From Angevins to apocalypse: my year in books 2023

Some kid, some where

The night after we brought newborn Séany back from the hospital, no one slept a wink. He wouldn't feed, he wouldn't let us put him down. It was terrifying. When the midwife came the next day, she said he'd lost twenty per cent of his body weight and we needed to take him straight back into hospital. 

We arrived at paediatric A and E and were seen immediately by the most amazing doctor. She was reassuring, but concerned, and immediately arranged fluids for Seány and a nurse to help me start expressing milk. In one of the biggest crises in my life, she was wonderful and competent; an absolute rock.

She was also a dwarf.

A few hours later, she was still on shift discussing with a colleague a rather curious case of a little girl who'd been hiccupping (hiccoughing …) for days. Like all good paediatricians, they opted to give her a dose of Calpol. The doctor had a stepladder, presumably just for her, to reach the right cupboard.

Over the years, I've often thought about that doctor. How in all probability she saved Seány's life. What incredible hurdles she must have overcome to become a doctor; the snide comments, the stares, the doubts, the practicalities of not being able to reach the bloody cupboards. What incredible determination and ability she must have.

I'm not of the opinion that whatever you want, you should go out and get. Many of the things we want – a bigger car, a bigger house, a bigger bank balance – can be harmful to other people. And I can't promise that if there's something you want, whether it's a personal achievement, seeing something in a far off (or nearby …) land, or a secret you haven't shared with anyone, you'll get there. Life isn't like that. But the greatest regrets don't happen when we fail; they happen when we know we haven't tried everything to get there. 

Anyway, enough of the pop psychology! On with the books! You'll notice (OK, you may notice) that the title has changed. I can't really claim the reviews are one line, and they're not just the best; they're everything!

I buy books from Hive and The All Good Bookshop. 

1. Mrs England by Stacey Halls: you know the sort of thing. Women in the past (this time the Edwardian era), with a twist. Hints of The Turn of the Screw, but less creepy.
2. The Vegetarian by Han Kang: brilliant and short. Not really about vegetarians, or meat, but about the body, and the control we have – or don't have – over it. 
3. Arrowood by Mick Finlay: this book gets a bonus point because I Tweeted (Xd?) about why it was Arrowood not Arrowwood, and the author got back to me. Tense, great sidekick, didn't rely on women being chopped up. Everything a detective story should be! My only minor complaint was it's set in 1895, but at times felt like it was 1995.
4. Starling by Sarah Jane Butler: this is a debut (for novels) writer who's a friend of a friend, and this is an unusual book about a young woman living on and off the grid; in and outside society; as she looks for her mother, who has disappeared. Good, but tailed off slightly.
5. Pompeii by Robert Harris: you know what you get with Harris but this was one of his more poignant reads. No happy ending here. 
6. Invitation to the Waltz by Rosamund Lehmann: or is it an invitation to WOMANHOOD? Hmm … I read this because it's the prequel to a book I'd been given, The Weather in the Streets, about a woman who has an affair with a married man. Or maybe she's married. I don't know, because I haven't read it yet. ANYWAY, there's only so excited I can get about girls who get excited about frocks. 
7. Frenchman's Creek by Daphne du Maurier: Du Maurier doesn't get anything like enough credit for the witty, independent female characters she wrote. In Creek, she inverts the traditional, swashbuckling smuggler novel yet still provides a thriller of poignancy and drama. As one review on goodreads says, "It has passion. It has Frenchmen. What more do you need?"
8. The Things That We Lost by Jyoti Patel: a tender debut novel of tragedy spilling down the generations. A book of bereavement and joy.
9. Snow by John Banville: this is part of the St. John Strafford detective series, which I didn't know before reading, and I think the book stands up perfectly well on its own. A Catholic priest is murdered in 1950s Ireland and the detective has to find out why. Although, with Banville, you tend to suspect why (he often deals – sensitively – with child abuse, especially in relation to the Catholic Church), it's still a tense and at times beautiful read. Interesting that Banville cites Henry James as one of his biggest influences as they are both concerned with morally complex characters and, essentially, how humans hurt humans.
10. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman: this book divides opinion but I loved it. Funny and clever, just like me ;)
11. On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan: almost a brilliant novel of regret and missed opportunities, but at times I was screaming JUST GET ON WITH IT. People worry a bit too much about sex, I think.
12. As A Man Grows Older by Italo Svevo: a failed writer is consumed by jealousy and obsessive love. An introspective novel about people with a bit too much time on their hands, really – perhaps everyone had more spare time in 1898 – that swerves between unreadable and unputdownable. 
13. Not Just Another Missing Person by Gillian McAllister: well, actually, yes just another missing person, with a bit of police corruption thrown in. A thriller, and a good one. 
14. Godmersham Park by Gill Hornby: not quite the Georgian love story it purports to be, this book is really of interest because it's about the governess who taught Jane Austen's niece. It's a wonderful depiction of Jane's frivolity and perception, but actually without that connection it might be a tinsy bit dull.
15. Derailed: How to Fix Britain's Broken Railways by Tom Haines-Doran: I have bored many people about this book already, so apologies if you're one of them, but this is a brilliant, scholarly but readable book about why the trains in Britain are so shit. Full of interesting titbits, I hope it's not just interesting to people, like me, who use trains alot. As a nation, and with a world in a climate crisis, we should all be appalled by this book's revelations.
16. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan: nothing I can add really as this long-short story/novella has been widely reviewed and praised, but it's a brilliant tale of a father working hard on Christmas Eve and how the little gestures of our lives can make or break others. 
17. Dreamland by Rosa Rankin-Gee: one of the new flurry of climate apocalypse novels, this is life on the edges of society in Margate, with the sea level rising. It's quite good, but I found it a bit irritating: it's fine to not tie up every loose end, but to tie up none of them seems a little unfair on the reader.
18. The White Ship by Charles Spencer: yes that Charles Spencer. A fellow Magdalen alum, this is about the king of England who never was. On a freezing night in November 1120, William, son of King Henry I, got really pissed with his mates and tried to cross the channel from France. They didn't make it. The White Ship sank and, weighed down by gold and daft clothing, hardly anyone survived the tragedy. King Henry instead nominated Matilda, his daughter, as heir. England (especially that dastardly usurper Stephen) didn't follow Henry's wishes, and a dreadful civil war that no one these days knows much about broke out. This is a very readable book by someone who has more than a passing interest in tragedies befalling heirs to the throne.
19. Still Life by Sarah Winman: so good! so very good. One of the best books I've ever read. A sweeping tale of life during and after the second world war, in England and Italy. Luxuriant, with so many fantastic characters, expertly drawn. I felt I knew them all. Giant dollops of art and love on every page.
20. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng: those who know me know I'm often a little sniffy about American, especially contemporary American, novels, but this is largely a failing of myself, and not of the novels! An interesting tale of race and growing up in a well-to-do American town.
21. The Big Book of the UK by Imogen Russell Williams: this is quite a cheeky inclusion as this is a (large, hardback) children's picture book. But I wanted to include it as it's so full of fascinating facts and stories about the places, people, languages, nature, legends, music, sport and nonsense of this island. 
22. Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers: 1950s, again, and Jean is a feature writer on a local newspaper. She starts investigating a story no one else will touch about a woman who claims to have had a virgin birth. Loved it, and was so outraged by the ending I considered writing to the author and getting her to change it. I didn't in the end, but it did make me cry. 
23. March Violets by Philip Kerr: the first of the Bernie Gunther crime novels, set in Berlin in the 1930s. Good, but a bit too violent for me and I didn't like how Nazism was a bit of an annoyance in the background, rather than dealt with (admittedly it would be anachronistic to do so). I don't think I'll bother with the rest of the series. 
24. New York 2140 by Kim Stanley Robinson: another of those climate apocalypse stories, this time set in New York, 2140, where people live communally in massive high-rises and take boats through the city. Lots of characters, which made it a bit of a struggle to know (or care …) what was going on. And wow, this book feels long. More than 600 pages of, not waffle exactly but chatter, background, noise. I found it too episodic. The last chapter could easily be the first or any in-between, although there are some interesting strands of thought about if profit was used for public good.
25. The Iron Hotel by Sam Llewellyn: really didn't like this one. Was sort of forced to read it as it was the only book I had on a long train journey back from France, but it contains racial slurs, alot of James Bond-esque nonsense, and too much violence. It was also just a bit dull, not the gripping read it thought it was.
26. The House on the Hill by Cesare Pavase: back to Italy, and the 1940s, for a tightly written, Hemingway-esque novel and people in hiding. A reminder that not everyone is a hero in wartime, and not all heroes wear capes. 
27. Blackberry and Wild Rose by Sonia Velton: I'm not actually sure when this book is set, but its about the wife of a Hugenot weaver living in Spitalfields, who takes it upon herself to rescue a prostitute. It rolls in some history, some religion, some economics and some girl power to make a curious but enjoyable read. 
28. The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton: possibly the reason I read fewer books this year! An epic novel, set in the 1860s, about the New Zealand gold rush. To be honest, I don't think I fully got this one. For me, the most interesting character appears near the end, and I didn't notice the ghosts at all. 
29. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway: should be on, not just every A-level reading list, but EVERYBODY'S reading list (and it's certainly recommended reading for sub-editors …). The greatest example of how to write short yet leave nothing out (I bet Hemingway could do one-line book reviews. He could certainly write one-line stories.) Clipped as neatly as a military man's moustache, his lack of sentiment leaves you aching inside. It reminded me of Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road (and not just in the obvious way). When I was growing up, we had this on the bookcase at home, and I spent many years thinking, why would anyone want to say goodbye to their arms?
30. Ultra-Processed People: Why Do We All Eat Stuff That Isn't Good And Why Can't We Stop? by Chris van Tulleken: be a little bit scared, but not too scared, by what you're probably eating right now. Longer review of this one here.
31. No Good Deed by Clár Ní Chonghaile: another brilliant book by this journalist turned novelist (who is also a friend). Dealing with issues of white saviours and hero tourism, this tells the story of Elodie, who arrives in Central African Republic after her relationship falls apart. But in wanting to save the world, will she end up doing more harm than good? Clár has also written a blog (more like an essay) on why she wrote the book. 
32. A Christmas Wish for the Land Girls by Jenny Holmes: Séamus' Christmas present to me! And a lovely read it was too. War and snogging in the hills. 
33. Winchelsea by Alex Preston: we stayed in Winchelsea for our first post-lockdown, too stressful-to-go-abroad holiday, and it's a quiet town/village in Kent. Probably Kent. Maybe Sussex. This book casts it in a very different light: smugglers and wrong 'uns aplenty, against the backdrop of Jacobite rebellion, with an intriguing hero. I'm not sure it ends as well as it begins, but still very much worth reading. 
34. A King’s Ransom by Sharon Penman: the sequel to Lionheart, about that curious good King Richard, whose wife was the only English queen never to set foot on English soil. It's also about the tragedy of Eleanor of Aquitaine, living to the age of 80 but burying almost all of her children. I spent 1,600 pages in the company of these squabblesome, arrogant, fascinating Angevins and it was a wonderful place to be. 

So read Still Life if you want an epic, and A Farewell To Arms if you want a shorter epic. And please do send me your recommendations of books to enjoy (or avoid …) 

And finally …

As some of you know, Séamus and I are doing the Big Green Hike in April to raise money for the People's Trust for Endangered Species. They're a great charity, doing the dirty work of field research to protect the wild spaces, and the wildlife within them, that we know and love. 

I truly believe that we are in a crisis of nature and climate, and we are giving a massive hospital pass to the next generation if we don't act urgently and expansively. If everyone who reads this blog donates just £3, we'll have … around £6 to donate to the PTES. Thanks. 

> You can donate here. Or just look at the cute pictures of dormice.