Started the year with a blast of pink. Yes, I did judge this book by the cover – that’s the point. I was taken aback when the very young woman on the counter raved about the book. She used words like “strange” and “disturbing.” I pressed on.
Honestly, I think I started this just before January, in those fuzzy unfocused days when the light fails early and there’s little sense of purpose. I was conscious quite early on that I hated it. I didn’t like any of the characters, so I didn’t care what happened to them. Campus novels are a favourite of mine so there was that to like, but I was aware of not exactly enjoying it. What’s this though? Who was racing back from errands and visits to read another chapter? Who was turning the pages faster and faster as the drama built? And who watched the doorway in terror, turning round fast when standing at the sink because surely, there was a footstep behind me? That’s it then, a not-enjoyable, unputdownable thrill with a tooth-achingly sweet cover.
I read Ali Smith’s Winter and Summer in January. I started the foursome late last year, so I read them in close order, which I’d recommend. I don’t know why I delayed so long after publication – the whole point of the exercise was speed – but I usually ignore big hits at the time and return to them when the hype has died down. I thought, also, that I didn’t like Smith’s style, despite having read a few of her earlier novels. Once you start these, there’s nothing to do but surrender. Reading them is like falling, and the style moves you forward, ever forward, despite the aching sadnesses of the stories. Modern Britain is exposed like a collapsing house: Brexit, asylum seekers, poverty, protest, and a suffering environment. There’s also love and family and hope. Summer contains resolutions, of sorts, but the comfort lies in the reading, not the story.
While reading this I was aware of the creaking and groaning of my brain as it shifted, expanded and was altered forever. It drove me to find more on the topic – reading more on this subject soon – and it challenged and changed me. The writing is careful and thoughtful and there’s a sense of Sanghera’s own journey toward clarity. Highly recommend this book for a life-changing read.
Leonard and Hungry Paul by this writer was a knockout hit of lockdown. The tiny press did no advertising, but people asking booksellers for recommendations were invariably handed the bright yellow paperback. I bought mine in Mr B’s Emporium in Bath and it hit the spot. I was keen to read the follow-up and it didn’t let me down. It doesn’t have the romantic warmth of Leonard, with an older lead character and a drawing-in of night lurking in the pages. Melancholy and funny, Panenka is a charming man with terrible secrets in his past and his future. The writing is detailed and careful, sad and delightful.
The First Folio is a secular bible, a book that means more than it says. For Shakespeare lovers it is special for very precise reasons, but the general reader will learn a lot from the way the copies circled the world. Some remained in grand libraries until funds were needed, and some served as repositories of key family dates and textual opinions. At least one stored a slice of greasy bread for decades and some display wine stains and children’s scribbles. They were household objects before they became mega-bucks artefacts. The copies which survive are known by their owners’ names even though most now lodge in air-conditioned institutions in Japan and US. Smith creates a rollicking read which was fascinating, fun and challenging.
That’s my reading for the first half of January – looks as though my plan to read more meaningfully and widely is paying off, but can I sustain it? We’ll see.
Suzy D Harris 