We Come Apart – Sarah Crossan and Brian Conaghan

I loved this novel from beginning to end and thought it was one of the best books I’d read for a while. So, I waited for a few weeks before I wrote this review, just in case that feeling wore off. It didn’t. Jointly authored by Sarah Crossan and Brian Conaghan, We Come Apart is a clever little book, combining voice and verse beautifully.

We Come Apart is the story of a London mascara-stealing girl and a Roma gypsy-boy immigrant who unexpectedly find themselves on the same community service programme. Through their contrasting perspectives and homelives, the novel deftly explores racism, nationalism, criminality, friendships and belonging.

The two distinct voices of Nicu and Jess are captured perfectly by the pairing of Crossan and Conaghan’s very different styles. You are in no doubt which character is speaking. Nicu’s voice takes a little getting used to but it’s possibly my highlight of the novel.

Perfect for fans of The Weight of Water, One and Stephen Kelman’s Pigeon English.

It’s out in hardback in Feb 2017. If you’re not a hardback buyer, jot this one down for its paperback release. You’ll not forget about it because it’ll be turning up in all the award listings, I’m sure.

Publication details: 9 February 2017, Bloomsbury, London, hardback

This copy: uncorrected proof received from the publisher for review

The Stars at Oktober Bend - Glenda Millard

The Stars at Oktober Bend - Glenda Millard

there are no capital letters on the first page of the stars at oktober bend. nor, indeed, on many pages of the novel. my auto-correct does not approve but my heart jumped a little. my eye, at first, couldn’t decide whether to side with my heart or the auto-correct. soon enough, my eye was swimming along very happily with my heart.

the stars at oktober bend - Glenda Millard

I love a novel that has an unusual voice.  I also like dual narrators whose voices are clearly distinct and interesting. The Stars at Oktober Bend delivers on both counts for me and I love it just a little bit for that. I love it a little more for telling and interweaving at least two uncomfortable tales about damaged bodies and injured souls.

The main story, and indeed the narration that carries the novel, is Alice’s story. At age twelve, Alice is attacked and left with a brain injury that affects her ability to speak clearly. It probably does a few other things too because she is given “mediocre-making” pills and is considered a forever-twelve-year-old. This plays around in her head when she is fifteen and it is at this point when we pick up her story. Alice also makes fishing lures and writes little poems that nobody reads: I loved the way Alice’s narration keeps unexpectedly moving into poetry. From here, Alice’s story and her “fishbone stiches” starts to unravel and spill out. And this is where the second narrator comes in.

Manny’s voice is more upright and less enchanting than Alice Nightingale’s wounded lyricism, but as you learn more about him, it really starts to fit.  Manny is a child refugee from Sierra Leone who now lives with a couple who have taken him under their wing, offering him a safe space. But finding a safe space is difficult when he is grieving deeply but also seeking redemption.

While there is a lot going on with the narration, there is also a suspenseful plot moving things along, particularly in the closing chapters.

Issues raised in the novel include having your voice heard (and accepted, tolerated, understood), rape, child soldiers and retribution. Despite these difficult topics, the novel’s lyricism adds an enchantment and the humour in Alice’s thoughts adds moment of light relief, making it suitable for some younger readers too.

I am so pleased to have found this novel. It might well prove to be my little gem on this year’s Carnegie nominations list: lyrical, alluring and quietly heartbreaking.

The Stars at Oktober Bend is the first novel published by independent publisher, Old Barn Books.

****

Publication details: Old Barn Books, 2016, UK, paperback

This copy: review copy from the publisher

Poetic writers & Feminism at Ilkley Literature Festival

I love literary events and I especially love literature festivals. There's usually the chance to hear one of our favourite authors speaking (and to get them to sign your books!). There's also the chance to find out about something new, to learn something unexpected and maybe even discover something that you didn't know you'd enjoy. Sometimes, you even get entertained. And, of course, you get to chat (which I always like!). I think Little M likes the cake too but my eye is usually wandering in many other places.

We went to so many events at this year's Ilkley Literature Festival, probably more than usual. I'm making up for lost time. Here are some of our highlights.

I don't read that much poetry. At school we had to learn it word-for-word and make copious line notes. At uni, well, in many ways that was worse. But, I like the odd poems and I do own anthologies and there have been many nights where reading poetry out loud is our dinner table entertainment. And, some of my favourite events at literature festivals are poetry inspired ones (a late and recent realisation!).

The books we bought

Kei Miller, a self-proclaimed middle-class Jamaican, read an extract from his novel Augustown. Kei Miller is a poet and you could hear it. I was on-the-spot sold. He also made an interesting comment about magic realism suggesting that from some people's perspective it is their realism, their belief, their experience, and that there is nothing fantastical or magical about it. Hmmm. I'll bear this in mind when I read  his novel. He was completely charming and his event was definitely one of my most entertaining of the festival.

Garth Greenwell is also a poet. But, I went to an event about this debut novel What Belongs to You. He was being interviewed by Andrew Motion, also a poet, and the festival's poet-in-residence. The chat, inspired by the novel and gay literature, explored topics of novels of consciousness, desire, disgust, bodies, shame, the ethics of seeing and of course (!), sex scenes in novels. Most thought-provoking and literature-exploring event that I attended. Oh yeah, and Little M's first encounter of being read an unflinching sex scene. Gosh, the difference a few years make.

Inua Ellams, another poet. He read a couple out loud. He chatted about being a black, male poet in a Western world. His response to what is the most interesting thing about women question was "clothes". I bought two of his books.

I bought the Selected Poems by Walter Swan, a late friend, whose Memorial Lecture was given by James Brining, creative director at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. I learned quite a bit from this lecture, especially about dementia-friendly theatre performances. And Walter's poetry brings a smile to my face.

Little M and I also went along to a couple of 'feminist' events.

Well, Jenni Murray, is so funny (among other things!). Thoroughly enjoyed her chat about A History of Britain in 21 Women. Yep, she started off talking about the engineers and ended by saying that although she'd like to think she would have been a nice-talking Suffragist she suspects she'd have been a stone-throwing Suffragette. Little M thinks an audio version would be heavenly.

And then Laura Bates's Girl Up talk. Nothing especially new in this - for me - but she definitely engages people brilliantly. A packed room full of inspired  (and inspiring!) girls (and even older women) attended was was less a book-reading than an hour long campaign.  Guess that's the way to get the wheels on revolutions and book sales turning. Nice one, Laura.

Between Little M, Daddy Cool and me, we also attended events about Star Trek, peace activists, politics, war, and work-in-progress dramas.


This year, Little M was a volunteer steward. At one point, she asked me why I wasn't doing it. I laughed: good question. I'd probably love it but I'd just never thought about it. Next year then, maybe.

The Weight of Water - M's review

The Weight of Water by Sarah Crossan

 

The Weight of Water has been nominated for the 2013 Carnegie medal. It is a quick and enchanting read, and I really can’t recommend it highly enough. I read it a few weeks back, made some notes and now....I actually can't fault it. Amazing.

The Weight of Water tells a contemporary tale about twelve year old Kasienka. She travels with her mother from Poland to England. They are in search of her father and have little money. The unwinding story is a familiar bildungsroman of a twelve year old immigrant who is the new girl in school trying to understand and form her own identity. Within this story, the main plot with its heavy themes of bullying, loss and immigration are lightly buoyed  by the sweet-and-scary joys of pursuing  interests, love and the prospects of newfound  happiness.

What makes this story truly beautiful though, is the way it is told. The Weight of Water consists of a set of poems. Its form takes a poetic shape but uses narrative prose to great effect. At first, I was alarmed when I saw the unfamiliar shape of poetry lines in the pages of this novel rather than the familiar chunks of paragraphs. But, the writing has a beguiling rhythm which adds a simple but beautiful flow to what is an easy story to follow. It is an engrossing story that you’ll read easily in a single sitting. Or in little bits if that’s what you prefer.

The Weight of Water by Sarah Crossan

Here are some of my further thoughts about the book in relation to the Carnegie shadowing criteria that we're using:

My first impression of Kasienka was that she was a good girl who felt loved and loved her family – although she felt terrible that her dad had left them. She seemed like a pleasant child who tried hard and was content. The descriptions of Kasienka’s thoughts, looks, behaviour are all very plausible and aspects of them are likely to be familiar to most people, especially twelve year old but nearly thirteen year olds girls.

Many of the main characters change as the novel progresses. While the plot is important and strong, the main focus is on how the main characters in this novel, Kasienka and her mother, adapt to their changing environment and relationships in England.

Kasienka has important relationships with a number of adults and students at school. Some of these relationships are positive and supportive, others are more negative. Many of these relationships change.

Despite the poetry, the language (vocabulary and syntax) is straightforward. The story dives straight in with Kasienka and her mother leaving Poland with just an old suitcase and a laundry bag. From the first page, you know already that this change in their life is not going to be easy.

The Weight of Water is told from Kasienka’s point of view. There is very little dialogue with other characters but there is a lot of internal dialogue. There is also a lot of description which helps to fill in the details of the story and to create an atmosphere of passing time and change. However, Crossan does not linger on irrelevant detail and the story moves swiftly, flitting past that which is not integral to the main developments of the character and plot.

The main plot about Kasienka and her mother's move to England in search of her father is well-supported and enhanced by the interweaved sub-plots. For me, it is the sub-plot around developing personal identity which are the highlight of this story.

 

This book definitely stays with you after you have finished it. You know where you finish the last page and just sit staring......and wondering what happens next in the characters' lives? And then wish you could quickly find someone else who has read it so you can talk about it with them? Yes, it was like that for me.

This book would probably fit into a contemporary genre because it is set in current times and is realistic (but you might also find it on the poetry shelves).

I would recommend this novel to readers approximately 11+ and think that it could have a broad appeal to a variety of readers.

 

 

Publication details:

Bloomsbury, January 2012, London, hardback

 

This copy: received for Carnegie reviewing from the publisher

 

A Little, ALOUD for children - M's Review

A Little, ALOUD for Children edited by Angela MacMillan

A Little, ALOUD for Children is an anthology of poems and stories to read aloud. It is aimed at children but really it is suitable for all ages.  Some pieces may be too difficult for young or less confident readers to read themselves but all of the pieces can be listened to by everybody. Each piece gives an estimated reading time and some are as short as 6 minutes while others are quite a bit longer.

Quiet, calm relaxation, a few chuckles and a sleeping dog.  That was the effect of the stories being read aloud to an audience in our house. But then came the poems! That was a much noisier affair. Legs and arms clambering about the room and hands rushing to grasp the book to be the next reader. Who can resist Shakespeare’s Witches Chant from Macbeth or Edward Lear’s The Jumblies?

A Little, ALOUD for Children - Angela MacMillan (ed)

The thing we find about reading aloud in our house is that it creates a lot of laughter and chatter.  We’re probably supposed to be talking about the literary merits of the writing or something like that….but - if we ever do - that only ever comes second or third to laughing and having fun.

In our house, nothing seems to be funnier than mum stumbling over ‘cumulonimbus’  (unless it’s dad stumbling over the made up words in Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky). And there’s always a long intake of breath while everyone waits to see what the next person is going to choose to read out loud. Will you groan or clap?

The selection in this anthology is a themed mix of poems and extracts (mostly from novels) and includes some contemporary pieces (like David Almond’s Skellig) as well as older classics like Dickens’ Great Expectations. We preferred some over others. I’m not a big fan of extracts because it frustrates me rather than tantalises me. But of course, not all readers will feel the same way as me.

We haven’t read the whole book but the absolute treasure so far in this anthology, for me, is Neil Gaiman’s Instructions: whatever you do, “Do not look back.” Little M has delightedly discovered Siobhan Dowd’s The London Eye Mystery and Frank Cottrell Boyce’s Cosmic.

The royalties from the sale of this book go to The Reader Organisation, a charity that works to connect people with great literature – and each other.

Here is an article on the Booktrust website on why reading aloud with children is so special.

Publication details:

David Fickling Books, June 2012, paperback

This copy: received for review from the publishers