Summer Breeze

Summer bumper issue, June and July, (like the big Bunty or Beano which you used to take on your holidays).

This is a collection of Mantel’s writing for London Review of Books. It is fascinating to see what she was working on in fiction reflected in her research and thinking. She’s greatly concerned with bodies – bodies undergoing torture, bodies losing their heads. Her own suffering body and early death seem to haunt the pages. Almost as touching as her clear precise writing are the reproductions of her notes to her editors, often containing apologies and reservations. Was there ever such a charming, quiet, self-effacing genius? What a loss.

Given Mortimer’s work as a comedian it ought to be funny, and there are several laugh-out-loud moments. The central characters are likeable and it burbles along quite nicely. One shortcoming was strange, though, given the highly distinctive voice of the writer in his other work. All the characters in this book speak with one voice, making it impossible to know who is talking in long passages of speech. Some of the plot points were too obvious but it is an enjoyable read.

This is a gorgeous pillowy, creamy delight of a book. A wild child in a crazy family, children surviving terrible parents, war, loss, love and the life-enhancing theatre in the garden of a fairy-tale house. This book has it all. Several reviewers (I only read the reviews after the book) made reference to Life after Life by Kate Atkinson, which I read earlier this year. I would say the novels were distant cousins, rather than sisters. They share some common ancestors but they’ve grown up to be different in their ambition and scope. I found this a thoroughly delightful reading experience.

If you are writing (or even if you are just reading) I think you’ll enjoy this book. Rebecca Lee covers the process of bringing an idea to a reader in the form of a book, and covers a lot of ground. The various stages managed by publishers, editors, printers, agents, writers and readers are explored and she has a friendly tone, dropping some trade secrets along with history and context.

Despite having an award-winning theatrical career David Harewood is reaching a wider, more general audience with his documentaries based around his own experiences. He’s explored slavery, and blackface on television. He’s spoken openly about his manic episodes and this is the story of those years, early in his career. He was sectioned, finally, after friends and family were unable to help him (and he was unable to ask for help.) On the surface his story is one of resounding success. Despite having no theatrical influences in his family, and with minimal help at school, he ended up where he needed to be, RADA. He excelled and his career got off to a flying start. Soon though the natural ups and downs of a career in acting, coupled with racism, thwarted expectations and recreational drugs blended into a terrible mix. Harewood talks openly and carefully about the racism he experienced as a child and a young man, and explores what impact that feeling of not belonging had on him. He lived in America for extended periods of time and found that a more balanced society. It seems he’s back now, and bringing his story, painful and peaceful in equal measure, into the light,

If you’re going to read this (and I strongly recommend it), don’t read the blurb, the preface, the introduction or any reviews. Except this one. You’ll want to get to know the hero on your own terms. First.

Pressburger (of Powell and Pressburger fame) brings his cinematic eye to the page. Post-war London is grimy and crowded, vivid characters pop up in small cameos and the central character is unflinchingly drawn. There’s a sinister undertone, a Pinteresque courtship with a nasty edge, and you’ll feel suitably conflicted and uncomfortable by the final page.

I saw Behr talk about this book at a recent Literary Festival. He seemed so vital, so full of spirit, it is chilling to read in the book how nearly he didn’t return from a regular run. He’s a brilliant journalist but somehow hadn’t computed that running with regular and serious chest pain was probably not advisable. His medical emergency led him to consider the impact politics was having on his life. You don’t have to be a political writer with contacts all over the world to be feeling the strain. Politics is speeding up, becoming more adversarial and nasty. With social media screeching away in our pockets we just have to become more mindful, if we’re to survive too.

There’s another strand to his story. Many of his relatives had died of heart failure, struck down at a time when stents and blood thinners didn’t exist. Some of his family died in much worse circumstances.

He uses their stories to explore the things that matter and transcend politics: freedom from persecution, freedom of movement, stable societies where open hate and judgement are unacceptable. He manages shows how a certain kind of tribal, instant-response politics is unhealthy, and cuts down to the healthy tissue of open debate, balance, generosity with others, and with ourselves.

Elinor Lipman doesn’t get the attention from UK booksellers she deserves. She writes grown-up, droll, kind books, mostly set on the US East Coast and featuring flawed but questing people who like good food and, mostly, each other. She’s very good on misfits who are almost carrying it off, and her characters generally live in delightful places surrounded by interesting people, with some irritating family members for seasoning.

I’ve never recommended her without getting positive feedback, so if you’ve never read a Lipman, you’ve got some happy hours to come.

I’ve been a fan of Lee Child’s outsized hero for a long time, so it is a sad day when I’m disappointed by a Jack Reacher story. If you hadn’t read the rest of the books, you might not notice, but now Lee has handed over the writing to his brother, something’s gone. The last few books Lee wrote alone had an autumnal air; Jack was getting on a bit and needed to use his wits as much as his fists. That’s all gone. Jack’s invulnerable, dispatching enemies with single blows. Also gone, his philosophical discussions (mostly with himself) about history, language, chance and fate. The story romps along and the ends are tied up and it entertains, but this is Reacher without the reach.