Amanda Brookfield's Blog

A Shattered Soul

I didn’t want to read Paul Lynch’s Booker Prize winner, ‘Prophet Song’, because an eminent critic called it ‘soul-shattering’ and I don’t need my soul shattered, thank you very much. But then someone gave me a copy for Christmas, and after gathering dust in my TBR pile I thought, okay then, let’s give it a go. Because a book can always be closed, right? If you don’t like how it is written, or if it happens to be destroying your faith in the world, you can just press a button or slam it shut and move onto something else. That power – to NOT read another word – is one of the reasons that books are so powerful. No one can make you turn the page if you don’t want to.
‘Prophet Song’ hums along like a poem. It has a lilting, mesmeric quality, which took a bit of getting used to – words missed out – pronouns, articles, verbs, punctuation – but after a page or two, I barely noticed. We meet Eilish and her husband Larry, and their four kids, the youngest one a happy ‘accident’ and still a baby. We know we are in Ireland, and we know that some sort of clamping down is going on by the state. There are no specifics. In other words, this could be anywhere – and that is the point. We gather quickly that speaking out against these repressive changes is not a wise option, but then we also think – like Eilish and her family – really, how bad can it get?
The answer is, very bad indeed. The might and haunting horror of this book hangs on the slow, inexorable slide – despite all efforts to adapt and hope – of the once normal world of Eilish and her family into the dystopia of brutality and civil war. Unspeakable things occur, described not in gory details, but through the visceral pain of the family as they endure it. Through it all, Paul Lynch’s lilting, chilling, hypnotic message is plain: Look how easy it is for society to fall apart. Look and beware. Hold fast to what you know is good and right. Treasure every moment that you are granted the luxuries of security, love and togetherness, because there is no telling when they could all be snatched away.
I kept reminding myself that I did not have to read on, that I could simply stop. But somehow, I couldn’t and didn’t. Yes, a part of my soul is in smithereens. But there is another part that has been humbled by the reminder of our duty, always, to bear witness to the sufferings of others, recognising that they might one day be ours.

The Power of Small Things

The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Several decades ago I was lucky enough - for just one term - to have an English teacher by the name of Penelope Fitzgerald, who helped a small group of us study E M Forster's 'A Passage to India' for our Oxbridge entrance. She was natural, funny, generous and off-the-scale bright, while allowing us teenagers to feel that we had brains too. We did not know, and she made no mention of the fact, that she also wrote novels for a living and had, just that year, WON THE BOOKER PRIZE. It was for her novel 'Offshore'. She was sixty three, and apparently commented after receiving the award: 'I knew I was an outsider'.

I share these facts because I think they say so much about Penelope Fitzgerald herself, and the way her tender, self-effacing personality informs her stories and her characters. As she remarked once, "I am drawn to people who seem to have been born defeated or even profoundly lost." Nowhere is this more beautifully depicted than in 'The Bookshop', a bite-sized gem of a novel that tells the story of Florence Green, a widowed middle-aged woman, who decides to fight down local opposition in order to fulfil her dream of opening a bookshop in the small coastal town of Hardborough.

Based loosely on Southwold, the implications in the fictional name of Hardborough quickly become apparent, partly for geographical and climatic reasons. A neglected town, isolated and exposed to the elements, it is not an easy environment in which to live. Yet, as soon as Florence arrives, she is drawn to - and quite undaunted by - the wild, often hostile weather on the East Anglian coast, and embraces the solitariness of the place; nor does she quail at having to eke out a meagre living from the very limited funds left by her late husband.

Far more challenging are the cold and closed hearts she encounters among the Hardborough community, many of whom are inherently set against Florence and her project from the get-go. At first, Florence has enough determination to be unfazed by this hostility. Honest, shy, certain of her own failings, she is used to being overlooked and under-rated, and readily finds reasons to forgive all the obstacles and lack of enthusiasm that soon begin to come her way. 'It was very good of them to ask me,' she tells herself, after an excruciating party for which she has made a monumental effort to dress and behave acceptably, only to be ignored and/or patronised; 'I daresay they find me a bit awkward to talk to.'

With a tiny dilapidated property called 'Old House' offering the perfect location for Florence's bookshop, she presses on eagerly with her scheme, managing to get as far as opening her door to a few customers. Even when setbacks mount, forcing what she hopes will be a temporary closure, she keeps going, displaying her own sweet nature and a steeliness of purpose that belies her bird-like frame and naturally timid demeanour. The reader wills her on. If there is any justice in the world, then dear, well-intentioned Florence Green and her modest dream deserve to triumph. There are some good souls in the community of Hardborough who share the same view.

Yet Penelope Fitzgerald is as fearlessly honest as she is brilliant. She knows that life offers no easy answers, especially not for the likes of 'small' people taking on 'big' forces. Tragic dynamics are in play, but somehow Fitzgerald lays bare all the nuances of comedy too, so that we sometimes smile even as we watch Florence suffer. There is a lightness of touch to every single sentence, even the quietly devastating final one that brings the novel to its close.



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A Crystal Ball

Elizabeth Jane Howard's 'The Long View,' her second novel, is one of those that is a lot easier to read than to describe. Published in 1956, it has a five-part structure that takes us backwards through the life of Antonia Fleming, from 1950 to 1926, when we meet her as a young girl about to be gently deceived, baffled and bullied into wifehood. A story written in reverse! It sounds complicated, but Howard is so in command of her characters and their motives that it makes for a riveting read - the page-turner that teases you towards that elusive promise of everything making sense once you have been granted an understanding of how it began.

The story opens by launching us straight into a dinner party and the long-established, very dark dysfunction between the central married couple, Conrad and Antonia Fleming. He is brusque, chillingly indifferent, while she is on the verge of breakdown, clearly because of the loneliness brought on by the harsh treatment at the hands of her husband. Their children have left home and she has no one. Antonia and Conrad's social life continues to function, brittle and shallow, while underneath all is misery and chaos. It is gripping. It leaves the reader burning to know the HOW and WHY behind the situation.

Howard's power as a writer stems not only from the depths and range of the emotions she explores, but the fact that she is not interested in the game of passing judgment, even on the most unappealing of her protagonists. Conrad is cruel and domineering, while Antonia flounders, utterly lost; but there are always reasons people develop and behave as they do, and Howard plumbs every aspect of them with the forensic eye and wisdom of a psychologist. The fact is, no one is entirely monstrous, or entirely saintly; nor is there a crystal ball for seeing the consequences of the decisions we make.

By the time we reach the fifth and final part of the story, and learn how Conrad and Antonia first met, the pieces of the jigsaw are really beginning to join up. Already rejected once in love, we find a very young, impressionable and therefore vulnerable Antonia, easy prey for a man like Conrad, older and already immersed in male privilege, along with disillusions which he is ill-equipped - and little inclined - to examine. It becomes obvious too, how both characters are as much the products - and 'victims' - of the society into which they were born as their respective upbringings and personalities. The writing is on the wall. But only the novelist can see it.

The best books for me are the ones that stay with you long after you have read them. I finished 'The Long View' months ago now and think of it often, not just for its perspicacity and compelling storyline, but for the questions it raises about the ways our lives take shape and how much agency we really have over the paths we choose.

Power and Credibility

The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Meg Wolitzer's acclaimed novel, 'The Interestings', is essentially a story about what life does to youthful ambitions. It has a large cast and covers decades, beginning with a group of teenagers who meet at a summer camp in 1974, following them through to adulthood, tracking their careers and relationships as it goes.

When the teenagers first meet, their main preoccupation is fitting in, while also being 'cool' - a timelessly difficult balancing act for insecure youngsters which Wolitzer captures perfectly. There is Ethan, intellectually sharp, physically unimpressive, but a gifted cartoonist; Cathy, who wants to be a dancer; Jules, an aspiring comic actress; and Jonah, a talented guitarist clearly burdened by having a seriously famous musical mother. At the core of the group are a pair of vibrantly attractive siblings, Ash and Goodman Wolf, who act as magnets for the other characters, and around whom the plot gradually unfolds.

One of the astonishing feats of the novel is the deft handling of so many narrative threads. Wolitzer moves the reader between them all, finding connections even as the characters' lives drift apart and never once making it feel clunky or leaving such a long gap that checking back was needed to remind yourself what was going on. Compromises, betrayals, crimes, thwarted hopes, soaring success, devastating failure - as the years edge by, all of these elements are encompassed by the choices and fates that engulf the band of friends. Big tests are faced and not always passed with flying colours: questions of where loyalty lies, of what love actually is, and what constitutes the living of a good and fulfilling life.

'The Interestings' is a hefty read, packed with detail - emotional and actual; Wolitzer is fearless in what she takes on. I found the novel constantly engrossing, while also full of credible surprises - much like life itself, which I am sure is the author's primary intention. Only the ending left me feeling slightly let down. It contained the faint hint of a cop-out. But then endings are the hardest things, and my disappointment was purely a reflection of the power and credibility of the story-telling that had gone before.





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Virtuoso Friend

Early Morning Riser by Katherine Heiny

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Katherine Heiny's novel, 'Standard Deviation' so completely blew my socks off that it was with some trepidation that I approached her latest, 'Early Morning Riser'. When you revere someone, you don't want them to let you down. I had heard that the leading lady in this one falls for a man who has clocked up more notches on his bedpost than Casanova, which sounded interesting, and possibly amusing, but hardly the most promising scenario for a memorable novel...

How wrong I was. Yes, the story is about Jane, who, freshly alone, finds herself in a relationship with Duncan, serial bedder-of-women and odd-job-man extraordinaire; the sort of laid back, good-looking guy whom any sensible, heterosexual female knows she should avoid. Things kick off on the first page, when Jane has managed to lock herself out of her house (wearing her pyjamas because she is a school teacher and it was Pyjama Day) and Duncan rocks up in his dusty white van to help her get back in. Tellingly, he manages to do so without changing the locks; and thinking about this later, I decided that it was an approach that summed up the method and ingenuity of the entire novel. Nothing quite happens in the way the reader - or the protagonists - expect it to. Instead, whenever an obvious path opens up, bumps or sharp bends get in the way. Exactly like life, which is another reason why this was such a superb read.

To describe any of the plot bumps, or hint at how things turn out, would ruin the fun for the reader, so I am going to resist. The cast of characters swells to include many besides Jane and Duncan, with friends, family members and ex-lovers playing key roles. The sweep of time is ambitious and satisfying - Heiny does not shy away from following through on the consequences of the actions taken by her protagonists. There is loss, and tragedy, and love, landing in laps at unexpected moments, as is their wont. Despite this, I cannot recall a book making me laugh so loudly, or so often. Indeed, the funny-ness that Heiny finds, in even the most dire and heart-rending situations - while not for one beat undermining those situations - is truly extraordinary. It is as if her writing, her turn of phrase, finds a unique sweet spot between comedy and sadness, one that sees through human weaknesses while managing also to rejoice in them. 'Standard Deviation' had many surprising and subtly hilarious moments, but in 'Early Morning Riser' the magic finds new levels.

The point about a story-teller of Heiny's calibre - one who grabs the reader with a page-turning emotional drama, while at the same time making them howl with laughter - is that you know you are in the hands of someone who loves as well as understands the vulnerability and volatility of people. Heiny's characters are full of flaws; they muddle along, as we all do, looking for love and self-fulfilment, getting snatches of both, usually from the least expected quarters. Yet Heiny writes every story-line with such compassion, such love. She understands her protagonists and in the process makes the reader - us - feel understood too. It is such a talent. Like being in the company of a wise, funny, virtuoso friend.

I didn't want 'Early Morning Riser' to end. Towards the final chapters, I tried and failed to slow down. I kept thinking, she can't keep this up - the power and humour and insight - it will all start to flag. But it didn't. When the story finished I was sad. I am missing it still.



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Beyond Words

Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


If anyone tells you that Douglas Stuart's Booker Prize winning novel, 'Shuggie Bain', is a searing, brutal, unflinching book about the ugliness, horror, waste and suffering of addiction and poverty , then they are wrong.

'Shuggie Bain' contains all the above elements. But it is about Love.

It took my breath, and my words, away.



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Jane Austen meets P G Wodehouse

Quartet in Autumn by Barbara Pym

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


It is generally accepted now that Barbara Pym was, in her time, the most underrated of mid-twentieth century novelists. Even so, whenever I read her books (I have devoured three in recent months: 'Quartet in Autumn', 'Excellent Women' and 'Crampton Hodnet'), I am blown away all over again by her brilliance.

On the face of it, Pym writes about the minutiae of people whose lives don't matter very much; in the case of 'A Quartet in Autumn' four self-effacing office colleagues approaching retirement. The primary point being that of course the lives of Marcia, Letty, Edwin and Norman DO matter, not just because the value of each human existence is equal, but because the minutiae of ups and downs threaded into their stories are those that preoccupy as all. Each life may be 'small'. But our hopes - and capacity for disappointment - are universally vast.

The four main characters of 'Quartet in Autumn' are all single and, despite decades of sharing the same work routines, do not know each other very well. When the story begins, the two women, Letty and Marcia, are the ones who are about to retire, a turning point for all four which allows Pym to examine the pivotal decisions they have already made and the likely paths that lie ahead. She takes us into their private worlds, spinning so separately from their public ones, despite various half-hearted attempts they have each made over the years to bridge the gap. The possibility of loneliness - never once discussed - stalks them all.

If this sounds bleak then rest assured, Barbara Pym is funny as well as perceptive. Frequently hilarious, in fact. So while the scenario for Marcia in particular, a secret hoarder of tins and bottles, long since pulling up the drawbridge on her inner life, turns tragic, there is never any wallowing; only wry observation. Pym's lightness of touch lifts the narrative at every turn, finding humour in the darkest of her characters' flaws. As for instance when Letty, hearing that her best - her only - friend Marjorie has been dropped by her clergyman fiance in favour of a woman better at domestic spoiling, cannot stop herself feeling secretly ecstatic. She has her friend back! Pym is not judgemental about this or anything else; even the two men, Edwin and Norman, dabbling feebly to keep in touch with their erstwhile companions, knowing they are navigating difficulties, are portrayed with humour and compassion. They have their own aspirations to cope with, their own flimsy fortresses to defend.

Sometimes, I think of Barbara Pym as some wild cocktail mix of Jane Austen and P G Wodehouse. She has that same laser-insight, the same mastery of language, combined with the timing and insight of the born comedian. Pick up 'Quartet in Autumn', or any novel she has written, and you will not be disappointed.




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Balm for the Soul

Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


If you think John Steinbeck is one of those 'heavy classics', a genius, but best avoided for, perhaps, being too much like hard work, then...think again! 'Sweet Thursday' is a teeny mouthful of a book, so beautifully written and easily read, that you will scoff it in one go and then wish there was more. It also happens to be a sequel to the equally small and mighty 'Cannery Row', (as I only realised after starting it), but don't worry about that. 'Sweet Thursday' stands alone and is a masterpiece.

Set in the then run-down community of Monterey on the American West Coast in the aftermath of the Second World War, the book, on the face of it, is a tale of struggling, forgotten folk eking a living out of nothing, seeking solace in their local bar and whorehouse. Even before the war the place wasn't exactly flourishing; but now it is on its knees. Central to the story is Doc, once everybody's stalwart and best friend, ready to help no matter how lost the cause or clumsy the manner of being called upon to assist. Yet as the narrative unfolds it quickly becomes clear that Doc has lost his love of life, and of himself too. All the things that used to make him buzz - collecting animal specimens, helping his mostly hopeless neighbours, seeking solace in the arms of a never-ending string of gorgeous women, have lost their glow. Indeed, we soon come to realise that we are watching a man being drowned by despair; and while the people around him cannot express it in so many words, they realise it too. A desperation to turn the situation around grows among them; almost is if Doc sinking means they too, will go under.

Steinbeck is known for his grand canvases - the most obvious example being 'The Grapes of Wrath', a novel that has the sweep of an entire country in its sights. The genius of 'Sweet Thursday' is that while the canvas is in miniature, the sweep of the subject matter is just as vast. We invest in Doc. We feel the weight of his loss of hope. Somehow, we realise that so much more than the fate of just one man is at stake. We root for Doc. We need him to be ok. We groan at the hapless efforts of those around him to help. Yet, gradually, painfully, unexpectedly, some of those efforts turn out to be not so hapless after all... Steinbeck may be a fearless realist, but if there is a speck of hope, he'll rootle it out.

It is hard to put your finger on why some stories have such power. Of 'Sweet Thursday' I would say that it is because Steinbeck's compassion - for all the things, good and bad, that make us human - sings in every word. I stopped noting down the sentences I wanted to quote, because there were simply too many of them. Better, I decided, to know that it is a book to which I shall return. Better in the meantime just to spread the word and share my awe. The world is feeling a little dark at the moment. So curl up with Steinbeck's 'Sweet Thursday'. It will entertain, surprise and soothe you; balm for the soul.



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Gripping & Brilliant

The Lie of the Land by Amanda Craig

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


I can't believe I haven't read Amanda Craig before. WHY HAVEN'T I READ AMANDA CRAIG BEFORE? The only answer I can think of is that she is one of those authors who sits, rightly, in the Top League; who makes it onto long lists for big prizes but who, so far has never won one. This means that the limelight has never quite fallen on her as it should.

'The Lie of the Land' was first published in 2017 and is as brilliant as all the snapshots of reviews - 'superbly plotted,' 'gripping,' 'ingenious', - on the jacket claim. It tells the story of Quentin and Lottie Bredin, a journalist and architect respectively, both mutually desperate to divorce but who, thanks to the recession and the loss of their respective jobs, cannot afford to. With children of their own, as well as from previous relationships to worry about, along with very different wider family networks, there is a lot to reconfigure. By way of a stop-gap, they decide to move to Devon until such time as they are able to free up funds by selling their handsome family London home. The house they move to is remote and very cheap to rent, factors which Craig deploys beautifully to build up suspenseful elements of her tightly knitted plot. While Quentin and Lottie are locked in the emotional warfare triggered by Quentin's adulterous habits, the reader's attention is also drawn to wider darker forces at play in the world around them. It is a perfect construct.

Amanda Craig writes her characters with astonishing and enviable insight. There is such wisdom in her portrayal of their lives, such empathy and warmth. This means that, no matter how dreadfully any one of them behaves - and there is a vast cast in play, encompassing not just two extended families, but also the diverse and multi-layered Devon community - there is never a sense of easy judgement going on. Craig shows how we are all forged by whatever experiences we have lived through or are grappling with, and that the business of who is 'good' and who is 'bad' is never clear cut.

The background canvas of the novel is huge and full of insight too, whether it is depicting a nation in recession or describing the tough life-style and choices faced by sheep farmers, social workers, teenagers.... Nothing felt left out. At times, I even found my mind leaping to George Eliot's mighty 'Middlemarch' - another sublime fictional creation of an entire world in microcosm.

The only slight faltering for me occurred towards the very end of the novel when, the denouements of the various plot threads started to feel more about explanation than action. But this is a miniature niggle about a book that for over four hundred pages kept me glued, made me laugh out loud, as well as shake my head in wonder at the seemingly effortless highlighting of so many home truths. Yes, the plotting was masterful and neatly tied, but it was Craig's characters who carried the day, so vivid, so believable - they live with me still.



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Sameness in Sweetness

Love in Colour: Mythical Tales from Around the World, Retold by Bolu Babalola

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Even if I hadn't been told of this book by a discussion group I was recently invited to attend, I think I would have grabbed it off a shelf (virtual or actual) for the sheer gorgeousness of its jacket. 'Love in Colour', advertised as the re-telling of tales from around the world, is one of the most beautifully packaged books you could hope to find - an eye-catching sizzle of colour that perfectly matches its brilliant title.

To take ancient myths from a wide range of cultures and nations and re-explore them with zing and a modern slant is an excellent idea. For the reader it is fun just to work out which of Babalola's choices are familiar and which are entirely new. Though the real test of course, is whether these tales are able to stand on their own two feet - as separate entities from their ancient origins - and they certainly do.

Babalola has a fresh, energetic writing style designed to stop attention-wandering. Every story is galloping and accessible. "Osun was used to being looked at. In awe, lasciviously, curiously..." So begins the opening line of the super opening story and on we sweep, following the awakening of a woman to her own power. Osun knows she is exceptional, in looks as well as brains, but has yet to learn how to harness these talents, in terms of her romantic as well as her working life.
The world expects things of her that she should not necessarily feel obliged to give. The world also, while looking at her, does not really SEE her... Fixing this is the point of the story, achieved through Osun finding the right - less obvious - man to whom she should entrust her heart. The man in question being the one who 'gets' her properly - SEES her - loving and respecting not just her outer physical beauty, but the core within.

As I made my way through the stories, it became clear that this message was central to most of them, albeit wrapped in a variety of ways. After a while the fact of this - coupled with the punchy, breathless writing style - began to feel somewhat repetitive. Yes, the tales had differing contexts and components -offices, hotels, audition rooms, flats, music, gender - but the obstacles and end-points for the characters began, for me, to feel a little too similar. So often, for example, there was a poisonous side-kick, who tried to misdirect and misinform, and who therefore had to be outwitted or stood up to before the heroine could triumph. There is nothing I like better than a woman finding herself - and her true love - but I have to confess the sameness here did begin to get me down.

That said, as a die-hard romantic, a collection of stories fearlessly focussing on the central theme of 'Love' is a cause for celebration. The most powerful human emotion and force for good - our constant salvation and inspiration - love is a subject that warrants endless reaffirmation and I applaud Babalola for taking on the challenge in such a fresh and vibrant way. There is also an endearing down-to-earth detail in her descriptions of the characters falling for each other - worrying about whether their breath smells and what music they are into, not to mention having to navigate the hazards of all the paranoia inherent in a world dominated by communicating through screens. Babalola is wonderfully on top of these small, telling details of our daily modern lives and how they thread into our relationships.

Maybe I shouldn't have read the collection in one go. Maybe it is like when you eat an entire box of chocolates in one sitting - there is a sameness in the sweetness that ultimately leaves you unsatisfied. For, by the end of the last story, a part of me was wishing for more substance as well as variety. I wanted some glimpses at least, of reality, of insight and perspective on what might happen next... For it is the stuff that happens AFTER the falling-in-love that truly tests us and ultimately matters the most.



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