Confession: I didn’t enjoy the Jackson Brodie book before this one; I found it a bit bleak. No hint of that here – although like all the protagonists of crime series, Brodie has his demons. This is a wild romp through the genre, with humanity and good humour. Atkinson doesn’t shy away from the central problem with a repeated character – they have to age. She lets Brodie dwell on this and on the other characters who are getting older with him. There’s a house full of guests stuck in the snow, a killer, a private detective, and a police officer. Everything you need for a good read. Great plotting, good fun, a treat of a book.
I don’t think anyone does state-of-this-particular-nation better than Coe. He’s not afraid to mention Brexit and he has a great voice when writing about young people. This is a clever, unsettling meta-novel with a series of observations about modern life and post-university ennui. Fans of Coe will love it for his usual middle-England wryness with a twist of rage.
This fascinating book begins with an archive, and reading it made me think about what we throw away and what we keep. It only needed a few people to manage centuries-worth of records, documents, committee minutes, letters, and newspapers, and what a valuable gift that has proved to be.
The book unfolds through decades of slow-building rage and resentment, the horror growing quietly. The central theme is obvious, but the final outcome is more complex and subtle. Is it possible to be a good person individually while being an active part of an evil and destructive regime? Is it inevitable that genuine grievance and concern lead to violent resolution? What happens after – when prison guards and prisoners attempt to pick up their lives as neighbours?
The alpine village is full of fascinating people and their histories. There is one particular story where the real names of the two participants (victim and murderer) are changed, and even now, almost a century later, the people of the village don’t speak of it. Long shadows up there in the beautiful mountains.
Robert Crais used to be a screenwriter, and it really shows in his writing. If you like your thrillers noir-ish but with good food and not too much inner darkness, you’ll love this. I like his main hero, Elvis Cole, who lives a full life, unlike many brooding central characters in thrillers. I love the descriptions of Los Angeles, too, and the layers of society that Elvis moves through. Unlike Kate Atkinson, Crais doesn’t refer to the age of his hero and has dropped references which will date him, but if you haven’t discovered this series, you’re in for a treat.
This slim volume is full of thoughts I’ve never seen expressed before, and had struggled to define for myself. On almost every page, there’s an insight into the world of friends and the struggle to engage and sometimes endure them. The author lived an enviable life in many ways, though she hints at family struggles. She moves through New York telling tales on notable writers and family members with equal asperity, reducing us all to the same group of friends, lingering on the sidewalk on a hot summer night, leaning in to a story before going our separate ways.
Another triumphant republishing from Persephone Books which has published other volumes by Dorothy Whipple. A gorgeous story of a poor life made rich through hard work, nerve, and some good friends. The essential kindness and spirit of the central character are what save her, though she’s possibly not destined for the fairy-tale happy ending. Beautiful period detail, lovely fabrics and notions, a great insight into the lives of the women who came before, and a testament to the publishing house that is rescuing their work.
This complex and painful novel reads like a thriller. The carnal tension builds, and you long for the damaged characters to fight their way through the shadows of the past, but underneath the relationships blossoming in the quiet, calm house there’s something much darker. You’ll work it out before the main character, and then you won’t be able to stop reading as the horrible past catches up with an entire society, and the two individuals at the centre of the story. Of all the postwar stories, this one was unfamiliar to me, and all the more haunting.
I’m embarking on a large project and this was just the ticket. The writer explores all the usual things we learn from early studenthood – outlines, plans, visions. She goes further, though, and researches and discusses the impact of posture, breath, exercise and rest on our ability to complete things. She reassures us about the importance of breaks, excuses our procrastination, and explores what it is to be a creative individual in a time of mass production and conformity.
Have you seen Mr Burton, the movie? I did and it prompted me to get this out of the library. You see, I’m related to Richard Burton. Don’t believe me? You would have if you’d met my aunt Gwladys, who was convinced. And maybe she had a point. She was a Jenkins, after all, as Richard (Rich) was, before he took the name of his teacher. We certainly did have a family member who was also taught by Philip Burton, and my own grandparents and father lived two streets away from Rich and his sister, Cis, who raised him.
Many people in Port Talbot were very pleased (later) to be related to Rich, as he made provision for them in his lifetime and beyond. He was haunted by his inability to find £200 for his friend Dylan Thomas when asked, and was adamant he’d never be in that position again. There are other biographies of the actor, but what this one has is access to the 300,000 words of Burton’s notebooks. He was a well-read and formally educated man, and Bragg considers that he would have preferred to be an academic or a writer rather than an actor. He certainly didn’t like the cinema and watched few films, which would account for some of his choices.
As the biography progresses, more space is given to Burton and it is fascinating and moving to read his clear, honest assessments of his work, his wives and his world-famous life. It is hard to fathom stardom like that now. Movie stars are more careful. Can we imagine anyone of Burton’s stature now smoking 100 a day or drinking at least two bottles of vodka a day, (plus wine with meals, naturally.) He met everyone and was adored by most for his charm, his generosity, and his bravery. Bragg’s singular style grates at times, but the thoughtful biography gives Rich room to breathe.
What a beautiful, cool dream of a book, like coming into a dim room on a hot afternoon. It begins in lockdown but has a timeless message. The nature writing is vivid, but what will haunt you as you rush through the book (you won’t be able to put it down) is the hare itself. The sheer amount of thinking, reasoning, and remembering the wild animal does as it slowly enters into a relationship of trust with the writer is breathtaking. It evokes exactly that sensation of seeing an animal in the wild, keeping quite still and counting the seconds, feeling blessed when the moment passes.
This very readable, slim volume is hard to categorise and impossible to forget. It starts as an autobiography and then veers into an obsessional interest with a different subject from the self. The author becomes fascinated by David Starr Jordan. He’s hard to categorise too. Is he just a taxonomist and explorer of some repute? Might he have been a murderer? We move past his vigour, his domestic tragedies, and his love of order into something much, much darker. The writer discovers she’s in thrall to one of the godfathers of American eugenics. Those godfathers, as we know, presided over the birth of European eugenics, and their work lives on in the present day, right in the seat of power. There’s much joy in the book too; romantic happiness for the author, haunting and beautiful illustrations, people rising above their fates, and an answer, sort of, to the central mystery. Do fish exist? It’s a long story; you’ll have to read the book.
I don’t know how Hallett does it! She builds a book on documents; reported conversations, transcripts, diary notes, formal reports and makes the whole thing bowl along like a thriller. This has the added bonus of being set in the art department of a university, so it felt horribly real. It is thrilling and full of surprises and shocks. You’ll be wrong-footed and delighted.
Suzy D Harris 