The Guardian's Blog, page 178

August 16, 2013

The best books on Kenya: start your reading here | Pushpinder Khaneka

Kenya's transition from colonial rule to independence and fragile democracy provides the unifying theme across a trio of classics

A Grain of Wheat by Ngugi wa Thiong'o

On the threshold of independence in 1963, the residents of Thabai village prepare to celebrate the ceding of power to Kenyans. Beneath the surface, things are tense: the British colonials are leaving and there are scores to settle.

During the struggle for independence, some villagers signed up with the Home Guard and collaborated with the "white man". Others took the Mau Mau oath and joined the rebellion – and were imprisoned and tortured in British internment camps. The comrades of Kihika, a local rebel leader who was captured and hanged, are determined to find and kill the man who betrayed him.

The stories of the main characters are told through skilful weaving between past and present. The political turbulence in the country deeply affected people's lives, testing their friendship, love and courage – and sometimes led to betrayal.

As this powerful and absorbing story unfolds, each chapter fills in pieces of a puzzle. Ngugi creates a living history of the independence struggle, retelling the colonial story from a Kenyan perspective.

Kenya's most famous novelist spent more than a year in prison for his writings during the 1970s, and later went into exile abroad.

Coming to Birth by Marjorie Oludhe Macgoye

The titular coming to birth involves Paulina Were's transition from bewildered 16-year-old bride to self-confident, independent woman. And in the background is the coming to birth of Kenya, from British colonial rule to independence and fragile democracy.

Paulina travels from her small village to join Martin, her new husband, in bustling, multi-ethnic Nairobi, arriving as a frightened, friendless woman in a city under martial law.

As she begins to find her feet, Martin's clumsy attempts to control her sour their relationship. Their troubled and childless marriage eventually drifts apart, and Paulina returns to her village.

There, she finds work as a teacher and seamstress, and increasingly lives apart from her husband – no easy task in Kenya's male-dominated society. Martin has several casual "city wives" and Paulina has a child by another man. But their bond never fully breaks.

Macgoye's pithy tale allows us to see the making of modern Kenya through the eyes of an ordinary, quietly determined woman as she makes her way – in tandem with her country – through often turbulent social and political change.

The author was born in Britain and went to Kenya in 1954 as a missionary and bookseller. She has lived there ever since.

It's Our Turn to Eat by Michela Wrong

Wrong's book on the rise and fall of Kenya's anti-corruption tsar is part Le Carré political thriller, part tale of serious moral failure. At its heart is the practice of competing ethnic (or tribal) elites taking turns at grabbing power and "eating" – as Kenyans dub the gorging of state resources by the well-connected.

John Githongo, a bright, idealistic young Kenyan, is appointed by the government to root out sleaze. But within two years he flees the country in fear for his life after discovering that the administration and its friends are brazenly looting public funds. He turns up at Wrong's flat in London.

Githongo blows the whistle, backing his allegations with secretly taped conversations, but it changes little. Even western agencies are complicit, with most donors turning a blind eye to the revelations.

The book ends just after the horrific ethnic violence surrounding the 2007 elections, which Wrong argues was caused by the tribal-based, winner-takes-all politics.

British author and journalist Wrong has reported from across Africa for many years. When local shops refused to stock It's Our Turn to Eat because of Kenya's draconian libel laws, it briefly became the most pirated text in the country's history.

KenyaAfricaPushpinder Khaneka
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Published on August 16, 2013 00:44

August 15, 2013

How to throw readers off the scent of celebrity authors

Gwyneth Paltrow has been stealing literary thunder at a public event. How are plainer writers to take it back?

What's a jobbing author supposed to do when overwhelmed at a library book signing by the fragrant Gwyneth Paltrow? After an attempt to claim that she was an up-from-size-zero Gwynnie herself had failed, novelist Christina Oxenberg knew what to do: first waft "stinky steak sandwich" fumes in her direction, then take to one's blog to let off steam.

The signing in question, the ninth East Hampton Library Annual Authors Night fundraiser, had been hailed as New York's literary event of the summer and was crammed full of the great and good from literary circles including Robert Caro, Pulitzer prize-winning biographer of Lyndon Johnson, heavyweight economist Joseph Stiglitz and acclaimed New York novelist Jay McInerney.

All were eclipsed by Gwyneth's glow, and her crowds of fans, as she signed copies of It's All Good – her healthy-eating manual packed with recipes free from "coffee, alcohol, dairy, eggs, sugar, shellfish, deep-water fish, wheat, meat, soy, and all processed foods." No wonder Oxenberg took to the buffet.

But she may be cheered to learn that UK train operator Virgin Trains could be starting an audience-focusing trend by hosting author signings in an altogether more controlled environment. The train company is planning a series of high speed on-board book signings. Starting on the west coast route on 14 September with Scandi-crime author Jo Nesbø signing his new Harry Hole thriller Police, Virgin are promising author events this autumn at up to 125 miles an hour between London and Glasgow. The signings will be announced over train's speaker system, and travellers will be invited to buy a book before meeting the author to have it signed. Also on the autumn line up are Joanna Trollope with her latest, The Soldier's Wife, and Ruby Wax signing Sane New World: Taming the Mind.

Do say: Let's do it in the buffet car. Don't say: If only Gwyneth were here.

Gwyneth PaltrowLiz Bury
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Published on August 15, 2013 09:17

Live webchat: Chris Ware

The graphic novelist will be joining us for a live webchat on Monday 19 August from 1pm BST. Post your questions now

Fresh from his appearance at the Edinburgh international book festival, the comic book writer and artist Chris Ware will be joining us on Monday to answer your questions.

Chris is one of the graphic novelists taking part of a special programme of events at the festival this year called Stripped: Comics and Graphic Novels Laid Bare and on Wednesday night took to the stage with Joe Sacco – as you can see on our live blog.

Back in 2001, Ware won the Guardian's first book award for Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth. His work has appeared in a number of publications, including the New York Times.

His most recent book, the acclaimed graphic novel Building Stories, follows the lives of the inhabitants of a building in Chicago: the landlady on the ground floor, the young woman living in the first floor flat and the woman living at the top of the building. The work comes in a large, beautiful box, and inside the story is made up of various leaflets, books and pamphlets. For Sam Leith it's the latest demonstration of how Ware finds expressive potential in graphic fiction "that you simply couldn't have anticipated".

When you read a Chris Ware comic you can be fairly sure that you'll end up with a migraine from the tiny writing, or suicidal from the worldview, and yet he's so damn good you do it anyway. It's impossible to overstate how meticulously his work hangs together: the symmetries on a single page; the motifs that worm through it; the multiple counterpointed stories.

Chris Ware will be online here, from 1pm BST on Monday 19 August. Post your questions now and we'll see you next week on Monday to join in the conversation.

Edinburgh International Book FestivalChris WareComics and graphic novelsHannah Freeman
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Published on August 15, 2013 06:04

Neil Gaiman leads Not the Booker prize shortlist

After a long night's count, the six finalists for the glittering Guardian mug have emerged. There's plenty for us to talk about

The votes are in. They've been counted too. That took a long time and, let me level with you, a couple of strong drinks. By 1am last night (or should that be 1am this morning?) I was feeling pretty tired, and very emotional. It was a blurry, confusing struggle. But I got there - and you don't want to hear about me, anyway, do you? You want to know about the results. So here goes. We have a shortlist:

Neil Gaiman - The Ocean at the End Of The Lane (50 votes)
Kate Atkinson - Life After Life (35 votes)
Lucy Cruickshanks - The Trader of Saigon (34 votes)
Suzie Tullett - Little White Lies and Butterflies (31 votes)
Zoe Venditozzi - Anywhere's Better Than Here (31 votes)
Meike Ziervogel - Magda (30 votes)

All your base are belong to Neil, is the conclusion so far. I'm pretty sure that he hasn't been lobbying either (which explains why he got 50 votes rather than 50m). I'm certain his presence is going to make this year's competition especially interesting.

A few other things are going to make it interesting too. For one, the Not the Booker prize is going to go live. On 12 October, just before the result is decided, there's going to be a Not the Booker panel event at The Wood Green literary festival. Everyone on the shortlist will be invited in due course – and you are invited now! So put the date in your diaries and I'll hope to see you there.

For two, as well as a public vote at the end, we're going to have a panel. You're invited to be on that, too. To qualify, you just have to read along with me, post plenty of reviews and opinions and, in true Not the Booker style, get yourself selected. Here's the relevant rule from our ever popular and delightful Terms and Conditions:

10. Three readers will be selected by the Guardian to form a panel of judges from those readers who have made substantial contributions to the discussion of the shortlisted books. The process by which these readers are chosen is left studiously vague and is at the Guardian's discretion. These judges undertake to read at least three of the six-book shortlist before the final judging meeting.

Before we get to all that, we have the enjoyable job of reading the books. I'm going to go through them in alphabetical order, at the rate of about one a week. Clever readers will already have worked out that this means that Kate Atkinson is first up with Life After Life. According to Guardian reviewer Alex Clark, this book is "a marvel." Meanwhile, according to the reviews left by voters in this competition, it is "brilliant", "glorious" and "memorable". Sounds like a good start. I'll be back in just over a week to see if I agree with all that. But for now, there's a great deal to discuss on that shortlist. There's fantasy, there's literary fiction and there's chick lit. Chick lit! I said it was going to be interesting …

Neil GaimanKate AtkinsonSam Jordison
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Published on August 15, 2013 04:17

Edith Nesbit's enduring magic

Earlier generations of children loved Edith Nesbit. So did I, and the ordinarily extraordinary stories still bewitch

I loved Edith Nesbit's writing as a child, as did most of my contemporaries. In the school library, the copy of The Phoenix and the Carpet had been mended several times with aged Sellotape – Five Children and It, The Story of the Treasure Seekers and The Wouldbegoods were all out on rotation. The books were read to us on drowsy Friday afternoons, and we took them home and read them again ourselves until they fell to pieces.

She remains a writer of unusually enduring popularity. No shiny box of essential children's classics can fail to feature at least one Nesbit title – Five Children and It has never been out of print since its first publication. The secret of her perennial appeal is the fine balance she strikes between the exotic and the down-to-earth, the exalted and the humorously mundane. Her child protagonists, stolid, bumbling middle-class kids with the best of intentions, narrowly avoid the worst of outcomes through their own good natures and occasional magical intervention. But whether they're dealing with amulets, firebirds, railway porters or incensed uncles, they show a native imagination and shrewdness familiar to every child reader. They know how to coax favours from authority, how to turn away wrath with a soft answer, and how to fall from grace and be redeemed.

Nesbit also retains her popularity because she wears her learning and her large intelligence so lightly. The Story of the Amulet is rich with her deep, careful research into Egyptology, but she never overburdens her pages or her reader. Like Kipling, she lets her characters encounter towering historical and mythological figures – Caesar, Pharaoh, the Queen of Babylon – in a straightforward way that lets her young reader, too, hold immediate and arresting conversations with the past. Reading her books helped confirm me, and many others, in an early love of mythology, fairy tale and folklore far and wide. Occasional sour notes, like the large-nosed Jewish stockbrokers the children encounter in London, might make the contemporary reader wince, but they don't efface Nesbit's evident joy in the stories and peoples of the world.

Nesbit's personal life, uniquely turbulent and often contradictory, is idealised or reimagined complete in many of her books – most notably in The Railway Children, wherein the breadwinning, story-selling Mother remains the linchpin of the family after Father is unjustly imprisoned. Mother is funny, clever and kind, but she is invariably a respectable lady, even though jam AND butter on the same piece of bread now represents "reckless luxury".

Nesbit, a co-founder of the Fabian Society, married when seven months pregnant to philandering Hubert Bland, chain smoker and frequently inattentive parent, was rather less ladylike, although arguably more interesting. A recurrent trope of her books is also the rebuilding of a family's fortunes after mishap or bereavement. Nesbit lost her own father shortly before her fourth birthday. No real suprise, then, that in many of her books, alongside dreamy, neverland English summers and the triumphant finding of uncountable treasures, she unforgettably conveys the hot-eyed, resenting silence of the mourning child who cannot cry.

Her imagination imparts the dangerous excitement of fabulous beasts to trains in tunnels - and makes an everyday occurrence of thick-furred, snail-eyed, wish-granting Sand Fairies. Speaking directly to young readers, without constraint or moral tight-lacing, she will continue to convey the unkempt richness of her unique world to children for many years to come.

Children and teenagersImogen Russell Williams
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Published on August 15, 2013 03:44

The Song of Achilles: Homer's ownership of his hero

Does a 2,500-year-old author still hold moral copyright on the main character?

According to the back cover of my paperback, The Song Of Achilles is "an exciting, sexy, violent Superman version of the Iliad." That sounds good to me. It sounds, in fact, just like the actual Iliad, but that's not to say there isn't room for a new version. Or so I thought until we started out on this month's discussion of the book.

Things started tamely enough with Mojorisingkc saying:

"I read Homer in college and wonder always at what fiction writers can bring to his legacy. Certainly, Achilles wanders through The Iliad in something of a funk. It would be good to see a new take on his story."

But then, Ian Johnston replied: "Please no more Iliad. Homer's epic is not a sick poem."

Taking things a stage further, El Quixote wrote: "Pre-empting hysterical propagandists, if it's not in Homer, it's not Achilles."

This I find surprising. I wouldn't dare join the 2,500-year-old war about the authorship of the Iliad. But I don't think I'm rocking the boat too much by going along with the consensus that the poem was handed down orally before it was written down. So whether or not you want to deny that there was a historical Homer, it's pretty sure that the poem was in some state of flux before it began to be written down. And then, there are plenty of arguments about the Greek text we have, let alone how to translate and understand it. All of which is a long way of saying that Homer's Achilles is at the very least open to interpretation and debate. Entire books can be written about what Achilles means when he calls Patroclus "πολὺ φίλτατος …ἑταῖρος". His very most beloved companion? His best lover by far?

And of course, if we are to stick to Homer, we would lose a whole canon of literature. Among thousands of others, we would have to discard works by Euripides, Aesychelus, Sophocles, Dante, Shakespeare, and tremble ye Gods, Led Zeppelin.

As Mythical Magpie writes:

"It looks like various writers have been embellishing the Achilles myth for centuries, including Homer. What's the real problem with one more? It almost harks back to the great oral tradition of storytelling that existed before the static preservation of tales that appeared with the written word. However, because of the written word, I don't think the existence of a modern novel can ever really threaten Homer's version in people's minds."

Of course it can't. At worst, it seems to me that Miller is going to spark more interest in Homer. Certainly, her version is no threat. It's just a new perspective – a theme developed by Matalin:

"I have studied the originals and loved them. I'm always interested in new perspectives, but have found some versions of old stories and poems can superimpose the author's own voice and pet theories rather than illuminating the people who originally wrote the piece. Madeline Miller's background as a classicist gives me confidence that she will keep it grounded in the era."

How well Miller keeps the story grounded in the era is open for debate; and a debate that Miller herself would probably enjoy. One of the first pieces of background you pick up from a classicist, after all, is how little we know about the Homeric era, how little was known when the poem was composed and how little was known by fifth–century BC Athenians. Good luck grounding it in the era, in other words. Where Miller does succeed, is in creating a consistent world. Not necessarily believable – there are too many gods involved for that. But one that we can accept. As alanwskinner writes: "Good writing, as I'm sure you'll agree, is more than the actual words. Miller uses the landscape, the physical elements of the land, to ground her prose."

Grounding again. But is that the most interesting thing? I won't deny the appeal. All those helmets, swords and spears, palaces and wooden ships pile up in the mind. There are fine descriptions of the camp on the beach at Troy (and I see now what an excellent choice this was for our original theme). It's also fun to move through those old legends, to hear heroes and ancient kings talk, to encounter goddesses. How impressive is Thetis, when Patroclus first meets her, her voice like "rocks in the surf"?

But more than this other world, The Song Of Achilles seems interesting to me for what it tells us about ours. The real satisfaction comes in seeing the old text retold in our image. If anyone is reading The Song Of Achilles in 100 years' time, that's surely what they'll go for, just as we today scour the Aeneid for what it tells us about Rome far more than what it tells us about bronze age Troy.

So what does The Song Of Achilles say about us? aflaminghalo summed it up when advocating the book to anyone who likes "hot men and adventure". Patroclus is out and proud. He is a modern gay man, albeit one in an ancient Myrmidon's clothing and written by a woman. His is really a 21st-century love story – and it's that that gives this books so much of its appeal and emotional power.

Although at this stage, I fear I may be worrying one of our other contributors:

NIViking wrote: "It would be nice to read a telling of the Achilles story which is not swamped in Hollywood cheesiness. Is this that book?"

If you believe the stories that Behind The Candelabra couldn't get a cinema release because studio executives thought it was too gay, then this isn't a particularly Hollywood book. But cheesy? Well, it has its moments. But that too, can be seen as a strength. Especially, if you're anything like Reading group contributor aflaminghalo: "I read this a couple of months ago. And while I think that Achillles needed to be made stronger as a character, the end had me ugly crying."

Ugly crying! What more could a writer ask for?

HomerFictionSam Jordison
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Published on August 15, 2013 02:28

August 13, 2013

Children's space stories are ready to take off again

Publishers have been wary of this kind of science fiction for years, but it's set to thrill a new generation

I write fiction for young people because I love the infinite imaginative space it offers. Children and young adults are incredibly open to the literature of the fantastic. So far this century, we've enjoyed stories about magic and wizards, vampires and werewolves, and post-apocalyptic dystopias. Yet the most fantastic subject of all remains unexplored territory: space.

When I was a child, spaceflight was a thrilling reality. The Apollo and Soyuz missions promised to extend our reach to the stars. Space exploration fuelled an explosion of stories during the postwar years in comics such as Dan Dare and Tintin's Destination Moon, and in TV programmes and films such as Doctor Who, Star Trek and Star Wars. Yet even back then, space novels written specifically for young readers were hard to find.

They disappeared completely with the decline of space exploration in the 1980s and 1990s. But the new century has seen a re-ignition of interest in space. Star Wars is even bigger now than it was in the 1970s, its ubiquitous reach extending to sequels, prequels, an animated series, even Lego. Star Trek is enjoying a renaissance helped by JJ Abrams's reboot, while Doctor Who's popularity has grown exponentially since Russell T Davies relaunched it in 2005. The announcement of Peter Capaldi as the 12th Doctor last weekend brought together a global audience of all ages, celebrating an alien character on a scale that's surely unprecedented.

Space science has been enjoying a revival, too. Nasa's Mars Rover has restored a sense of discovery. Breakthroughs in astronomy have revealed a truly mind-bending universe: hundreds of billions of galaxies, each with hundreds of billions of stars. The extraordinary images captured by the Hubble telescope have a grandeur that only amplifies the awe people have always felt when looking up at the stars.

Such iconic images, collected in the Visions of the Universe exhibition at the National Maritime Museum, are deeply thrilling to young people, who are also the most enthusiastic followers of figures such as Professor Brian Cox. His TV programmes, Wonders of the Solar System and Wonders of the Universe, mean as much to young people today as Carl Sagan's Cosmos meant to people such as Cox – and myself – decades ago.

Yet children's fiction has somehow remained adrift from these developments. Where are all the epic new space stories for young readers? Occasionally, there's a novel in which space is an ingredient. Frank Cottrell Boyce's Cosmic is one example, as is Sally Gardner's Carnegie Medal-winning Maggot Moon. But full-blown epic space stories have yet to enjoy anything like the visibility in children's books that they enjoy elsewhere.

The prevailing wisdom in children's publishing is that space is a hard sell. Everyone is a little scared of it. No one knows why. I've discussed this with authors, publishers, booksellers, librarians; we all acknowledge that it's an anomaly.

Some argue that space fiction tends to the kind of techno-fetishism that appeals only to older men. This seems to me a caricature of what space fiction can be. Others believe prose can never capture the majesty of space as powerfully as film. I think this is nonsense too. Words draw on each reader's personal stock of images, and can be as intensely evocative as pictures. Besides, children's literature has a rich tradition of illustration; it can use pictures as well as words if it wants to!

Happily, there are signs that the tide is turning. Puffin has been commissioning Doctor Who ebooks from some of our best children's writers, including Eoin Colfer (who also wrote a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy sequel), and the new children's laureate, Malorie Blackman. Increasingly over the last year, I've heard it whispered that "space is the next big thing in children's books".

I hope that's true, because I've spent the last seven years writing Phoenix, a space epic for readers of nine and up, set in a galaxy where humans and aliens are at war. It's about a human boy who has strange dreams of the stars, and a ferocious alien warrior girl. Together, they must find a way to save the galaxy.

I wanted my story to reflect all the things I find electrifying about space: the science of space flight, supernovae, black holes, dark matter, but also the mythic dimension; the sense that there is something transcendent and numinous about the stars. I'm fortunate enough to collaborate with the artist Dave McKean, whose breathtaking illustrations for Phoenix draw on the Hubble photography we both love. We wanted to create a book that would make readers feel like they really were flying through space; a beautiful physical object as well as a thrilling and thought-provoking story.

The stars evoke so many profound themes. They pose the biggest questions imaginable, making us consider our place in the universe, and what it means to be alive in it. We now know that every atom in existence originated in the heart of an exploding star; everything is connected by this shared origin. What does that mean for how we should behave – ethically, politically, ecologically?

"From the stars we all came," is a key phrase in Phoenix; it's a greeting used by the alien characters. These aliens have horns and hooves and flaming eyes – partly because I think it looks amazing, but more importantly, because I wanted to write about the demonisation that accompanies so many conflicts. Aliens offer such a resonant metaphor for otherness in our own world, and perhaps even a means of thinking our way through it.

The single word "aliens" infallibly brings a classroom to irrepressible excitement, as I've discovered when visiting schools around the country over the last decade. There's definitely a massive appetite for compelling, page-turning space stories among young readers.

So I would like to call on all writers, publishers and sellers of children's books. Don't be scared. It can be done. Readers are just waiting for it. This is the moment for children's fiction to go to the next generation.

Children and teenagersPublishingEdinburgh International Book Festivalsf said
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Published on August 13, 2013 03:01

August 12, 2013

Open thread: what are your favourite words?

We're compiling an Edinburgh book festival dictionary of authors' favourite words. Tell us yours, and we'll add it to the list

Did you know that there is a word for "to chase girls around the haystacks after dark"? Mark Forsyth certainly does, and he took every opportunity to use it during his Edinburgh book festival talk on some of the English language's most obscure words.

Author of two books on the subject - The Etymologicon and The Horologicon - Forsyth's etymological enthusiasm was palpable and infectious.

When exhausted by that haystack "sprunting", what better to do than "gongoozle" (to stare idly at a canal or watercourse and do nothing) to avoid becoming "wamblecropped" (overcome with indigestion).

The supermarket, he revealed, was a treasure-trove of neologistic usage, with double-sided shelves known as "gondolas", and hanging advertising boards called either "danglers" or "wobblers" depending on whether they, well, dangle or wobble.

But while Forsyth made a good case for English being one of the world's most eccentric languages, he pointed out that it is actually very difficult to introduce an entirely new word; when asked how he would do so by an audience member, he recommended slipping it into a number one single.

Crime writer Ian Rankin has made an Edinburgh specialism of mingling with musicians - he was on stage at the weekend with Joy Division's Peter Hook - but he's more likely to slip unusual words into a novel than a song.

So when you next hook up with Rebus, look out for "fud" - a Scottish word which, as Rankin revealed in one of a series of "Authors' words" videos, is a lot less rude now than it was when it was originally used.

We'll be adding to the series throughout the festival, collaring unsuspecting authors and asking them to tell us their favourite words, with entertaining - and at times mildly disturbing - results. You can see more of them in our live blog.

What would be yours? It doesn't have to be joyous, like Patrick Ness's choice, or five syllables long and unspellable - like Ann Widdecombe's - you just have to love it. Post your word in the comment thread below and remember to tell us why you've chosen it.

Edinburgh International Book FestivalEdinburgh festivalIan RankinAnn WiddecombePatrick Ness
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Published on August 12, 2013 09:18

Tips, links and suggestions: What are you reading, today?

The space to talk about the books you are reading, and find out which ones we are reviewing

Hannah FreemanGuardian readers




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Published on August 12, 2013 07:25

What's your route to the best independent bookshops?

Give us your tips for a holiday trip round the best of the UK's independent bookshops

A call for help from Kate McKenzie, who's been in touch about her plans for a summer holiday. Surely a query for the travel desk, you say. But hold on a minute. Apparently Kate's brewing up a plan to travel around the UK and visit "as many independent bookshops as possible". Which is where we come in.

After waxing lyrical about our interactive map of independent bookshops, boasting 319 reports of excellent independent bookshops as of this morning, she comes to the nub of the issue:

Just wondering if you've got a suggested tour that might include some of the best recommendations.

Well, frankly, no. We haven't. But maybe we could brew up a couple of bookish itineraries right here.

For starters, I'd suggest passing through Suffolk, or more particularly Chapel Books in Westleton, a dusty treasure trove of secondhand marvels. I came across it a couple of years ago, and remember an excellent selection of contemporary US fiction, some beautiful art books and a children's section with a comfy old armchair for making sure you really have found the right thing after all.

There's the added advantage of finding yourself in the heart of an area steeped in literature – the empty beaches of Sebald's The Rings of Saturn, the shadowy mists of MR James's Aldeburgh, the crumbling grandeur of China Miéville's Covehithe.

According to the map, you're not a million miles away from the Browser's Bookshop, and The Aldeburgh Bookshop is close at hand – surely the beginnings of a brief bookshop tour already. But where should Kate head next? Over to you ...

BooksellersRichard Lea
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Published on August 12, 2013 04:51

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