This is the month to snuggle up with easy reads and Fremlin won’t let you down – though she’s not a cosy companion. This is another reprint from the author of the terrifying Uncle Paul, a smash hit a few years ago (after being a smash hit many decades ago.) This is equally scary; gothic and suffocating. It feels weirdly modern too, post-decimalisation, but the difference between survival and destitution is measured in shillings, not pounds. The heroine works hard to scrape by but finds time for some digs at the British class system and domestic disharmony. Will she survive the shadowy figure dogging her journey to freedom?
I read Sanghera’s previous volume – Empireland – with great interest and dismay last year. This book has a wider reach and feels a bit thinner for that, though no less sobering and shocking. Very readable, though I had to dodge the grislier footnotes, but the message hit home, nonetheless. Very timely, while some politicians are continuing the argue that the British Empire was a good thing.
A fascinating writer with an interesting history. This bestselling novel (published in 1958) is a riot of parties, ripped satin and late nights. The central character seems world-weary and unbearably young as she rollicks around Paris and the South of France. It made me laugh and cry, made me think of Fitzgerald and (Helen) Fielding. There’s not much plot, but loads of interesting people you want to spend time with, and a totally convincing look at infatuation, desire and love.
I didn’t read “Such a Fun Age” which everyone was raving about, so I thought I’d catch up with this writer here. I really enjoyed this book, the central character is sweet and serious and makes one tiny, terrible mistake which has devastating consequences. It is a campus novel that shares the protagonist’s desire to move off campus. The characters were drawn with incredible honesty and detail, sometimes uncomfortably so, but I enjoyed my time with them and was ultimately highly satisfied.
Another spin for Anthony the author as character, and his deeply unpleasant sidekick, Hawthorne. Horowitz is quite happy to present himself in this series of novels as a hapless loser, bumbling along after Hawthorne and never quite getting the point. This book is built around the conceit that the writer owes his agent another book but hasn’t got a good murder that Hawthorne could solve. He looks back to a case which – it seems – Hawthorne didn’t solve, but with all these layers, there’s bound to be something the writer (and the reader) has missed. If you like the dual narratives of Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders, you’ll love these. Hawthorne is a dour and opaque character, but the gorgeous mechanism of the writing allows you to settle back in deep comfort and security.
This was fascinating. If you are interested in New York, home renovation or how to build things – including a meaningful career out of raw elements – you’ll enjoy it. The writer overcomes a few false starts and works as a carpenter and project manager in some spectacular and spectacularly expensive homes in New York and beyond. He brings his hard-won wisdom and observation to bear on modern life. He tackles all the good stuff: motivating staff, working for terrible managers, how it is possible to have more money than sense, and how to keep your cool. A must for all the D-I-Y brigade or anyone not yet sure of their path in life.
I chose both these books because everyone’s talking about Slow Horses on tv (or whatever device you like) and although I don’t watch it, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. They are page-turners, there’s no doubt about that, and full of sly wit and good political detail, but… I just didn’t like anyone, particularly the anti-hero, Jackson Lamb, who I believe is causing all the stir in the adaptation. There you go, you win some, you lose some.
This was a revelation. Aneurin Bevan is probably the best-known of the 1945 Labour politicians, and his creation – the NHS – as central to British life as any religion. His near-namesake Ernest Bevin is lost in the mists of time, I don’t recall ever hearing about him in school or university, even though he was born in Somerset and lived and worked in his early career in my home town. What a giant of a man, what an elegy of a history by another Labour politician, Andrew Adonis.
Bevin was born with nothing, not even a father, but he had brothers who supported him when he ran away from the brutal farm where he was earning his keep. He had access to the lecturers of Bristol University in their public education programme, and he had a guiding vision of a socialist future for the working people of Britain. He started as a drayman and built the largest Trade Union in the world. He was hand-picked by Churchill to mobilise workers and keep Britain supplied during WWII. Even in the darkest hours, he introduced legislation around workplace canteens, health and safety and working hours.
After 1945 Atlee appointed him Foreign Secretary (though he’d asked to be Chancellor, his loyalty to Atlee was complete.) Bevin was one of the post-war politicians who saw the need to contain and corral Stalin. He dealt ruthlessly with communism in the Trade Union movement and the Labour Party and he correctly deduced that Communism and Fascism were equally inimical to the working people he cared for. American scholars may take a different view on this, but Adonis makes the case for Bevin as the driving force in the foundation of West Germany, the relief of the Berlin blockade and the eventual founding of NATO. Bevin came close to the idea of a European union but he died before he could realise many of his plans.
Adonis obviously feels huge respect and affection for his subject. He doesn’t shy away from Bevin’s failings (largely around Palestine) and his obvious anti-semitism. A stranger omission is his glancing reference to Bevin’s reluctance to embrace equal pay for women teachers during the war. Adonis never returns to that topic in the chapter called Failures.
Unlike most politicians, Bevin’s political life was ended by death, not decline. Without him, Atlee did not survive the next election and Adonis argues that since Bevin, no major British politician has come from a similar background, or forged such a close bond between the labouring worker and the Labour Party.
This was a stirring, inspiring read about a remarkable man living in and shaping remarkable times. Highly recommended, whatever side of the House you are on.
Suzy D Harris 