One-line book reviews: my best reads in 2019

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At the start of this year (2019, ten past seven in the evening as I start, so I'd better blog quickly), my friend Dan challenged me to read 30 books in a calendar year. Well, he said he was going to do it, which was as far as I was concerned the laying down of a silver-fingered gauntlet. It meant missing out on a lot of good telly, but I achieved it with a few to spare. This blog is not to gloat or show-off (those who know me will know I am a humble and quiet soul), but simply to see if a) I can write very succinct book reviews and b) anyone is wondering what to read in 2020... I won't link to any of the books, as Google tends to do a fine job if you want to read proper reviews or buy them, but if you can afford to bypass Amazon, the Big Green Bookshop is a wonderful online bookselling alternative.

1. Tombland by CJ Sansom: the most recent, and possibly final, episode of the ever-gripping Shardlake saga. He's my favourite literary detective by a mile. This, the seventh novel in the series, is a slower and weightier read than the previous ones and the political cup overfloweth to the occasional detriment of the plot. Still a wonderful read. And it inspired me to revisit Norwich, which is no mean feat.
2. Lethal White by Robert Galbraith (OK by Mrs Harry Potter): the first of this series I've read, having enjoyed the televisations, and it does what it says on the tin: hard to put down and quick to finish. 
3. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara: wonderful. I've always been sniffy about American novels (with the exception of Revolutionary Road), not because of all the Zs where there should be Ss; simply that I find it harder to relate to the experiences described. A Little Life is a Big Book, and it is truly a great novel. For some people depression is a duvet they hide under until it eventually suffocates them. My sister warned me it would make me cry, and it did. 
4. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles: a surprise and most welcome gift. A book that takes on the form of the eponymous hero, with great acts of heroism done always using the correct cutlery. More gentlemanly than Russian, and a very different interpretation of a pivotal era (the early Stalin years). 
5. Carn by Patrick McCabe: A book about unhappy Irish people. I started and stopped and started and stopped this one, and I'm pleased I finally finished it. It's not a satisfactory read, and it's pretty bleak too. Almost a collection of linked short stories than a complete novel. Described as a novel about two women, but to me it felt very much about men.
6. Moscow, Midnight by John Simpson: I expected better from John Simpson (yes it's that Simpson, BBC foreign affairs guy). It's a bit of a silly novel frankly. There are (much) better spy books out there with much less clunky sex and violence. Who wants clunky sex after all?
7. The Behaviour of Moths by Poppy Adams: there's a whole genre of modern novels, let's call it flit lit, that are written by women who seem to have spent too many years with their flower press as young girls. Strong female character v weaker female character + A Dark Secret x An Element of the Natural World (a moth, say or a sea monster) [must be set in the past] = bestselling novel. This is one of those books. A good read, but there do seem to be an awful lot of them. 
8. Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami: the first and only novel by Murakami that I've read, and apparently the others are quite different. A novel to indulge in, like a long hot bath that runs too cold before you can bear to get out. Read it. 
9. The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins: not the best or most convincing depiction of drunkenness (if that's what you're after, try Hangover Square or The Outrun). Good thriller though, which will have you nervously twitching at the curtains and eyeing your partner's phone. 
10. The Only Story by Julian Barnes: if you're going to give your novel (novella really) such a pretentious title, it'd better be good. And this is good; witty, cool and a modern update on The Graduate. I was very disappointed by the ending though. And of course, it's not the only story: on the contrary, it has echoes of every story ever written.
11. The Book and the Brotherhood by Iris Murdoch: I'm a massive fan of Iris Murdoch (although I've only read about 10 of her novels, and she wrote nearly 30, I think) and this is one of the best so far. It felt pleasingly dated, although it's set only in the 1980s (and in some ways could be seen as an early insight into some of the debates that came to define the Labour party as it transformed into New Labour). This isn't really a political novel, however. It's a novel about friendship, and how the people we love as friends can seem very different when their/our family get in the way. Reminded me of Donna Tartt's Secret History.  
12. The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton: I saw the Big Twist coming earlier than I would have liked, but this is a very accomplished debut novel. Everyone else I've spoken to who has read it hated it though, so you have been warned. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann is similar, and better. But hey! Read both...
13. Winds of the Day by Howard Spring: as my brother is keen to remind me, I am the only person in the world who still reads Howard Spring (not actually true: I once saw someone in the same tube carriage as me reading a different Howard Spring). His novels are like my Grandpa: intelligent, comfortable, reassuring and part of a bygone age. 
14. The Dreams of Bethany Melllmoth by William Boyd: I'm never sure whether I'm a fan of Boyd's really quite impressive range of writing or not. I enjoyed this collection of short stories, but they did not stay with me. And I'm all for writing about what you know, but does every character have to have literary aspirations? 
15. The Collected Dorothy Parker by ... doh: a pleasure to read works by someone as witty as myself, but the bitchiness conceals an astute insight into what a woman's lot really is. Brilliant. Best read cold. 
16. A Month in the Country by JL Carr: I cannot think why I picked up this novella about a man restoring a wall painting in a rural church after the war, but I'm glad I did. Like discovering a long forgotten item of clothing at the back of  a wardrobe, and being thrilled that it still fits. 
17. Transcription by Kate Atkinson: I waiver (waver?) between loving Kate Atkinson and being left completely untouched by her novels and characters. I got this as a sample on Kindle, and couldn't put it out of my mind, so bought the whole thing, and was slightly disappointed. Cest la vie. 
18. The Night Watch by Sarah Waters: nobody writes about sex as well as Sarah Waters, and this is a great novel. I found the reverse chronological structure irritating rather than Brechtian and brilliant, though. 
19. The Reckoning by Clár Ní Chonghaile: the only friend of mine whose name I always have to Google. Her third novel and, I think her best. It comprises letters written from a mother to her daughter many years after the events described, dealing mainly with the second world war and aftermath. A wonderful exploration of the mother-daughter relationship written in prose that is sometimes breathtakingly beautiful. 
20. Warlight by Michael Ondaatje: another novel dealing with the second world war and the fallout. I don't particularly relate to novels written in the voice of a teenage boy and I found this book dispassionate at times, but it's still a really good read. Just a little cold. 
21. Circe by Madeline Miller: it took me a while to get into this book, and I found the constant attempts to describe the gods a little wearing. But the main character is great and Miller just about holds a novel about the divine and the infinite together. 
22. Why Mummy Drinks by Gill Sims: I found it funnier when Mummy was a struggling drunkard rather than a very successful website entrepreneur but to be honest it's pretty funny throughout. 
23. The Master by Colm Tóibín: a quietly magnificent novel about the life of Henry James. See, it is possible to write a one-line book review. 
24. Women and Power by Mary Beard: two lectures Beard gave about, urm, women and power, in book form. You don't need to have any classical knowledge to enjoy and be inspired by this book, and Beard's treatment of the female voice and its suppression segues from Greeks to Thatcher to Twitter without pausing for breath (although presumably she did when delivering the lectures...) Read it and get cross. 
25. Big Little Lies by Liane Moriaty: reminiscent of The Slap in its queasy unpicking of suburban morality and examination of fracturing friendships and families, this is very readable, entertaining, interestingly structured (the narrative is interspersed with fragments of police and journalist interviews in the buildup to a big event) and I hear there's a TV version now too ...
    
26. The Warden by Anthony Trollope: OK, a novel about clerical finances won't be everyone's cup of tea but I really enjoyed this. Well, I did until I realised it was the first novel in a series of six. Maybe life's too short to reach all of the Barchester chronicles, but it's certainly long enough to read this one.  
27. The Impressionist by Hari Kunzru: if you like Salman Rushdie novels, you may well like this too. It concerns a boy growing up in India, and all the wonderful and horrible things that happen to him, before he makes a life for himself in England. A novel of duplicity, confusion and delight, it might have been better dealing with fewer themes as the overall result is rather exhausting. Fun though. 
28. Posh Boys (how Public Schools RuIn Britain) by Robert Verkaik: if one other minority group - of religion, gender, race or anything else - had such a disproportionate grip on all aspects of society, it would be greatly concerning. As it is, we all just get on with it. If the elite few who become adults via fee-paying schools kept themselves to themselves, it wouldn't matter. Instead they run our governments, companies, the judiciary and the media. The posh twats are in control, and they run the world for people like them. Be very scared.   
29. The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber: an exciting, sexy and wickedly funny novel about a Victorian prostitute who finds a Richard Gere-type. I love the concept of the interrupting narrator, and the opening is wonderful. The brilliance isn't quite sustained throughout, but few novels can claim that. 
30. A God in Ruins by Kate Atkinson: Kate Atkinson treats the concept of time like playdoh, a malleable substance which can be used to create a lie as easily as it creates a truth. Perhaps the hero of this novel, Teddy, is a slightly unusual hero - too straight, too clean, too tidy - but I liked him as he reminded me of myself. The novel could equally have been called A Life in Order - there are few ruins and precious little god in it. But that wouldn't have been so catchy. 
31. The End We Start From by Megan Hunter: apparently this book is brilliant and won lots of awards for its crushing dystopian vision of a disintegrating world written in a first-person narrative that spits out from the page. I'm afraid to me it read like an A-level creative writing project gone wrong. 
32. The Familiars by Stacey Halls: I picked this up as a cheeky buy one get one half price when I needed to get a present for someone. It's about women and witches living in the early years of King James I of England. I could never believe in the narrator as a seventeen-year-old girl, and the plot is a bit too convenient. I enjoyed it, but there are better novels about witches (such as Corrag by Susan Fletcher). 
33. The Last Tudor by Philippa Gregory: I've heard some people say there are too many novels about Tudor queens and royal hangers-on. Never! I won't hear a word of it. More sombre than some of Gregory's other novels but historically accurate enough, and Lady Jane Grey is a fascinating person. Was.  
34. The Fear Index by Robert Harris: as someone who works in digital, a novel about an algorithm driving hedge fund investments that goes wrong appealed to the geek in me. Like Dan Brown for maths fans, this nail-biting (I really did bite my nails, but then I do that when rereading Harry Potter) novel is exciting despite all the jargon. A tender exploration of mental instability it is not, however.

And that's it! 34 novels (well, books) in 12 months works out at, ooh, nearly three books a month. I've used the word 'but' far too often in this blog, BUT it's my blog so I can. If you only want one recommendation, read A Little Life if you want to weep, and A Gentleman In Moscow if you want to smile through the tears.