Katheryn Thompson's Blog, page 7
March 3, 2021
The Crow Trap by Ann Cleeves
Like many people, I eagerly watch each new series of Vera, but I've also recently started watching the entire series from the beginning. I'm enjoying it so much that I decided it was finally time to try the books that the TV series is based on.
If you have read other reviews of The Crow Trap, you have probably learnt that DI Vera Stanhope isn't introduced until part way through the book. But (fear not) she still manages to steal the show. Vera is a fascinating character, vividly brought to life, and even after only one book I feel like I have a better, rounder understanding of her character than can be gained from watching the TV series alone.
That's not to say, however, that I was impatiently turning pages, waiting for Vera to be introduced. The characters the reader is first introduced to are all interesting in their own right. Ann Cleeves clearly has a talent for crafting characters that are both memorable and realistic. The Crow Trap is a little longer than you might expect for a police procedural (around 560 pages), and it was the characters and the story which held my attention more than the suspense and action.
I was particularly impressed by how well-plotted The Crow Trap is (everything is relevant, without making the resolution too easy to guess). Fans of the TV series need not worry that their familiarity with the plot will ruin their enjoyment of this book. The TV adaptation has (as is usually the case) changed details of the story, simplified characters, and condensed plotlines. The Crow Trap is worth reading as much for the way the story is told, as for the 'whodunnit' part of the story itself.
I would definitely be happy to read more of this series.
If you have read other reviews of The Crow Trap, you have probably learnt that DI Vera Stanhope isn't introduced until part way through the book. But (fear not) she still manages to steal the show. Vera is a fascinating character, vividly brought to life, and even after only one book I feel like I have a better, rounder understanding of her character than can be gained from watching the TV series alone.
That's not to say, however, that I was impatiently turning pages, waiting for Vera to be introduced. The characters the reader is first introduced to are all interesting in their own right. Ann Cleeves clearly has a talent for crafting characters that are both memorable and realistic. The Crow Trap is a little longer than you might expect for a police procedural (around 560 pages), and it was the characters and the story which held my attention more than the suspense and action.
I was particularly impressed by how well-plotted The Crow Trap is (everything is relevant, without making the resolution too easy to guess). Fans of the TV series need not worry that their familiarity with the plot will ruin their enjoyment of this book. The TV adaptation has (as is usually the case) changed details of the story, simplified characters, and condensed plotlines. The Crow Trap is worth reading as much for the way the story is told, as for the 'whodunnit' part of the story itself.
I would definitely be happy to read more of this series.
March 1, 2021
February in Books
I started February with A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, a much-praised book which had been on my to-read list for too long.
This is an incredible book. A Little Life starts as the story of four college friends, trying to make their way in New York, but the story progresses and grows as its characters do. There are moments when the story is a little slow, even overwritten, but it always draws you back in. I loved the realism and attention to detail, and found myself constantly wanting to talk about the part of the book I was experiencing at the time. A Little Life slowly becomes the story of one of those four friends, and I absolutely loved, and was heartbroken by, the story of Jude. I'm so glad I finally read this one.
I discovered Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin in an article on What to read after watching It's A Sin, Russell T Davies' five-part drama about living through London's AIDS crisis.
This was the perfect book to read after the heavy (in more ways than one) A Little Life. Broken down into short chapters, Tales of the City is comprised of separate but delightfully overlapping storylines, set in 1976 San Francisco. It provided some much needed light relief, but also created characters and plots that I quickly became invested in. More Tales of the City is officially on my to-read list.
When I saw that The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken was available at the library, I jumped at the chance to read it next.
I found the first half a little dull, since it explained a lot of information I already knew about the basic workings of the criminal justice system in England and Wales, albeit with an appreciated sprinkling of real-life anecdotes. However, I really enjoyed the second half, starting with a chapter on legal aid (which I knew little about), two chapters on the pros and cons of our adversarial system (which I hadn't really considered before), an enlightening chapter on sentencing (often an obsession with the media), another on appeals, and a concluding chapter which suggests why society has so little interest in our legal system (compare our concern over the NHS) and what we can do about it.
You can check out my full review here.
Mrs Death Misses Death by Salena Godden has been all over my timeline recently, so I was delighted when it suddenly appeared on my library's shelves.
I was really looking forward to reading Mrs Death Misses Death (what a title!), but I didn't end up enjoying it as much as I'd hoped I would. I liked the originality, and I loved that this book has something to say. I liked the characters. But I just never got sucked into the story, and unfortunately that made reading this one a little bit of a chore. I do still think this is a book worth taking a chance on though (especially as it's so short), and I'd especially recommend it for fans of Hinton Hollow Death Trip and Surge.
A Crooked Tree by Una Mannion, another one I've heard a lot about, appeared on my library's shelves at the same time.
A Crooked Tree opens with Libby's mother pulling the car over and ordering Libby's 12 year-old sister Ellen to walk home. This was all I needed to be told to know that I wanted to read this book. I was hooked from the start, and not just because of that brilliant opener. I loved the style of writing, and would definitely want to check out anything Una Mannion wrote in future.
You can read my full review here.
Next was another one which had been on my to-read list for too long: We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver.
Although I found the first half a little disappointing, by halfway through, I was hooked. I ended up really enjoying this one. We Need to Talk About Kevin tackles a very challenging and controversial issue, and I think it manages to do justice to its concept. However, I don't think I will be reading any more books by Lionel Shriver. I found some of Eva's opinions and ideas a little too off-putting, and while I often enjoy unlikable characters, having also read Shriver's The Mandibles: A Family, 2029–2047, I think this bitter tone has a tendency to seep into her writing. I could do without it.
I had forgotten that I wanted to read Chernobyl: The History of a Nuclear Catastrophe by Serhii Plokhy, until I saw its striking cover on the library shelves.
Chernobyl: History of a Tragedy is a clear and compelling account of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. Serhii Plokhy gives just the right amount of historical context to make sense of the incident, without overloading you with unnecessary information. I was especially impressed by how clearly he explained what exactly went wrong at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. Highly recommended for anyone else wanting to know more about such an infamous historical event.
I decided it was finally time to tackle my physical to-read shelf, so I made a start with Call the Dying by Andrew Taylor.
I was in the mood for some gentle crime fiction, and this turned out to be the perfect choice. I loved Andrew Taylor's style of writing, the small-town setting, and the focus on minor as well as major crimes. If you're interested in discovering a new series, I have no doubt that this one is worth your time, but Call the Dying also works perfectly well as a standalone novel.
Little Disasters by Sarah Vaughan is one of those books which I was really excited to read, but it somehow took me ages to actually read.
Little Disasters is a compulsive page-turner, which keeps you guessing without resorting to a convoluted plot. But, more than that, Sarah Vaughan's exploration of motherhood raises Little Disasters above the average thriller. This book feels wonderfully true to life, and is definitely worth your time.
You can read my full review here.
Buoyed by my recent success, I continued to clear my backlog of unread books with Shadows by Paul Finch.
This turned out to be a brilliant police procedural; set in the northwest of England, centred on a strong and smart protagonist, well-written, and with several interesting storylines leading up to a nail-biting climax. I particularly liked that DC Lucy Clayburn had more than one case to solve in this book. Shadows is the second book in a series, but can also be read as a standalone.
My last book of February was Ten Days in Harlem: Fidel Castro and the Making of the 1960s by Simon Hall, which I was inspired to read after watching The Trial of the Chicago 7.
Ten Days in Harlem focuses on Fidel Castro's visit to New York in 1960, to make an address at the United Nations, in order to tell a much bigger story. Clear, compelling, and completely accessible, this book is the perfect starting point for learning more about the revolutionary 60s.
This is an incredible book. A Little Life starts as the story of four college friends, trying to make their way in New York, but the story progresses and grows as its characters do. There are moments when the story is a little slow, even overwritten, but it always draws you back in. I loved the realism and attention to detail, and found myself constantly wanting to talk about the part of the book I was experiencing at the time. A Little Life slowly becomes the story of one of those four friends, and I absolutely loved, and was heartbroken by, the story of Jude. I'm so glad I finally read this one.
I discovered Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin in an article on What to read after watching It's A Sin, Russell T Davies' five-part drama about living through London's AIDS crisis.
This was the perfect book to read after the heavy (in more ways than one) A Little Life. Broken down into short chapters, Tales of the City is comprised of separate but delightfully overlapping storylines, set in 1976 San Francisco. It provided some much needed light relief, but also created characters and plots that I quickly became invested in. More Tales of the City is officially on my to-read list.
When I saw that The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken was available at the library, I jumped at the chance to read it next.
I found the first half a little dull, since it explained a lot of information I already knew about the basic workings of the criminal justice system in England and Wales, albeit with an appreciated sprinkling of real-life anecdotes. However, I really enjoyed the second half, starting with a chapter on legal aid (which I knew little about), two chapters on the pros and cons of our adversarial system (which I hadn't really considered before), an enlightening chapter on sentencing (often an obsession with the media), another on appeals, and a concluding chapter which suggests why society has so little interest in our legal system (compare our concern over the NHS) and what we can do about it.
You can check out my full review here.
Mrs Death Misses Death by Salena Godden has been all over my timeline recently, so I was delighted when it suddenly appeared on my library's shelves.
I was really looking forward to reading Mrs Death Misses Death (what a title!), but I didn't end up enjoying it as much as I'd hoped I would. I liked the originality, and I loved that this book has something to say. I liked the characters. But I just never got sucked into the story, and unfortunately that made reading this one a little bit of a chore. I do still think this is a book worth taking a chance on though (especially as it's so short), and I'd especially recommend it for fans of Hinton Hollow Death Trip and Surge.
A Crooked Tree by Una Mannion, another one I've heard a lot about, appeared on my library's shelves at the same time.
A Crooked Tree opens with Libby's mother pulling the car over and ordering Libby's 12 year-old sister Ellen to walk home. This was all I needed to be told to know that I wanted to read this book. I was hooked from the start, and not just because of that brilliant opener. I loved the style of writing, and would definitely want to check out anything Una Mannion wrote in future.
You can read my full review here.
Next was another one which had been on my to-read list for too long: We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver.
Although I found the first half a little disappointing, by halfway through, I was hooked. I ended up really enjoying this one. We Need to Talk About Kevin tackles a very challenging and controversial issue, and I think it manages to do justice to its concept. However, I don't think I will be reading any more books by Lionel Shriver. I found some of Eva's opinions and ideas a little too off-putting, and while I often enjoy unlikable characters, having also read Shriver's The Mandibles: A Family, 2029–2047, I think this bitter tone has a tendency to seep into her writing. I could do without it.
I had forgotten that I wanted to read Chernobyl: The History of a Nuclear Catastrophe by Serhii Plokhy, until I saw its striking cover on the library shelves.
Chernobyl: History of a Tragedy is a clear and compelling account of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. Serhii Plokhy gives just the right amount of historical context to make sense of the incident, without overloading you with unnecessary information. I was especially impressed by how clearly he explained what exactly went wrong at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. Highly recommended for anyone else wanting to know more about such an infamous historical event.
I decided it was finally time to tackle my physical to-read shelf, so I made a start with Call the Dying by Andrew Taylor.
I was in the mood for some gentle crime fiction, and this turned out to be the perfect choice. I loved Andrew Taylor's style of writing, the small-town setting, and the focus on minor as well as major crimes. If you're interested in discovering a new series, I have no doubt that this one is worth your time, but Call the Dying also works perfectly well as a standalone novel.
Little Disasters by Sarah Vaughan is one of those books which I was really excited to read, but it somehow took me ages to actually read.
Little Disasters is a compulsive page-turner, which keeps you guessing without resorting to a convoluted plot. But, more than that, Sarah Vaughan's exploration of motherhood raises Little Disasters above the average thriller. This book feels wonderfully true to life, and is definitely worth your time.
You can read my full review here.
Buoyed by my recent success, I continued to clear my backlog of unread books with Shadows by Paul Finch.
This turned out to be a brilliant police procedural; set in the northwest of England, centred on a strong and smart protagonist, well-written, and with several interesting storylines leading up to a nail-biting climax. I particularly liked that DC Lucy Clayburn had more than one case to solve in this book. Shadows is the second book in a series, but can also be read as a standalone.
My last book of February was Ten Days in Harlem: Fidel Castro and the Making of the 1960s by Simon Hall, which I was inspired to read after watching The Trial of the Chicago 7.
Ten Days in Harlem focuses on Fidel Castro's visit to New York in 1960, to make an address at the United Nations, in order to tell a much bigger story. Clear, compelling, and completely accessible, this book is the perfect starting point for learning more about the revolutionary 60s.
February 22, 2021
Little Disasters by Sarah Vaughan
Crime fiction used to account for most of the books I read, but recently I've found myself getting tired of the repetitive tropes and storylines. So I've made a concerted effort to find crime fiction that somehow does something a little different from the rest.
Jess is the mother Liz always wished she could be, so when Jess brings her baby daughter into A&E, Liz is sure that it must have been an accident. But when Jess' story doesn't match her daughter's injury, Liz begins to wonder how well she really knows her friend.
Little Disasters is a compulsive page-turner. My desire to find out what had happened was sparked from the beginning - Sarah Vaughan has a knack for ending chapters at just the right moment - and the delicate nature of the investigation, combined with the realistic characters at the centre of it, keeps you guessing without resorting to an overly complicated plot.
What makes Little Disasters stand out from your average thriller, however, is its exploration of motherhood. Vaughan writes wonderfully believable characters, and her portrayals of motherhood are nuanced and feel true to life. I love the way Vaughan dismantles the myth that motherhood comes naturally to women, and that being a stay-at-home mum isn't a proper job. Too often, I struggle to engage with thrillers because they feature unrelatable characters or overly dramatic events - Little Disasters does neither.
Little Disasters is so much more than a compelling thriller, and it is definitely worth your time.
Jess is the mother Liz always wished she could be, so when Jess brings her baby daughter into A&E, Liz is sure that it must have been an accident. But when Jess' story doesn't match her daughter's injury, Liz begins to wonder how well she really knows her friend.
Little Disasters is a compulsive page-turner. My desire to find out what had happened was sparked from the beginning - Sarah Vaughan has a knack for ending chapters at just the right moment - and the delicate nature of the investigation, combined with the realistic characters at the centre of it, keeps you guessing without resorting to an overly complicated plot.
What makes Little Disasters stand out from your average thriller, however, is its exploration of motherhood. Vaughan writes wonderfully believable characters, and her portrayals of motherhood are nuanced and feel true to life. I love the way Vaughan dismantles the myth that motherhood comes naturally to women, and that being a stay-at-home mum isn't a proper job. Too often, I struggle to engage with thrillers because they feature unrelatable characters or overly dramatic events - Little Disasters does neither.
Little Disasters is so much more than a compelling thriller, and it is definitely worth your time.
February 13, 2021
A Crooked Tree by Una Mannion
A Crooked Tree is one of those books which I've seen all over social media, so I was delighted when it suddenly appeared on my library's shelves.
It is the early 1980s and fifteen-year-old Libby is obsessed with The Field Guide to the Trees of North America, a gift her Irish immigrant father gave her before he died. She finds solace in “The Kingdom,” a stand of red oak and thick mountain laurel near her home in suburban Pennsylvania, where she can escape from her large and unruly family and share menthol cigarettes and lukewarm beers with her best friend.
One night, while driving home, Libby’s mother, exhausted and overwhelmed with the fighting in the backseat, pulls over and orders Libby’s little sister Ellen to walk home. What none of this family knows as they drive off leaving a twelve-year-old girl on the side of the road five miles from home with darkness closing in, is what will happen next.
A Crooked Tree opens with Libby's mother pulling the car over and ordering Libby's little sister Ellen to walk home. This was all I needed to be told to know that I wanted to read this book. I wanted to find out what happened next, but also what had happened to this family for them to get to this point. And that is exactly what we find out. A Crooked Tree isn't the kind of book you might expect; it's more accurate to describe it as literary fiction, or a coming-of-age story, than a mystery or thriller, but it is nevertheless a compelling and tense read.
This book had me hooked from the start, and not just because of that brilliant opener. I loved the style of writing, and would definitely want to check out anything Una Mannion wrote in future. I also immediately liked our protagonist, Libby. One of the great things about a young protagonist is the tension between what they think is happening and what the reader thinks is happening, and this is aided, in A Crooked Tree, by the fact that Libby is a natural worrier. The reader shares in her anxieties and uncertainties, as her life builds to a crisis point, in the aftermath of her mother's fateful decision to leave Ellen by the side of the road.
I immediately fell in love with A Crooked Tree, and soon found myself unable to put it down. I look forward to anything Mannion might write in future.
It is the early 1980s and fifteen-year-old Libby is obsessed with The Field Guide to the Trees of North America, a gift her Irish immigrant father gave her before he died. She finds solace in “The Kingdom,” a stand of red oak and thick mountain laurel near her home in suburban Pennsylvania, where she can escape from her large and unruly family and share menthol cigarettes and lukewarm beers with her best friend.
One night, while driving home, Libby’s mother, exhausted and overwhelmed with the fighting in the backseat, pulls over and orders Libby’s little sister Ellen to walk home. What none of this family knows as they drive off leaving a twelve-year-old girl on the side of the road five miles from home with darkness closing in, is what will happen next.
A Crooked Tree opens with Libby's mother pulling the car over and ordering Libby's little sister Ellen to walk home. This was all I needed to be told to know that I wanted to read this book. I wanted to find out what happened next, but also what had happened to this family for them to get to this point. And that is exactly what we find out. A Crooked Tree isn't the kind of book you might expect; it's more accurate to describe it as literary fiction, or a coming-of-age story, than a mystery or thriller, but it is nevertheless a compelling and tense read.
This book had me hooked from the start, and not just because of that brilliant opener. I loved the style of writing, and would definitely want to check out anything Una Mannion wrote in future. I also immediately liked our protagonist, Libby. One of the great things about a young protagonist is the tension between what they think is happening and what the reader thinks is happening, and this is aided, in A Crooked Tree, by the fact that Libby is a natural worrier. The reader shares in her anxieties and uncertainties, as her life builds to a crisis point, in the aftermath of her mother's fateful decision to leave Ellen by the side of the road.
I immediately fell in love with A Crooked Tree, and soon found myself unable to put it down. I look forward to anything Mannion might write in future.
February 8, 2021
The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken
This is one I've wanted to read for a while (pretty much ever since it came out), so when I saw it was available at the library, I jumped at the chance to read it next.
From the criminals to the lawyers, the victims, witnesses and officers of the law, here is the best and worst of humanity, all struggling within a broken system which would never be off the front pages if the public knew what it was really like. Both a searing first-hand account of the human cost of the criminal justice system, and a guide to how we got into this mess, The Secret Barrister wants to show you what it’s really like and why it really matters.
The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken starts in the courtroom. We get a snapshot of the law in action, as The Secret Barrister talks us through the basics of the criminal justice system in England and Wales. After a chapter on the courtroom, and a damning chapter on the Magistrates' Court, they move onto bail - often a controversial topic in the media. The next few chapters focus a little less on explanation and a little more on argument, as we move onto prosecution errors, the treatment of victims, and the worrying minority of solicitors who do not do their job as they should. It is impossible to please everybody, and I personally found this first half a little dull, since it repeated a lot of information I already knew, albeit with an appreciated sprinkle of real-life anecdotes.
The second half, however, was a completely different story. There was a chapter on legal aid, which is something I knew little about; two chapters on the pros and cons of our adversarial system, which I hadn't really considered before; an enlightening chapter on sentencing (often an obsession with the media), and another on appeals; and a concluding chapter which suggests why society has so little interest in our legal system (compare our concern over the NHS), and what we can do about it. I found myself, while reading this second half, constantly wanting to share what I was learning with someone - always a good sign.
I don't really believe in 'books everyone should read', because I firmly believe everyone should read exactly what they want to, but if I were to compile such a list, The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken would be on it.
Now I just have to wait for Fake Law: The Truth About Justice in an Age of Lies to become available at the library - if my experience with The Secret Barrister is anything to go by, it should only take two years.
From the criminals to the lawyers, the victims, witnesses and officers of the law, here is the best and worst of humanity, all struggling within a broken system which would never be off the front pages if the public knew what it was really like. Both a searing first-hand account of the human cost of the criminal justice system, and a guide to how we got into this mess, The Secret Barrister wants to show you what it’s really like and why it really matters.
The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken starts in the courtroom. We get a snapshot of the law in action, as The Secret Barrister talks us through the basics of the criminal justice system in England and Wales. After a chapter on the courtroom, and a damning chapter on the Magistrates' Court, they move onto bail - often a controversial topic in the media. The next few chapters focus a little less on explanation and a little more on argument, as we move onto prosecution errors, the treatment of victims, and the worrying minority of solicitors who do not do their job as they should. It is impossible to please everybody, and I personally found this first half a little dull, since it repeated a lot of information I already knew, albeit with an appreciated sprinkle of real-life anecdotes.
The second half, however, was a completely different story. There was a chapter on legal aid, which is something I knew little about; two chapters on the pros and cons of our adversarial system, which I hadn't really considered before; an enlightening chapter on sentencing (often an obsession with the media), and another on appeals; and a concluding chapter which suggests why society has so little interest in our legal system (compare our concern over the NHS), and what we can do about it. I found myself, while reading this second half, constantly wanting to share what I was learning with someone - always a good sign.
I don't really believe in 'books everyone should read', because I firmly believe everyone should read exactly what they want to, but if I were to compile such a list, The Secret Barrister: Stories of the Law and How It's Broken would be on it.
Now I just have to wait for Fake Law: The Truth About Justice in an Age of Lies to become available at the library - if my experience with The Secret Barrister is anything to go by, it should only take two years.
January 31, 2021
January in Books
My first book of 2021 was And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini. It's a book that had been on my to-read for far too long, having read and loved Hosseini's earlier books, The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.
And the Mountains Echoed is such a beautiful and heart-breaking story. I liked that this book contains several stories within one, each possessing extraordinary depth. I could barely put this one down.
I decided that another lockdown was the perfect time to lose myself in a long book, so I chose A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James as my next read.
A Brief History of Seven Killings creates a world that you can lose yourself in, but be warned that it's a brutal world. It's remarkable how Marlon James creates and keeps track of so many different storylines, and I loved seeing them all come together. I was impressed by how James made me sympathise with the vilest of characters.
I enjoyed this one so much, that I chose the even longer Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann next.
I love the idea of recording a character's interior monologue, and I enjoyed the ways our unnamed narrator's thoughts spiral and link together. There is also a story being told through this monologue, as we learn more about the narrator and her past, and the other characters involved in her life, and as events unfold during the time the book takes place. There were definitely moments when I found the endless lists a bit monotonous, but there were very few moments when I was tempted to skim-read (which is saying something for a book of this length).
I needed a break after this one, so I chose a collection of short stories by an author I'd heard only good things about: Lot: Stories by Bryan Washington.
I always enjoy stories about finding one's place, and the concept of 'home', and I love the way that the stories in Lot don't provide any definite answers; they feel unformed, unfinished, but never abrupt or unskilled, in a way that feels true to life. These stories are desperately sad but also so filled with hope.
My next book was by an author I've wanted to read ever since she won the 2019 Booker Prize: Blonde Roots by Bernardine Evaristo.
I'm always a little unsure about reading books set during the slave trade, and there were definitely moments in Blonde Roots which were difficult to read, but what makes this one different is that it imagines that Africans enslaved Europeans. This reversal is borne out in really interesting ways. I wasn't convinced by the name changes and world-building, but I loved the way Evaristo looks at attributes of Black and white civilisations with a different lens. The main story of Doris, a slave who longs to escape, is engaging but pretty standard fare, but the 'Afterword' makes for a very strong ending.
You can check out my full review here.
I couldn't decide what to read next, so I decided to narrow down my options by choosing a female author to balance out my male-female author ratio: The Bell by Iris Murdoch.
As soon as I started reading The Bell, I wondered why I'd left it so long since last picking up a book by Iris Murdoch. I instantly fell in love with the protagonist, Dora, and the book's Gothic setting really appeals to me. The Sea, The Sea remains my favourite Murdoch thus far, but The Bell definitely wins second place.
My next book was one everyone seems to have read, the 2020 Booker Prize winner, Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart.
Shuggie Bain is a remarkably engaging book. I soon became invested in the lives of its lifelike characters, and it became very difficult to put the book down. The characters are definitely one of the book's strongest features, written with incredible attention to detail and surprising subtlety. I feel as if I actually got to know them, and I found the character of Agnes Bain especially compelling.
You can check out my full review here.
My last read of January 2021 was one more to tick off the classics list: Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.
Brideshead Revisited wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I loved the book's structure, starting and returning to the same point, and centred around Brideshead. Aided by the book's episodic structure and Evelyn Waugh's versatile writing style, Brideshead Revisited is far more encompassing than I had expected, and I greatly enjoyed the journey.
I'm really pleased with the bookish choices I made this month. Here's to another month of reading!
And the Mountains Echoed is such a beautiful and heart-breaking story. I liked that this book contains several stories within one, each possessing extraordinary depth. I could barely put this one down.
I decided that another lockdown was the perfect time to lose myself in a long book, so I chose A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James as my next read.
A Brief History of Seven Killings creates a world that you can lose yourself in, but be warned that it's a brutal world. It's remarkable how Marlon James creates and keeps track of so many different storylines, and I loved seeing them all come together. I was impressed by how James made me sympathise with the vilest of characters.
I enjoyed this one so much, that I chose the even longer Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann next.
I love the idea of recording a character's interior monologue, and I enjoyed the ways our unnamed narrator's thoughts spiral and link together. There is also a story being told through this monologue, as we learn more about the narrator and her past, and the other characters involved in her life, and as events unfold during the time the book takes place. There were definitely moments when I found the endless lists a bit monotonous, but there were very few moments when I was tempted to skim-read (which is saying something for a book of this length).
I needed a break after this one, so I chose a collection of short stories by an author I'd heard only good things about: Lot: Stories by Bryan Washington.
I always enjoy stories about finding one's place, and the concept of 'home', and I love the way that the stories in Lot don't provide any definite answers; they feel unformed, unfinished, but never abrupt or unskilled, in a way that feels true to life. These stories are desperately sad but also so filled with hope.
My next book was by an author I've wanted to read ever since she won the 2019 Booker Prize: Blonde Roots by Bernardine Evaristo.
I'm always a little unsure about reading books set during the slave trade, and there were definitely moments in Blonde Roots which were difficult to read, but what makes this one different is that it imagines that Africans enslaved Europeans. This reversal is borne out in really interesting ways. I wasn't convinced by the name changes and world-building, but I loved the way Evaristo looks at attributes of Black and white civilisations with a different lens. The main story of Doris, a slave who longs to escape, is engaging but pretty standard fare, but the 'Afterword' makes for a very strong ending.
You can check out my full review here.
I couldn't decide what to read next, so I decided to narrow down my options by choosing a female author to balance out my male-female author ratio: The Bell by Iris Murdoch.
As soon as I started reading The Bell, I wondered why I'd left it so long since last picking up a book by Iris Murdoch. I instantly fell in love with the protagonist, Dora, and the book's Gothic setting really appeals to me. The Sea, The Sea remains my favourite Murdoch thus far, but The Bell definitely wins second place.
My next book was one everyone seems to have read, the 2020 Booker Prize winner, Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart.
Shuggie Bain is a remarkably engaging book. I soon became invested in the lives of its lifelike characters, and it became very difficult to put the book down. The characters are definitely one of the book's strongest features, written with incredible attention to detail and surprising subtlety. I feel as if I actually got to know them, and I found the character of Agnes Bain especially compelling.
You can check out my full review here.
My last read of January 2021 was one more to tick off the classics list: Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.
Brideshead Revisited wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I loved the book's structure, starting and returning to the same point, and centred around Brideshead. Aided by the book's episodic structure and Evelyn Waugh's versatile writing style, Brideshead Revisited is far more encompassing than I had expected, and I greatly enjoyed the journey.
I'm really pleased with the bookish choices I made this month. Here's to another month of reading!
January 26, 2021
Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart
There are some books that you seem to see everywhere. 2020 Booker Prize winner Shuggie Bain is one of them.
It is 1981. Glasgow is dying and good families must grift to survive. Agnes Bain has always expected more from life. She dreams of greater things: a house with its own front door and a life bought and paid for outright. But Agnes is abandoned by her philandering husband, and soon she and her three children find themselves trapped in a decimated mining town. As she descends deeper into drink, the children try their best to save her, yet one by one they must abandon her to save themselves. It is her son Shuggie who holds out hope the longest.
Shuggie Bain is a remarkably engaging book. I soon became invested in the lives of its lifelike characters, and it became very difficult to put the book down. The characters are definitely one of the book's strongest features, written with incredible attention to detail and surprising subtlety. I feel as if I actually got to know them, and I found the character of Agnes Bain especially compelling.
Although I think Shuggie Bain completely deserves all the praise it has received, I am a little surprised that so many people have fallen in love with it. I wonder if the story of a working-class family trying to survive in Thatcher-era Glasgow is one people haven't heard before; perhaps if it's one they think deserves to be told. What I think Douglas Stuart does really well is tell this story with dignity. Shuggie Bain is a heart-breaking story, but it's well-written, engaging, and as tender as it is bleak.
It is 1981. Glasgow is dying and good families must grift to survive. Agnes Bain has always expected more from life. She dreams of greater things: a house with its own front door and a life bought and paid for outright. But Agnes is abandoned by her philandering husband, and soon she and her three children find themselves trapped in a decimated mining town. As she descends deeper into drink, the children try their best to save her, yet one by one they must abandon her to save themselves. It is her son Shuggie who holds out hope the longest.
Shuggie Bain is a remarkably engaging book. I soon became invested in the lives of its lifelike characters, and it became very difficult to put the book down. The characters are definitely one of the book's strongest features, written with incredible attention to detail and surprising subtlety. I feel as if I actually got to know them, and I found the character of Agnes Bain especially compelling.
Although I think Shuggie Bain completely deserves all the praise it has received, I am a little surprised that so many people have fallen in love with it. I wonder if the story of a working-class family trying to survive in Thatcher-era Glasgow is one people haven't heard before; perhaps if it's one they think deserves to be told. What I think Douglas Stuart does really well is tell this story with dignity. Shuggie Bain is a heart-breaking story, but it's well-written, engaging, and as tender as it is bleak.
January 22, 2021
Blonde Roots by Bernardine Evaristo
Bernardine Evaristo has been on my to-read list since Girl, Woman, Other won the 2019 Booker Prize. While Girl, Woman, Other is unfortunately still in high demand at the library, I was recently able to borrow Blonde Roots.
What if the history of the transatlantic slave trade had been reversed and Africans had enslaved Europeans? How would that have changed the ways that people justified their inhuman behaviour? How would it inform our cultural attitudes and the insidious racism that still lingers today? We see this tragicomic world turned upside down through the eyes of Doris, an Englishwoman enslaved and taken to the New World, movingly recounting experiences of tremendous hardship and the dreams of the people she has left behind, all while journeying toward an escape into freedom.
I'm always a little unsure about reading books set during the slave trade, and there were definitely moments in Blonde Roots which were difficult to read, but what makes this one different is that it imagines that Africans enslaved Europeans. This reversal is borne out in really interesting ways, such as how the features of Black and white people are described. I wasn't convinced by the name changes and world-building (although I'm not generally a fan of the fantasy genre), but I loved the way Evaristo looks at attributes of Black and white civilisations with a different lens. The main story of Doris, a slave who longs to escape, is engaging but pretty standard fare, but the 'Afterword' makes for a very strong ending.
Blonde Roots was a promising introduction to Bernardine Evaristo, and I look forward to reading more from her.
What if the history of the transatlantic slave trade had been reversed and Africans had enslaved Europeans? How would that have changed the ways that people justified their inhuman behaviour? How would it inform our cultural attitudes and the insidious racism that still lingers today? We see this tragicomic world turned upside down through the eyes of Doris, an Englishwoman enslaved and taken to the New World, movingly recounting experiences of tremendous hardship and the dreams of the people she has left behind, all while journeying toward an escape into freedom.
I'm always a little unsure about reading books set during the slave trade, and there were definitely moments in Blonde Roots which were difficult to read, but what makes this one different is that it imagines that Africans enslaved Europeans. This reversal is borne out in really interesting ways, such as how the features of Black and white people are described. I wasn't convinced by the name changes and world-building (although I'm not generally a fan of the fantasy genre), but I loved the way Evaristo looks at attributes of Black and white civilisations with a different lens. The main story of Doris, a slave who longs to escape, is engaging but pretty standard fare, but the 'Afterword' makes for a very strong ending.
Blonde Roots was a promising introduction to Bernardine Evaristo, and I look forward to reading more from her.
January 15, 2021
Books to Lose Yourself In
There has never felt like a better time to lose yourself in a mountain of a book. My last read was the 688-page A Brief History of Seven Killings, and I'm now reading the 1030-page Ducks, Newburyport. If you're also looking for a tome to occupy your mind and your spare time, here are my top 5 recommendations:
1. Ulysses (980 pages)
Don't let its reputation put you off. I absolutely loved Ulysses, and I don't think it matters in the slightest that I didn't understand all of it.
2. David Copperfield (974 pages)
I'm not the biggest fan of Charles Dickens, but I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed David Copperfield. If you're someone who loves book adaptations, there's also the 2019 film starring Dev Patel, which looks fantastic.
3. Don Quixote (961 pages)
I did have to persevere with Don Quixote near the end, but it is an absolute blast. The Edith Grossman translation comes highly recommended, and is very affordable.
4. The Sea, The Sea (608 pages)
In a list of well-known classics, The Sea, The Sea is a bit of a curveball. Iris Murdoch deserves to be better known, and The Sea, The Sea is Murdoch at her finest.
5. Moby-Dick or, the Whale (589 pages)
Worth reading if only so you get all the pop-culture references to it, Moby Dick is surprisingly readable for a book with so many digressions.
1. Ulysses (980 pages)
Don't let its reputation put you off. I absolutely loved Ulysses, and I don't think it matters in the slightest that I didn't understand all of it.
2. David Copperfield (974 pages)
I'm not the biggest fan of Charles Dickens, but I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed David Copperfield. If you're someone who loves book adaptations, there's also the 2019 film starring Dev Patel, which looks fantastic.
3. Don Quixote (961 pages)
I did have to persevere with Don Quixote near the end, but it is an absolute blast. The Edith Grossman translation comes highly recommended, and is very affordable.
4. The Sea, The Sea (608 pages)
In a list of well-known classics, The Sea, The Sea is a bit of a curveball. Iris Murdoch deserves to be better known, and The Sea, The Sea is Murdoch at her finest.
5. Moby-Dick or, the Whale (589 pages)
Worth reading if only so you get all the pop-culture references to it, Moby Dick is surprisingly readable for a book with so many digressions.
January 8, 2021
Bookish Intentions for 2021
2020 was a great year for reading for me (you can check out my year in books here, and my top reads of the year here), but I want to take that momentum forward into this year. So here are 5 of my bookish intentions for 2021:
1. Read more books by authors of colour
The Black Lives Matter discourse last year made me realise how white my reading is, and I began to make more of a conscious effort to read BAME authors. I want to do even more of that this year.
2. Finish reading Shakespeare's plays
There are only a handful of Shakespeare's plays which I haven't yet read, so I would love to finally read them this year.
3. Read more books from independent publishers
I discovered some fantastic books last year through independent publishers, and I want to continue to support independent publishers this year.
4. Read more non-fiction
I didn't read as much non-fiction as I would have liked last year. I'd especially like to finally read some of the Verso books I've been eyeing up for a while.
5. Tick off more classics
I was pleased with how many classics I read last year, but I'd like to continue ticking classics off my to-read list this year.
What are your bookish intentions for 2021? Are any of them the same as mine?
1. Read more books by authors of colour
The Black Lives Matter discourse last year made me realise how white my reading is, and I began to make more of a conscious effort to read BAME authors. I want to do even more of that this year.
2. Finish reading Shakespeare's plays
There are only a handful of Shakespeare's plays which I haven't yet read, so I would love to finally read them this year.
3. Read more books from independent publishers
I discovered some fantastic books last year through independent publishers, and I want to continue to support independent publishers this year.
4. Read more non-fiction
I didn't read as much non-fiction as I would have liked last year. I'd especially like to finally read some of the Verso books I've been eyeing up for a while.
5. Tick off more classics
I was pleased with how many classics I read last year, but I'd like to continue ticking classics off my to-read list this year.
What are your bookish intentions for 2021? Are any of them the same as mine?
