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 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

The Midnight Dress - Karen Foxlee

The Midnight Dress by  Karen Foxlee

Guest Review by Alice (15)

Rose Lovell and her dad arrive in yet another town, she knows it will be the same as always, they will stay a while, her dad will get drunk and they will move on, it's happened before and it will happen again, won't it? But this time it's different, Rose makes friends with Pearl Kelly, the 'town sweetheart' who convinces the closed-book Rose to take part in the town's harvest parade. Rose goes to Eddie the town dressmaker whose life is riddled with secrets, tales, and according to the townspeople, witchcraft. Together they create a dress woven and stitched from memories, stories and magic. On the night of the parade the girl with the midnight dress goes missing, and nothing will be the same, ever again.

On top of having a beautiful plot line this book is one of the most spectacularly written books I have read in a long time. Rose is a bit of a goth, loves all things black and most of all the rainforest she discovers after hearing  Eddie's stories. When she meets Pearl she starts to come out of her shell. The way the character Rose is written made me fall in love with her and also feel a little bit of empathy for her, she had never really had any friends before Pearl and her dad doesn't really care about her. The book is written in a way that at the beginning of each chapter you find out a little bit more of the end and that helped me to understand the story more as the plot twisted on.

Anyone over the age of 11 could easily get as absorbed by this book as I did!

This book is brilliant for anyone who loves a good bit of friendship and mystery in a book. If you do then this book is most definitely for you!

Publication details: 2013, Hot Key Books, London, paperback

This copy: 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

 

 

 

 

The Booker and Me

Prepare yourself for my longest post ever. Watch, if you care, as I descend into the darkest depths of memory, and watch it all fade…..

The Man Booker Prize 2014 longlist was announced yesterday. We’ve shadowed what I regard as the UK’s children’s literary equivalent, the CILIP Carnegie Medal, for two years, so I thought it’s about time I start to note my Booker reading commentary.

Unlike the Carnegie, I’ve usually never read any of the novels on the Booker longlists when they are announced (with a few coincidental exceptions). To be honest, before this blog, I don’t think I even knew when the longlists (or even shortlists) were announced. I’d certainly never become excitedly embroiled in critical shadowing nor joyful predicting.

This year, however, I’m aware that there has been a Booker rule change. Previously, the award was open to UK and Commonwealth writers. Eligibility was opened up to make this a global prize. Of course, an American onslaught was feared. From the 13 slots available on this year’s longlist, 4 Commonwealth writers have been moved out to make room for 4 Americans. And, expect unfortunate punning on ‘Man’ Booker as there are only 3 women writers on the list (cough: I think 2 of them are from the American contingent).

Whether any of these facts are significant to readers (or publishing today), I don’t know because I’ve not read any of the novels on this year’s longlist. I have read some novels in the past year that may have been eligible. These novels included writers who were men, women, UK, US and commonwealth writers. I loved many of them but I didn’t expect any of them would turn up on the Booker (and they didn’t). I don’t even attempt to ‘judge’ what will make it or not because my breadth of reading and understanding of literature just doesn’t come close to matching that of the judging panel. Unlike the Carnegie, the Booker doesn’t publish detailed judging criteria. It’s a very, very subjective process contained within a set of industry rules (and probably agendas).

As a reader, I’m okay with this. I never read a book and think, ‘o, this one for the Booker’ (that’s probably because I’m mostly reading backlist recommendations). However, my shelves and reading habits are adorned with Booker listed and winning novels (along with a whole host of other sorts of fiction too).

My first thoughts on this year’s longlist are:

In comparison to 2013, it doesn’t ‘look’ as ‘exciting’, but only the reading will tell. I will buy The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell just because it’s Mitchell (I’ll have to wait a long time though: it’s not published until September and then only in hardback and my Mitchell editions are paperback!). Also, I have a review copy of J by Howard Jacobson because I like his writing and the sound of this one is a bit more sci-fiey, so I’m good to try this. Ali Smith is on the list too – and I like her writing, so that’s an obvious read for me. David Nicholls appears but I was not a fan of One Day (it’s on my shelf of kept-because-someone-else-might-like-it books). As for the other 9, I don’t’ really know anything about them but have heard that one of them was a crowdfunded book, which apparently is a first for the Booker (so that might be worth a nosy). I have, however, started off with Richard Flanagan’s novel simply because I have a review copy…..and the writing on the first few pages just glides……

Note how my familiarity with the names of titles and authors on this year’s longlist is very shaky. For self-indulgent (or illuminating reasons) rather than lazy ones, I haven’t used the internet to provide the details.

Now for the fun bit!

My quick thoughts on an adulthood of  ‘Booker’ reading:

 

The Luminaries – Eleanor Catton (2013 winner)

It’s a big one. Am halfway through the e-book and wish I’d bought the paperback. Quite like it but won’t be sure until the end. The gold dust magic hasn’t quite done it for me yet.

A Tale For the Time Being – Ruth Ozeki (2013 shortlist)

I loved everything about this novel and highly recommend it to many people. Right up my street.

We Need New Names – NoViolet Bulawayo (2013 shortlist)

Pageturning and wonderful, it’s a favourite of mine. Highly recommended, though I didn’t expect it to on the shortlist, probably because I don’t expect to see pageturners on the Booker. Curiously, read this on a e-reader!

The Testament of Mary – Colm Toibin (2013 shortlist)

Compelling writing, interesting and controversial tale. Very short, and I liked that. Pleased I read it. Would never have selected to read this without some form of recommendation, which the Booker gave it.

The Lowland – Jhumpa Lahiri (2013 shortlist)

Thoroughly enjoyed this one, though perhaps it’s not going to be one of my favourites. Borrowed it from the library but not sure I’d buy it.

 Almost English – Charlotte Mendelson (2013 longlist)

Bought an e-copy, which may have been a mistake and puts it in the company of The Luminaries. Have only read a few chapters and I haven’t got into it, so can’t comment until (if) I ever finish it.

The Garden of Evening Mists – Tan Twan Eng (2012 shortlist)

Very atmospheric writing and an interesting and disturbing tale. But, I haven’t finished it yet. Don’t know why because I love reading it. It still lingers in my head so this is very curious!

The Sense of an Ending – Julian Barnes (2011 winner)

A short book that I enjoyed. Easy writing, cleverish and intriguing story. Generally, I enjoy reading Barnes even if it’s to see what he’s come up with this time. Not sure this was his best but perhaps it was his most accessible.
 
Pigeon English – Stephen Kelman (2011 shortlist)
This was subsequently published as a Young Adult novel, and I read it in that context. It is excellent, highly recommended, accessible and very moving.

The Testament of Jessie Lamb – Jane Rogers (2011 shortlist)

I loved this novel. Curiously, like Pigeon English, this would suit a YA audience too, primarily because of the main character’s age. It’s also the novel that caught Little M’s eye and made us realise that she had probably outgrown Enid Blyton even if she wasn’t quite ready for Jessie Lamb!

The Finkler Question – Howard Jacobson (2010 winner)

Enjoy the writing but haven’t finished this one yet. Not sure if I ever will so only time will tell.

The Slap – Christos Tsiolkas (2010 longlist)

I read this on a beach holiday and while everyone else went out to discover the nightlife, I stayed in to finish it. Enough said! Loved it.

The Children’s Book – AS Byatt (2009 shortlist)

It’s been a few years but I’m still just under halfway through. I just can’t connect with  it.

2008 – completely passed me by

 

The Gathering – Anne Enright (2007 winner)

Wonderful book. Interestingly, I think I bought this not in connection with the Booker but because I saw her alongside Maggie O’Farrell at a literature festival reading.

Mister Pip – Lloyd Jones (2007 shortlist)

Enjoyed this hugely. Reminded me of the atmosphere of Wide Sargasso Sea but the Dickens element grated on me a little.

On Chesil Beach – Ian McEwan (2007 shortlist)

A very short book, and though I love McEwan, I think I remember being very underwhelmed by this one.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moisin Hamid (2007 shortlist)

Loved this book. Quite pageturning too with bits of mystery.

Get a Life – Nadime Gordimer (2006 longlist)

It’s Gordimer, so I’d have got it anyway.  I remember reading it quickly, and perhaps being slightly on the fence about it when I’d finished. Hazy memory though.

The Accidental – Ali Smith (2005 shortlist)

Can’t remember much about this other than lots of intimate intrigue and that I was mesmerised.

On Beauty – Zadie Smith (2005 shortlist)

I think this is my favourite Zadie Smith novel.

The Line of Beauty – Alan Hollinghurst (2004 winner)

I read the whole thing. I think the writing carried it because I didn’t like the characters. It’s on the same shelf as David Nicholl’s One Day.

Bitter Fruit – Achmat Dangor (2004 shortlist)

Loved it.

Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell (2004 shortlist)

This is why I buy so many David Mitchell novels. Took me a chapter or two to get into it and then the magic unwound. Sonmi 451 is one of my favourite literary characters. A friend thought it wasn’t as clever as people were raving about because so many authors had done similar stuff before (and arguably better). She’s read more than me!

Purple Hibiscus – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2004 longlist)

Fell totally in love with this novel. Have her next novel on this back of this, but not read it yet (it’s probably an e-book!). Couldn’t get on with the main character in her latest, Americanah.

Vernon God Little – DBC Pierre (2003 winner)

Someone bought me this. Oh dear. I started reading it but the plot was way out of my comfort zone. It’s unread on a shelf that I can’t see. One day, I may venture into the dark.

Brick Lane – Monica Ali (2003 shortlist)

Loved, loved, loved. Now, I always get the names of Monica Ali, Ali Smith and Zadie Smith mixed up. I just buy all three.

Oryx and Crake – Margaret Atwood (2003 shortlist)

Curiously, 2003 must have passed me by too, despite the fact I’ve read novels off the list. Here’s why: I’ve read Oryx and Crake but only after I’d read The Year of the Flood, during which I realised that this was some sort of sequel and I’d started in the wrong place. So Oryx and Crake became the second, rather than the first, in my MaddAddam trilogy reading. I just love the whole trilogy immensely for everything it does, mostly storytelling and humour. Shelved on my Atwood shelf. Read years after its shortlisting.

Frankie and Stankie – Barbara Trapido (2003 longlist)

My favourite Trapido novel, but this might be for nostalgic reasons more than anything else. That’s just a disclaimer because I think it’s funny, insightfully and warmly told.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon (2003 longlist)

I only read this in the last few years. It’s good and I like the writing, and I do recommend it. I didn’t like the dad character and I didn’t like the dead dog. I’m unmoveable on some things, so it seems.

Life of Pi – Yann Martel (2002 winner)

Took this as a lazy beach read. Wrong move. Gave up for years. Gave it another go recently, alongside Little M and the film adaptation. So glad I did because I loved it. The thing that stands out for me most is the ending, and pissing (haha, I’m so childish!).

Atonement – Ian McEwan (2001 winner)

One of my all-time favourites.

Looks like 2001 was the first year for a Longlist.

 

The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood (2000 winner)

Read this very recently. It’s superb.

Disgrace – JM Coetzee (1999 winner)

Intrigued and shocked me simultaneously. Perhaps one of the first novels to really do this for me successfully (that’s probably about me, not the novel).

Amsterdam – Ian McEwan (1998 winner)

The start of my McEwan love affair

The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy (1997 winner)

Remember enjoying this a lot and think it was my mother who recommended it (could be wrong about this though).

Alias Grace – Margaret Atwood (1996 shortlist)

This is why I need reading notes. It’s either The Robber Bride or Alias Grace that I didn’t finish. Will have to give this one another go (or is that  a reread?).

Time’s Arrow – Martin Amis (1991 shortlist)

“It goes backwards,” someone enthused to me. A big hit with me and I recommended it to everyone.

Possession – AS Byatt (1990 winner)

Sits among my most favourite novels ever. Completely captivating.

Cat’s Eye – Margaret Atwood (1989 shortlist)

Loved it then. Currently re-reading it now. There’s a boy-man in a tree. Knock, knock MaddAddam.

The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood (1986 shortlist)

Forever kind of love!

Flaubert’s Parrot – Julian Barnes (1984 shortlist)

My introduction to Barnes. I was young: found it experimental but tedious. I kept on buying and reading him though!

Life and Times of Michael K – JM Coetzee (1983 winner)

I remember a long pub conversation about Coetzee and this being recommended. I think I read it and loved it – but I could be wrong. Another one for the reread (or is read?)

 

 

So that's me and the Booker. We've had some memorable times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What tone has the CILIP Carnegie Medal 2014 set for children’s literature?

Yes, this is a comment piece (as distinct from the commentary in our reviews)!

 

Kevin Brooks’ chilling, The Bunker Diary won this year’s Carnegie medal, which awards an outstanding book for children. The novel is the diary of a kidnapped boy, the tale is bleak, its grit relentless. This is not the sort of novel I am drawn to yet I selected it as part of my personal shortlist for this year’s medal. This was very much despite the plot and very much about the writing and the form (you can read my review, which denies the plot). While The Bunker Diary is shocking, I don’t think it is ‘shock factor’ writing, and I think it’s a worthy winner bravely chosen by the judges.

The Telegraph, online, questioned whether the Carnegie judges had overstepped the mark in awarding this novel because it is unrelentlessly and unremorsefully dark. Additionally, the opinion piece berated the publishers for the book cover’s lack of content guidance.

The CILIP Carnegie shortlist provides age guidance for each book on the shortlist to help inform readers. This is available on their website. The Bunker Diary is marked as 14+, and with my parent hat on, that sounds about right to me. I’m keen on informative content guidance, so I do agree with The Telegraph on that.

However, the Carnegie medal awards an outstanding children’s book. The book has to be first published as a children’s book. The Bunker Diary fulfils these criteria. But, I read Bradbury’s comment piece as really raising questions about tone: should the Carnegie be setting a tone for children’s literature?

In his acceptance speech, Brooks spoke about the question of hope, which many commentators say is lacking in The Bunker Diary. Brooks disagrees with this view but, to him, this is a subsidiary issue anyway. Ultimately, and arguably controversially, he believes that ‘hope’ and happy endings are not a pre-requisite for children’s literature. I, now a legal adult for many years, quite like hope in anything I read, but a lack of hope doesn’t necessarily affect literary quality (but it may affect a reader’s appreciation).

We started this blog just over two years ago when Little M was twelve. We thought we knew what children’s literature was: something entertaining and something excitingly exploratory – but with a safety net. But we knew that young adult fiction (targeted at children) was something slightly different – we suspected the net had moved. Without reading it (which she hadn’t and I hadn’t for about twenty years), we could tell this from the covers. They often looked more like something you’d find on the adult genre shelves or on a movie poster. Actually, most of the cover-facing books probably were movie tie-ins! Both of us were very much in favour of knowing ‘what’ was in these books. Yes, we mean sex, drugs, violence, and their degree of graphic depiction and, importantly for me, a subtextual worldview.

Two years later, we’ve decided that YA is very much a free-for-all with a teenage protagonist. And to me, that’s fine – just tell us on the cover: not for the adults who read YA, or the fourteen years olds; do it for the sake of those who’ve just finished reading The Famous Five. Because after all, YA is widely considered children’s literature and we don’t want to start censoring teenage content….or do we?

The Bunker Diary is a challenging read. It covers difficult and abhorrent subject matter, it smashes a reader’s expectations of story structure and of a children’s book (let’s be honest, this is young adult fiction not middle grade), and it provides avenues for questions about all sorts of things, including literary ones. For me, that’s the tone that this year’s Carnegie win has set and it has nothing to do with light or dark.

 

*****

Read my review of The Bunker Diary.

Read my interview with Kevin Brooks.

 

The Telegraph piece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Freedom - Jonathan Franzen

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

 

Adult fiction: Book review by M

I'd been curious to read one of Franzen's novels for a while. Having recently bought copies of both The Corrections and Freedom, I started with Freedom purely because the title compels me more.

Freedom is an epic turn of the century (20th to 21st) great American family drama that dilly-dallies heavily in the American dream and national politics of the day. No-one gets off too lightly. Tonally, it has the zip and sting and taboo-shaking that Christos Tsiolkas' The Slap delivered but is geographically and thematically set in a far more expansive American way.

Freedom is about the Berglund family but really more about Walter and Patty, their son, Walter's friend Richard, and not so much about their daughter. From the start, we know that Walter has mucked up big time over ethical environmental issues in Washington, and that this seems uncharacteristic from what people knew about him. The story immediately jumps back and traces, through a third-person narrator and occasionally, Patty, a series of events that led to this current situation. The story traverses about four decades of intersecting and persistent relationships (mostly flawed and definitely obsessive) amidst a vitriol against American middle class politics that raises questions (not so new but nevertheless persistent and deliberately ignored) about motives for war, saving the earth and of course, freedom.

Being somewhat stuck in the middle of the debates about freedom from meets freedom to, the concept of freedom is what drew me to the novel.While always interesting (and especially if you've never given much thought to the un/limits of freedom), I felt that the concept of freedom was heavily overworked in this novel. This doesn't necessarily detract from it still having thought-provoking value for the reader (in this case, moi).

Characterwise, Walter is the most interesting and, for me, wholly likeable. Patty reads like a dull character and I really can't see what other characters thought was so extraordinary about her. No doubt she wouldn't give me a moment's notice either. Her beloved son, Joey is very unlikeable and his whole situation is weird (or maybe the way some things are in real life just don't translate very well to the written word). Interestingly, the daughter, Jessica, doesn't get much textual space in the novel whereas the rest of the Berglund family (and Richard Katz, Walter's best friend) get their own very lengthy chapters, at least once. Arguably, Jessica gets a lot of headspace though. The description of Richard as a cute Gaddafi, that ruined him from the start for me.

It's not often that I think or feel that a novel has a gender, but I think Freedom is masculine. All of the characters feel masculinised (rather than gender indeterminate). For example, Patty is a top notch basketball player and describes herself as a jock. That's great but the sound and flow of her voice felt very masculinised - even the high school incident, which, well.......is alarming. But, what is especially interesting is how all of the female characters are described as super pretty, bar perhaps just one - Jessica. Jessica, who doesn't get the word count that the other characters get describes herself as not that pretty. Every other woman character is drop-dead-georgeous-and-beautiful-in-a-very-pervy-objectified-way. Even Walter's feminism doesn't stretch beyond that.

Did I like it? On the whole, yes but with lots of grumbles. It is an absorbing read (though its chapters are...lengthy). I especially liked the character of Walter Berglund and the final chapter (which is a bit Life of Pi-ish - but more in terms of interpreting the ending rather than the whole story so it might be a cop out but it's very entertaining). It's the kind of novel I'd love to read with a bookclub because there is a lot of stuff to wrangle over.

Publication details: Fourth Estate, London, 2011, paperback
This copy: Mine



SPOILER ! SPOILER!  SPOILER!

SPOILER about the ending!


My interpretation of the final chapter is that there is not a happy ending.

This chapter was a story that Patty wrote for/to Walter. None of the events in that story actually happened, in a literal sense. They may of course have happened post-writing but I'm not so sure. I don't think Walter was a big grumpy depressive hermit in the way that Patty portrays it. Then again, The Winter's Tale quote at the beginning suggests quite the opposite........



End of spoiler

MaddAddam - Margaret Atwood

MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood

Adult fiction rambles by M

(haha, there’s a short video of Atwood somewhere, cracking a smile about MaddAddam’s dark humour, “parental guidance and all that”!)

 

Thanks to Hatchards Bloomsbury Book Club, my copy of MaddAddam turned up early enough for me to be an advanced reader before any of the mainstream reviews surfaced. So I read it whole, then made some notes, then read some mixed reviews, and then met Margaret Atwood. A couple of other things happened too and now, these are my thoughts-at-this-juncture on MaddAddam. It's a bit uncharacteristically gushy. For a succint overview of the plot, look somewhere else.

Punning satire and parody, MaddAddam is earnestly comical cult fiction. Forget literary salons, guys, the next cosplay is MaddAddam CampGeek at my place via PulpFiction-cum-RockyHorrorPictureShow-cum-BoneyM (and if we can fix the world too, great). And then we can watch Aidan Quinn (sorry Offred) and maybe eat cake (morally disordered, of course). If ever there was an impetus for me doing fan-fiction, MaddAddam is it (wonder what the Toad’s copyright regime is...).

So yes, if you haven’t read any of it, the trilogy’s a Margaret Atwood blast: Oryx and Crake, The Year of the Flood and then MaddAddam. And then read The Blind Assassin: the parallels between her latest offering and her Booker winner are mad! There’s plenty of overlapping pulp fiction in that winner.

Trilogy- and plot-wise, all three overlap but fill gaps and provide alternative perspectives on the same events: the story behind the MaddAddam ARG and organisation, the apocalyptic time and the fallout. But in MaddAddam, Atwood brings storytelling to the forefront as the novel’s form is structured around Toby’s night-time storytelling. This could be be seen as the development of the chapters in a new Crakers’ gospel, much as the God’s Gardener’s from The Year of the Flood had their psalms/songs. Toby even creates the possibility for the addition of new testaments through Blackbeard. Indeed, each of the three novels are a new testament on the same central story.

Comic. Above anything else, for me, MaddAddam is funny; at times it is farcical. Known for her caustically detailed observations about our lived and culturally-enhanced humanities, Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam is nothing if not a moment of let’s-laugh-and-cry at ourselves. Much of the humour feels like it has developed straight from a creative stream-of-consciousness brainstorming session that delights in wordplay. God’s Gardeners, it’s cutting bloody dark fun.

Of wordplay there is plenty and the novel's central themes, for me, are about words and meaning particularly in the context of storytelling, both written and spoken, and with multiple narrators over periods of time. In some ways, this has threaded all through the whole trilogy and were present in The Blind Assassin.

For other readers, eco-political themes will ring loudest. And of course, as with many of her novels, Atwood also grapples with sexual and romantic relationships. Sexual relationships and particularly monogamous versus polygamous relationships, romance versus biological reproduction and consensual acts versus abuse abound in the MaddAddamite trilogy. MaddAddam shows – clearly – how blurred lines really are. An example of this is an “energetic” pun on foreplay which in some ways is a reprehensible bang.

At the same time, despite her matter of fact and non-sentimental style, MaddAdam, like The Handmaid’s Tale, is also a smouldering love story. For the critics who suggest that MaddAddam sacrifices characterisation, in my mind, they’ve missed the point/s. Nowhere are Zeb and Toby more real than in this novel. Shucks, I even shed a tear (note the singularity). And look at the Crakers whom we first meet and the Crakers that we leave.

Singing: this seems to work as some sort of motif or extended metaphor. Zeb sings little ditties when he’s frightened or stressed. Gospel singers sing. The Crakers sing. Adam, Toby, Crake and eventually, Blackbeard, don’t like singing. But Toby also learns that the Crakers’ singing is something that might save them. I even asked Margaret Atwood about it.

In the latter part of the novel, there are strains of Animal Farm.

At first, I couldn’t get into MaddAddam. I wasn’t fond of the ‘storytelling’ form that it was taking, framed by a very thin plot. However, as it develops into a story about Zeb, it becomes much more interesting although there is no real crescendo – though there are some very high and significant ends of chapters towards the end.

I read both of the previous novels a few years ago, and although there is a very extensive ‘the story so far’ at the beginning, and although Atwood provides lots of catch-up details throughout MaddAddam, I couldn’t help wishing that I’d read the three novels in order quite quickly one after the other.

 

At the end, the MaddAddamite left me sorry to say goodbye to some of my favourite Gardeners. It also left me craving to go and read, and re-read more of Atwood’s fiction. So, I did.

 

Publication details: Bloomsbury, 2013, London, hardback

This copy: mine and signed!

 

The Testament of Mary - Colm Toibin

The Testament of Mary by Colm Toibin

Review by M

 

The Testament of Mary is a short novella, my edition being only 104 pages. It is shortlisted for this year's Man Booker Prize and I picked it up because it was on a 4 for 3 type offer at our local bookshop. The title itself hadn't appealed to me and I was unfamiliar with Toibin's work so it wasn't at the top of my reading list. I had no idea what it was about, but, being the Booker that often doesn't matter.

The opening pages are extraordinary. A dark, menacing and increasingly brutal mood is created and there was a scene involving rabbits and a bird that I pretty much had to skip. Still, I didn't know what the story was about and it was intriguing.

And then it clicked. This made me smile but then my relationship to the book changed because I knew the story it was based upon. This was a story that had been shoved down my generation's throat time and time again at school. It's not a story I like.

Of course, this is a retelling and from a different perspective: the testament of a mortal woman who experiences pain, fear and love; who explains how some stories turn into slightly different legends. We were often asked to tell this story in school, though I suspect this particular telling might not have met favour with the teachers (today, and in the UK, many of them might be more accommodating).

The opening pages are exquisite and the final pages come close. I didn't feel the middle section was as strong and the characterisation of the son remains very aloof (perhaps unsurprisingly). Mary's voice is strong, whereas perhaps once it was weak, and it is noteworthy how the book feels contemporary yet still recreates an image of a time and society from long, long ago. Overall, I felt it was a bit too drawn out for a character portrait but not long enough to hold my overwhelming interest as a story. I feel slightly ambivalent to it overall and it wouldn't be my choice for this year's winner (though I've only read two on the shortlist).

I would recommend it to other readers though, partly for what it's about, because its short length makes it a quick read and the writing is good. It is a very accessible novella and suitable for all ages.

Publication details: Penguin, 2012, London, paperback
This copy: mine


If you like suprises when you read a story, do not read on......




SPOILER! SPOILER!
The story: Yes, it is the testament of Mary, recounting the time of Jesus' crucifiction: my least favourite of all the Bible stories.

Stoner - John Williams

Stoner by John Williams

Classics Club Review by M

Stoner is a wonderful, wonderful read. Some people should expect to receive it as a Christmas gift (how do you that emoticon wink thing?).

Originally published in 1965, it has been heralded as one of the less-known or forgotten classics, has been recently republished in the USA and now, in the UK, by Vintage Classics.

The plot, to many people’s ears (including mine), will sound drab. The novel tells the story of William Stoner’s relatively unremarkable life as a university teacher of English (although this particular turn of events for a rural American farmer boy is interesting in itself; and he lives and works in some awful conditions). It is a linear narrative told in the omniscient third person, so no textual games here.

But this novel is remarkable. From the opening page, I couldn’t put it down. There was excitement and tension in the deeply brutal interpersonal conflicts that assuage Stoner’s marriage and professional life but there is also fantastic characterisation, particularly of Stoner. More than any other character I’ve read in a long time, you immediately and wholly sink into William Stoner’s being; and it so quietly and humbly mournful (yet in a strangely uplifting way?!).

Thematically, the novel explores the work ethic, love (in the most unsentimental of ways), fitting in and literature.

John Williams proposes the notion that the university is a refuge from the rest of the world and explores this beautifully and painfully through a variety of characters. For those of you who have any familiarity with ‘mad professors’, Stoner is definitely worth a read! For those who don’t, the notion of refuge has broader appeal and significance too.

In many ways, the novel is also a reflection on a life and the different stages and moments that it goes through.  In this case, the life is Stoner’s, but his own introspective thoughts again mimic the kinds of general ‘life’ thoughts many Western people might experience. It would be interesting to see how people at different age stages in their lives respond to Stoner and whether they all enjoy it equally well: maybe at 20, 40 and 60?

Some interesting debates about the representation of gender and disability in the novel played through my head while I was reading it. There’s his wife, who might be described as a damaged femme fatale, and there is Lomax, doubly damaged by his disability. Taking into account a) American society at the time of the plot, and b) American society at the time of the novel’s writing, these issues in the novel are clearly raised by the author and they’re not clear cut.

Other people have commented on the novel and its relationship to ‘literature’. This runs strongly and frequently throughout the novel, but it wasn’t the aspect that interested me the most (I was the kind of English student who would have had Stoner in complete despair!).

Classics Club Challenge Verdict:

Not originally on my Classics Club challenge list (as I’d never heard of it), is it a classic for me? Yes. I would highly, highly recommend it to most readers. It would be a fabulous novel for book group chats.

With that in mind, this is what I’d want to talk about first.....

 

SPOILER ALERT

 

Discussion – includes spoilers

Much in Stoner’s life is excruciating: his home life, his marriage, his work schedule. The author lays this on pretty thickly, especially after the birth of Grace. For example, there’s a section where Stoner is described as having to be more a mother than a father. Taking into account the gender context of the time (like note too how few references are made to female students or academic staff), his life can’t really get much lower than that – he’s doing everything. At this point, however, I start to think that the narrator is perhaps a bit more unreliable than usual and this is suggested even further in the closing pages of the novel where Stoner feels that he was partly to blame for Edith’s behaviour. Maybe Stoner wasn’t quite as easy to get along with at home as is suggested (though on the whole, I think the balance is definitely in his favour).

 

Publication details (this edition): Vintage, London, 2012

This copy: digital copy received for review from the publisher

 

Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

Reviewed by M

I first read Things Fall Apart at university for African Literature. It was possibly the first novel I’d read that was written by a black African author. The novel recently reappeared on my bookshelves after bringing it back from my attic bookhaul earlier this year (some of you might recall this event!). What prompted me to read it now, however, was We Need New Names, a new and wonderful novel by NoViolet Bulawayo.

 

We Need New Names referred frequently to ‘things fall apart’and I was sure this was more than coincidence. Having read Things Fall Apart, I should have known....but I didn’t. So I reread it. Yes, it is more than coincidence.....

 

Things Fall Apart is a tragedy: a tragedy about an individual, a tragedy about a village and perhaps a tragedy about colonialism. Set in pre-colonial Nigeria, it tells the story of Okonkwo, a proud and successful member of his tribe. The novel describes the tribe’s way of life, their (almost) unflinching adherence to their religion and patriarchal values. However, the novel also introduces questions that cut right into how we perceive our own and other cultures. At the forefront of this are differences about individual will versus the will of the gods as well as group will, justice, and sorrow. What comes out most strongly in Things Fall Apart is the suggestion that without missionaries and further colonisation, the tribes, as any other group of people, would have developed in their own time and ways – who knows what our histories would look like if that had happened? Achebe makes it clear that individuals in Okonkwo’s village were starting to mumble about the ways some things were done: for example, killing people simply because the gods said so or abandoning twins. The novel makes an effort to point out that cultural interpretations vary even within countries and that what is an atrocity ‘here’ might not be considered an atrocity ‘there’.

 

It is a highly enjoyable and gently compelling re-read and I think I got much more out of it this time. The writing style is quiet and quite different to many contemporary novels and especially 'western' novels. Some people criticised Achebe for writing in English but I'm in the camp that thinks this was a far-reaching move and achievement for both literature and cultural thinking.

 

Comparatively then, how did I view Things Fall Apart and We Need New Names?

 

Things Fall Apart was first published in 1958 and is set in Nigeria just before colonial times (probably late nineteenth century), around the time that the first European missionaries moved in. We Need New Names was published in 2013 and is set in Zimbabwe and the USA post-2005. Both novels are written in English and their authors are both African by birth.

About halfway through Things Fall Apart, Ekwefi (one of Okonkwo’s wives) tells a story about a tortoise and the birds who have a feast in the sky. I think that NoViolet Bulawayo has borrowed from this little story and weaved it into We Need New Names. There are other scenes, images and thoughts in Things Fall Apart that make the two novels interesting for parallel reading most notably in how different groups of people (towns, tribes, nations, religions, races) respond to other cultures and about tolerating (or not!) their vastly different ways of life.

What both novels do well is to lay out the beautiful and the ugly nitty gritties that underpin the rules and regulations and daily functioning of specific communities and cultures. In Things Fall Apart, Okonkwo is not the most sympathetic character and there are many views and actions that may grate on your personal worldview. And that’s the point. Covering a century of time, reading these two novels together is a wonderful experience. In some ways, it's a tragedy that  hundreds of years later, there are still so many overlaps.

A little heads up especially for younger readers: Susan Cooper’s Ghost Hawk is set in the USA and has many parallels with Things Fall Apart too. Adults who have an inclination towards comparative reading and discussion might want to check that out too.

 

Classics Club verdict

 

Things Fall Apart is also on our Classics Club challenge list. Little M and I have been drawing our own conclusions about what we think a 'literary' classic is. Of course, Things Fall Apart has its feet firmly planted in the African canon and has made tracks in European and American canons too. Our own 'canon' is more about whether we enjoyed some aspect of it enough to recommend it to readers from another generation. Things Fall Apart ticks the box for me.

 

My copy’s publication details: 1987, Heinemann African Writers Series, London, paperback