Half of a Yellow Sun - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Review by M

Here's the fuzzy lead up to why I read Half of a Yellow Sun in the first place, and my mixed but hopeful expectations for it:

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus is one of those books that has a special place on my shelves. I read it during a period when I was reading little fiction and not making note of my thoughts about that which I did read (other than the piles of non-fiction, of course!). Consequently, I remember little of what Purple Hibiscus is about other than that my enduring response to it is similar to the one I hold for Tsisti Dangarembga's Nervous Conditions (both are about teenage girls in African countries). In short, Ngozi Adichie had earned a place in my reading heart. But then I tried reading Americanah, her most recent novel and the main character's internal whining jarred too much with me, and I left it unfinished and disappointed. But then someone from Booktrust told me how much they'd loved Half of a Yellow Sun, so I kept a wary eye out for it, curious as to whether it would be another Purple Hibiscus, an Americanah, or something else for me.

It was definitely more Purple Hibiscus, so I'm very happy and would recommend this novel to a variety of people.

Three things stood out most for me in Half of a Yellow Sun. - I learned something, I enjoyed the storytelling/plot over character (I know!), and yes, there is something about the writing (or structure) that jars with me a little.

The story is set in 1960s Nigeria, just before and during the civil war and the establishment of Biafra. Yes, I'd forgotten about Biafra (and Ngozi Adichie raises an eyebrow or smiles wryly inwardly), so I learned quite a bit from the plot, which often pleases me. For example, the title of the book is taken from a symbol on the Biafran flag. I'm sure I never knew that.

The plot became the page turner for me, and I read this novel for long uninterrupted periods over a few days - which is the first novel of the five I've read this year that has had that effect on me. Either I've reached a turning point or that's saying something about Half of a Yellow Sun. At least, it's saying that the novel tells a good story: that of love and human relationships within an extended family/household, and civil war.

Characterwise, the narrator and the novel moves back and forth among its main characters: Ugwu (the houseboy), Olanna (the long suffering beauty), Kainene (the ugly twin), Odenigbo (Master and revolutionary lover), and Richard (white man writer in Africa). Ugwu, for me, is by far the most charming of the characters. Olanna is a character who doesn't feel 'right' to me and I'm starting to think that Ngozi Adichie's main female characters are always going to have this effect on me. But, that thought doesn't sit true with Purple Hibiscus, whose main character is female. Interestingly, too, Ugwu and Kambili (Purple Hibiscus) are both teenagers. Perhaps then, I like Ngozi Adichie's characterisation of teenagers but not female adults. I'd have to reread Purple Hibiscus to get to the bottom of that one.

Structurally, I wasn't overly keen. The novel moves back and forth between the early and the late 1960s. The middle of these periods turns on two points: Biafra and war, and personal relationship troubles. Often I feel that this is done for no other reason than to introduce suspense. The novel does this but annoyingly it also 'spoils' some of the plot by telling me what happens before the story has reached it natural course (yep, for once, I'm plumping for a more linear tale!). There's also a strange device that occasionally tags the draft of a novel onto the end of chapters. The strange thing about this is it's written by the narrator and not the 'author'. For me, it obstructs the flow. I understand that Ngozi Adichie is making a political point about who should tell which stories but the whole of Half of a Yellow Sun does this anyway.

A last and, for me, interesting observation: sexual references are littered throughout the novel. Far more than I remember reading in other novels for a long time. This, perhaps, says more about the other novels that I've been reading rather than the amount of sex in Half of a Yellow Sun.

Most of this review sounds quite critical, more so than some of my other reviews. Maybe it just had more personal bite for me, and maybe I like that because it's the novel I've enjoyed reading most so far this year.


Publication details:
This copy: My own; Fourth estate, 2014

The Children Act - Ian McEwan

Review by M

On the whole, I consider myself an Ian McEwan fan and am readily willing to give his novels a go with the expectation that I will become ensconced in them. The Children Act was no exception to this.

A short novel, The Children Act is about a high court judge working in family law. Ironically, we meet her just as her husband has an affair. While she struggles with this internally she must, or chooses, to simply carry on with her legal workload as if nothing has happened. The reader is given some lengthy insight into her cases, many of which revolve around child custody and dilemmas over interpreting what is best for the child in line with the actual, legal Children Act. The bulk of the story really focuses on an interesting case of a seventeen year old Jehovah's Witness who is resisting a blood transfusion.  This element of the novel held my interest and attention for hours and is the element that I remember most (I read it a few months back), and I would recommend the novel to other readers simply for this aspect. The final section of the novel was a disappointment. It felt rushed, and much of it seemed improbable to me.

Overall, I enjoyed this novel. McEwan's writing is smooth and makes for a quick and compelling read. I may have read it in close to one go.


Publication details: 2014, Jonathan Cape, London
This copy: digital review copy from the publisher

This Should Be Written In the Present Tense - Helle Helle

Review by M

Hands up - of course I was going to read a novel by an author called Helle Helle. And I was also predisposed to expecting it to be a little different from everything else I was currently reading, and not least because it's been translated from Danish.

The story is about Dorte who has just moved in to a little house near a railway station not too far from Copenhagen where she is at university. From the first few pages, the tone is cosily friendly but boom, it throws a few jaggedy bits in and the reader is left questioning exactly what has or has not happened, or even is happening, and lots of whats and whys steer the novel. This is not sci-fi or fantasy, but much more about inner psychologies.

This short novel follows the everyday details of Dorte's unexciting life and I found it strangely compelling - perhaps because her life seemed so at odds with everything I expected she would do. Personally, I'm not sure if this is because of the writing or because of differences between continental Europe and Britain. My engagement with this novel was similar to my responses to some quietly gritty/raw French cinema.

This Should Be Written In the Present Tense definitely lived up to my expectations; it's a quiet and strangely surprising novel that mostly made me smile.


Publication details: Harvill Secker, 2014, London
This copy: digital review copy from the publisher

The Dog - Joseph O'Neill

Review by M

The Dog was longlisted for the Man Booker 2014.

I never thought I'd ever sympathise with a Dubai-based westerner, but The Dog proved me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and would especially recommend it to anyone who's ever/never worked/lived in or visited Dubai or who wrestles with moral dilemmas and ethics. Anyone who likes ink stamps or letter seals may well enjoy this too.

The narrator and main character is an American lawyer wallowing in the aftermath of a newly broken romantic relationship and has taken a very cushy looking job as a lawyer to a super-duper rich Lebanese family based in Dubai. The plot follows his related trials and tribulations, with some very drawn out internal debates (some readers may find these sections tedious but I quite enjoyed reading them).

Threaded through this plot are a series of interconnected master and servant relationships, as our naive narrator comes to realise. The realisation about the extended metaphor of the dog - for me (and perhaps for the narrator too) - was at times funny (sometimes very) but over-ridingly sad. Oh, what a loveable but frustrating character O'Neill has created.

The direction of the plot is slightly predictable, which adds to the sense of frustration, although the ending was not what I expected - though very plausible.

A review in The Guardian suggested that The Dog is too similar in many ways to O'Neill's earlier novel Neverland. I haven't read Neverland but I enjoyed The Dog so much, I'm happy to search out some more-of-the-same or even better in his other work.


Publication details: Fourth Estate, 2014, London
This copy: digital copy for review from the publisher

The Guest Cat - Takashi Hiraide

Review by M

A few years back, I thought I didn't like reading detailed descriptions in fiction. On the whole, I probably still don't, but sometimes.......The Guest Cat is one of those times. It's a little book and almost all of it is concentrated on minutiae that make for something far bigger than is immediately anticipated; poignantly uplifting.

Set in Tokyo, a writerly couple of thirty somethings live in a rented cottage just off what they call Lightning Alley: the descriptions of their residence and the light are something to marvel at in themselves. A stray cat wanders in from the alley and becomes something of a guest in the couple's quiet and thoughtful lives.

The Guest Cat is a little book about the surprising and growing intensity of unlikely attachments. It is immediately and quietly alluring, moving at a slow outward pace which defies the rate of thought and change of mind that besets the protagonist.

Originally published in Japanese, The Guest Cat won the Kiyama Shohei Literary Award. This English edition was translated by Eric Selland.



Publication details: Picador, 2014, London, paperback
This copy: for review from the publisher

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves - Karen Joy Fowler

Review by M

Shortlisted for The Man Booker Prize 2014; winner of the 2014 PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction

Some novels resonate closely with me for various reasons, and this novel is one of them. As a whole, it engulfed me. Despite some annoying elements, I loved it and won’t be surprised if it stays for a very long time on my ‘list of ‘favourite’ novels.

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves is a novel about family relationships (and their difficulties), but it specifically explores questions about our humanity, our being, and ethical choices. The way it does this is directly via the plot (which I think is unusual and refreshing) but I’m not saying much more on this because of spoilers. 

Told in the first person by Pearl, she starts her story in the middle when she is making her way through university. She speaks directly to her readership as she takes them back and forth as she finds the courage to tell the beginning and some of the end of what happened to the brother and sister who left her family when she was just a young girl.

Fowler likes to keep her reader guessing but thankfully it is not too long before she introduces the big twist which puts the plot onto a level that goes beyond the everyday of ‘ordinary’ family lives. I’d suggest steering clear of reviews on this novel if you want to savour the impact of the twist when you read the novel. It really put me completely beside myself.

This is a wrenching and thoughtful read, delivered mostly with a light tone that works surprising well (given the subject matter). The annoying elements, for me, were: the character of Harlow (I could have done without her though I see how she makes Pearl think about her own ‘essential’ being); a bit too much tension; and I’d have preferred some of Pearl’s research to have been included as an appendix.

I suspect fans of Margaret Atwood (especially perhaps Cat’s Eye), Ann Patchett and Maggie O’Farrell will thoroughly enjoy this novel. Highly, highly recommended and definitely one to be discussed - but not online for fear of spoilers.

Publication details: 2014, Serpent’s Tale, London, paperback

This edition: gift from Little M

Dear Committee Members - Julie Schumacher

Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher

Review by M

For me, this was more self-indulgent than a chocolate box (or whatever else is your guilty pleasure). A series of increasingly disgruntled – and often hilariously cringeworthy – letters, are written by Jason Fitger, a well-established professor of English Creativeve Writing and Literature.  His lengthy letters show he is overwhelmed by the increasing academic protocol of writing recommendations for colleagues, funding and students. All of this is set within the context of university cuts (which seem to affect English creative writing university courses more so than the Economics department) as well as his personal relationship and publishing debacles.

This is a short book and each page is almost tediously ‘more of the same as the last page’ – but I found it immensely addictive. Recommended as a light but spot-on read.

Publication details:  The Friday Project, 9 October 2014, London, hardback

This copy: digital review copy from the publisher

J - Howard Jacobson

J by Howard Jacobson

Review by M

 

J has been shortlisted for the Man Booker 2014.

 

(Please note: The title of this novel is not J. It is a struck out J but I don’t know how to type that!)

 

I’ve never finished The Finkler Question, the only Jacobson I’ve ever started to read, and the curious thing about this was that there ‘was’ something that I liked about his writing just as there ‘was’ something I did not like. Precise, aren’t I?

When J came up for review (prior to its Booker listing), both this niggle about Jacobson’s writing and the premise for J grabbed my current attention. Going by the blurb, J is both a dystopian novel and a love story, so pretty much right up my street.

Set in the future, a not-spoken -about past frames the novel, and the narrator hovers it over the characters like a thick mist: What Happened, If It Happened. Most of the novel is spent providing clues and red herrings as to What happened, if It happened (my early hunch was that something almost apocalyptic had happened due to social media – but I was wrong and anyone who understands the significance of the struck out J will have a good idea from the offing What has happened).

The narrator expounds philosophically about the pre- and post- treatment of It (for me, this went on a bit too much and was not sufficiently convincing). Post-It, public mood is presided over by an agency known as Ofnow (hmm, Atwoodian handmaids anyone?). Unfortunately, this ‘new’ world that J creates, is not fully explored and just doesn’t feel quite right.

J turns, however (and ultimately,thankfully), around two central characters, Ailinn and Kevern, and their new love affair, the future of which hangs in the balance due to a pair of ugly feet and a murder mystery. Jacobson crafts a believably poignant relationship, and these two characters, for me, are what carry the novel.

As the novel unfolds, the significance of the struck out J and What Happened, If It Happened is deadly serious. It is unnerving and unsettling, and on one count is not something unfamiliar from real life and on another count is not unfamiliar from the worlds of big brother.  

Jacobson puts much detail but also not enough into the plotlines so that some elements seemed superfluous while others were lacking. I found the ending very unsatisfying, partly because some things felt as if they were left hanging, but also because some things just didn’t feel like they fit well. I struggled to identify the ‘tone’ of the novel – there was always a lighthearted humour mingling with something much, much darker. It just didn’t feel plausible enough (though perhaps this is ‘the point’). I think I'd recommend this as a library read to some people.

 

Publication details: 14 August 2014, Jonathan Cape, London, hardback

This copy: digital review copy from the publisher

 

 

 

 

Station Eleven - Emily St John Mandel

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel

 Adult fiction review by M

 

Station Eleven was pitched as being for Margaret Atwood or Hugh Howey fans.  I’m an Atwood fan but had never heard of Howey. This novel has had a huge (social media) presence, and from what I can gather, many people adore it. I didn’t.

Station Eleven is an apocalyptic novel. A virus, details unknown, kills almost everybody. There are a few survivors who have to start all over again and they’re afraid (typical apocalyptic scenario). A group of them form the Travelling Symphony, which tends to perform Shakespeare. Rather than simply exploring the now, the novel focuses on a few characters and their past, which helps to provide clues as to why survivors choose to protect and sustain certain ‘artefacts’. This held much promise for me but then the novel introduced a very coincidental ‘bad guy’ plot that I did not find very believable nor interesting.

I felt like I was reading something that wanted to be profound. But there was a disconnection for me: too many characters, none of whom were especially endearing to me; a plot that was built upon many coincidences (potentially very plausible but always unexplained, and therefore too convenient).

I couldn’t sense the ‘Atwood’ beyond post-apocalyptic similarities with the MaddAddam world (and on my current re-read of Cat’s Eye, some similar objects turn up: comics, glass ornaments etc ). As an Atwood fan, I was disappointed. The Travelling Symphony doesn’t hold the same place in my heart as God’s Gardeners. I can’t comment from the Howey camp.

 

Publication details: September 2014, Picador, London, hardback

This copy: review copy from the publisher

 

 

 

 

Close To the Wind - Jon Walter

Close to the Wind by Jon Walter

Review by M

 

Close to the Wind came to me as the first book proof from the newly independent (not newly established) David Fickling Books. Being a ‘fan’ of their previous novels and authors, I have waited in anticipation for this ‘launch’ title – and it’s a good all rounder!

Close to the Wind is about a boy and his grandfather who are seeking refuge from a war torn country. The peacekeepers are coming and Malik and Papa will need to catch a ship – but they don’t have tickets yet. Quietly and warmly told, this debut novel had me holding my breath, closing my eyes, smiling, rooting and crying.

Using an occasional light touch, Close to the Wind deals sensitively with big and traumatic issues and themes, like lies and truth, and sacrifice. An adventurous story is delivered that will delight readers from about age 8 upwards. This is a middle grade novel that deals in hope and is not afraid to reward the reader with it. Gorgeous.

 

Publication details: 3 July 2014, David Fickling Books, Oxford, hardback

This copy: uncorrected proof from the publisher (& dedicated, signed and embossed!)

 

****

And here are some pics of that very special book proof 1!

 

The whole package

 

Reverse of the card

 

 

 

Embossed page: DFB Where Good Stories Begin


 

 

 

 

 

 

Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Review by M

 

Wide Sargasso Sea was a reread for me this time, and so I’m charting my reflective thoughts on my reading journey with it. There are some small spoilers but nothing that actually ‘spoils’ a first read. This is a dense and special book, the kind that really begs to be read again and again (and I rarely read a book twice).

Wide Sargasso Sea is about Antoinette, a creole girl in 1930s Jamaica, set just after the emancipation of black slaves. Born to a white slave owner and a creole mother from Martinique, Antoinette passes into womanhood during turbulent times, and finds that her family is reviled from every side. Struggling with her own identity problems and with a history of family ‘madness’, marriage and a move to Granbois in nearby Dominica begin as a blissful escape and descend into something much more sinister.

The novel is often talked about as a companion novel to Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. Certainly, that’s how I came to first read it. It was on the reading list for an English Lit options module that I took, something along the lines of either Gender in Fiction or Feminist Fiction (because of course, they may not be the same things). Essentially, Wide Sargasso Sea is the prequel to Jane Eyre and features the first Mrs Rochester as well as the Mr, and gives voice to the mad woman in the attic.

Previous to first reading it, I’d read Jane Eyre, again for a literature course. I cannot immediately recall anything about it (!) and my recorded comments for it were ‘Disappointing’ (clearly my expectations had been somewhere quite off the mark). My comments for Wide Sargasso Sea, however, were “strange but powerful”. Additionally, I could remember much about the atmospheric Wide Sargasso Sea, although in a very disjointed way.

Recently, it popped up in conversation on Twitter. When Natasha Farrant mentioned that she had started reading it, wondering how it had never been in her life before this, I knew it was time for me to look it over once again.

Wide Sargasso Sea is a little book. I read it in just over one sitting (simply because I started it very late on a Friday night and I was past being ready for sleep). It is beguiling, and sad, and unbelievable, and stark, and confusing, and deeply rich in its imagery. Antoinette’s relationship with Christophine, and the pulls and sway of both obeah and christian religions in the novel are both intoxicating for the characters and the reader. Wide Sargasso Sea still says as much to me as it leaves unsaid and trails, in a sweetly troubling way, around my head.

Part One is narrated by Antoinette, Part Two by the I who is her husband and Part 3 again by ‘Antoinette’. On narration, I had the feeling that Antoinette also narrates sections in Part Two of WSS (but without a triple check, I may be wrong). Part 3 is perhaps the one that most directly links WSS to Jane Eyre and is my least favourite part of the novel.

 

I’ve heard some people say you need to read Jane Eyre first in order to understand Wide Sargasso Sea. Well, seeing as Jane Eyre had left such a weak impression on me, I do not agree. Of course, there are references in Wide Sargasso Sea that are obviously Jane Eyre, but they don’t detract from Wide Sargasso Sea as it’s very own story. As much as there’s the idea of giving a voice to the mad woman in Jane Eyre, for me, Wide Sargasso Sea is very much its own distinct – though connected – story to Jane Eyre. Antoinette’s story is compelling and powerfully told. For me, again, it is both Jean Rhys’ atmospheric language as well as Antoinette’s desire to be accepted and not treated as an unworthy foreigner, that leave the biggest marks on me.

Throughout the novel, Antoinette also recalls a dream she has, and tells it in three parts (I think, it was three). At the end, her dream becomes clear to her but it muddled a few things for me. I felt as if both she and I had experienced some sort of déjà vu and that I should have been paying more attention to her dream segments than I had (I often lose interest when characters relate aspects of their dreams!). Clearly, there is plenty left for me to explore on a third reading at some point, perhaps!

 

I’m currently rereading Jane Eyre (I still can’t remember anything about it! Perhaps I previously skim read it for an exam!), so it will be interesting to see whether this enhances or alters my thoughts on Wide Sargasso Sea.

 

My classics club challenge verdict: Absolutely a classic: it has been re-read by me and I suspect generations on will continue to explore it

 

Publication details: first published 1996

This copy: mine, Penguin, 1968, paperback (yep, it’s my varsity copy)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Vacationers - Emma Straub

The Vacationers by Emma Straub

Review by M (Adult Fiction)

The Post family goes on holiday to Mallorca: Manhattan-living husband Jim and wife Franny take their two grown children, a best friend, and partners to an out-of-the-way villa. It was supposed to be a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration but a ‘discovered workplace affair’ has thrown a couple of spokes in the wheel.

This is very much not the sort of novel that I would actively pick up to read (though the cover is quite catching!) and in many ways the characters are all many worlds away from my life (no spoons from Tiffanys here and my family is the most functional ever – of course!). But it was here so I gave it a go. I read it quickly and it is funny, in that ‘sideways’ sort of way. It also made me want to go on holiday, possibly even to Mallorca, which is not a transatlantic flight away for me.

The two week holiday, or vacation, is the setting for the plot from beginning to end, and most of it takes place in a heavenly sounding villa. Of course, like all middle class extended 'families', this one has its dysfunctions and all of the characters and couples and friends have their ‘issues’ and their ‘secrets’, from body-building powershakes to gay adoption and 'class values' (and not forgetting ‘the affair'). While there is something to dislike about most of the characters (except Lawrence, and Carmen gets a rough deal, in my opinion) there is also plenty to like, and the bossy, people-feeding matriarch, who is Franny, is actually a delight.

 

The Vacationers is a novel that is very much about, though not too deeply, the characters and their relationships (which is very much the sort of novel that I like to read). A funny and feelgood-but-not-too good-cos-that-would-be-uncool beach read.

 

Publication details: Picador, 5th June 2014, London, paperback

This copy: for review from the publisher

 

 

Em and the Big Hoom - Jerry Pinto

Em and the Big Hoom by Jerry Pinto

 

Review by M (adult fiction)

 

Em and the Big Hoom features the most scintillating dialogue and moves at a pace that had me happily clambering.

Em and the Big Hoom is a novel (which makes it fiction?), though it reads very much like an entertaining yet deeply heartfelt memoir. This is a novel about mental illness. I’m not sure I’ve read many of these for fear of them being drearily and saddeningly depressing. Em and the Big Hoom is not like that. It truly is a….riot!  

Written from the young adult son’s perspective, he presents a story which is both a celebration of his mother, Imelda’s infuriating mad life and an attempt to understand both her and her relationship with his father. Among other names, his parents are known as Em and the Big Hoom – I love that!

Variably diagnosed with schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder, Em just accepts herself as mad, and everyone around her just goes up and down with her. It’s a vibrant but rough ride for everyone, but particularly full of laughs for the reader.

The novel is set in 1960s Bombay, India and the family are anglophile Catholics. These add a colourful and engaging context to the story.

Highly recommended.

 

Publication details: Viking (Penguin), May 2014, London, hardback

This edition: digital review copy from the publisher

The Book of Unknown Americans - Cristina Henriquez

The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez

 

Review by M (adult fiction)

 

The Book of Unknown Americans is a immigration story. I will never tire of these. This one is especially tender and it's also a little different to some of the others that I have read.
 

The novel puts ‘parents doing their best for their children’ at its heart. The main plot follows the Rivera family who leave a life that they love in Mexico in order for their teen daughter, Maribel, to attend a special needs school in the USA. They arrive in Delaware to find that their new home is in a bare grey apartment building in the middle of nowhere.

From here on, the novel really is The Book of Unknown Americans and it follows this premise in both its narrative structure and in its plot. While the plot of the Rivera family (how they came to be here and how they get on) brings flow to the novel, it’s the apartment building residents and a tragically bittersweet coming-of-age tale that really bring the novel to life.

The chapters are narrated by different characters, and all of them are people who are South American immigrants residing in the same block as the Riveras. Some of these chapters add to the development of the main plot but a few of them are an aside, where the character simply tells us how they came to live here – and their stories are all so different yet so similar too. In this way, a varied and moving picture of immigration is created. Mixed in with all the poverty and sorrows, there is a lot of joy, and hope, and life.

The UK cover (pictured here) fittingly combines the tone, hue and themes of the novel: a variety of South American people with their hopes, dreams, stories and labours holding up America. This is the statue of liberty as we don’t usually see it, with its added textured colours giving life to what is often just a grey structure.

 

Publication details: 5 June 2014, Canongate, Edinburgh, trade paperback

This copy: for review from the publisher

 

 

 

Jamaica Inn - Daphne du Maurier

Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier

Review by M

 

This novel counts towards the Classics Club Challenge

 

I read Rebecca when I was a young teenager and loved it. It’s down as a reread for me and number five on our original Classics Club list of fifty. But, I’d never owned a copy so I bought it. It came as part of a Virago Modern Classics’ du Maurier bundle that included Jamaica Inn.

So, instead of a Rebecca reread, I started Jamaica Inn, not sure if it would be my sort of read (whatever that is!). I flitted between it and a number of other books (mostly review copies that I felt obliged to prioritise). Then, I saw a television trailer for a forthcoming BBC adaptation of it. This also prompted a renewed media interest in the ‘literary’ legacy of du Maurier with some sides hailing her as a popular and iconic storyteller while others question her literary merits. Remembering that my working definition of ‘classics’ is written stories that carry across generations (for any reason), my Easter reading plans were altered.

Jamaica Inn is a gothic romance which isn’t typically my sort of thing for all sorts of reasons (but mostly because of unhealthy gender relationships), so I haven’t read many. You realise from the first few pages of Jamaica Inn what you’re in for: an ever darkening story in an ominous setting with some nasty characters – but surprisingly some lovely ones too.

 

Twenty-three year old Mary Yellan’s mother has died and she has moved to live with her aunt Patience who lives at Jamaica Inn with her violent husband, Joss Merlyn. Nobody stops at or visits Jamaica Inn and something sinister, criminal and maybe even evil is going on. As a murderous story about smuggling cartels unfolds, Mary struggles with her own inner conflicts about trust, loyalty, gender and romantic feelings for an awful man.

As a gothic romance, Du Maurier’s writing  gets the balance right. Jamaica Inn is chilling and dire without being horrificly graphic, and there's a not-too-sweet dose of a properly infuriating romance too. While Jamaica Inn’s story is generally predictable (but other reviewers say differently!), the final pages surprised and ultimately disappointed me (more thoughts on this below because of spoilers).

From a gender perspective, Jamaica Inn is interesting. The roles of men and women, while mostly taken for granted (the setting is the 1820s), are also speculated about particularly by Mary Yellan and possibly by Jem Merlyn (the writing/publication is 1930s). This is also enhanced by contrasting parallels between the behaviour and gendered demeanours of Joss and Patience with those of Jem and Mary. Patience is acutely passive and scared witless in contrast to Mary Yellan who is headstrong and determined, but blames much that is wrong with her life on being a woman (of course, there is some truth in this). Because of this, she connects personal independence with being a man (some things still haven’t changed) and she anguishes about gendered identities, emotions and bodies.

Compared to Wuthering Heights, I do think Heathcliff comes off better than Jamaica Inn’s Joss Merlyn, Cathy comes off worse than Mary, and the plot and ending for Jamaica Inn (for me) is preferable to Wuthering Heights.

Classics Verdict: Gothic romance still isn’t doing it for me but  it's growing on me. Du Maurier’s novel is convincingly atmospheric and much better done than the BBC’s television adaptation. Would I unhesitatingly recommend it to the next generation? For me, it’s not a must read but for readers who enjoy this sort of thing, perhaps yes. Also, it reminded me that at heart, I am a bit of a romantic.

 

Publication details: 2003, Virago Press, London, paperback (orginal publication 1936, Victor Gollancz)

This copy: own

 

 

Spoiler alert! Spoiler alert

 

Further thoughts (contains SPOILERS!!)

 

The ending confused me and either I’ve missed something or the characterisation was a bit off. For much of the novel, Jem seems besotted with Mary and makes some big decisions and sacrifices for her sake. Why then does he stubbornly thwart her? Does he think that putting her off is actually better for her because he is not able to give her what he thinks she will want? And then, when she gives up her wish to return home in order to accompany him, why does he not change his direction and concede that to her? Is this about gender power relations and maintaining the masculine status quo for Jem? Is this about Mary giving in to her body’s ‘weakness’ or about choosing what she wants for herself? Is it about a dark cycle of bad relationships taking Mary down a similar path to her Aunt Patience (or is Jem much more wholesome than Joss – and will he remain like that)? I'd have gone with Jem.

 

 

 

 

 

End of spoiler!


I finished reading Jamaica Inn minutes before I watched the recent BBC adaptation. I don't think I've ever been so freshly close to as text as this when viewing a screen adaptation. That may have influenced my response to the BBC's version, but many important plot and characterisation elements were changed to the extent that much of du Maurier's Jamaica Inn was lost. The novel is far more subtle and explores Mary's conflicts in much greater depth. I much preferred du Maurier's novel.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We Were Liars - E Lockhart

We Were Liars by E Lockhart

Review by M

There’s been a lot of pre-publication hype around this novel and it deserves it. We Were Liars is a small book (just over 200 pages) and it’s a quick and thoroughly entertaining read.

We Were Liars is narrated by Cadence, the eldest teen granddaughter of the Sinclair family. An old New England family, they spend their summers on their private island. And then Cadence has an accident.

From the get go, we know that this is unreliable narration. The writing is stylised and interweaves all sorts of clues and red herrings to create a tragic modern day fairytale.

I highly recommend it and think there’s every chance of awards, commercial and cult success. Book groups will love it too.

Liar, liar, liar, liar.

 

PS. There’s a strong language content warning on the book. The f expletive appears a few times.

 

Hot Key Books is hosting a We Were Liars live read on Saturday, 17 May 2014 on Twitter. Starts 1pm UK time. #liarsliveread

 

Publication details: Hot Key Books, May 2014, London, paperback

This copy: received from the publisher for the live read

The Year of the Rat - Clare Furniss

The Year of the Rat by Clare Furniss

Review by M

 

The Year of the Rat is a tragic tearjerker with a little light breathing space for smiles inbetween.

Just before her A-levels, Pearl’s mother dies from pregnancy and childbirth complications. Pearl and her stepfather are left to deal with their grief alongside the care of the premature ‘rat’, Rose. Pearl doesn’t cope very well with this at all and the only person she finds she can turn to is…her mother.

Despite its heavy and real world subject matter (including pre-eclampsia and post-natal depression), The Year of the Rat is a light read with a heartwarming tone. In a relatively familiar plot, an endearing mother-daughter relationship made this a compulsive read that flows easily. Be prepared for tears.

The Year of the Rat reminded me of a novel by Jane Green that I read shortly after having had a baby. It also reminded me of Roddy Doyle’s A Greyhound of a Girl.  I think The Year of The Rat will hit a soft spot for many readers, both teens and adults alike. I think that's me recommending it!

  

Publication details: Simon and Schuster, 24 April 2014, London, hardback

This copy: uncorrected proof for review

Alex As Well - Alyssa Brugman

Alex As Well by Alyssa Brugman

Review by M

 

Alex As Well is compulsive reading both for Brugman’s writing style and the novel’s subject matter of gender assignment. Alex As Well tells the story of Alex, who is born with indeterminate sexing but is declared a boy. Now, at fourteen, he decides that really, Alex is a girl. The true grit of this novel is in the rub:  how can something as simple as sex organs create so much fuss?

While in many ways it is an important and delving issues book, the writing style lifts it so that it becomes something much more. The internal dialogues between Alex (she) and Alex-as-well (he) are both moving and funny, and manage to say a lot about being a teenager in general. They help to make a very gritty piece of realism become something occasionally cheerful too.

Stylistically, Brugman takes some chances. There are frequent references to song lyrics, TV, and other contemporary popular culture that were unfamiliar to me. While these reinforced the notion of different experiences, this also slightly distanced me from the text.

Brugman also uses threads from Alex’s mother, Heather’s, internet forums where she vents her concerns and anxieties. These contain deliberate typos (as the immediacy of social media often does) but they work really well as a way of exploring the very different perspectives that parents (and other people) have with regards to both parenting practices and gender assignment and identification.  The parent-child relationship in this novel is a difficult and unpleasant one. It stretches well beyond gender issues and is fraught with all sorts of tensions and not always likeable characters.

Tonally and image-wise, Alex As Well is reminiscent of the film version of 'Breakfast on Pluto' and there are thematic and plot similarities with 'Ma Vie en Rose'.

The most curious and interesting element, for me, is how the novel (whether advertently or not) shows how different responses to intersexing can both subvert and reinforce gender stereotypes. Alex as two (or split) identities as boy-and-girl reinforces gender stereotypes. A focus on bodily aesthetics also takes prominence but through this, and representations of androgyny, it also cleverly asks what is a boy and what is a girl? Can we really tell the difference and does it even matter?

The novel does not offer cut and dry answers and some of the plot seems unlikely and controversial (could a fourteen year old legally and realistically do some of the things that Alex does?), but this possibly goes hand-in-hand with the complexities of the subject matter. Because of this, some readers may find the ending unsatisfying. I did – but I can also see all sorts of reasons why a different ending might not have worked at all.

Alex As Well is a straight talking book that gets down and explores some of the fundamental nitty gritties about Western gendered identities.

 

UK Publication details: Curious Fox, May 2014, London, paperback

This copy: uncorrected proof from the publisher

Bone Jack - Sara Crowe

Bone Jack by Sara Crowe

 

Review by M

 

Bone Jack is wonderful storytelling: an engaging plot, lifelike characters and absorbingly atmospheric settings and language. I had Saturday morning breakfast in bed so that I could finish it.

Ash is fifteen and has outrun all the other local boys to become the ‘stag’ in the upcoming stage chase, where he must race across the hills and return uncaptured by the ‘hound boys’ who will chase him. There are lots of local myths and folklore about the stag chase, and when Ash starts to ‘see’ dark things out on the hills and in the woods, he feels threatened and can’t decide what he should do.

This debut is a compelling and atmospheric read about a teen boy who takes on something bigger and darker than just being the ‘stag’ in the local Stag Chase. Bone Jack shows great care for the living land that we inhabit and pass through.

Likeable and complex characters, thrilling suspense, chilling scenes and thoughtfully intriguing subplots boost this novel. Alongside the main plot, different kinds of absent (but loving) fatherhood; conflicting loyalties between friendships and foot-and-mouth ravaged farmlands; and post-traumatic stress disorder, are all easily woven through the novel.

Genrewise, Bone Jack is light fantasy or perhaps magical realism, where the story takes place in a real, recognisable world but the characters can’t figure out if they’re ‘seeing things’ or not. If you’ve read Patrick Ness’ A Monster Calls, it’s a similar mix to that novel (but the stories are not alike at all).

The publisher’s age guidance for this novel is 12+. I suspect slightly younger readers, who’re emotionally mature enough to deal with questions about the taking of life, may enjoy this novel too.

As a debut, Bone Jack has set the bar high for Sara Crowe’s second novel.

 

Publication details: Andersen Press, April 2014, London, paperback.

This copy: review copy from the publisher