And so another year passes and the weight of memories begins to balance out the weight of the living.
In the lead-up to Christmas, I was told by various newspapers to read less, read more, read better, read slower … I think perhaps you should all read however you like.
I've read fewer books this year than previously (and yes, I do count: partly to help me keep off Twitter and partly so I can remember what I've read and enjoyed – I HATE not being able to recall the titles of books). The main reason for less reading is that my Dad died, and in the months after his death books failed to provide solace, failed to fill the emptiness, failed to part the clouds. But Dad loved books, especially Dostoyevsky and, to a lesser extent, Turgenev and Tolstoy, but also many non-Russians, classics, modern authors – one of his favourite living authors was Clár Ni Chonghaile, who now writes for The New European. And I've gradually found a way through grief and back to reading.
I have a stack of books by my bed. There's no bedside table so they're on the floor, dusty, covered with clothes, shunted around the room like a sleeping cat. And while I don't really approve of new year resolutions (if you want to do something, do it; don't wait for an arbitrary date), I do plan to read differently this year. I've previously had a book in German, a book or two of short stories, a long or classic novel, a more modern or lighter novel, a book of theology, history or biography, a book of poetry, a Bible and something on my Kindle (other e-book readers are available) to fall asleep to. So when I crawl into bed, my mind disturbed by to-do lists and tomorrows, I'm daunted by the tottering tower of the books to read. And I think I'm doing books a disservice by reading them in such a staccato fashion. I've been left a bit cold by some of the books I've read this year – apart from the ones I read on holiday, when I read lots and didn't flit. So I'm attempting to limit myself to one novel at a time … we'll see how that goes.
Anyway, the list!
- Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman: I really didn't like this book! Sorry, as I suspect many of you will have read and enjoyed it. But I found it all too convenient, unconvincing and dealt flippantly with suicide and euthanasia.
- Crudo by Olivia Laing: a raw and intriguing study in self-obsession, this is a depiction of a post-Brexit world; not post the legal and constitutional changes but post the referendum, and all the anger, confusion and discontentment the vote released. I'm sure it's anti-structuralist narrative is a literary manifestation of the divisions within society but it also makes it quite hard to read. It conveys the disorientation and fragmentation of life; the multimedia flick flick flick we're all guilty of. Reading it was like suffering from permanent post-coital tristesse with a hangover.
- His Only Wife by Peace Adzo Medie: a woman goes off to meet her new husband and his family, only the new husband isn't there. I didn't feel transported to Ghana while reading this, but it's certainly well written with a strong female protagonist.
- Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende: a Chilean woman follows her lover (and thousands of others) on the Gold Rush to San Francisco, but can't find him there. Instead she meets a Chinese doctor, Tao Chien, and they go on many adventures in a dangerous land that doesn't value them. I love Allende; highly recommended.
- Can You Forgive Her? by Anthony Trollope: vicious politics, misguided Victorian morals, strong female characters. I think I almost prefer Trollope to Dickens. Trollope said that if one of his characters walked into the room, he would recognise them immediately. I feel the same way. This novel is the first of the six-book Palliser series.
- Assembly by Natasha Brown: a highly successful black lawyer prepares to spend the weekend with her rich, white boyfriend's family, while harbouring a terrifying secret. A novella, and a very good one.
- Porterhouse Blue by Tom Sharpe: a very silly book set in a fictional Cambridge college, with shenanigans a plenty with the porters, students and dons. Not very politically correct, but two episodes in this book made me actually fall off the bed laughing.
- Piranesi by Susanna Clarke: so, so good. How to explain it? Is it a novel about joy or sadness, madness or reality, loneliness or companionship? A man (probably a man – or perhaps a boy) is trapped (or perhaps just lives?) in a sinister underground (or is it?) cave, with towering statues, dead bodies and flocks of menacing birds. He is alone, almost, and records everything that happens to him with dedication as he tries to understand his existence. All is not what it seems. Unlike anything else I've read.
- The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Armin: a group of women, some richer and more successful in their love affairs than others, spend a month in a beautiful Italian house by the sea. The sisterhood prevails over all those annoying menfolk.
- Cromwell by Diarmaid McCullough: McCullough achieves the impossible with his biography of one of the most enigmatic historical figures of the last millennium. That irascible idiot, Henry VIII, does not come out of it well.
- Saint Maybe by Anne Tyler: I like Tyler. She writes with softness and makes you feel genuine concern and interest in her characters. Ian Bedloe is a carefree American teenager whose life is turned upside down by tragedy. To assuage his guilt, he takes on the role of caring for the whole family, with the support of a local church. But is it a cult, and can he really trust any of those he loves? Perhaps this book will resonate more with people who have seen America's fervent religiosity first-hand.
- The Architect's Apprentice by Elif Shafak: in 1540, a young boy arrives at the Ottoman court at the height of the empire to look after the sultan's elephant. Glittering, luxuriant, vibrant and sad.
- House of Echoes by Barbara Erskine: a couple with a young family inherit an abandoned manor house. But someone is already living there. A ghost! Or perhaps, lots of ghosts! I read this book for my book club as it was supposed to be really scary. It wasn't very scary at all but I still enjoyed it.
- Power of Geography by Tim Marshall: following on from the bestselling Prisoners of Geography comes another stunner on geopolitics. There's even a chapter on the moon. Doom-laden, but worth reading.
- American History in 50 Events by Hourly History: OK, so not a proper book but this Kindle (other e-book readers are available) series is good fun. Perhaps you're reading a book set in a certain period, or that mentions a real person. This series covers all sorts from the Greeks to the Revolutions, with biographies too. Great for me as I only have two-thirds of a history degree, and didn't really study anything later than 1649, but like to come across as much more knowledgeable than I really am.
- The Bedlam Stacks by Natasha Pulley: a weird one! It's 1859 and an injured smuggler heads into deepest Peru to try to find cinchona trees that will protect the British navy from malaria. But then he meets a young priest called Raphael, and time is inverted. I read quite a lot of books with historical and religious themes, don't I!
- Now We Shall Be Entirely Free by Andrew Miller: good title, isn't it? An injured British soldier has fled from the Napoleonic wars, and is being pursued by a wrong 'un. Not tremendously exciting, but tender and well written. Reminded me of A Gentleman in Moscow.
- King John by Marc Morris: how many English kings have we deemed bad in a judgement on their masculinity rather than their royalty? I picked this book up at Dover Castle (I think …) and couldn't put it down again. Seán Dá is now reading The Anglo-Saxons by Morris, and seems equally impressed by that one. In short, King John (skilled at annoying barons and losing land to France) was RUBBISH. But the book is great.
- The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak: another great novel by Shafak. This is set in present times, about the long and painful ramifications of the partition of Cyprus. Short, sad and beautiful.
- The Maidens by Alex Michaelides: I had to Google this one to remind me what happens in it, which is perhaps all you need to know. A murder mystery set in Cambridge, with a few nice twists but mainly it's devilishly handsome men who misbehave, and determined women trying to avenge wrongs.
- Flying to Nowhere by John Fuller: Fuller is a poet who taught me at Oxford, so when I saw this curious novella in a tiny bookshop in [insert name of seaside town Penny has recently visited here] I had to pick it up. Like a much shorter, wittier The Name of the Rose. Some of the lines are pure poetry and I think this is from the book (forgive me if not; I made a note of the line on my phone but not where it was from …) "The evening sun hung on the shoulder of the mountain and lit up the whole garment of the sea. The island seemed to float in darkness that sought the disappearing light. It was like a still voyage towards the shining edge of the world."
- Inkblack Heart by Robert Galbraith: hmmmm. The latest in the Strike series, and way too long. All about online harassment and authorial integrity. Where does s/he get her ideas from?
- Man and Wife by Wilkie Collins: I'm fascinated by the Victorian middle age, a time largely without external conflict (well, after Napoleon and before the Boers) but defined by the emergence of tensions that are still present in society today: science and religion, individual and society, rights and freedoms, rich and poor, leisure and work. Possibly this all stems from an early encounter with The French Lieutenant's Woman. In Man and Wife, a man seduces, then rejects, a woman leaving her in a perilous position. It's an oddly tricky subject, and it might be hard for the modern reader to appreciate the perilous predicament of women who gave birth outside marriage, and their vulnerability to the whims of the men who impregnated them. Yet through strangely unlikeable characters, Collins has produced a deeply readable novel, despite the curious rant in this one about the corruptive effects of physical exercise (men were supposed to sit around reading improving books instead) and quite a lot about the intricacies of Scottish marriage law. Collins is now less well-loved than his fellow Victorians – not as humorous as Dickens (although equally observant), as dramatic as Conan Doyle or as political as Trollope and Eliot. But I like him.
- The Century of Calamity: England in the Long Eleventh Century by TD Asch: written by my mate Tom, so I have to be nice about it. It's great fun, with lots of misbehaving monks and scathing assessments of England's early kings.
- Great Circle by Maggie Shipstead: I wanted to like this book, as it was recommended to me by two people whose opinions I very much respect. And I did really like the ending! But the main themes of this book are aviation and Hollywood, and I'm just not interested in either of them.
- A Good Neighbourhood by Therese Anne Fowler: a rich white family move in next door to a poorer mixed race family. Romeo and Juliet for the modern era, with a backdrop of property disputes and the impact of people on climate. Very readable.
- Act of Oblivion by Robert Harris: a vengeful Royalist government lackey pursues the men who signed the death warrant of Charles I. Good but not as good as other Harris thrillers.
- Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi: a discontented woman copes with the mental decline of her mother, and all the uncomfortable memories that surface. Not an easy read, but interesting and stylish. Quite a lot of sex but not good sex.
- Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin: religion, sexual discovery and identity, and existential despair in 1930s Harlem. This book conveys both the elation and the terror of faith. It's a hard read – partly for structural reasons because of its non-linear chronology, shifting perspective, and stream of consciousness visionary speech interspersed with Biblical quotations, and also because of the wide range of complex themes: love and lust, religion and faith, race and injustice.
- Youth by Joseph Conrad: this longish short story was largely wasted on me as I haven't read Heart of Darkness or Lucky Jim, and I fell asleep during the film. You know, that film with that actor. Anyway, in Youth, an old sailor reminisces about a doomed trip to the East and the lost effervescence of youth. Pass the bottle!
- The Forty Days of Musa Dagh by Franz Werfel: an unforgettable novel about the extermination of Armenians in 1915. The passionate, dutiful Gabriel Bagradian leads his people up the Musa Dagh to escape the encroaching Turkish army. There are love affairs, parties and joy, heroism, tragedy (quite a lot of tragedy actually) and ending to rival Anna Karenina and A Tale of Two Cities. A cautionary epic about the pervasive idea that some groups of people are simply better than others – and the incumbent horrors of that ideology
- The Flight from the Enchanter by Iris Murdoch: interesting in a post-Brexit context as one of the many threads of this novel hangs on the Right to Remain of two Polish men who are both lovers of the heroine Rosa. Women faint and men stutter in the presence of the elusive Mischa Fox, who, for an enchanter, doesn't actually seem very alluring. One of Murdoch's earlier novels, and it shows a bit, as there's too much going on; lots of drama but not much action. And as I often feel with Murdoch's novels, wouldn't everyone be happier if they philosophised a little less and worked a little more? I'm such a Protestant…
- Ratio of women to men: 16:15
- Ratio of white to non-white: 27:4
- Ratio of alive to dead: 24:7
If you only want one recommendation, read Piranesi for its complex beauty, and The Island of Missing Trees for its sad joy.
