A Ration Book Christmas by Jean Fullerton – Review

 

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People do love a bit of nostalgia porn, and A Ration Book Christmas, set during the first months of the Blitz, does not disappoint there. Though bombs fall, and bodies are pulled from the rubble of London's pummeled streets, the horrors of World War II are only ever touched upon here with the lightest of brush strokes. At the fore, instead, are the themes of familial and romantic love; the war a story telling device to demonstrate the importance of these bonds.

The men are away fighting, and the Brogan family – three generations of women, and a young boy – seek to navigate love, family life, and war on the home front. Bonds are strained, with misunderstanding and miscommunication providing much of the drama. And Jo, the youngest of the Brogan sisters, is suffering problems of the heart with her beau, Tommy Sweete.

Through Tommy Sweete and his brother, we explore further the theme of family bonds, frayed for the most part. A mother who could have done better; a brother with a reputation for villainy; and Tommy, who it seems is trying to be a good man in a mad, bad world.

Jean Fullerton obviously did her research, recreating day-to-day life of the 1940s with attention to the details. The songs on the radio, the food on people's plates, the jobs women did . . . all described to paint a picture of the time. And she paints the picture well, albeit perhaps with a slightly rosy-tinted focus on the quiet pluckiness and Keep-Calm-and-Carry-On attitude we Brits sold off some time in the seventies or eighties. Around about the same time we privatised our water companies.

We're mostly just a nation of miserable grumblers these days, tearing into eachother at the first opportunity over Brexit or COVID . . .

Sorry, where was I . . . ?

It's a little cosy in a Call the Midwife sort of way*. In a Sunday evening telly sort of way. And if you, dear reader, are looking for a razor sharp anti-war book, a visceral polemic against the insanity of nations sending people off to die in the mud, you won't find that here.

Bodies buried by bombs in rubble are mentioned in the same way as songs of the time. They are touched upon as a world building device, but not much else. There is no exploration of how the horrors impact the characters mentally or emotionally, except in passing; the danger of the Blitz is a plot device used to explore the family and romantic dramas playing out between the characters.

Now, dear reader, you might take all of this as criticism, but I don't mean it to, not really. There is value in stories told with a lighter touch, and nowhere is it written that every story set during the war years need be Catch-22 or All Quiet on the Western Front. I make these observations simply because they are a part of what I noticed as I read. And, it is likely, they say more about me than the book.

Reviewers can be a snobby and snotty lot. I mean, who do we think we are anyway? Self-appointed judges of taste and worth?!

The central theme of the book is love; love between family, friends, and lovers. Setting the story in London during World War II firmly demonstrates the importance of this central theme. With much of normal life changed by fighting, with necessities rationed, and luxuries almost non-existent, it is the bonds of friendship and family that gives hope.

Everybody makes do, takes joy in the little things, and has a plucky can-do attitude. Even the villains are more misunderstood or misguided rogues than they are true miscreants. The fascists and Nazis are quite firmly in the background, at enough of a comfortable distance for the reader to get cosy between the pages of the book.

There's a sense that, for all the drama, things will work out in the end, and everyone will live happily ever after. That everyone will get what they deserve.

Does the book romanticise the past? Um, no, I suppose not. But, yes, it does only cast glances over the abhorrence of war, choosing to focus on the quiet strength of people living their daily lives instead. And there is little sign the characters are effected in any way detrimental to their wellbeing by the destruction and death they see; their hearts and minds are mostly concerned with family and lovers, not emotional or mental wounds endured by wartime.

It's a charming book, well written and entertaining, and one that I might recommend to anyone who finds a little magic in stories told with a heavy dollop of nostalgia. For it is the period during which this story is set that really lends it its charm.

If you would like to purchase A Ration Book Christmas, you can do so here, with bookshop.org supporting local independent bookshops around the UK.

*Full disclosure: I can quite happily settle down to an episode of Call the Midwife, and am not immune to the charms of a story that explores heavy issues with a bit of tea and cake thrown in for good measure.

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Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden -- review

 

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Memoirs of a Geisha is a fictional tale about the life of geisha Sayuri, a story that spans from her childhood in the 1920s, in the small poor fishing town of Yoroido, and through her experiences as a geisha into the 1950s.

Sayuri recounts the story of her earlier years from a New York apartment, in the latter part of the twentieth century, so we know that her circumstances change a great deal during the course of her story. But, as the reader follows her journey, it is unclear whether she has been brought where she has been by steps of her own choosing, or whether circumstances have simply swept her there.

As a child, Sayuri (named Chiyo in her youth, but renamed Sayuri when she becomes a geisha), sees her mother grow ill and then die. Her father, with no money and advanced in age, sells her and her sister, through a deal with a businessman that visits their town for work, to the entertainment district of Kyoto. Sayuri finds herself put to work in an okiya (a geisha boarding house), whilst her sister is sent to a brothel.

The first of many times Sayuri's circumstances are decided by deals done by businessmen. 

It is worth noting that this is a historical novel, set very much during that span of time in Japan's history, especially after the Second World War, when traditions would be upset by Westernisation and changing social attitudes. Just before traditional geisha training would begin to decline in practice.

Sayuri's story reflects these changes, and by the end of her story she is much more in charge of her life. Her horizons literally broaden, her story even moving from Japan to America, and her way of living begins to encompass and acknowledge something beyond what she has been taught and the duties she has been expected to perform.

The Chairman, a man who is kind to Sayuri and a key character in the novel, is a businessman who begins to recognise that duty and tradition must incorporate a changing world. A world of burgeoning globalisation, the necessity of taking a place on the world stage if an individual's business is to survive.

 Sayuri's world is one of duty and tradition drawn heavily from the past, and the Chairman's is one that will play a key part in the Westernisation of his country and its social attitudes.

The theme of impermanence is key to the novel. It begins with Sayuri's change of fortunes at the beginning of the novel -- and many other characters see their circumstances change profoundly throughout this book -- and also considers how the wider world evolves and fluctuates. Indeed, often how one affects the other; how changes in the world can impact upon the individual, and vice versa.

But now I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising in the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.

I think that Golden must have chosen to have the main character be a geisha for the reason that, at the time the novel is set, it was a role on the cusp of great changes. It was a role that demanded a great sense of duty and was weighted in traditions of the past but, especially in the post-war decades of the 1950s and beyond, it was a traditional role on the wane. 

That this story is told in the first person, seen through Sayuri's eyes, told in her voice, means that the story is a more intimate and poignant telling than it might have been in the third person, and able to explore wider social circumstances and how they affected people. And Sayuri is such a well drawn character that the reader simply falls into the story.

There is hope in this story too. Though much of the protagonist's story is decided by circumstance and the duties she is expected to perform, she does not float through the story without striking out, without trying to steer the course of her life in a direction with some happiness and hope. 

From the beginning, Sayuri's situation is decided by events beyond her control. However, she often seeks out a way to improve her situation, if even only ever so slightly. She attempts to run away, she finds a way to contact her sister, she forms relationships with those that become good friends and allies. Through her story, Sayuri holds on to hope. 

As much as this is a story about change, it is a story about hope. To see the impermanence of things is to see hope is never lost.

I enjoyed this novel very much, and think that Sayuri is a wonderfully conceived character. I enjoy reading novels that offer the reader another point of view, another little way of looking at the world. And for this white, English guy, born in the mid-eighties, a story told from the point of view of a Japanese geisha in the middle of the last century took me away to another time and place for a while. And the story is so excellently told, these characters so well drawn, that that little bit of travel through time and space wasn't at all jarring -- ultimately, regardless of where the story is set, or who populates that world, it is a story about humanity. A story about hope, fears, love, and just trying to be okay in a world that sometimes barely makes sense.

Within the pages of Memoirs . . . , the reader is immersed into a world of Japanese culture and tradition, where geisha in beautifully embroidered kimono -- silk dragons and water -- entertain businessmen in teahouses. Sometimes the atmosphere is debauched and drunken, sometimes it is more delicate and enchanting. Traditional Japanese dance and the sound of shamisen play throughout the pages. Gasps and moans of the erotic and the horrific are heard intertwined. There is exploitation and degradation, but there are friendships too. Sayuri finds friendship with other geisha and some of the men she entertains. But it is a story, ultimately, as most good stories are, about being human and finding a way.

Sayuri holds onto hope, even when all seems bleak. Mameha is a friend and an ally, careful and intelligent. Hatsumomo is a bully, perhaps because she too recognises the impermanence of things, and the delicacy of her position. Though her recognition of this leads her to fear and hate, rather than to a place of hope. 

They all navigate a changing world. Something, in struggles and in triumphs, many readers can recognise and understand, regardless of the setting of time and place.

To an extent, a person's character is shaped by the times in which they live. And also by the changes that take place during the course of that person's life.

The historical novel, the best of them, explores the human in the historical. The conflicts that take place between a person's inner world and the times they live; how those times mould who they are and what they become; and, the great changes that take place on the personal level and on a more broad and global scale. And so, with that as my definition, I might tell you, with some confidence, that this historical novel is one of the best.

Poignant, beautifully written, and told with empathy . . . A wonderful book!

I recommend that, if you haven't already, you spend some time in Sayuri's company and listen to her story.

You can order a copy of Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden here!

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The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells – review

 

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The War of the Worlds is the first modern alien invasion novel, and has been massively influential in the genre. And even this description is an understatement. 

As with the best science-fiction, the story makes use of the extraordinary events of the novel to explore themes familiar to the reader. Wells was very much interested in social reform and the political landscape of his time, a progressive, and admitted that his story of Martian invasion was, at least in part, a comment on British imperialism. On the self-entitled rape and pillage of foreign lands and people, with only self-interest fuelling the spread of the empire.

Throughout the novel, the narrator reflects upon how humanity might seem nothing more than insects or cattle to Martians with their superior intelligence, and their apparently being more developed on the evolutionary scale. The Martians conquer and take the land seemingly with that same entitlement and self-interest that readers might recognise in the actions of their own imperial nation.

But the novel comments not just on the social, but also on the scientific. As mentioned above, Wells also considers evolution and humanity's place on that slippery scale. As I say, the author compares human beings to other animals, such as rabbits and ants, when he stacks them up against the intelligence and physiology of the Martian invaders.

Again, in this, the author has been able to consider humanity's sense of entitlement in the way that it exploits life on Planet Earth. The narrator considering that his own experience of subjugation has changed the way he sees humanity's treatment of animal life. However, the fact that some of the more highly evolved animals can be affected by the smaller, less evolved creatures is also explored. From the extra-terrestrial armies, to the bacteria of our own world.

The main themes which run throughout the novel are scientific and social, turning a mirror on humanity and our place in the big wide scope of time and space. Asking questions about where we are, where we have been, and where we are going.

There are signs in the novel that Wells was not wholly optimistic about these questions. Some characters come to an end not in the instant death of a Martian heat ray, but under the feet of fellow human beings.

At the time of Wells' writing War of the Worlds, it really was thought possible life might exist on Mars. An idea dismissed as pure fiction today, but in the late nineteenth century, when the planet had only been observed through telescopes, the possibility seemed real, and exciting.

An Italian astronomer, Giovanni Schiapparelli, had observed channels on the surface of Mars in 1878. A geographical detail of the planet which gave rise to ideas about extra-terrestrial life creating canals or irrigation for the movement of water from the planet's poles. Again, an idea that might seem silly today, but space exploration was a thing of fantasy at the time, and what could be observed through telescopes was obviously limited. And so, the minds of nineteenth century earthlings were left to fill in the gaps for themselves. If nothing else, it proved wonderfully fertile ground for H. G. Wells and other science fiction writers of the time. And in turn, a great influence on all those writers of the genre that followed.

At the time Wells wrote The War of the Worlds, the invasion novel was very popular, however these novels depicted human beings invading the lands of other human beings. Pondering the questions of what if this nation invaded that nation? Or, what if war came to Dorking? That sort of thing.

Wells' genius was to write the invasion novel which pitted humanity against a far greater foe, to set his sights beyond this blue and green planet falling through space.

I think Wells had to have his invaders be creatures of superior intelligence and evolution. Something profoundly removed from earthbound cares and concerns. It is an excellent device for dismantling humanity's foibles and cruelties through the eyes of the ultimate outsiders. The novel even opens with the Martians observing humanity as though we were nothing more than specimens of life in a laboratory. No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. 

I don't think myself a particularly keen science fiction fan, but I do enjoy those authors who use the premise of their fantastic stories to turn their gaze on real issues. And, of course, the genre offers itself effortlessly to asking questions about where we might be heading. 

In turn, the science fiction of today can very well become the scientific truth of today. A number of scientists, whose work would lead eventually to the Apollo moon landings, said they were inspired by the descriptions of space travel in the novel.

Wells also predicted darker things, a state of total war in England, for example, in this novel, and later in others, which was considered fantastical when first published. However, when World War II brought destruction to British cities it became all too real. As did the descriptions of Martian weaponry, with their weapons of war including the use of chemicals, much like what would be seen in later, very real wars.

Today, with the Covid-19 pandemic and lockdowns still very fresh in the public consciousness, the reader might find themselves drawn by the author's consideration of bacterial life and the spread of disease. How life can be brought down by that which we cannot see but with microscopes. And that is probably why the novel has never been out of print and is one of the most influential science fiction stories ever written. It casts its eye upon the world in which it was created, the world of nineteenth century imperial England, but it persists. Still gazing at the world with a relevant comment on the progress of humanity and where we are heading.

For those that might be put off by the age of the novel (it was first published in 1898), I say to you that the novel still feels quite modern and fresh. Yes, there are some antiquated words or phrases, and references that the reader might have to refer to notes to understand, but it is quite readable to the modern reader. There are not so many dated references that the reader will be wading through them like mud. Perhaps because the story is extraordinary anyway, asking the reader to believe in aliens from Mars, it is easier for the reader to immerse themselves into a world separated from them by time too.

I very much recommend this book, to science fiction fans, to fans of classic fiction, and to anyone that likes a good story. And, if nothing else, if you've ever watched a film about aliens or alien invasion, it might be fun for you to see where it all began. Because I can almost guarantee this story has touched many of the space stories that followed it!

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I Am Legend by Richard Matheson – review

 

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Is I Am Legend a horror story? Science fiction? Both?

The protagonist, Robert Neville, is a solitary figure, the last man alive on Earth. But he is not entirely alone; he is tormented by what others have become. The classic monster of myth and horror stories – vampires. Human shaped but without humanity.

They come to his home at night, a home that he has turned into a fortress against them. They taunt and tease him in any way they can in their desire for his blood. The female vampires even exploiting his sexual frustrations and loneliness – playing out erotic displays on the lawn – to try and draw him out. 

By day, Robert can roam as far as he can during daylight hours. But, at coming night, he must return to shelter, or meet violent death. 

So then, a horror novel? One man against vampires thirsty for his blood?

There are moments of horror and suspense. As when Robert realises, out on errands during the day, that his watch has stopped and he has stayed out later than he ought. A race with monsters at his heels follows. However, this book is not as simple as all that.

In Matheson's book, the vampire is not a creature of myths and folklore, some gothic creation of the supernatural. It is the language of science that is used to explain the origins and traits of the vampire here. Bacteria and psychology, not evil and the unexplained. If certain of these phenomena did not fit in with the bacilli, he felt inclined to judge their cause as superstition.

 Matheson brought horror and sci-fi together here, producing something hybrid perhaps, or something else entirely.

With his main character apparently a sole human survivor of apocalyptic catastrophe, this novel is Matheson's deep exploration of loneliness and loss. Neville had not always been alone, his family lost to the contagion and to death. And this is not a story of his struggle against demons at his door, but the demons in himself.

It is the story of a lonely man trying to hold himself together, trying to find reason in a brutal world. Striving to stay human in more ways than one.

Sometimes, in the long and lonely evenings and nights, Robert has found relief in too much whisky. Letting a veil of inebriation soften the hard edges of the cruel world outside his door. And the reader is witness to the conscious efforts that this character makes to abstain. How easy, he considers, it might be to give in and slide into oblivion. 

But one form of oblivion can lead to another, a much more permanent oblivion, and our protagonist isn't ready for that yet.

As with the best horror and science fiction stories, this novel uses the fantastic as the framework for a very human story, and ask human questions. What is the point of carrying on in the face of the unimaginable? What else is lost when one loses human connection? And what can a person abandon, and what must they hold on to, before they lose their humanity?

It is the loneliness that is the real horror in this story. It exacerbates every other torture that Robert endures, and leads to self-torture too. Robert's isolation, depression, and desperate want for escape is the horror, not the vampires outside.

After the last page has turned and the book is closed, it is not the pathetic vampires which stayed in my mind, but the image of a solitary man doing what he can to stave off despair. Sometimes sadly over too many glasses of whisky. And sometimes throwing himself into studies of his enemies. Vacillating between despair and hope. 

This is a slow study of loneliness and depression looking for hope.

So, horror? Science-fiction? 

I Am Legend is a bit of both, but really it's neither.

What it has definitely become is influential. Published in 1954, it has been an influence on many post-apocalyptic stories that followed, with its tale of humanity wiped out by contagion and infected survivors becoming something monstrous. These sorts of stories are much more commonplace than they were before Matheson's novel, and many of them owe a debt to Legend.

George A. Romero and Stephen King, amongst others, have acknowledged Matheson and this novel as a major influence.

By the way, there is another monster in this novel. A monster that hides in plain sight, but which is not seen because of our point of view. A creature not of the world in which the novel is set. 

It is the presence of this monster, revealed in the final pages, which might really rock the reader. That might leave the reader considering just how much the world, and a way of life, can change.

To sum up, a novel that uses horror to get at what's human. To consider the fragility of life.

You can purchase a copy of I Am Legend by Richard Matheson here.

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Beauty Tips From Moose Jaw by Will Ferguson – review

 

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For the last couple of weeks I have been confined to bed with Covid-19. I haven't been anywhere, except in and out of sleep, coughing fits, and up and down in temperature. So, getting lost in Will Ferguson's travelogue, and "delving into Canada's history and landscape", offered some escape from my captivity. If only in my mind.

In Beauty Tips From Moosejaw, Ferguson details his criss-crossing journeys through Canada over the years, and describes the nation's landscape, its people, and past. And, in doing so, draws the reader closer to the essence of the country, its beating heart. 

Will Ferguson is a Canadian novelist and travel writer and, if you have read this blog before, you might remember that I reviewed another of his books, Hokkaido Highway Blues, here.

As with that other travelogue, the author imbues this work with something of the personal. However, the author's individual reflections and family history inform this book with less cynicism than Highway Blues. This time we find Ferguson a more positive man, with a wife and young children joining him on his travels. The reader here gets the sense that Ferguson found some reconnection with the land of his birth, and has found reasons to be optimistic since the journey detailed in that other book.

Near the beginning of Beauty Tips . . . , the author tells us of some of the ennui he felt for where he grew up – something many young people the world over will recognise. He even describes boredom with the Aurora borealis! But, towards the end, Ferguson is writing appreciatively about the country, waxing poetic, and how what and who went before informs the land today.

Just as Ferguson's book on his hitchhiking trip across Japan also details a journey of self-discovery, so too does this book. In one, the writer discovers that the journey had to be taken as a step towards leaving, in the other it is perhaps a step towards rediscovery and reclamation. 

I very much enjoyed the way this book moved seamlessly from past to present. Taking the reader to the earliest days of Canada's history, permeating the locales he describes with the lives that built and defined them, and back to the modern day. Tracing the delicate threads of a web.

The author describes history's reach through decades and centuries, and its ghostly presence in the here and now.

The author's use of these historical events is worked wonderfully into the book, and the reader's experience of the book is richer for its inclusion.

Reading Beauty Tips From Moose Jaw, the author's affection for his subject is clear. Introducing the reader to a country to which he is bound by history and the blood in his veins. Familial ties that stretch into the long past, a small part of the history he describes, and into the future through his children. He may mock it for its foibles or throw a light on its failures, as well as celebrate its beauty, but one feels that that is done with fondness too. A hope that it can be better.

Like any good piece of travel writing, this book inspires curiosity and wonder. If travel broadens the mind, so too does a good travel book. Yes, this is a book that inspires itchy feet in its reader!

You can purchase a copy of Beauty Tips From Moose Jaw here.

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My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite – review

 

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This is a novel that holds humour within its pages, but not much hope. Here, superficiality and violence rule.

Sisters Korede and Ayoola are quite different. The elder sister, Korede, is a nurse, organised and ambitious, and hoping to find love with Tade, a doctor at the hospital where she works. Ayoola is young and beautiful, a clothing designer with an impressive Instagram following, but no discernibly profound feelings. Not much beyond meeting her own needs and desires. Oh, and her boyfriends keep meeting violent ends.

Ayoola insists that the deaths her romantic partners suffer are the results of self defence and misfortune. But when the number of fatalities connected to her sister continues to grow it becomes more difficult for Korede to believe this. And then, there is Ayoola's lack of emotions . . .

With a character like Ayoola at its core, a character concerned mostly with violence and surface stuff, the novel can easily take on themes of abuse that happens between men and women – in both directions – and the social-media-material-world of today. And, appropriately, these themes are explored with a knife sharp wit.

Through Korede's eyes, we see the aftermath of her younger sister's bloody violence, and then we watch Ayoola coolly exploit her victims' deaths for likes on Instagram. A naughty little comment on performative compassion, and the gap that exists between people behind screens and what they display in their feed.

For a long time, women in crime novels and thrillers have too often been little more than the pretty victim. Throughout fiction, female characters haven't moved much beyond the role of 'damsel in distress' – frankly, it speaks to quite a lack of imagination in some writers!

So, a novel with two women at the centre, two sisters, with the men as supporting characters, is refreshing. It's something new and exciting. 

There are no damsels in distress here, but there are no heroes either. Yes, it's a novel without much hope, but it is a wickedly witty and fun read.

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Hokkaido Highway Blues: Hitchhiking Japan by Will Ferguson – review

 

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First published in 1998, this travelogue recounts the author's – Will Ferguson's – hitchhiking adventure from the south of Japan to it's most northern point, following the blooming cherry blossoms as spring washes across the country.

The arrival of the cherry blossoms is of great importance to the Japanese, a celebrated moment in the calendar. And Ferguson tells of how he announced to colleagues (he taught English in Japan), after a little too much saké, that he would hitchhike a journey, following the blossoms blooming across the country, to really celebrate their coming. To give the moment its proper due. 

Swept along by the ensuing enthusiasm of his colleagues and, as it turns out, probably a lack of satisfaction with his life, he commits himself to his expedition . . .

I am finding it hard to drum up the words for this book. It left me torn.

For a start, I think that I would've probably hated hitchhiking with the author on the trip he details. Readers might be grateful for only experiencing the trip via Ferguson's telling.

He falls in love with every woman with whom he has even the slightest of encounters, if they are pretty enough in his eyes. 

And his attitude towards the wildlife of Japan is to sit resolutely in his ignorance, to anthropomorphise, giving himself reason to justify fear and mockery. That's a bit of a personal bugbear, but from reading other of Ferguson's work, I know he is not incapable of study and understanding. That he is capable of balancing the humour with fact and reason. 

However, the reader should reflect upon the title of the book perhaps, before judging the author too harshly – Hokkaido Highway Blues. This book is not just the recounting of a trip across Japan, it is a man reflecting on his place in the world. Sometimes literally his place in the world. It is a realisation that some journeys need to be taken not because of where we are going, but because it is time to leave. 

The very notion of trying to follow spring, the arrival of cherry blossoms, hitchhiking across Japan to do so, speaks to that desperate desire to some have to keep ahold of what is passing. The lengths that people go to trying to hold onto things that are meant to be temporary. Can only ever be temporary.

When the author tells of finding himself in parts of Japan still touched by cold and brutal winter, it reflects his feelings of discontent.

It is notable that his journey ultimately ends not with sunshine and blossoms, but with a storm and the inability to travel any further.

This is a tricky read. Enjoyable because Ferguson is a talented writer, and capable of great insight, humour, and something poetic at times. But difficult because the writer is cynical and, as he is in the chapter of his life he details here at least, struggling with feelings of dissatisfaction. Once the reader realises this though, that deeper feelings might be the root of the surface sourness, perhaps they can forgive the writer some of his surly sarcasm, and consider his telling with some understanding.

My advice might be to consider that the author's outward attitude in this book – towards the landscape, the people, and the pursuit itself at the centre of this book – says much about where he was himself emotionally. That any discomfort you feel as he falls for another woman on the road or when he winds up in some cheap hotel, alone and drunk, is intended. Being human means sometimes being unlikeable as we deal with our shit. That the discomfort you feel, may be what the author felt as his hitchhiking became a journey of self-discovery. 

And self-discovery isn't always sweeping music, cinematic shots, and uplifting quotes – affirmation porn. Sometimes it's another shitty path you have to walk a while.

We need books to remind us of that too.

Do I recommend this book?

Yes, I do. Ferguson really is a talented writer, capable of wonderful insight. But he isn't always likeable here. But, if you stop and consider why that could be, you might find yourself returning to the pages with empathy and understanding.

You can purchase Hokkaido Highway Blues by Will Ferguson here.

Before you go, can I ask that you please consider buying a coffee for the writer of these blog posts here – the caffeine keeps the pages turning!

Thank you for reading!

Evil Under the Sun by Agatha Christie – review

 

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I suppose it is really quite unoriginal, and maybe old fashioned, to say that one of my most favourite fictional detectives is Hercule Poirot.

Still, there is something about this quite fastidious, sometimes feline-like, but certainly not French little detective. With stiff little moustaches decorating his egg-shaped head, he has cut a distinctive figure in the world of detective fiction for just over one-hundred years. Ever since he appeared in Agatha Christie's first novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, published in 1920, he has earned his place amongst the best and most recognisable of crime fiction's most famous detectives.

But his distinctive appearance and fussy attitude would be nothing if it weren't for those "little grey cells", which were put to such great use over the course of five decades in Christie's original novels and short stories featuring the detective.

In 1941, Evil Under the Sun, was published; Poirot's second decade as depicted by the Queen of Crime . And this novel, despite Christie's burgeoning dislike for the character, proves that his powers of detection and desire for justice had not waned with the passing decades.

In this mystery, a body lies upon a beach – the body of Arlena Marshall. She is bronzed, and appears like any other sunbathing beauty holidaying in the area, stretched out with flesh bare to the sun. However, upon closer inspection, it's plain to see that Arlena Marshall is not sunbathing. She is dead. The life strangled out of her by some unknown individual. 

A mad, lone, and opportunistic attacker? Or someone known to the victim?

Other guests, holidaying at the same hotel as Arlena Marshall, had been quick to consider Arlena as wicked, a temptress. But it seems, as Poirot had suspected, she was always much more likely to be a victim than any kind of fiend.

And so, the little Belgian seeker of truth and justice begins investigating . . .

I suppose that it is his desire for truth and justice, rather than a slavish loyalty to the law, which partly makes Poirot such an attractive fictional figure. As evidenced in other stories featuring the detective, perhaps most notably Murder on the Orient Express, he does deviate from the rule of law to strive to do what is right.

And, a character that strives to do that can't ever really go out of fashion. An odd little hero, striving for what is right in a unjust world.

Christie can be considered cosy crime, but she did point a finger at, or at least hint towards, some of the darkness in the world.

I began reading Christie when I was a young teenager, and tore through her stories at a furious pace. Finishing one book, finding another, and so on. As an adult, I return to find that, unlike many things which seemed like a good idea in adolescence but which, in retrospect, were always pretty horrid, Christie's mysteries are still a joy.

I urge you to return too. And if you are yet to discover Poirot, and other of Christie's creations, oh, how I envy you!

You can purchase a copy of Evil Under the Sun by Agatha Christie here.

Thank you for reading. Before you click away to wherever you are off to next, can I ask that you please consider buying the author of this posting a coffee here – something to keep the cold out as he taps away at the keyboard.

Out here in the great big void that is the internet, a wild west of clickbait and adverts disguised as articles, this blog strives to be genuinely informative and/or entertaining. A place for book lovers of all sorts.

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The Help by Kathryn Stockett – a review

 

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As I read The Help, I was reminded of dystopian novels that depict some possible future or alternate reality. The characters are constantly on edge, afraid that if they say or do "the wrong thing", they will lose work, status, or even their lives. Except this novel is not a portrait of an imagined dystopian society, a warning of what might be, à la 1984, but a piece of historical fiction, and a reminder of how things really are.

The main characters of the novel, the eyes through which we experience 1960s Jackson, Mississippi, are Aibileen, a black maid who raises the children of white people while processing the death of her own son; Minny, a black maid who has found it difficult to keep work because of her inability to remain silent in the face of wrongs done by her white employers; and there is Skeeter, a young white woman recently returned from college, trying to figure out her way in the world.

Then, there is Hilly Holbrook, the epitome of racism and cruelty in the book. It is interesting to note that she, a wealthy Jackson socialite, married to a future politician, is motivated by a selfish desire to maintain the status quo. A fear that societal change might tip her own world into disorder. She strives to maintain the divisions between blacks and whites as The Civil Rights Movement makes it's way across the south to protect herself from some imagined threat. Out of the same selfish desire to protect her own interests, she bullies, manipulates, and threatens the white women in her social circle that do not conform to her own views and wants.

Interestingly, Skeeter's mother, another example in The Help of someone deeply flawed and desirous to maintain social and racial divisions also shows a desire for control. She is overbearing and is always critical of her daughter's appearance.

This speaks to the white fear that we might lose all that we have, that societal change might mean a loss of control and wealth, and how we use violence and intimidation, how we justify prejudices and bigotry, to maintain our hold.

There is a danger in reading books like The Help – white readers can come away believing the themes explored within to be problems of the past, that such attitudes are antiquated, and "thank god things aren't like that any more!" 

But just a little tumble down some of the darker spots of social media, or sliding down some of the comment threads, is enough to prove those attitudes to be alive and well. Yeah, we might not be able to say it as brazenly as we could in the past, but it's there. 

The author herself has spoken about conflicting feelings for the novel and the fears she had about crossing a line, writing in the voice of a black person. 

"I don't presume to think that I know what it really felt like to be a black woman in Mississippi, especially in the 1960s. I don't think it is something any white woman on the other end of a black woman's paycheck could ever truly understand. But trying to understand is vital to our humanity."

Much of what can be discussed about this novel feels so beyond the scope of a little book blog . . .

The Help is a masterful novel full of hope and humanity. A novel that reminded me of dystopian settings, but in fact a novel that considers the past. However, not long past. An excellent debut that feels more like the work of a novelist much more experienced.

Kathryn Stockett was born into the world she describes in the novel, in Jackson, Mississippi, 1969. And she, like the white children in the novel, was raised by a black maid. After graduating from Alabama university, she moved to New York and worked in magazine publishing and marketing for nine years. The Help is her first novel, inspired partly by the place she came from.

You can purchase a copy of The Help by Kathryn Stockett here.

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The Choice by Claire Wade – review

 

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Who ever our next Prime Minister is, they might benefit from reading one of those novels that throws totalitarianism under the spotlight. A novel like The Choice.

My waistline gives away my own enjoyment of sugary things. And, though you will not often find me in the kitchen, apron adorned and flour on my nose, I have dabbled in baking. 

I think it would be a slightly less joyful world without sugary treats and baked goods.

And, that is the central theme of this novel.

Originally, Claire Wade intended to write a fairly light story about friends who secretly baked cakes in a world where sugar and baking is illegal. However, as she began to consider the implications of a government that monitors what its public consumes and makes certain behaviours mandatory, she ended up writing something darker.

The author, has said, "The story might have started out about baking, but it rapidly evolved into something darker. It forced me to think about choices, mine and everyone else's, around what we eat, how we live and the role the government has in those decisions."

In recent years, discussions about what we eat have come to the fore. How sugars and fats impact our health are but one part of that. We desire more transparency too about how our food is sourced. We want to know how our dietary choices impact upon the environment and climate change. There is also more discussion about the dietary needs of those who are intolerant of certain ingredients, additives, proteins, and whatnot. Then, there are those fad diets that make their dubious presences felt now and then.

Wade does not address these themes in her novel, instead focusing on the question of how much governments should concern themselves with what we eat and how much we exercise for our health. Is it a loss that the author doesn't acknowledge these other issues? Who knows. Perhaps. But then, maybe the novel would have been a thing too convoluted to enjoy. Perhaps too though, it would have made for a more interesting novel, to add these themes to a discussion on our modern eating habits. 

We could speculate all day on what could have been, though . . .

The totalitarian nanny state of the novel is a frightful place indeed, though we are reminded throughout the story that Mother Mason, the leader, was voted in by the public. Perhaps the choice to which the novel's title alludes. At one time, it seems, Mother's policies on health and wellbeing seemed benevolent to the characters of the novel. Which makes the reader wonder; what happened between Mother Mason's victory for leadership and where we meet the characters in the novel? Did the harshness of her policies only become truly apparent after she was in office? Or, did a desperate and fearful electorate elect a leader they didn't really understand? Was the election a near thing or a landslide victory?

Unfortunately, we might look to the real world for the answers to some of the above questions. Even more unfortunately, in looking to the the real world, we might not necessarily find some of those answers. Sometimes, as fantastic as fiction can be, the books we read make much more sense than real life.

I'll tell you this, I would collapse into a sweaty and panting heap in one of the mandatory exercise classes Wade describes in the novel. And I am not sure I would get back up again!

I'm also not sure that I would be one of the rebels of the novel. I would like to think that I might be, at least sharing subversive content across social media. Perhaps I would act, like Olivia in the novel, once I saw that I was not alone. But it takes strength to go up against corrupt authority and the indoctrinated masses.

Who knows. In the UK, we're not quite living in a totalitarian state (at the time of writing anyway – check with me again next week!), so, fortunately, I haven't been tested in this way. And, for now, sugar, cakes, and alcohol are still available to the public (though rising prices and a cost of living crisis might put paid to that – again, check with me next week). 

Here's hoping, for the foreseeable, these terrors remain the stuff of fiction.

As dystopian novels go, I don't think this novel is going to knock 1984 or Brave New World from their pedestals, but it might inspire readers to discuss the government's role in what we consume and how much it polices our behaviour. It might inspire the reader to question what is considered healthy.

We live in a time where the majority bounce from one screen to another, not just as viewers, but as performers ourselves. A time that makes many feel that they are not valid unless their life looks good in an Instagram reel. And, of course, slimness and attractiveness goes hand-in-hand with that. It's a shallow old world. And any novel that asks readers to consider that, just maybe, healthiness and wellbeing doesn't just look one way is a good novel. I think this book might have gone further with that idea, explored its themes further, but it is still worth a read.

In a world of cost of living crises, energy crises, corrupt and corrupting world leaders, and more than enough shame and hatred being thrown around on social media to last a lifetime, yeah, I think our incoming Prime Minister might benefit from reading such a novel. But then, that's assuming they wouldn't be using it as a how-to-guide on running a totalitarian state.

You can purchase a copy of The Choice by Claire Wade here.

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Thank you for reading!

Most recent reads

 

Disclaimer: this blog is affiliated with third party sellers. If you make a purchase through the links in this blog, I might earn a small commission from the sale. However, this does not impact the price of items, and it does not influence the content of this blog. 

In today's post, I am reflecting on my most recent reads. That pile of books which waits not to be read, but to go back on the shelves. The last pages have been turned, the final sentences read, and that wistful feeling has been felt . . .

The Mountains Sing by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai

A deserved winner of the BookBrowse Best Debut Award, 2020.

Hà Nội, 1972. Twelve year old Huong clings to her grandmother as they navigate war torn Việt Nam. As Huong comes of age in a land scarred by war, she must do as her grandmother has done before her; hold her family together as war tears everything else apart.

You can purchase The Mountains Sing by Nguyễn Phan Quể Mai here.

Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie's famous little Belgian detective, with his little grey cells and handsome moustaches, triumphs in another case. This time, as he weaves through red herrings, he must solve the murder of a young girl at a Halloween party. A young girl that claimed to have seen a murder herself.

You can purchase Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie here.

Broken Homes by Ben Aaronovitch

A mutilated body in Crawley.

Robert Weil is the prime suspect, but it must be discerned whether or not he is just an average serial killer or whether he has links to things more powerful. 

And, as if that isn't enough, London always has a lot more to throw at PC Peter Grant.

Grant navigates a weird world and must connect dots everywhere he goes . . .

You can purchase Broken Homes by Ben Aaronovitch here.

Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit by PG Wodehouse 

A novel starring perhaps Wodehouse's most famous pair – Jeeves and Wooster.

'Stilton' Cheesewright would very much like to beat poor Bertie Wooster to a pulp – thankfully, for Bertie, Cheesewright has money on Wooster's performance in the Drones Club annual darts tournament. 

And poor put-upon Bertie is upsetting others too . . . with an offensive moustache. How will he survive a world this much against him?

You can purchase Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit by PG Wodehouse here.

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

The beautiful Countess Olenska returns to rigidly conventional New York society, sending reverberations throughout its upper reaches. 

The Countess brings with her sophistication and a hint of scandal, having left her husband and claimed her independence. 

A passionate bond develops between her and Newland Archer, a man about to announce his engagement to May Welland, a beautiful young woman. 

You can purchase The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton here.

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

An excellent novel.

Ugwu, a boy from a poor village, works a houseboy for a university professor. Richard is a shy Englishman enraptured to Olanna's twin sister. Olanna being a young woman from Lagos who has given up her life of privilege to live with the university professor, her lover.

You can purchase Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie here.

Thank you for reading. You can support this blog with a coffee for the author here, and/or you can like, comment, share and subscribe.

Thank you again!

The Postscript Murders by Elly Griffiths – review

 

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There is a quote on the cover of this book taken from the Sunday Mirror. A love letter to murder mysteries. And it certainly feels as though Elly Griffiths was having fun when she wrote this book.

In The Postscript Murders, we are invited into the world of crime authors, where sometimes they become the victims at the centre of a murder mystery themselves.

DS Harbinder Kaur investigates the death of ninety-year-old Peggy Smith, a 'murder consultant' who plotted deaths for authors. At first DS Kaur is little concerned by the case, but when Peggy's carer, Natalka, reports being held at gunpoint whilst cleaning out Peggy's flat, that soon changes.

By turning her lens onto the world of crime writing, Griffiths has been able to have a little fun with her own profession, and share its best aspects. For a start, there's Peggy, the victim herself, whose job it is to devise interesting ways to murder people. Not real people, mind you. Still, inventing ways in which to commit murder is still inventing ways in which to commit murder. 

And from Peggy, inventing murders and people-watching, and her death, there is born a mystery solving gang, almost à la Scooby Doo. Natalka, Peggy's carer leads the way, a strong and determined young woman from Ukraine with a past that's home to shadowy figures; Benedict is a mindful coffee shop owner – The Shack – who used to be a monk, and he is measured, but also uncertain when it comes to the ways of the world; Edwin is an elderly gentleman, a real gentleman, who used to work at the BBC, and who knew Peggy because they lived in the same building. Together this gang make it their mission to find the answers to the questions around Peggy's death. 

DS Kaur works with the gang to solve the case, whilst also navigating the struggles of having to live at home with mum and dad. Whereas other fictional coppers might hit the bottle for relief from the pressures of the job, DS Kaur is addicted to the games on her phone. 

Along the way, we traverse the world of the crime novelists, and even get to poke a little fun at elements of that world. Such as the slightly pretentious writer who insists their work is more literary than crime fiction – genres such as crime, horror, and romance all have to put up with their snooty detractors, sometimes from within.

Yes, it definitely feels as though Elly Griffiths was having some fun when she wrote this one. 

And, I had fun reading it. In particular, following the amateur sleuths, Natalka, Edwin, and Benedict. To be honest, I found each of these characters more interesting than the detective of the novel. If Elly Griffiths ever feels the need to return to this world, I hope it is to revisit the gang rather than the detective. 

In this novel, Griffiths presents each chapter from the point of view of each character. Apart from giving the reader the chance to see the mystery of the book from different points of view, the chance consider the problem from different angles, it is a useful device for getting to know each of the characters better. And I very much enjoyed getting to know the characters.

Though it is useful to have a detective in the novel, able as they are to go places an amateur sleuth would find it difficult to gain access, I did find those chapters with DS Kaur the least enjoyable of the book. I found her to be the least likeable character. She seems to have a problem with absolutely everyone and everything else – her brothers, her partner at work, the family dog. To be mildly annoyed seemed to be her default setting. 

However, of course, liking or disliking a character is all very subjective. It could be that I am in the minority and others will completely and utterly despise Natalka, probably my favourite character of the novel. 

Yes, I very much enjoyed this crime novel set in the world of crime novelists. I don't know that I have read a crime novel quite like it before. 

You can purchase a copy of The Postscript Murders by Elly Griffiths here.

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Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins by Rupert Everett – review

 

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Ah. The showbiz autobiography. When done well, an insightful piece of work, an enjoyable and interesting peek into the mansions, the studios, and VIP sections . . .  And the personalities of the people that populate them.

When done badly, thinly veiled, empty self-celebration, and/or an attempt at raising one's profile. Like perfumes and fashion lines, just something every celebrity does because . . . Well, it's just what's done, dahling. A nice bit of passive income too, sweetie.

Anyone with just a whiff of fame's toxic scent can get an autobiography on bookshop shelves. From the awfully vacuous to the splendidly soulful . . . 

I am referring to the biographies, of course, not the celebrities. I swear. 

But, after all, Rupert Everett's Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins is a showbiz autobiography done well. Very well.

This account of his life and career begins with a scene at an Essex farmhouse, slap-bang right in the middle of the 1960s, surrounded by burning fields; a scene of high domestic drama. And, from there, to cinema screens and beyond. From the seedy to the showbiz. The reader follows the progress of Mr. Everett's life from sixties England, through Parisian nightclubs, to early 2000s America.

The writing is witty, and ranks with the very best, having been compared to Evelyn Waugh and the Byronic. It does what all good writing ought to – it scrapes away the bullshit to get at the truth. Oh, and it entertains.

This book, though filled with dramatic scenes, populated with extraordinary people, and recounting fantastic events, is human and soulful. Alongside the champagne scenes, there are accounts of vulnerability. Death and sadness happens even amongst the stars.

But, fear not, there is no performative victimhood or self-pity here, only a disarming honesty.

Rupert Everett's career as an actor, for me, has always existed on the periphery of the cultural landscape. I have been aware of his work, but I have felt no strong feelings about it one way or the other.

I am no avid follower of celebrity lives either, so many of the people in this book I was only vaguely familiar with. Some I recognised not at all.

I tell you this because I want to assure you that this book is not just showbiz and celebrity. Indeed, the showbiz and the celebrity is incidental. It is the humanity and soul on every page that makes this telling worth the read, it is this that kept me reading.

I might not have been paying much attention to Everett's work as an actor. But as for his work as a writer, I am ready for more.

You can purchase a copy of Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins by Rupert Everett here.

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