Anne Enright who has been nominated multiple times and former longlistee V.V. Ganneshananthan. There are 8 debut novels including Chetna Maroo whose novel “Western Lane” was shortlisted for the 2023 Booker Prize and it was one of my favourite books that I read last year.

I only correctly predicted four on this list and I've currently only read three of them. It's great to see “The Wren, The Wren” here as it was the very first novel I read this year and I was completely taken by this clever family story. I also was enthralled by “River East, River West” so I'm thrilled this debut is getting more attention.

I'd already been eager to read “Soldier Sailor”, “Nightbloom” and “8 Lives of a Century-Old Trickster” so I'll probably start with them, but I'm eager to explore more of these titles and might read by whim. Hopefully I'll have read most of these books by the time the winner is announced (alongside the first winner of the Women's Prize for Non-Fiction) on June 13.

It's always such a pleasure discovering new books through this prize and finally getting to some novels I've been meaning to read. What do you think of the longlist? Which novels do you want to read first?

Lublin by Marya Wilkinson

If I were to introduce this novel by saying “three teenage Jewish boys walk towards the Polish city of Lublin to sell brushes” it might sound like the start of a dodgy joke. But it's both accurate and in character with this wonderful story as Elya, the leader and entrepreneur of the group likes a good (or even a mediocre) wisecrack. He's convinced his pious friend Kiva to join him along with Kiva's mischievous and politically rebellious cousin Ziv. We follow their travels through the countryside and idiosyncratic towns trying to reach the marketplace in Lublin. Along the way they share bawdy tales, get into fights, compare peckers, exchange religious stories, run away from anti-semitic Cossacks, read “Crime and Punishment” and undergo a severe test of their willpower. Through this episodic adventure by foot the boys' vibrant personalities come to life as their friendship comes under strain and they contend with the circumstances of the early twentieth century. It's oftentimes funny, occasionally poignant and utterly refreshing in how it gradually morphs into a hauntingly surreal story.

Alongside the immediate action and trials these boys experience there are occasional references to larger events occurring in the world both in the past and the future. This narrative technique adds to the sense these lads have fallen out of a linear sense of time as they gradually run out of food and become lost. It's as if they are carrying their community and culture with them as they wander on a seemingly endless journey. Of course, this gestures at the plight of their people: “Everyone imagines a great finger reaching down from Gan Eden to designate a Jewish homeland... No sensible person or nation wants Jews on their doorstep. Farsteysh?” As the novel is set in Europe prior to the coming World Wars a reader can't help being aware of what trials such boys might face in the coming decades. However, their endearing dispositions are so lively this overarching theme doesn't weigh down the immediate story. Instead it builds to a moving portrait of these distinct figures trying to carve out their own path in a perilous world. I was utterly charmed by this book.

A Passage to India by E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster's “A Passage to India” was first published a century ago so it seemed like a good time to revisit this book which is consistently cited as one of the greatest novels of all time. I first read it at university but I remembered little about it. So it's been worthwhile rereading this as an adult to refresh my memory about its story and it was the February choice for my online bookclub. Naturally reading it now that I'm older I'm able to appreciate more about its ideas and themes. It was the final novel by Forster to be published in his lifetime despite the author living for almost fifty more years after its publication. His novel “Maurice” was published posthumously and he also left an incomplete novel titled “Arctic Summer”. The subject of “A Passage to India” concerns tensions between East and West in the later days of Britain's colonial rule over the Indian subcontinent. The central question of the story is whether friendship is truly possible between Indians and the English in this context. This plays out through the drama between an Indian man named Dr Aziz who meets an English woman named Adela Quested who recently arrived in India. There's a mystery or non-mystery about what happens between them on an excursion out to the fictional location of the Marabar Caves. I'll discuss more spoilers than I usually do in this post since this is an older well known book.

I found it a bit challenging to get into the book at first since it launches right into a dialogue where it's not always obvious who is speaking and it presents a wide range of people. However, I quickly became fascinated (and repelled) by so much of the talk between these characters – many of which are frank in their racial and religious prejudice. Forster completely immerses the reader in this oppressive colonial environment where interactions are regulated along strict lines. There's also a lot of humour which comes through in Dr Aziz's personality and the strategic ways he tries to navigate this society. There's also a tragic/comic absurdity to many of the outrageous statements certain characters make as well as the cross-cultural misunderstandings which arise. Since this novel is partly based on Forster's time living in India I'm sure he heard many real people making similar pronouncements.

The narrative switches between a wider discussion of India as a land, culture and nation and scenes between the story's characters. I felt like occasional generalisations and troubling comparisons felt more questionable when they were situated in sections from the authorial perspective. Forster was clearly deeply sympathetic with the struggles in Indian society but describing the country in such broad terms also feels simplistic – especially when the characterisation and drama of the story is so nuanced. One of my favourite moments in the novel is when the exhausted Dr Aziz enters a mosque and initially believes a sweet old English woman named Mrs Moore hasn't taken off her shoes. This misunderstanding could have easily erupted into a bigger fight. If the overly racist characters of Mr or Mrs Turton had this encounter I'm sure they'd have taken great offense and attacked Dr Aziz. But magnanimous and kind-hearted Mrs Moore is more eager to foster a connection than try to assert her dominance in the situation. Equally, Dr Aziz immediately overcomes his frustration and sees the potential for a possible friendship. The way in which Mrs Moore and Mr Fielding, a British headmaster of a college for Indians, interact with people says a lot about their character. So I found their fledging friendships with Dr Aziz touching. Forster shows how quickly people can find commonality when they overcome their preconceptions and initial prejudice.

There's also a moving section which describes Dr Aziz's process of mourning his wife: “He had known that she would pass from his hands and eyes, but had thought she could live in his mind, not realizing that the very fact that we have loved the dead increases their unreality, and that the more passionately we invoke them the further they recede.” This is such an interesting and heart-wrenching insight into the experience of losing a loved one. I wish Forster had shown some of Dr Aziz's interactions with his children to better understand how his present family life operates. But his grief and loss add to the reason why he might be channelling so much of his energy into impressing new arrivals from England. By creating this social connection he wants to establish a level of respectability within the constructs of this colonial society.

Adela Quested arrives in India because she's considering marrying a rather deplorable British city magistrate named Ronny who is Mrs Moore's son. Adela could be called sweetly naïve or it could be said that the way in which she wants to experience the “real” India is belittling. Like many tourists she claims to want an “authentic” experience but when what she witnesses doesn't match her imagined idea of what she'd find she's discontent. I found this line about her interaction with Dr Aziz quite significant: “In her ignorance, she regarded him as 'India', and never surmised that his outlook was limited and his method inaccurate, and that no one is India.” It feels really true that the character of a country can only be understood in the multiplicity of its inhabitants as everyone will have their own slanted perspective on it. And it's also true that whenever meeting someone from a different country or culture it's important to remember that they are merely an individual who shouldn't be taken as representative of a nation.

It's masterful the way Forster creates a slow building tension between Dr Aziz who is eager to please these English women and Adela Quested who earnestly wants to understand the country as a method for clarifying to herself whether she wants to marry Ronny. This crescendoes in their trip to the Marabar Caves. For the characters it's a trifling excursion that Dr Aziz rashly suggests when he wants to avoid the embarrassment of hosting the ladies in his humble home. They accept the invite more out of a sense of politeness because neither Miss Quested or Mrs Moore are very enthusiastic about it – especially when no one can explain why the caves are significant or worthy of a trip. From this rather tedious and dutiful journey emerges a crisis which brings to a head all the simmering conflict caused by the untenable existing colonial system. The accusation which emerges from it and Dr Aziz's arrest are truly shocking. But it's also perfectly understandable that such an incident would occur when there is so much cross-cultural tension brought about by an imbalance of power. Such pressure leads to paranoia and clashes where oppressed people are further victimised. The racist white colonial inhabitants seize upon this accusation as an excuse to act out the anger and frustration they have against Indians.

Just as the story takes a surprising turn, the immediate drama is quickly deflated. This is quite a daring thing for a novel to do in terms of its plot because such a turnaround would appear to dispel any tension. But it seemed to me that the tension only mounted as the characters were left wondering about the significance of this event and their relationships to each other. It also emphasizes the sentiment that India should become an independent nation. The mystery of the story isn't about whether Dr Aziz is guilty or not because it's always clear he's innocent. The real mystery is why honest connections and true friendship between people from these two different nations is impossible in this context. The answer Forster seems to present is that wider divisions don't necessarily exist due to racism (although there aren't certainly some extremely racist characters in this book) but because of economic, political and social conflicts brought about by the colonial system.

The character of Fielding did his best to mount a defence for Dr Aziz but if Adela hadn't spoken up it seems doubtful Aziz would have been cleared. Even if he was judged innocent his reputation would be tarnished – as indeed it was regardless of his unquestionable innocence. Although I'm critical of Adela it does feel like she was brave to own up to the fact she didn't think Aziz had tried to attack her after all. This leaves her totally isolated as racist Mrs Turton is naturally furious (and her embarrassment in court is very funny) but Mrs Moore is also unprepared to engage with Adela anymore. Forster writers of Adela: “She was no longer examining life but being examined by it. She had become a real person.” So Adela feels to me like someone who means well but then realises how good intentions really have little value when she hasn't dealt with her own unacknowledged prejudices and isn't prepared to embrace the true complexity of the world.

Adela is haunted by an echo after her time in the cave as if it were her conscience pestering her. Mrs Moore also hears an echo but has a very different reaction to it because she experiences it as a crisis of faith. It results in a malaise when she realises her essential belief in goodness and Christianity can't stand up to the insidious divisions of the real world. We learn of her sad fate but she'd already withdrawn from trying to forge connections with others or engage in any of these social issues anymore. Though this is tragic it's perhaps hopeful that we later learn her children other than Ronny travel to India and develop a real appreciation for Hinduism and India's culture. The echo (being one of the main symbols of the novel) seems to have defeated Mrs Moore. Personally, I took the echo to mean that individuals are trapped in their own limited understanding of the world. It's a kind of opposite of a wasp which in this novel symbolises global unity. In the echo people are hopelessly divided. This gets at the central question posed in the first section of the novel if there can be true friendships between Indians and the English.

On this point, the friendship or attempted friendship between Dr Aziz and Mr Fielding seems to be crucial. There's a misunderstanding where Dr Aziz believes Fielding has wedded Ms Quested which naturally leaves him feeling betrayed and amplifies his belief he's been cheated out of the monetary reparations owed to him. But, more than that, there's a divide between them because of status and certain assumptions they make about each other due to nationality, religion and race. Forster amplifies it to such a degree as to state that the landscape itself comes between them. It's suggested the colonial situation creates too wide a gulf between people to allow any true connection to come forth. It's unsurprising that Dr Aziz becomes completely jaded towards the English and wants to reject them entirely (including Fielding) after the humiliation and damage of being accused as he was. However, Fielding also seems to be stuck in his own prerequisite for how he believes India should be ordered as is evidenced by his view of Venice which he contrasts to India. The fact that they aren't able to find any true connection is the great tragedy of this novel.

Alongside following the last meeting between this pair of characters, the final section is concerned with a Hindu festival – which is interesting knowing that Forster found the religion so compelling during his trips to India. To me this conclusion is making multiple points: that foreigners can never fully understand the experience of being Indian and that the traditions and culture of the country is ultimately stronger than any colonial power that tries to dominant it. However, I appreciate that this final section can feel somewhat meandering after such a character driven story.

Overall, I was very impressed with the novel in handling and honestly portraying such a complex society. Certainly Forster was writing from a certain background and his own generalisations about India and its people can be scrutinized in the narrative. But I believe this book was more intended to highlight the levels of prejudice and misunderstandings which exist in everyone and how this has led to an incredibly difficult situation in a colonized country where Britain imposed its values and forced its dominance over India. Naturally the novel can't offer a solution to these dilemmas but instead presents them in all their complexity. I loved how Forster follows the nuance of his primary characters' emotions as they mature but don't always progress. It's fascinating how each of the characters struggle with their own sense of morality in a colonial system filled with racial and religious tension. In a way the characters of Ronny and Fielding are opposite in that they've both worked for an extended period of time in the country but they interact with it and its citizens in very different ways. Forster shows how people can become trapped in certain frames of mind which create divisions that cannot be traversed. However, he also shows there can be great beauty when there are true connections – even if they only occur in fleeting moments.

It's been wonderful revisiting “A Passage to India” and I'd also highly recommend reading Damon Galgut's “Arctic Summer” which fictionally reimagines Forster's life including around the writing/publication of “A Passage to India”. I think it's a brilliant and moving novel, but I also have a penchant for novels about novelists. Additionally I watched David Lean's film version of 'A Passage to India' for the first time which was quite interesting despite being very long. It received many Academy Award nominations and it's fairly good – especially the cinematography which is spectacular. It's a shame the story is more immediately concerned with following Adela rather than Aziz and the ending is much more simplified (like a typical happy Hollywood ending.) It's also very unfortunate that Alec Guinness portrays the Indian character of Professor Godbole. But many scenes and lines from the book are faithfully portrayed and it's compelling how it visually shows many of the tensions raised in the novel.

If you're a Forster fan I'd be keen to know where you think this ranks amongst his books. I've read most of his work and I think I prefer “A Room with a View” although “A Passage to India” is more ambitious and impressive in handling such a large subject.

River East, River West by Aube Rey Lescure

I was instantly drawn into this story of Alva, a teenager living in Shanghai in 2007 whose American mother Sloan marries a successful Chinese businessman named Lu Fang. For many years Alva and Sloan have lived hand to mouth. They've been less mother/daughter and more a team trying to survive – a relationship emphasized by how Sloan refers to Alva as “partner”. So this marriage prospect finally affords them some stability, but Alva disapproves of Lu Fang. She assumes Sloan is marrying out of convenience and Alva also resents being tied to Asia. She's lived there her whole life and knows nothing of her biological Chinese father as her mother simply describes him as “an unnamed squirt of sperm”, but she aspires to live in America and reveres Western culture. Alva frequently watches illegal dvd copies of American films and scrutinizes the landscape of US neighbourhoods on digital maps. She increasingly rebels against her parents and her public education in her determination to fully inhabit the Western side of her identity.

But that's just half the story. The narrative alternates between Alva's coming of age tale and an account of Lu Fang's troubled life. His story begins in China in the 1980s as he's trying to establish a family and a business amidst the country's economic boom. Though he's haunted by the difficulty of his early life, the horrors of his country's past and those who continue to propagate Mao's propaganda, he reasons “Maybe amnesia was the only way to go on in the new China.” Lu Fang longs for more than the circumstances he's born into and also partially falls for the lure of a Western lifestyle. However, both Alva and Lu Fang discover that cultural imperialism and racial prejudice run deep. An unlikely connection is formed in their joint alienation and the mystery of Sloan's past is gradually revealed. It's moving how this novel depicts each character's transformative journey and the way these conflicted individuals build a new form of family.

The List of Suspicious Things by Jennie Godfrey

During the late 1970s a serial killer dubbed by the press as the Yorkshire Ripper was at large for years before finally being caught and identified as Peter Sutcliffe in 1981. This created an atmosphere of fear and suspicion in the area, especially amongst women who obviously didn't feel safe and that the killer could be living next door. Godfrey begins her debut novel with the surprising fact that her father knew Sutcliffe and the shock of this discovery is one of her most vivid memories. This adds an immediate emotional charge to the story of inquisitive 12 year-old protagonist Miv who resides in a Yorkshire community when the novel opens in 1979. Her father raises the possibility that they may move south which sends Miv into a panic that she'll have to leave her best friend Sharon. She reasons that if the killer is identified they won't have to move. Inspired by a favourite Enid Blyton adventure series, Miv and Sharon embark on a mission to make a list of suspects and slyly investigate them. This makes them aware that there are many more troublesome issues and unspoken crimes occurring in their community – even in Miv's own home because for some time her mother has been comatose and won't speak. There's a building dramatic tension as more mysteries are presented, but it's also a tender coming of age story that becomes increasingly emotional as it unfolds. Ultimately, there are many more twists and surprises than the discovery of the killer.

Part of the great joy of this book is its immersive atmosphere depicting the late 70s in Northern England as seen through an adolescent perspective. There's the heady smell of a delicious ginger cake named parkin and the pleasure of getting cans of dandelion and burdock from the corner shop. However, there's also an awareness of unemployment caused by the closure of local industries and the imposing presence of newly elected Margaret Thatcher. Though there is certainly a lot to criticise about Thatcher, one of the main focal points at the time as Britain's first female Prime Minister was the fact of her womanhood. It's apt that this novel opens with Miv's highly opinionated aunt saying that power hardens women and putting “a woman in charge of the country just isn't right.” This sets the tone for the kind of sexism which was so pervasive at the time and which cast a shadow over the investigation of the murders because Sutcliffe's initial targets were female prostitutes. The effects of this can be seen in many ways through attitudes and conversations depicted in the novel, but also how people turned a blind eye to domestic violence and pervy men inappropriately touching young girls. The insidious effects of larger concerns such as racism and mental health issues are also meaningful portrayed in the interactions Miv has with many people.

Godfrey creates a clever structure to humanize these matters in the lives of her characters. As Miv adds more and more suspect people to her list the narrative briefly switches to different individual perspectives. It's charming to get these outside points of view on diligent Miv making her not so subtle inquiries. It also depicts the emotional turmoil and fear gripping these people's lives from the inside. Though this device succeeds in presenting multiple perspectives and a deeper understanding of the issues at stake, it sometimes deals too briefly with certain characters. I wish it had lingered longer with some stories to better appreciate their full complexity. But overall it's an effective way of invoking the connections and drama of a community. Some of the most poignant interactions are between the adolescents themselves – especially Sharon's budding romance with Ishtiaq, a motherless boy with Pakistani heritage who is the target of almost daily racist attacks. The precious friendship between Miv and Sharon is also beautifully presented. It becomes strained as their innocent detective project turns increasingly serious. Godfrey is skilled at showing the all-consuming turmoil which can overwhelm young people leading to horrendous violence. There are many engrossing revelations in this novel and the climax is utterly thrilling. It's a big-hearted book filled with life and personality.

Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

I've greatly enjoyed some of Ann Patchett's previous books such as “State of Wonder” and “The Dutch House”. She's won awards and maintains a lovely social media presence promoting books she's enjoyed reading through her Nashville bookstore Pernassus Books. Her latest novel “Tom Lake” has come with critical acclaim and the audiobook has the distinction of being read by Meryl Streep. However, my anticipation for the book was dampened when some readers told me how bland and cozy they found this novel. But I plunged into reading it and was pleasantly surprised to find myself falling for it. It's a story of quiet reflection, the pleasures of family life and how love develops different meanings as we mature.

I think part of the reason why this novel resonated so much with me is timing; it's the right book for me to read now. The main character and narrator is Lara who lives with her husband Joe on a Michigan cherry farm that's been in his family for generations. As the recent pandemic spreads across America their three daughters who are all in their 20s come to shelter with them and assist in the big job of bringing in the cherry harvest. While living together in isolation the daughters demand to know Lara's story about dating an actor named Peter Duke when she was younger. He wasn't famous at the time but he went on to become a big celebrity.

While in this state of lockdown limbo, Lara recounts her experiences in the 1980s becoming a promising young actress herself as well as her heated romance with Duke. They meet while performing in a Summer stock production of 'Our Town' at a location called Tom Lake. The question of why she didn't continue to pursue acting or her relationship with this rising star isn't simple wistful thinking about the road not taken. It's a confrontation with the past where revisiting it from a more mature point of view leads to realisations about what was really at stake and Lara's difficult process of growing into herself. Relating the story to her daughters and husband also requires selecting what to tell and what to leave out – not so much to conceal the truth but to preserve a tender part of her life.

I've seen criticism of this novel from readers bored by a lack of conflict and dramatic plot which is understandable and fair because it's not a showy book. There are certainly twists and revelations and part of the pleasure of this is when Lara realises the truth about something she didn't see at the time. Sometimes we can think back on the past or receive new information and suddenly there's clarity where there was once complete confusion. However, I also think there's a lot on the line for Lara even though she's genuinely content. She dearly loves her family, dog and life on the farm. So it's easy to think of this novel as just cozy fiction. But raking over the past forces her to consider how her story has been shaped by forces beyond her control as well as crucial decisions she's made. There's the very real risk of getting lost in longing.

Part of the pleasure I found in this novel is that it's so much about acting. I used to love acting and there's a lot of great scenes portraying the chaos and camaraderie of putting on a production. Also Patchett shows how the process of performing a character isn't just the portrayal of a role. It reveals different aspects of a person's personality. It can be like a stepping stone towards living more authentically and it's a process of becoming. Yes, it's a profession but it's also a more flamboyant example of how we all adopt personas to meet challenges and new developments in life. By inhabiting the role of Emily Webb in 'Our Town' that character becomes like a companion to Lara and someone she can play off from in the process of discovering what she truly wants. This novel is also a homage to 'Our Town' and if you know the play there will undoubtably be a lot of pleasure in the way Patchett incorporates it into the story. Personally, I've never read it or seen a production of Wilder's play though I'm aware of its plot and its place as a canonical piece of American theatre. So I don't think it's necessary to know the play to appreciate this book.

The main thing I loved about this novel is how it shows the way we shape the stories of our lives. And it doesn't resort to scandals and high drama to do that. In a way it feels more daring to portray contentment and the good fortune of achieving what one really desires rather than presenting anguish in one's lot in life. Ann Patchett is a very famous author and this book is very successful so it doesn't need defending from me. I can understand why it won't entertain or resonate with every reader, but I found it a very moving experience.

Women's Prize for Non-Fiction Longlist 2024

I've followed The Women's Prize for Fiction for many years and found many great books through it. So it's quite exciting that they've just launched a sister award for Non-Fiction. In the past couple of years I've tried to incorporate more non-fiction into my reading. So it's wonderful to be presented with a range of titles about subjects as diverse as science, history, memoir, technology, literary biography, health, linguistics, investigative journalism, art history, activism, travel-writing and economics. Many are specialists in their fields who are publishing for a general readership for the first time. There are authors from Britain, America, Jamaica, Canada, Australia, India and the Philippines. I've only read one of these books thus far so I'm looking forward to exploring others.

Recently I read Naomi Klein's excellent “Doppelganger” which begins as a personal story about how Klein has often been confused online for the public figure Naomi Wolf for the simple reason they share a first name and hair colour. Both also often write about power structures – however, they come to very different conclusions. Wolf has recently led her listeners down paths of conspiracy theories and Klein has often received negative messages intended for Wolf. I can sympathize with how alarming this online confusion can be when several years ago I started receiving angry messages out of nowhere. Another man named Eric Anderson who is also a gay writer who is American and lives in England posted an article about why he believes men are naturally polygamous. In response, I started receiving furious messages from wives who accused me of trying to justify their husbands cheating. I was baffled at first until I tracked down the reason for this outcry. Klein broadens her confessions about her personal experience to a wider discussion about the literary and symbolic traditions of doubles.

However, she also uses her ideological divide between her and Wolf to contemplate the way we've become such a divided society. This has been exasperated by online culture and the crisis of the recent pandemic. It's really interesting how she traces the way people can quickly fall down conspiracy theory rabbit holes and how this can lead to sharply drawn political camps which are difficult to traverse. In this way, Klein gets at some of the most heated arguments in our culture today. She approaches this with great reason, thought and humour. “Doppelganger” has also been listed for The Writers' Prize alongside “Thunderclap” by Laura Cumming. I'm greatly looking forward to reading this other title which is a history of a deadly explosion and art. I've also been eager to read Anna Funder's book about Eileen O'Shaughnessy, George Orwell's wife whose influence upon his work has been largely unacknowledged until now. I probably won't have time to read all these books before the announcement of the shortlist on March 27 or the winner on June 13, but I'd like to read several more.

I’ve also made a video discussing all these titles which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHj59NMFGCQ. Have you read any of these books? Which are you looking forward to reading?

Bright Fear by Mary Jean Chan

It's difficult to ever feel entirely comfortable in one's own skin. Following on from the excellent debut “Flèche”, Chan's new collection of poetry continues to describe the tension between self expression and belonging. Some poems deal with the struggle to find acceptance within the family and the bravery required to present oneself authentically. Sage advice is offered in the line “refuse to be a bomb shelter for your mother's fears.” But the book also suggests the surprising love and approval that can be found when there is honesty. Other poems reference the recent pandemic and startling moments of bigotry that are experienced. Not only do belittling words and actions create fresh lacerations but they're a reminder of all the different levels of abuse one has experienced throughout life and “How the body endures the toll of another's glance.” Over the course of three sections, this collection presents a life in constant flux and how we search for moments of solace and potential connection within our shared language.

One of the standout poems for me is titled 'Hindsight' which follows a path of logic considering one's position of privilege in relation to the suffering of past generations. Then the lines of the poem are reversed to give a whole new meaning and perspective on this issue. There's a natural guilt which accompanies living with a knowledge about the struggles our ancestors contended with and knowing that we wouldn't exist if they hadn't persisted through them. But that doesn't mean we should minimise the perils we face in our present times alongside the opportunities that have been provided. This poem poignantly expressed this through its structure and helped clarify my understanding after grappling with this issue for a long time.

Just as the author meaningfully articulates the challenges of navigating the world, there's also a deep consideration for the difficulty of finding which form this writing should take. This is addressed playfully at one point where it's noted “The poet opened a clean Word document, titled it POETRY, then saved it in a folder titled NONFICTION, then saved it in a folder titled FICTION.” Chan admits a preference for the poetic mode because “I want my reader to understand my protagonist and their feelings without my having to describe them in detail”. Poetry also comes across as the best refuge when confronted with the judgement of others: “I left home for the poem: inscrutable house, constructed space, blue room, how the poets have named a heaven in which lonely meanings sit companionably beside lonely children.” Many beautiful moments of connection can be found through the poems in this excellent book.

The Driver's Seat by Muriel Spark

What if instead of being a hapless victim, a woman destined to die were to take control of her own fate? Early in this novella it's revealed that heroine Lise will be murdered. Therefore the story becomes an inventive 'whydunnit' as the narrative follows events leading to Lise's death alongside police interviews with people she encounters prior to her inevitable demise. The novel begins as she embarks on a holiday from her tedious job at an accountancy firm to travel to an unspecified South European city. She revels in dressing garishly, acting spontaneously and confronting anyone who impedes her mysterious journey to meet an illusory boyfriend. It's a startlingly unique psychological thriller as she encounters lascivious men, labyrinthine shopping malls and violent student protests. With her customary dark wit and lively prose, Spark's story creatively confronts issues of illness, self-destruction and mortality.

The motivations of this enticingly peculiar and emotionally volatile character are not immediately clear. It's compelling how Spark shows how Lise seems to make moment to moment choices. Yet, at the same time, she's driven by a strange mission which comes with its own parameters. Many of her encounters with others clash with her plans leading to conflict. It raises the question of whether she is acting eccentrically or if the world around her merely interprets her this way because she is inscrutable. Spark had a particular talent for writing about discontent and irascible characters in an enthralling way as with her novel “Momento Mori”. The dramatic plots serve as a frames through which such lively personalities can burst through insisting that their desires are met. It makes these figures feels truly alive.

Prater Violet by Christopher Isherwood

Staying informed about atrocities occurring in other parts of the world inevitably challenges an individual to weigh up their own sense of moral responsibility. What action should be taken when you're conscious there's injustice elsewhere in the world? Voting for a party with the correct policies? Protest? Charitable fundraising? Volunteering? Or is keeping up to date on the news enough? This is a perennial issue and it's something Isherwood was clearly considering when he published this slim novel in the same year WWII ended. The story is set in the mid-1930s at a time when Nazis began attacking Austria. It's not directly political, but instead approaches a larger question about what degree of autonomy is involved when an individual isn't immediately involved in a conflict.

The protagonist is Christopher Isherwood himself, but this is a fictional account of a writer who becomes involved in the film industry when he's hired (amidst much faux-protestation) to write the script for a sentimental musical named Prater Violet set in Vienna. While on this job he develops a strong working relationship with Friedrich Bergmann, an accomplished Austrian director. Both have high artistic ideals and see this film as beneath them, but they agree to work for a studio because it pays well and there's an allure to Hollywood glamour. The story begins with a lot of humorous repartee as this egotistical pair lower themselves to the daily grind and complicated mechanics of the film world. Long days are spent on a project which feels increasingly frivolous given what's occurring in Bergmann's native country.

When political events reach a crisis point so does the director's involvement in the film and Isherwood questions his own sense of responsibility. There's an especially striking passage in which he considers: “Perhaps I had travelled too much, left my heart in too many places. I knew what I was supposed to feel, what it was fashionable for my generation to feel. We cared about everything: fascism in Germany and Italy, the seizure of Manchuria, Indian nationalism, the Irish question, the workers, the Negroes, the Jews. We had spread our feelings over the whole world; and I knew that mine were spread very thin. I cared – oh, yes, I certainly cared – about the Austrian socialists. But did I care as much as I said I did, tried to imagine I did? No, not nearly as much... What is the use of caring at all, if you aren't prepared to dedicate your life, to die? Well, perhaps it was some use. Very, very little.” Surely everyone feels this sense of inner strife at some point. I've certainly experienced it in recent months reading the news about atrocities occurring amidst the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

There are no easy answers and even admitting to such hand wringing feels uncomfortable as if the question of personal responsibility were larger than the very real horrors people elsewhere are experiencing. In a way I admire Isherwood for representing this subjective perspective so faithfully because if he attempted to directly portray the conflict it might have felt gratuitous or like virtual signalling. The mission of this novel is very different from a contemporary book like “Bolla” even if the subject matter overlaps. Isherwood's point of view is not from the inside; it's on the periphery but this doesn't make it less valid. Nor does admitting to feelings of helplessness or even indifference when faced with the solemn truth about wars which an individual isn't directly involved in. In “On Photography”, Susan Sontag wrote “For boredom is just the reverse side of fascination: both depend on being outside rather than inside a situation, and one leads to the other.” Isherwood is fascinated by what's occurring in the world and he cares about it, but his anxiety and awareness does nothing to alleviate the suffering of others.

I certainly found this novel engaging and I appreciated its point of view, but the story also feels too slight. The effort involved in completing the film is handled very swiftly. Also, Isherwood is very evasive about his personal relationships. During work on the film he's reunited with an old schoolmate named Sandy Ashmeade who is working as a story editor. It's insinuated their relationship has an interesting history but this is never explored. Nor are the string of romantic relationships Isherwood lists at the end of the novel except how he concealed them from Bergmann. The reader is also left in the dark about these and Isherwood's future. It's interesting that this book marked Isherwood's return to writing fiction after not publishing anything for several years during which he collaborated on a translation of the Bhagavad Gita. Perhaps his involvement in religion and his identity as a homosexual were subjects more complicated than his intended parameters for the novel “Prater Violet” but it leaves the story feeling oddly truncated. Nevertheless, the central point of the book is vividly conveyed and it's worthwhile reading this curious slice of fiction.

North Woods by Daniel Mason

“North Woods” started a little slow for me as Mason fleetingly presents his initial characters and mixes his styles of story telling. However, I quickly became aware that this novel centres around a single location from the moment of its birth with a foundation stone being set in the ground. Rather than introducing any character or group of characters who will lead us through the narrative, the book's focus is a yellow house in New England. As soon as I let go of the impulse to focus on any one individual's journey I could get into the flow of the story more. Of course, sections about later inhabitants are also longer so I naturally felt I knew them better and became really engaged by the story when I was introduced to a soldier/fruit enthusiast and his daughters.

As each section leaps forward through the decades there's a poignant accumulation of the stories of people who proceeded living in this abode. Traces of those who've previously inhabited the house remain. I like how Mason builds a layered sense of time. I've always found it touching to think about who might have lived in my house before me and who might live here when I eventually leave. There's a strange intimacy knowing we've shared this same physical space but will probably never know anything about each other's lives beyond changes made to the home's structure. Who knows what drama played out in this same space? That's what the author shows us tracing this line of inhabitants and I think it's very clever how this accumulates into a special poignancy.

The way Mason mixes songs, articles and maps into the narrative adds to this because this documentation tangibly shows the traces of those who've lived there before. I know for some it might feel jarring to be pulled out of the flow of the story by these but (for me at least) it adds another dimension to the novel and makes the North Woods feel like a real location imbued with so much history. I also enjoy how the author interjects some occasional humour such as a joke about a trick played on a thieving farmer family or a Minister's theory that the events of the Bible “had actually transpired in New England” with examples of potential parallels. These little asides are welcome since the story involves a lot of serious drama.

I must admit that the novel stirs sentimental feeling in me as well since I grew up in New England. The descriptions of the seasons and natural environment are very evocative. I appreciate the mention of specific things such as a regional flower called lady slippers and chickadee birds which I was very familiar with when I was young. At the same time larger American conflicts throughout different time periods seep into the experiences of people who pass through the same house. Mason evokes a strong sense of atmosphere though sometimes his description can lapse into cliché. In the first 40 pages I noticed he used the same adjectives: “violet consumes the lemon-yellow wings of the viburnum” and “She looked then much as she does now: a clean facade of lemon yellow”. This particular phrase always stands out to me because I heard a creative writing instructor once say it's better to describe something as “lemon yellow” rather than as “yellow” because it creates a stronger sensory experience for the reader. That's true but it's now become overused. However, that's a minor quibble in an otherwise beautifully written story.

As I continued to read this novel I felt a building anticipation to discover who might inhabit this location next. The form of narrative also continuously changes and I especially enjoyed a chapter composed of letters written from a painter to a poet. I'm a sucker for a tale written in epistolary form – especially one set in the distant past where you know the mail took a long time to reach its destination so there are interesting gaps and experiences which must have occurred between the correspondence. Again, to some readers, the changes in narrative might feel disruptive but I found it refreshing. It's also impressive that Mason can convincingly write in many different styles from true crime pulp to notes for a lecture intended for a historical society.

As much as I enjoyed the whole novel some sections would have felt melodramatic and over the top if I'd read them in isolation. At one point there's an outrageous séance which reaches a feverish gothic pitch. But I think because it's set in a single location and continues to involve previous inhabitants there is an added pleasure and meaning. I know some readers have been put off by supernatural elements in the story. To me this felt playful and I enjoyed the Beetlejuice vibe, but it also adds to this progressive layering of history which Mason builds.

Equally, it's a book that kept me on my toes. The characters change from section to section so I had to reorientate myself in new stories, but also the author changes his style of storytelling and even moves into the consciousness of a beetle. This was very funny and unexpected. And it's also inventive how it's incorporated into the overall plot and changing natural landscape. The narrative seamlessly slides between the micro and macro in this way yet always revolves around this one house. I also appreciate how this is represented in the imagery set between sections as well. There's a map of marked trees in the area, but also the paths carved by the beetles. When viewed from this perspective such landscapes become both large and small. It's an artful way of referring to larger stories of people and the nation while selecting to focus on certain pieces.

Watch me discuss this novel while baking iced apple buns

It was such a pleasure to read this novel but it's also challenging because I'd like to spend more time with certain characters such as a lively medium named Anastasia. However, the structure of the book necessitates moving on from them. I found I had to modify my expectations and not grow too attached to characters. Yet, the more the novel went on the more pleasure there was in picking up on small details which referred to characters who previously inhabited the house.

There are also quite a few instances of coincidence in the story for the sake of the plot which tie all the sections together. I'm in two minds about it because on the one hand it makes a very satisfying story where indicators of previous residents appear more and more. But, on the other hand, certain details feel so improbable – for instance, a letter written by a kidnapped woman that was tucked in a bible and taken to Canada finds its way back to the region and comes to a professor's attention after generations. Of course, chance findings and occurrences like this happen but it can sometimes feel a little too convenient for the plot.

And certainly this isn't a novel that's aiming for strict realism since it becomes increasingly supernatural. After a certain point the story becomes increasingly wild in its evocation of the dead and their interaction with the living. But the environmental concerns of the novel grow at an equal pace. These two subjects come together in the most beautiful and moving way in the final section of the book which shows how the world itself operates on a very different clock from human's conception of time - that the experience of our lives is so ephemeral compared to the surrounding forest and the structure of the house itself which gradually degrades with only brief instances of remodelling or repairs. Certain objects that might easily be overlooked take on such significance so when later characters enter into the house the reader is aware of the meaning of things whereas to these newer characters it appears like a lot of old clutter. The line from a later chapter “She was struck by the discrepancy in meaning the belongings presented. That death meant not only the cessation of life, but vast worlds of significance” feels poignant and relevant to a lot of what Mason is doing in this novel. The lives and struggles of these vibrant characters come to feel small when considering the vastness of time in a certain location yet traces remain even when their meaning has been lost.

This has been such an enjoyable novel to read – especially at this time of year because the sections set in the winter are so vivid! It's only 369 pages but it feels like a much longer and epic novel in a good way like I've fully experienced the yearly cycles of this house over centuries and also the accumulating weight of experience from all the residents and people who've passed through this location. The ending is incredibly poignant and it has such a haunting effect. Not only has Mason created an entertaining book that I'm keen to return to in order to better understand the many connections between its characters and stories, but it offers a refreshingly different way of understanding time and the environment of a unique location.

Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang

This story has all the hallmarks of a dystopian novel as it describes a period of environment collapse with widespread starvation and political turmoil. It's also a utopian story because it's about a dubious attempt to build a refuge to sustain the lives of select humans and animals. Zhang's potent descriptions successfully evoke both these genres, but it's more about highlighting the inequalities and moral conundrums which already exist in our society. The unnamed narrator describes a time in her life when the world was in turmoil while she was turning thirty. She's an American whose Chinese mother emigrated to the States, but found herself stuck in the United Kingdom after the borders closed when a crop killing smog covered the world. As a trained chef, she must work with dwindling ingredients and finds her chances of returning to the US are unlikely given the debt she's accrued. However, she finds an opportunity to work in a newly formed country for the elite on an Italian mountain top where the altitude allows rare access to the sun. As it turns out, her employment is less about her cooking skills and more about her profile. She's led into a scheme where the wealthy bargain to hoard/preserve what's left of the environment. This is an imaginative drama which challenges notions of hunger and nourishment in a world of hierarchies.

It's ironic that as soon as she arrives at this new country with access to a plentiful larder of ingredients she completely loses her appetite. So much so that it needs to be written into her contract that she needs to maintain a certain level of weight for her health. Being presented with a bounty of choice, she questions what she really desires. The narrator also engages in an affair with the sinister founder's entrepreneurial daughter whose appetite is voracious. Though it appears that this underdog has lucked out in landing somewhere that can sustain all her needs (including keeping wilful cat) this employment comes with many compromises. She ominously states at one point that “It has always been easy to disappear as an Asian woman.” Her experiences raise issues regarding how much we're willing to minimise ourselves and kowtow to power in order to survive when what really sustains us may be something very different.

Zhang has an evocative way of giving a sinister tone to what should be an idyllic setting. The narrator observes how “the sun mashed yellow against the edge of another relentlessly beautiful day”. Equally, the bountiful amount of fine and rare ingredients she works with comes to feel less delectable and more nauseating. It's a creative way to confound the senses and make the reader question what's really desirable. Sometimes the lyricism of Zhang's prose can obfuscate the action of the story so I'd feel confused about what's actually happening both in the immediate scene and in the wider world. However, the overall impression is impactful. When you step back it also appears less like fantasy and more like reality since the rich relish dining on rare ingredients or indulge in consuming the last of a certain breed. Equally, the less fortunate subsist on tasteless mass-manufactured staples. The narrator asserts that “Real food is whatever cooks are proud to make.” Surviving in a world of brash inequality with dignity is in some ways the greatest challenge and I enjoyed following this character's dramatic journey.

The Wren, The Wren by Anne Enright

There's a down to earth and relatable quality to Enright's writing which makes it so wonderfully engaging. It's a slight of hand which might initially conceal that the prose is very sophisticated and biting. “The Wren, The Wren” opens with a passage about the discomforting weirdness of inhabiting a body and consciousness which had me instantly chuckling in recognition. The story continues as a young woman named Nell relates the experience of unexpectedly falling in love. However, this is anything but a saccharine tale of romance as her relationship with a rural muscular lad turns into something that is both exciting and disturbing.

Her experiences show how love affairs and long term relationships involve varying degrees of power play – something which has been true for past generations of Nell's family as well. The narrative alternates between Nell's perspective and that of her no-nonsense mother Carmel who lives independently and has mostly avoided any committed romance. Both live with the spectre of Carmel's deceased father Phil McDaragh, a poet of moderate fame who abandoned his family and ill wife to move to America seeking more personal and professional success. His poems bookend Carmel and Nell's accounts. They're full of airy talk about love and nature. The more that's related about this family's history the more hollow and posturing they appear.

Phil gave Carmel the dubious honour of dedicating one of his poems to her. It's a kind of gift but it also cements his girl and his relationship to her as something removed from reality. Enright seems to be disentangling the illusion created by fame with both this novel and her previous book “Actress” showing how the creation of public image and representation can be very different from personal experience. But really this issue of the spotlight being cast on a certain individual highlights and exaggerates issues we all have concerning authenticity. Through these women's accounts we see how lived experience is precariously removed from perceptions and representations of it – especially when these come from a dominant man. In turn, this skews self perception. Over the course of their story Carmel and Nell gradually find greater clarity about themselves and their family. The drama disentangles the mythology which has been built around a masculine poet and patriarchal figure.

One of Nell's statements which continues to haunt me is when she recalls how whenever she wanted a present Carmel always gave her exactly what she asked for. What she hoped for was a surprise. This story shows how our relationships with each other don't thrive if we only play out our expected roles as a daughter or son or mother or father. Instead we have to see the person as they really are: a unique individual who is constantly changing and trying to figure their lives out. This novel presents a meaningful family story where connections and relationships are tested in these charismatic individuals' ongoing quest for self-fulfilment.