Ruth Ozeki – “A Tale for the Time Being”

(27 April 2013)

I read this as my second readalong with Matthew, where he listened to the audio book and I caught up each evening with the paper book. In fact, because of some mild animal peril and slightly challenging themes, he did get further ahead of me than that and checked it was OK for me to read. It’s a good way to read a book, although it was a slower read than Capital, the first book we read in this way.

Ruth lives with Oliver and their cat on a remote Canadian island. When a bag containing a diary written by Japanese schoolgirl, Nao, washes up on the beach, an entire community gets involved as different expertises and knowledge sets are needed to interpret the barnacles growing on the bag or the languages used in the texts within it. Is this the first detritus from the Japanese earthquake/tsunami starting to appear via the ocean currents? Were Nao and her family caught up in those events?

Ruth feels a connection with Nao, and reads her diary to Oliver every evening (a nice echo of our reading process for this book). She tries to research the family and abandons her own writing, while Oliver tries to plant trees that the authorities say he’s no longer allowed to plant as part of an ecological artwork, and studies a new kind of crow that has appeared seemingly from across the ocean, too. Alternative sections of Nao’s diary and Ruth’s narrative, along with letters from Nao’s uncle, forced to become a fighter pilot in the Japanese Air Force in WW2 cover the personal, the philosophical and the historical, with forays into alternative worlds theory and Buddhist practice as well as Japanese popular culture. It’s an emotionally touching read in which you also learn a lot (like with all of Ozeki’s novels), although in this case it sometimes feels a little like the knowledge is there because Ozeki learnt it and wants to include it, rather than because it adds to the narrative or the background.

I felt that the power of the ending was undermined rather by the metafiction and almost “cleverness” that prevailed in the latter sections of the book. This led to a slight but marked sense of disappointment – I would like the author to have resolved things in maybe a more natural way. But it’s still a powerful, affecting, curious and surprising read.

Warning: the book contains some quite powerful scenes of violent and violating bullying at school and in the air force, an unexpected concentration on 9/11 and the Falling Man which may upset people, and some animal peril although this is not gratuitous and if you flick to the back of the book you can work out what happens there.

Cathy Kelly – “Homecoming”

(22 November 2012)

Kelly is a favourite light author of mine, and very much the inheritor of the “Irish women’s fiction with humour and reality” mantle passed to her by Maeve Binchy and Marian Keyes. In this satsifying novel, a cross-section of people live or arrive in a Dublin square, from a spinster teacher with a much younger sister through a cafe manager with a heart of gold and a hidden sorrow, an elderly American woman mourning her husband and re-reading her mother’s recipe book, to a minor celebrity who’s committed an indiscretion and needs to hide at her aunt’s house for a while. They are all healed by love, patience, sensible advice and the odd scrap of romance. Satisfying, funny, heat-warming – an easy read but well written and expertly crafted: happy endings don’t always come and when they do they have to be earnt, and it’s a great read for the exercise bike or the wallowy bath. Sometimes you can’t get better than that.

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I’m currently reading an excellent biography of the diarist and recorder-of-matters-Bloomsbury, Frances Partridge, and a slightly indigestible PhD printed directly as a book on Iris Murdoch. What are you reading at the moment?

This month it was the turn of Lynn Shepherd, who has written three books which take a known work of literature (or, in the case of her latest book, a literary group) and twist it to introduce an element of mystery. Now, I’m not one for the crime or horror, but I was persuaded to go along, told which of the books I might like, and duly met up with friends and wandered across town to the Jewellery Quarter (it’s not that far, actually; I think it’s the barrier of the ring road, which isn’t much of a barrier as you just step across a crossing … but it’s a bit like Coventry: you know it’s there but you don’t venture there from Birmingham very often).

I’m very glad I went. Getting there early, we had the opportunity to have a nice chat with Lynn beforehand. During this chat and her presentation, it became clear that she takes her research very seriously. She loves and knows the books she works with, and she obviously takes great pains to get things right, amassing, for example, a huge body of knowledge about the Shelley family along the way. While raising the spectre of Georgette Heyer isn’t always greeted with gladness and glee, I think the same applies to Shepherd as does to Heyer – their attention to detail and concern with getting it right lifts them above similar novels in the genre, be that reworkings of classic novels or Regency romances.

Lynn is an inveterate story-teller, engaging us with her tales of her work, research and the Shelley family. Time passed quickly, and all too soon it was time for her to go back to Oxford. I was impressed enough to buy a copy of the book (to be read in August, I’ve decided, after re-reading Mansfield Park in July. You don’t have to have read the original to enjoy the new books, but it will add another layer, I’m sure, so it’s worth doing). As Lynn combines her writing career with a copywriting career (I drew some parallels between writing to order in that side of her job and writing about people she might not actively like in her creative work), I’m hoping to feature her in my Small Business Chat series on the Libro blog at some stage.

The Drop Forge is a good venue for such events. It’s quiet on a Thursday evening and as well as the usual pub layout has one long table with seats around it, and The Snug, where we were, which has a long table and comfy chairs and would suit other such get togethers.  There is music, but it’s not too loud and doesn’t disrupt the author’s talk. They do tea and coffee as well as the usual pub drinks, and food which looks good, if not really suitable for people trying to eat low fat, etc. (I’m not sure of the gluten-free offering but it’s worth checking).

All in all, a good evening in convivial company, which ended up with a show-and-tell of cat pictures on our phones and a pleasant walk with friends back across town. And you can’t really help buying a book when the author’s there to sign it (and has warned you off her more gory volume, having heard about your aversion to ickiness!)

If you want to read a book that’s only published in e-book form for Kindle (like my cholesterol book or my self-employment book – sorry, had to get some plugs in!), did you know that you don’t need to own a physical Kindle to read it?

Amazon offer free downloadable software so that you can read Kindle e-books without a Kindle – on a PC, Mac or various types of phone and tablet.

If you do have a Kindle, your phone, tablet or computer version of the software will automatically sync with it to record where you’ve got up to in a book. Magic!

They have a page about it here. This is not an ad for Amazon, more an attempt to reassure people that they can still read my books!

In my defence: I will buy anything by Hunter Davies, including the one on football. I have read and loved him since he used to write for Punch (and the Guardian?) way back when. And I do like a sports bio … and a running book ..l and a book about the Olympics, so the Seb Coe one fulfils all of those (I know he’s a Tory, too. I do read a few books by Tories. Haven’t converted me yet!).

I am a bit worried about the amount of book buying that I’ve been doing recently, and I thought having to “confess” on this blog would make me pause … nope. I did get rid of 10 books, straight out of the house, this morning, as I read a horribly distressing thing I don’t want to go into in a volume of autobiography of a chap I’ve been collecting for years, and had to get rid of all of his books to the charity shop (let’s not discuss that anymore though, please, even though I’m usually begging for comments on my posts).

Anyway, the horrific conversation wasn’t about the horrid book. No: the horrific conversation went like this:

Both shop assistants: Who’s Seb Coe, then? Never heard of him.

Me: What???? He like RAN THE OLYMPICS. And ran IN the Olympics in the 80s. He was one of our greatest middle-distance runners. I know I’m ancient, but surely … ??? He was all over the Olympic coverage. He brought them here and he organised them. Y’know … last year? Olympics?

Boy shop assistant: I’m not really into the Olympics and that sort of thing.

Girl shop assistant: He’s got really nice hair, anyway.

I can’t really add anything to that, can I. Oh well.

Jane Smiley – “Mystery Horse”

(29 September 2012)

This is the third in Smiley’s series featuring young Abby and the horses on her father’s farm. They’re interesting, because they’re as much about her friendships and family as they are about the horses, and they’ve also got a religious angle, in that her family belong to a very small church and at the moment she goes there too (I don’t know if this will change in subsequent volumes). They are quite big and satisfying books, with the plot moving along nicely in each one, and enough reference made to previous events that you can feel happy to be reading a series, but they do stand alone, too.

In this instalment, Abby “buys” a beautiful grey horse whose mysterious owner has died suddenly. It’s nothing to do with the horse, but he’s left abandoned, with no one to pay his boarding fees and no one to claim ownership. So, Abby takes him on and is just starting to learn how he ticks when disaster strikes and she’s unable to ride. As if this isn’t enough, an incident at Church threatens to decimate the congregation, and Abby feels like she’s being blamed, and then some ghostly happenings start up, triggered or increased by the appearance of a small (and exquisitely described) kitten at the house.

I’m not sure that the ghost bits worked that well. There was a twist, as you’d expect, but it didn’t really explain things at all, either in terms of explaining them away or in terms of what it’s all about if there is a ghost. That was the least satisfying bit of the book for me (but then I don’t like ghost stories much) although it was well woven in to the plot, with Abby’s friends sharing their own tales. But apart from that, it’s a good read, and I was pleased to see that books four and five will be along shortly. I wonder if pony books are as compelling to write as they are to read!

Oh – and don’t worry – nothing bad happens to the kitten! I always want to know that kind of detail …

Barbara Pym – “A Glass of Blessings”

(Bought 1990s – date not written in!)

I have to say straight off that this isn’t my favourite Pym novel. Sorry! I like the ones featuring anthropology and librarians, or mad offices, or both, best – so I enjoyed last month’s read, “Less Than Angels“, which some other people in the LibraryThing group that’s reading all of Pym this year weren’t so keen on. For this one, we’re almost in Elizabeth Taylor territory, with the heroine, Wilmet, one of those ladies who doesn’t really have quite enough to do, living with her husband and his mother in comfort, with old friends and the time to indulge in the odd crush and light flirtation. She’s a vulnerable and rounded character, but not a very identifiable-with one, and normally this doesn’t really bother me, but it leaves a sort of space in the heart of the novel.

There are many of the usual Pym accoutrements, of course: female friendships, tolerated pink husbands, churches and church houses, timid mousy ladies and overbearing mothers. There are also satisfying references to previous books scattered liberally throughout the story, and in fact one character in particular rather intrudes (I won’t say more than that for fear of adding a spoiler). I didn’t have many postits out in the garden with me where I read much of this book, and had to split them into smaller and smaller shreds as I noted references to Rocky Napier from “Excellent Women”, Archdeacon Hoccleve from “Some Tame Gazelle, Julian and Winifred Malory from “Excellent Women” and Prudence from “Jane and Prudence”, and there’s a reference to one of Catherine from “Less Than Angels”‘ stories, and speculation as to her character, as well as others whose postits surely fell out in transit. In fact, this seemed to be my favourite bit of the book, although there were some delightfully waspish and eccentric chaps associated with the church who raised a chuckle or two, and Wilmet’s “disappointment” (hardly enough to be an “unpleasantness” is subtly and well done.

In the end, nothing really happens, there are a few plot resolutions and Wilmet and Rodney will perhaps find themselves in a rather new situation. Maybe they’ll find themselves living next door to some anthropologists in a future book. Just because this isn’t my favourite Pym novel doesn’t mean it’s not a good novel – it’s wry, clever, witty, perceptive and atmospheric, of course.

A new acquisition

So, when someone connected with a new imprint that’s reviving out of print novels and offering them in print-on-demand and electronic versions contacts you because they’ve seen you discussing a particular author, and they offer you a choice of novels to have sent to you, and you choose the one that you don’t yet have and haven’t in fact read, but have promised to a group to read later in the year, that doesn’t “count”, right?

So in that case, this nice print-on-demand copy of Barbara Pym’s “Quartet in Autumn” doesn’t count in terms of books in and is perfectly acceptable. Well, whatever, it’s got a nice understated but well-designed cover and it looks OK to read inside and it was very kind of Pan Macmillan to send it to me – thank you. Although it doesn’t come up in the reading schedule until later in the year, I may well try to squeeze it in before the Barbara Pym Conference in July, so watch this space for a review.

And here’s some information from inside the book about the Bello concept. You can find out more from their website.

Andrew Marr – “The Diamond Queen”

(13 September 2012)

Very much NOT “The book of the TV series”, as Marr states in the introduction, this is much more, and different, concentrating more on background, history, precedent and administration than last summer’s telly offering, which featured more of Princess Beatrice in the Queen’s life-size dolls’ house, etc. As reading a book is supposed to be more satisfying than watching a few hours of TV (isn’t it?), this was how it should be, and the book was fascinating.

There is lots of detail about the monarchy in the 20th century and, indeed, its relatives around Europe. This gives an excellent background to both the rituals of the current monarchy and the way the Queen reacts and behaves. It is a little bit hagiographical – but Marr is careful to point out that he observed the Queen closely during her public engagements and could not fail to be impressed. I am by no means a Royalist, but I did find the descriptions of her commitment to her role, shyness at public speaking and care for her people quite moving. I also liked the odd sign of cheek and liveliness most amusing: apparently the Queen and Prince Philip go driving around London in a nondescript car from time to time, still.

I read this at the same time as a friend reading it on Kindle, and I think it would have been a shame to read it without the pictures: it’s fairly lavishly illustrated with well- and lesser-known photographs and a set of pictures of the official portraits (including one featuring a corgi which bears a striking resemblance to one of our cats).  It’s written with care, in that Marr style with which we’re familiar from both his TV series and his other books: slightly dry and wry and more conversational than one might expect. All of the family scandals are brought out and examined (which does undermine the chronological structure of the book at times) and he’s obviously not a huge fan of some of those associated with the Royal Family. I found the discussions of the various Prime Ministers and what they said about their weekly audiences with the Queen, and the clarification on how exactly Blair overstepped the mark when talking about these in his own autobiography, the most interesting part of what was a wholly interesting and satisfying read.

Robin Harvie – “Why We Run: A Story of Obsession”

(13 September 2012)

Second in a bunch of books bought at the Book People shop on the local High Street – and I don’t think I’d even been to the dentist on that occasion. This is a dangerous book to read if you’re contemplating extending your half marathon training to see how far you can run (building up gradually) and then considering a marathon. Or a good book. I’m not sure.

Harvie had done a few marathons when he decided to join the rather alarming world of Ultra running – running distances longer than the 26.2 mile classic marathon. He sets his sights on the Spartathlon, oddly enough taking place in Greece, but does a lot of interesting races in between, decides fell running is a bit too scary, trains maybe a little too hard and obsessively, worries his wife and worries himself that he’s running away from issues in the family. All of this is set amongst a useful if slightly too well-known to someone who’s read a few long-distance running book) potted history of the marathon and beyond, references to other great books on the topic from Haruki Murakami (“What I Talk About When I Talk About Running“) and Richard Askwith (“Feet in the Clouds”) among others, and some amazing, visceral descriptions of his own long training runs or race attempts.

There was no greater end than that which this journey was satisfying, although there were plenty of other things I could have spent the last twelve months doing that would have been infinitely more pleasurable. (p. 257)

These passages are the stars of the book and really get into the nitty-gritty of what it feels like to be a distance runner. They inspire empathy, wincing and the desire to emulate his trials and achievements – after all, pretty well anybody can train for a marathon and there’s a joy in pushing yourself past your limits (he makes an interesting point about it being fair enough to praise the person who only ever runs one marathon because that is the pinnacle of their physical achievement, but if someone does more than one, they can probably do a bit more – do other runners agree with this?). His descriptions of attempting the Spartathlon are uncomfortable but unforgettable reading. Did he make it to the end? You’ll have to read the book to find out!

Oh – and there’s a quotation from Iris Murdoch on page 202, about attention teaching us how to observe things without greedily appropriating them for ourselves”, although this is tantalisingly not referenced. But one for my friend, Pamela, who likes to collect references to IM in what we read!

As I’ve said before, Eveleigh’s books are very much of the old school of pony book. No talking horses or fairy dust; any magic is conveyed through the joy of the relationship between horse and rider, and familiar themes like  moving to the country and hoping to get some riding in are subtly updated (here, Joe is convincingly thrown into despair by the lack of an internet connection) and also slightly subverted (in this book, it’s Mum who’s most excited at the possibility of an equine purchase or two). As Eveleigh herself did, and explains in a nice note at the back of the book, I grew up reading classic pony books that featured girl and boy main characters – My Friend Flicka and the Black Stallion books being just two, and as Joe opines in the book, where do all the male jockeys, eventers and police riders come from if no boys ride? I’m not sure that this question is answered in this book, as the pony world is a fairly female one, although we have a nice male role model in the person of Chris, the farrier.

In fact, the role models are nicely done, with an older, Romany woman providing pony lore and quiet support as well as Chris and some other characters. There’s a good amount of information on various horse stuff which flows naturally out of the story rather than being bolted on, including some interesting up to date thinking on “barefoot horses”. There’s also a purposeful blindness to colour which extends across horses and people (and provided a twinge of recognition as the phrase “A good horse is never a bad colour” which was borne out by the mention in the afterword of Mark Rashid, whose book of that name I read and reviewed recently).

As with her other books, Eveleigh writes excellent young people as well as convincing horses and riders. Joe’s worries over having to “make” friends as opposed to growing up with them is treated well, and his assumptions are undermined. The use of his hobby of Aikido is inspired, as it allows some gentle lesson learning and introduces another gentle and positive male role model in the shape of the Aikido sensei in the local town. The relationship between Joe and his younger sister is also very well drawn and rounded, with all the ins and outs of sibling rivalry and protection, and some interesting plot developments.

There’s a lot to like in this book, and I’m very much looking forward to the sequels to this story. This book could be enjoyed by boys and girls. I was a little unsure about the mix of “YA” style typeface and “gentler” looking boy on the cover, but I think this makes it appeal to all sorts of readers (and it’s nice that the horses match the horses in the book, which doesn’t always happen). Oh, yes, and adults, too!

If you want to know more about the author, she has a lovely website, and there’s an interview that she did with me about her writing on my other blog, too.

A couple of other acquisitions before I go. We were in the supermarket the other day when I saw these two. And then the “kitty” owed me a tenner over the purchase of some cheese over the internet (don’t ask … in fact do ask, and watch this space for a post about cheese coming soon!) and so a newspaper and two books had me all paid back and neat and tidy. And they don’t count, right … because I have read all of Marian Keyes’ books and I have been wanting to pick up Clare Balding’s autobiography for ages …

Flour … almond flavouring … coconut … sugar … spices. Whoo hoo!

I had a lovely chat with the stall holder, Joan. I explained why the cake was good for me, and asked her how she invented it. Oh, it’s been around for years, coffee morning after Church, that sort of thing, and she decided to make some to sell. There were little bits to try, and even though I’m not the biggest coconut fan in the world, cake with coconut in that I can eat is miles better than cake I can’t eat. Joan’s keen on feedback and we talked about other flavours and ingredients she could try – cherries, spices, and I truthfully said that if she made a Jamaican ginger cake flavour version I’d buy the whole thing. I also suggested a) doing whole cakes to sell and b) including “no fat” on her little sign.

I also told Joan I’d tell my blog readers about her cakes. She’s at the Kings Heath and MAC Farmers’ Markets every month; she hasn’t got a website yet but you can email her. I’ll add the website on here when it’s up and running.

Do you have a flavour you’d like to see? Would you buy a whole cake from the stall or via mail order? Pop a comment below and I’ll make sure Joan hears about it. Hooray for our vegan friends and the added benefits for those of us who eat fat-free!

This is one of a series of posts about places to eat and food suppliers who are useful for my cholesterol beating diet (set out in my book). Read more by using the High Cholesterol category or sign up to receive email alerts on the blog (see the right-hand sidebar for links)

I’m currently reading Andrew Marr’s “Diamond Queen”, which is much more than the book of the TV series that was shown last year to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee (not a shred of bunting on the front cover, although it is mentioned inside and features in some of the pictures. This is absolutely fascinating, so well done, with Marr’s characteristic turns of phrase throughout, and so many details of monarchy and administration which are really very interesting indeed. I’m up to the early 1970s at the moment, so we’re nearly up to the bit where I thought the Queen was named after me (I was five in 1977 …)

My paperback/gym read is the all-too-enticing “Why We Run” by Robin Harvie. He’s a man who decided to become an ultra runner. I’m a woman who has decided to train solidly for the next half marathon then see how far I can get myself running to see if I can go in for a marathon. He’s a fair bit younger than me – but ultra runners aren’t in general that young, because you get more bloody-minded and tough the older you get. We’ll see what this inspires me to do, shall we …

Coming up I have three project related books. First is Ruth Ozeki’s new one, “A Tale for the Time Being”, to read with Matthew. We’ve enjoyed both of her previous books so this one was a no-brainer when he found it on Audible. I wonder if anyone else fancies joining in.I’ll be reading this along with Matthew’s progress in the audio book, so I’ll have something else on the go at the same time, I’d imagine. It’s really interesting reading books at a slower pace, and I very much enjoyed our last project, Capital, so this looks like it will be an enjoyable experience, too. Why not join in!

I have to wait for Matthew to finish his current audio book before we launch into that one, so in the meantime I then have the May-June Hardy and the May Pym. Both of these are re-reads, and I’m looking forward to both of them. I’m particularly pleased that I have the Hardy in the Wessex edition, as it saves me having to read it on Kindle and not know where I am – isn’t this a lovely book, outside and inside, probably bought in Hall’s Bookshop in Tunbridge Wells when my friend worked there and gave me a discount and I collected many of the “pretty” books I have on my special bookshelves (either side of the bathroom door on the landing …)

Once I’ve got those done, this is the first section of the TBR – mainly blue books, as you’ll see – I have no idea why, as they’re all on different topics, fiction and non-fiction, published at different times! There is quite a lot of non-fiction and autobiography on there and some interesting and fun reads.

Anyway, here are my last two reads of April. Watch out for my May State of the TBR (not too bad, actually, thank you) and Upcoming Reads post which will be coming soon – I’ve got a lot of reading projects to get through next month so hopefully won’t acquire toooo many more …

“Letters of an Indian Judge to an English Gentlewoman”

(09 September 2012 – from Bridget)

The last of my books from Bridget, and this was rather an intriguing one. It’s a set of charming letters – one half of a correspondence – purporting to have been written over the lifetime of an Indian civil servant as he rises through the ranks to become a judge, taking in the sweep of Indian and Burmese history, first published in 1934 so presumably the sweep of history is up until the early 1930s. We get history and social change but seen through the lens of this one side of a rather touching set of letters between this judge and a lady who was once kind to him at a party, including the growing connection between their families. There’s an odd little note in the front of the second edition, the one I have, saying that this is non-fiction and published as such, but that there has been a furore over the book with it being attributed to an author called Dorothy Black. Now, I haven’t had time to look into this, but it does seem a little staged – there are so many coincidences, the writer’s son being employed by one of his own early employers, the connection between the oldest sons of the two families … It doesn’t spoil what is a very nice – if oddly symmetrical – book, which is rather moving in parts around the situation of women and the high infant mortality (although here there seems an odd mix between Hindu and Muslim practices which surely wouldn’t have happened). So, a good read, and a conundrum.

Maybe one of my readers has read this and knows more – do share in the comments if you do!

Consuelo Vanderbilt Balsan – “The Glitter and the Gold”

(13 September 2012 – The Works)

Real memoirs this time from the pen of the erstwhile Duchess of Marlborough, shipped over to England from America and married off to a Duke, bravely dissolving their unsuitable marriage and going through rather a lot to end up marrying the love of her life. But it’s more than an emotional journey: it’s a portrait of the British aristocracy in a time of immense change between the First and Second World Wars, with Consuelo trying to conform to the stuffy rules, not knowing anything else but blind obedience, then breaking out of her shell as societal changes allow her to, taking up really useful (rather than dabbly and silly) charity work to help the wives of prisoners and unmarried mothers, agitating for women’s rights and giving over her London property to meetings and social organisation. She writes well and clearly, and is affecting rather than affected. You get a good sense of what it was like to be thrown into this rather alien world, and her allies such as her cousin, Winston Churchill as well as royal and aristocratic figures of the day.

The book has a nice introduction by her granddaughter, explaining how distant the life of someone born in 1877 is from her own, and lots of good pictures, but it breaks off rather suddenly in 1940, which is a real shame. There’s a palpable love for France that shines through, and a complicated life and background is made clear and enjoyable to read about – interesting and informative indeed.

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That’s April done – not too shoddy at all on the reading volume front, and I’m part way through two very interesting (and different) books that I’ll tell you about soon. What was your favourite April read? What’s coming up for you?