Prize Reading Round-Up
Alongside catching up on some older books (you can check out my latest reading round-up here), I've been continuing to read my way through some of this year's literary prize nominees.
You can find out which nominees I've already read here.
First up was My Darling from the Lions by Rachel Long, a poetry collection shortlisted for the Jhalak Prize, which seeks to celebrate books by British/British resident BAME writers.
My Darling from the Lions feels like a very personal collection of poetry; not just exploring issues close to Rachel Long's heart, but also building up a consistent sense of her family. I like, in this context, that Long shows self-awareness in her poems; I especially enjoyed the poems where she is observed sleeping, and we see how her opinion of herself differs from that of an outsider. I also like the sense of humour which shines through her writing. I have no doubt that everyone will come at these poems from a slightly different place, and have their own favourites for their own reasons. I think it's a strength of My Darling from the Lions that this is the case.
Next came When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamín Labatut, shortlisted for the International Booker Prize.
When We Cease to Understand the World is a fascinating and highly readable book, which is a work of fiction but based on real life. The book is separated into sections, but is remarkable for its coherence. I loved the way this one was written; it felt like someone telling me a story, and the craftsmanship is such that I could just sit back and watch as everything fell into place. Benjamín Labatut draws connections and parallels within and between the sections, and always seems to end in exactly the right place. I practically read this book in one sitting, and am tempted to start all over again right away.
Having really enjoyed the other books I've read from the Women's Prize for Fiction longlist, I chose Consent by Annabel Lyon next.
Consent was very different from what I expected from a book longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction. I was expecting something more original or literary, but I don't mind at all that it wasn't. Consent is one of the most readable books I've read this year, and I tore through this book, which had me hooked from page one. I enjoyed reading about the affluent lifestyles of its characters, as well as their addictive habits. I also thought Consent raised some interesting questions, as you might expect from that title, and perhaps if it had explored them more fully this might have been closer to the book I was expecting.
I continued to make my way through the Women's Prize for Fiction nominees with Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi, which made the shortlist.
Yaa Gyasi's approach to postgraduate study feels fresh, as Gifty (our protagonist) turns to science for answers after addiction destroys her brother's life. I loved the details of Gifty's experiments, and the heart-breaking idea that her brother's addiction is the spark of inspiration behind her work. Transcendent Kingdom is a gorgeous title, and I loved the way Yaa Gyasi talked about science and religion, as well as Gifty's ferocious curiosity. I liked the way the story flowed between past and present, and I think that format worked really well. But, despite the engaging storyline, I found the oddly detached writing style stopped me completely losing myself in this one.
Next up was Inferno: A Memoir of Motherhood and Madness by Catherine Cho, another one from the Jhalak Prize shortlist.
I tore through this story of a woman's time on a psychiatric ward, having being involuntary committed following a harrowing bout of postpartum psychosis. The story's tension didn't ease as Cho dwelt on past traumas, not searching for any simple cause and effect, but nonetheless finding resonances in her past and her present. I love the way Cho lets us see how the understandable feelings of anxiety and paranoia, as a new mother feeling the scrutiny of her family, builds to something unrecognisable to most of us. I also love that Cho's racial identity is interwoven into her narrative, giving nuance to more commonly experienced situations. Catherine Cho is clearly a natural storyteller, and I am in awe of her bravery in choosing to tell this story.
There are still lots of nominated books on my to-read list, so watch this space!
You can find out which nominees I've already read here.
First up was My Darling from the Lions by Rachel Long, a poetry collection shortlisted for the Jhalak Prize, which seeks to celebrate books by British/British resident BAME writers.
My Darling from the Lions feels like a very personal collection of poetry; not just exploring issues close to Rachel Long's heart, but also building up a consistent sense of her family. I like, in this context, that Long shows self-awareness in her poems; I especially enjoyed the poems where she is observed sleeping, and we see how her opinion of herself differs from that of an outsider. I also like the sense of humour which shines through her writing. I have no doubt that everyone will come at these poems from a slightly different place, and have their own favourites for their own reasons. I think it's a strength of My Darling from the Lions that this is the case.
Next came When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamín Labatut, shortlisted for the International Booker Prize.
When We Cease to Understand the World is a fascinating and highly readable book, which is a work of fiction but based on real life. The book is separated into sections, but is remarkable for its coherence. I loved the way this one was written; it felt like someone telling me a story, and the craftsmanship is such that I could just sit back and watch as everything fell into place. Benjamín Labatut draws connections and parallels within and between the sections, and always seems to end in exactly the right place. I practically read this book in one sitting, and am tempted to start all over again right away.
Having really enjoyed the other books I've read from the Women's Prize for Fiction longlist, I chose Consent by Annabel Lyon next.
Consent was very different from what I expected from a book longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction. I was expecting something more original or literary, but I don't mind at all that it wasn't. Consent is one of the most readable books I've read this year, and I tore through this book, which had me hooked from page one. I enjoyed reading about the affluent lifestyles of its characters, as well as their addictive habits. I also thought Consent raised some interesting questions, as you might expect from that title, and perhaps if it had explored them more fully this might have been closer to the book I was expecting.
I continued to make my way through the Women's Prize for Fiction nominees with Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi, which made the shortlist.
Yaa Gyasi's approach to postgraduate study feels fresh, as Gifty (our protagonist) turns to science for answers after addiction destroys her brother's life. I loved the details of Gifty's experiments, and the heart-breaking idea that her brother's addiction is the spark of inspiration behind her work. Transcendent Kingdom is a gorgeous title, and I loved the way Yaa Gyasi talked about science and religion, as well as Gifty's ferocious curiosity. I liked the way the story flowed between past and present, and I think that format worked really well. But, despite the engaging storyline, I found the oddly detached writing style stopped me completely losing myself in this one.
Next up was Inferno: A Memoir of Motherhood and Madness by Catherine Cho, another one from the Jhalak Prize shortlist.
I tore through this story of a woman's time on a psychiatric ward, having being involuntary committed following a harrowing bout of postpartum psychosis. The story's tension didn't ease as Cho dwelt on past traumas, not searching for any simple cause and effect, but nonetheless finding resonances in her past and her present. I love the way Cho lets us see how the understandable feelings of anxiety and paranoia, as a new mother feeling the scrutiny of her family, builds to something unrecognisable to most of us. I also love that Cho's racial identity is interwoven into her narrative, giving nuance to more commonly experienced situations. Catherine Cho is clearly a natural storyteller, and I am in awe of her bravery in choosing to tell this story.
There are still lots of nominated books on my to-read list, so watch this space!
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