Frankenstein by Mary Shelley; 1818
|I began to read Frankenstein in an 1831 edition, a small bound book with a wonderful Blakeian illustration in the front. I was immediately entranced, beginning as it did with a letter home from a fond brother to his sister while negotiating ice flows in the Arctic, He told of a strange sight, a large man racing a sledge at furious pace across the horizon. I read the book over the weekend, but on an iPad, once I realised how valuable the hard copy was, which took away some of the romance, but certainly not completely. So enjoyable a read it was, Shelley brought the adventure of travel absolutely to life, and the mysteries of personal relationships mixed with horrid events that will bring you up sharp. This was a horror story after all. Definitely a classic, one of those books that forms history rather than follows it. How did a teenage girl know all this? By absorption of everything around her, mixing and re-telling for following generations.|
The Time of Angels, Iris Murdoch, 1966
|A classic Iris M entaglement of people's sexual and intimate dreams confronting philosophy and God's love and will. The names are less strange in this one, though still strange (e.g. Carel - man, Muriel). Characters are briefly described and then their hidden murky depths bringing about some wonderful, funny and sadly for me, recognisable situations. Marcus ''If you ask me, he's a neurotic selfish isolated self obsessed person. It is a very family type among men". I'd forgotten how good I M is.|
Unsung Hero by Kevin Fulton 2006
8 March 2018
The story of Kevin Fulton (not his real name) was ghost written by two journalists and looking at the credits, it took them a long time and a lot of legal and emotional hassle to achieve it. It is a horrible story, but one that we should all know. For me the main theme was actually about leading young, gun happy men astray, not about the Troubles. KF was entranced by the British Army that he saw all around him, so far so normal, but was trapped by it before he reached the age of reason. His reasoning came much much later. Kevin was Catholic but loyal to the army – at least that is what he gave as his purpose for setting off on such a, mad, irreversible and deadly path, that of and informer in N Ireland during the 1980s and 1990s, a mostly pre-mobile phone time. Kevin lived a terrible lie, and interestingly became addicted and totally dependent on his 'handlers'. Everything he did was for them, and though money and motivation to save army lives were a factor, it was to please the handlers that he continued the horrific task of responding to IRA demands. This meant grinding fertiliser (for weeks), planting bombs, carrying out 'judgements' (shootings) and spending his life with known IRA men who were really just low life thugs. This is clear from what they did. Targeting workmen on building sites for example because the site was in some vague way connected to the British, dragging men from their families and shooting them, going up to young men in bars and shooting them. None of the operatives were employed so in order to fund their hand to mouth existence they carried out elaborate insurance scams, heists and the like.
Kevin and the many other double agents should never have been recruited, his life was sacrificed for dubious benefit. I am not sure if he is still alive, but when eventually his cover was blown he lived from then under a permanent death sentence. His handlers never did rescue him as they had promised but actually planned his death (by the IRA) once he had outlived his usefulness.
I read Gone Girl after seeing the 2014 film on TV, probably the last person in the UK or American to do so. I was so impressed by the film, especially by Rosamund Pike's interpretation of the main character and I thought there must be more in the book. Yes there was, but not much. The film was a straight and true interpretation.It is totally 'show not tell' book, to the ultimate, like the writing schools say you should. An A+ novel from a writing school.
The writing is colloquial, nasty American. The overall impression is a battle of the sexes. The men are horrible, not suitable companions for women at all, drinking, coarse language, ball games, looking at women as objects, hardly a sentence without the b, c or f words. The author says she has done her research and this is how men are.
This classic book of wild camping and adventure clashes the individual against the state, one man's revenge against a, or rather an age of, dictators – and what an effective action it would have been if carried out. How many lives saved and how much torment prevented, imagined with such brilliance by Household in 1939. I have bought this book for three outdoorsy friends who I know will love it. The story uses the English countryside as a backdrop for a battle between two strange personalities and some minor players, it is a page turning, racing tale. A downside is it has that distasteful class element that makes so many early 20th C English books unreadable, the writer, always a 'middle' or upper class person, treating their own kind as farcical alien beings, but I can forgive it this time because the pace of the book and other elements are so strong that you can ignore this. First editions of Rogue Male are currently advertised for high four figure sums, always a sign of a good author but you can get an attractive paperback for a couple of pounds.
The Triumph of Tim
H A Vachell
I read this book because I had never heard of the author and the first few pages drew me in. They suggested it was about a big theme in life, how to live a good life when you are blessed/cursed with too many gifts, good looks, exuberance, courage, personality – our hero Tim had it all. Further in the book was about this but the author lost his way a bit. There was a long digression of Tim in California, the author drawing on his own experiences telling a tale of land grabs and inflation and another digression of being at sea, and of fortunes made and lost. It is okay, but draws us away from the main plot, from the main theme. Tim was not very interesting actually. Too handsome and ridiculous, a muscled figure the author fantasises about in a sensual but not intriguing way. Vachell had an exciting life and wrote many novels, I'm not sure I will read any more of them though.
Pill box designed by Hitler on the Normandy coast.
Hitler planned defensive installations down to the smallest details … even pillboxes usually in the hours of the night. The design were only sketches but they were executed with precision.
Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich
Weidenfeld and Nicholson and Macmillan
This book is an awesome tale of a man corrupted by love for a psychopath. It is Albert Speer's personal account of the Third Reich (i.e. The Third German Realm as the Nazis called it covering Hitler's rise to power and the Second World War). Speer was in love with Hitler (though he was married with six children) and his obsession lasted over 15 years, in fact he was never totally free, even after Hitler's death and 20 years in Spandau prison, he could still feel the magic and mystery of his personality.
“Hitler may have become the object of sober studies for the historian. But for me he possesses to this day a substantiality and physical presence, as if he still existed in the flesh.”
To be fair, a whole country came under Hitler's spell, his magnetic charm and that indefinable difference (at the basis of which is lack of emotions) characteristic of a psychopath, but the nearer to him victims were the more blinding and binding it was. Speer was captured by Hitler's person and ambition kept him entrapped. The tragic affliction led to his corruption, loss of reality and his complicity in terrible actions.
“… all the intrigues and struggles for power were directed toward eliciting the ... 'Heil Speer' a rare greeting of favour … ”
It is an extraordinary story of Speer's own rise to power, what he felt, and why he did what he did. Speer was a key figure in Nazi Germany, indeed, once Hess flew off the scene, he was destined to be Hitler's successor. But Speer was not a politician or soldier, he was an architect who Hitler with his own predilection towards art, films and architecture, liked and courted. When only in his 20s Speer designed vast buildings and squares and, entranced by American movies, the Nuremberg rally sets. He was catapulted into the key job of Head of Armament Production when the previous incumbent, Professor Todt died in an aeroplane accident (not the first or last Nazi official to do so) on Feb 8th 1942. Speer describes the huge difficulties in the German war effort, (jealousy from other key men being the main) how they were overcome, how he felt and responded. You feel Speer was a fair man, a high achiever, driven to do a good job and make sensible decisions. He says he never knew about the Jews. Here's how it explains it.
“In making the decision to join the accursed party, I had for the first time denied my own past, my upper-middle-class origins and my previous environment. … my inclination to be relieved of having to think particularly about unpleasant facts, helped to sway the balance. In this I did not differ from millions of others. Such mental slackness above all facilitated, established and finally assured the success of the National Socialist system. The superficiality of my attitude made the fundamental error all the worse. By entering Hitler's party I had already, in essence assumed responsibility that led directly to the brutalities … in 1931 I had no idea that fourteen years later I wd have to answer for a host of crimes to wh I had subscribed beforehand by entering the party. I did not yet know that I wd atone with twenty-one years of my life for frivolity and thoughtlessness and breaking with tradition. Still I will never be rid of that sin.”
This is all the space Speer gives to the Jews in a book of 600 pages. As the war progresses he was aware that difficult and inconvenient people were sent to Concentration Camp, but I don’t think he thought it would happen to him. What he was scared of was losing power. With all the plotting that went on he had to be constantly vigilant, very energetic and skilful to maintain his position. Doing a good job (which he did) was absolutely not enough.
In the Nuremberg trials Speer was not given the death sentence. It was commuted to 20 years in Spandau jail, a lot tougher than today's jails I suspect though he doesn’t mention any cruelty, just a lack of resources, this book was written on scraps of paper smuggled out while he was in prison. People liked Speer, he wasn’t brutal or a murderer, just ambitious, riven with ideology, and under the spell of Hitler, and a belief in the Motherland. He says people thought they had to be either the Socialist or rather The National Socialist Party (NSKK) or Communist in the 1930s and he considered Socialism the lesser evil. A lot of people joined the party and believed in The Revolution to come because they would then, somehow, miraculously, have a car, everyone was extremely keen on cars.
The amazing thing is how long the war went on. The inherent flaws in a dictatorship, with its plotting and intrigue, and an unwilling people coming up against huge outside forces meant it was doomed from the off. All the main men around Hitler including Hitler himself started to go mad. The main thing was, they would not face the truth, that they were outnumbered and out resourced on all fronts, but they lived in fantasy land, cut off from their citizens and soldiers starving and freezing on the front line. Access to Hitler was filtered through Bormann, Keital and Lammers. The latter two fall by the wayside, Bormann, a sycophantic peasant, built his actress mistress a huge mansion, Goebbels (head of propaganda) had blatant affairs, Hesse flew to Britain to arrange a one man treaty, Goering (head of Air Force) was hugely overweight, drugged and transvestite. The main thing was, no-one could be trusted. You do feel that if the Allies had dropped a few revolutionaries into Germany and/or cut off production supplies (always Speer's fear) the War would hardly have even started
To me it is noticeable that Speer scarcely mentions religious belief or teaching, except when the twenty-one of them were facing trial in Nuremberg, then he and the others found the weekly chapel a great solace.
In the last days of the War with bombs dropping all around Speer undertook another 'Master of the Universe' mad trip into Berlin to see Hitler in his bunker for one last time, still chasing the chimera of love. Hitler treated him as 'an ordinary guest', parting 'without shaking hands'. This was on April 23 1945. Speer realises then:
“There was actually something insubstantial about him (Hitler). But this was perhaps a permanent quality he had. In retrospect I sometimes ask myself whether this intangibility, this insubstantiality, had not characterized him from early youth up to the moment of his suicide. It sometimes seems to be that his seizures of violence could come upon him all the more strongly because there were no human emotions in him to oppose them. He simply could not let anyone approach his inner being because that core was lifeless, empty.”
Which is the definition of a psychopath. One week later Hitler was dead, though, mad to the last, not before he had sacked Goering and put Bormann as his successor to the German Empire.
Afterthought: I think back to when I used to take cycling and camping holidays in Normandy and came across eerie concrete structures deep in vegetation with pools of black water in their bases, the manifestation of Hitler's mind. When walking and exploring the countryside and towns, how much ideology, good and evil, is manifest in what we see.…
The Three of Us, a family story
|This is an amazing tale of Julia's psychopath father (I'm sorry Julia, he was), unhappy sexy artist mother and herself young and in the middle. The three of them attractive, well read, unpredictable and prone to addictions. From an early age Julia was treated as a sexual rival by her mother who more or less encouraged her various affairs, so long as she kept free from her own boyfriends. For years all three went to therapy with psychiatrists blind with theories which led them only to drugs and introspection. They definitely made things worse. Somehow Julia survived what would be considered a difficult social worker's case to become a talented writer with a happy personal life and family, which just shows you. I read this book in one day, amazed.|
The Brothers Karamazov
Jessie Chambers, D H Lawrence's jilted and maligned first love, said she
started to recover from the terrible betrayal she suffered after reading
Brothers K. I had read it in my teens and think I got something from it,
but nothing remained in my head except it was 'good'. I ordered a Folio
edition, but am actually reading it on a 'Nook' because it is big and I
took it camping. For the first 80 pages or so I didn’t get it. I am
used to writing in a more personal way, the interior person speaking to
the world, how they see things and feel about things, the way most books
are written these days. Dostoevsky writes from the outside, he is an
observer of the characters, so they are described quickly and the reader
has to take it as fact that that is how they are – passionate,
indulgent, upright, dissolute – whatever. He doesn't explain why they
are as they are. But after 100 pages or so (of over 800, on my Nook at
least), I can see what he is attempting. The fundamental thing, from the
beginning he attacks it, how can a person lead a good and sensible life
when their passions pull them in the wrong direction, be it towards
unsuitable people, disruption, dishonour, hurting innocents. How can you
get your passions under control. It is a racing tale, indeed the main
character Alexei, the youngest brother rushes from one crises to another
attempting to stop disaster.
I am halfway through, the book has become a friend and helpmate and I don’t want to finish it.
A Dark Adapted Eye
|This is a murder mystery by a Master of psychological drama set in an old fashioned England of 30 years ago, but in all essentials, it is timeless. The writer examines not a crime but a family, an outwardly normal middle class family but internally dysfunctional and painful, so, so far, so typical. Vine however, unlike most of us, understands what is going on and explains it, by the events and words that lead to the hurts and wrongs. Luckily for the human race most people manage to shake themselves free of family before events get out of control and bang up against the law. But you could easily see how they could and this one does. The book is a mystery, you want to know what has happened, who is the perpetrator who the victim, the characters live with you and you take sides yourself. The tension continues to last page, until the very last paragraph has been read and like the characters, you come to terms with what has happened.|
You Dont Have to Live Like This
A modern American novel, people speak in it as they do in American films, short obscure sentences leaving you guessing as to what exactly they mean, well that is the men, silent ball game supporters, running, hanging out with neighbours in their yards, drinking wine or whisky (they are middle class). The poor women are having children, doing creative jobs, talking a lot and trying to make sense of it all. I didn’t find the main character particularly likeable I have to say, not sure if I was meant to. It is set in Detroit and is one man's struggle to create a satisfying life in the American economic system. The main dominant thing imposing itself on everything else was race. Are you black or white or in between. It reminded me of when I lived in Wales when the main talking point for everyone was are you Welsh or are you English. I didn’t want to have this stupid issue in my life so I left.
The book has lots of great insights into everyone's lives, not just Americans. Some quotes below might give you a flavour. Its a good book, you will whizz through it.
The trouble is people don’t use this technology to make them happier. They use if for pleasure. Whenever you get an advance like this the first thing it appeals to is the lowest common denominator. We have to evolve with the technology and that takes time.
In some places I travel to there isn’t a woman over the age of twenty that you or I would consider sexually attractive. … it costs money to stay attractive. … it occurred to me that what is going on here is an inside outside thing. A woman needs privacy to look good. She has to say to herself, I am going out to face the world, and that means somewhere to prepare herself. Its a question of real estate … from having a room of our own. In poor countries everybody eats together, everybody sleeps together, everybody lives in the street. But we build houses to go inside, which is fine, but then we have to deal with going out again
think of what you wished for when you were eleven, a teenager or whenever, it would cement you in time, you would not grow and develop, you would not want it now
As I Walked Out 1969
I read this book in two days, a sure sign of a good book. I did question how true it was though, the writing is polished, it had been thought about a bit too much for a personal account so I was not surprised to learn it was written 35 years after the events. Lee's exploits reminded me of Hilaire Belloc's walks in Italy, massive climbing and endurance in extreme heat, on wine and very little food and shrugged off as normal. Lee was clearly very attractive, with his youth, spirit of adventure, tall good looks, sense of fun and intelligence. I didn’t like him though, I sensed 'nasty man syndrome'. The Spain he walked through was impoverished, but this, horrible as it was, wasn’t the worst thing about it, it was the lack of care. Men and women were separate, prostitution acceptable, men's drinking excessive, cruelty to people and animals rumbling in the background, but Lee did meet kindness, as ever out of the blue and from unexpected quarters. The British Gov for example sent a destroyer to pick him up with one other from a seaside village when war threatened. What a wonderful thing. The Civil War came, the subject of Lee's third book in a trilogy, but I doubt it brought care and love into the community, I suspect that came later with tourism. Read it yourself, you will probably disagree with me.
|Rebecca||The Divided Self, R D Laing, 1959||
I read this book after seeing the recent film Mad To Be Normal about R D Laing with David Tennant as the man himself. Mr Laing didn’t come out too well in that but I liked him more here, in it you see the intelligence and application behind the celebrity narcissist (which he undoubtedly was). It was Laing's first book of many, the only one I have read but I suspect his best. It has that originality and urgency that you get in really great books. Laing is well read, he knows all the theories, but he pretty much ignores them and comes to each case new, hence the book is timeless. As he says, theory distorts,
“the American authors write their cases in terms of ego, superego, id which I feel puts unnecessary limitations on one's understanding of the material.” (p160)
To him schizophrenics are individuals and their problems real. Through hours of interviews with patient, family and friends he attempts to understand the reasons and origins for their behaviour. Like Freud, he discusses particular cases in great detail (I wonder about the ethics of this) which of course makes fascinating reading.
It seems any of us could succumb to schizophrenia though some, through genetics, are more likely than others. In a sentence, the condition is a fear of the self being seen by others and being destroyed by others which leads to various strategies by the sufferer. They invent an outer persona that interacts with the world, the inner real person they keep hidden.
“ … if the mother's or the family's scheme of things does not match what the child can live and breathe in. The child then has to develop its own piercing vision and to be able to live by that – as William Blake succeeded in doing, as Rimbaud succeeded in stating, but not in living – or else become mad” (p189).
The schizophrenic is not going to reveal himself to any philandering passer by. If the self is not known it is safe. It is safe from penetrating remarks; it is safe from being smothered or engulfed by love as much as destruction from hatred. (p164/5)
– remind you of anyone?
The great spiritual writer Eckhart Tolle who I and many others read today says it is our ego that gets in the way of our true being and all suffering comes from it. Tolle says the way to overcome the ego is to live in the present and observe, whenever you feel any emotional upset whatsoever, that is the clue that you are resisting what is and your ego is getting in the way (I hope I have interpreted it right). So our 'true' selves are not our selves at all. Laing agrees:
a partial depersonalization of others is extensively practised in everyday life and is regarded as normal if not highly desirable. Most relationships are based on some partial depersonalizing tendency in so far as one treats the other not in terms of any awareness of who or what he might be in himself but as virtually an android robot playing a role or part in a large machine in which one too may be acting yet another part. (p47)
but schizos take it further and introduce yet another level:
“Indeed, what is called psychosis is sometimes simply the sudden removal of the veil of the false self, which had been serving to maintain an outer behavioural normality that may, long ago, have failed to be any reflection of the state of affairs in the secret self. Then the self will pour out accusations of persecution at the hands of that person with whom the false self has been complying for years. (p100).”
I fear you don’t have to be schizophrenic to be the above. Tolle would say such behaviour is the Pain Body rising and taking over but normally it subsides and things return to a bearable state. With schizos they don’t return to normal, they get worse and worse.
In literature Laing sees schizos in Kafka but not Shakespeare. In Shakespeare's world the clowns, lovers and kings all live before they die albeit in 'a tale told by an idiot', in Kafka's world it is much worse, his protagonists are de-constructed before they die. It is William Blake he most admires, his Prophetic Books
' … require prolonged study, not to elucidate Blakes's psychophathology but in order to learn from him what somehow he knew about in a most intimate fashion while remaining sane.'
Laing believes schizophrenia can be cured (though sadly doesn’t give examples).
The task of therapy then comes to be to make contact with the original self of the individual which or who we must believe is still a possibility if not an actuality and can still be nursed back to a feasible life. (p158)
Yes but that individual is going to face a lot of difficulties of loneliness. The individual if found will need to bolster that inner self through awareness and the support of a power greater than themselves.
This book is a classic, easy to read, you can hear the writer behind the words, and indeed the patients too. Should be on your list of ‘must reads’.
|Gillian Litherland||Invitation to the Waltz by Rosamond Lehmann 1932||
Invitation to W is a day in the life type of story, but also covers a whole lifetime. It was about two lovely girls and clothes, the colours, clinging, floatiness of them and, interestingly, how they were made (a lost history actually). Two sisters and their different personalities governed by their looks, the pretty one confident, the less pretty one sensitive and kind and doomed to suffer bores, slights and hurts but also to seeing the good people.
The main character feels joy, rejection, dejection, – the whole gamut of human emotions, from one moment to the next, occasionally due to nature or music but mostly as a response to the words, looks, nuances and overtures from other mysterious human beings, not knowing what is prompting them or what they mean. Do they like me or not and if they do, do I like them or are they going to latch on and be boring. At the end she realises:
“They were so kind. This was what real people were like after all, just as she had always imagined; not sinister, inexplicable, but friendly and simple, accepting one pleasantly, with humour but without malice, without condescension, criticism or caresses”
A fantastic book and great writer.
|Jacquie Fox||The Reader by Professor Bernard Schlink 1995 Germany||
Most people (but not me) know this books from the film, with Kate Winslet, I am sure she would have been very good in it and explained what it is about. Certainly we could have understood the love part with such a heroine. The Reader though is primarily about ideas, wedded to character yes but ideas is the point of it and because of this, at the end, a small part of me wondered about the veracity of it. Don't get me wrong, the characters drive the plot but faced difficult circumstances, they all did. What ideas does Schlink explore?, obsessive love, maybe, victims and perpetrators, yes definitely about this but who is what. Harder, I am still wondering about that. Also about obligations between people based on sexual love, family, work, friendships, many - where should our loyalties lie, this is not easy. The author with a man's succinct way sums up a complex situation in a couple of sentences, but his protagonist cannot move on nevertheless. Most readers will have their view of decisions made, mine differed from the main actor and I suspect I am in the majority.
I read this book very quickly, on the train as it happens, unaware of passengers, announcements and delays, always my personal gauge of a good book.
|Eileen Peacock||Sons and Lovers by D H Lawrence, 1913||
Why is it that novels are about relationships, and more than that, nearly always about romantic relationships. I do know the answer. It is because the rest of life, work, hobbies, friends, children, housework, money – while it takes most of our time, provides only a hazy background to the real stuff. That is, relationships and our interior feelings known (or not) only to ourselves, in the search for fulfilment. Lawrence in Sons and Lovers thought wholeness and content was to be found in a woman, but doesn’t find it.
S and Ls is a spiritual novel of great truths that resonates today and will in a hundred years time, written by Lawrence when he was still in his 20s. It comes from real life and a thorough intelligence.
The book flows like a river, day to day, with day to day events, what happened, what was said and the emotions behind what happens, which the characters do not understand. Real life then. People are generally sad, uneasy with their family, colleagues, lovers and friends, at odds with them, because behind the outward things are deeper things. The need to possess, to be loved and thereby possess, bending the will of the other to behave in more refined ways, sex of course, and bonds between people that are strong but people grow apart even so. The main character is quite a cruel man, not deliberately so, but nevertheless very cruel to his lovers. Drawing them in totally and then leaving them, bereft and broken. Why does he do this? He is searching for that special bond of body, mind and soul, and when the women doesn’t match up, she is rejected. He is unhappy and unsettled. His greatest love is his mother and it is heart breaking their bond, the terrible inconsolable pain of a dear presence gone.
The couple of sentences below, taken almost at random illustrates the tone, it is just one of many thoughts DH shares:
If so great a magnificent power could overwhelm them, identify them altogether with itself, so that they knew they were only grains in the tremendous heave that lifted every grass-blade its little height and every tree, and living thing, when why fret about themselves. They could let themselves be carried by life and they felt a sort of peace each in the other … (p430 ff).
You probably read this book ages ago, do read it again as I did, and will again in a few years time (God willing). Watch out in the bookshop btw for the biography of DH by Jessie Chambers, the real life rejected lover.
|Eleanor Rand||Whatever you Love by Louise Doughty 2008||
I was drawn to this book by Apple Tree Yard, the intense drama BBC put on early in 2017, based on the novel by Louise Doughty. It seemed to me to be one of the few studies (since Madame Bovary) on women's passion, the out of the blue, all consuming, destructive and dangerous type. Whatever You Love is as good as A T Yard. It is set in a seaside town, the sort young people leave as soon as they can, but due to circumstances our protagonist remains. She is a nice, working woman, slightly bored, like most of us I suspect. Then things happen. A mystery, you never quite know if it the body or mind or who is driving what. It is a novel of intense, unbearable longing, loss and eventually empathy. Beautifully written and grounded in reality, I couldn't put it down and read it in one day. It is still whirling around in my head now.
|Rebecca||The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry, 2008||This was just about the most depressing book I have ever read, and that includes the biography of Lina Prokofiev. It has all the Irish horror memes of repressed women, cruelty to children and totalitarian rule by Catholic madmen (aka Priests. Because Barry is a great writer and I began it, I did finish, but it would have been better for me if I hadn’t. Just like for the main protagonist it would have been better if she had died in her youth like so many of her contemporaries did who suffered the civil war (the one around the 1930s) and thus avoided the rejection by her nearest and 'dearest' and countless other indignities and heart breaks.|
|Rebecca||Lina Prokofiev by Simon Morrison 2014||Lina P is a fascinating study of a talented, intelligent woman who had the misfortune to meet and then fall for Serge Prokofiev. He was an emotionally unavailable man, who wanted Lina but only in a supporting role. She followed him erratically around Europe, unable to resist, her reputation devalued at a time when they were important in the relationship market. Because of him she pursued a singing career, when she would have been much more suited to academia (she spoke five languages) or business or fashion. Her career was never successful, she suffered from nerves, bad reviews and bitchiness. Prokofiev only asked her to marry him when she eventually fell pregnant, but things didn’t improve. The story of Lina tells of her relationship, the people she met in artistic Europe, the extraordinary return to Russia at the time of Stalin and her life there. Not an easy life, or a happy one, though the last ten years, when she finally physically (though never mentally) escaped the clutches of Russia were the best of her life. So, it had a happy ending. You will never be able to enjoy Prokofiev's music again, so read at your peril.|
|Rosanne Shaw||Hangover Square by Patrick Hamilton 1941||Written in 1941 and set in 1939 this classic story of obsession is tough. Easy to read and brilliantly written, but tough. It is a sad story but what disturbed me most was the excessive drinking and smoking and the horrid environment of dingy gas ring flats and car polluted streets, so it is aptly named, reminding us of a nasty world no longer here thank heavens but we can almost remember it. Like all good books the story keeps you turning the pages but lurking behind it are profound truths. Describing the main character George Harvey Bone as a type - “just as certain people look unmistakably horsey, bear the stamp of Newmarket, he bore the stamp of Great Portland Street. He made you think of road houses and there are thousands of his sort frequenting the saloon bars of public houses all over England”. We know it is true, types are clearly visible today too, so how free are any of us and how much are we just victims of fashion and the economy. What is acceptable for people to do governs how they look and the diseases they will die from. The reader knows what George should do fairly early on in the novel but understands why he cant. He needs a help. So it is a lesson, and all of us would gain from reading it.|
Stonor by John Williams 1965
|Was it worth re-issuing this book, by the writer whose name is so easy to forget, emphatically yes. JW has a unique voice, his style is short, no words are wasted, but all is said. This story is about William Stonor a curious character who we get to know as he proceeds through his life, along you get the feeling with himself, his own discovery of who he is, and it is a bit of a shock to us both. He learns about himself by what happens to him and how he reacts. Of course his character drives the actions but he, as are we, are surprised by what it does, by the hidden depths coming to the surface. First his sudden and then life long love of literature and its justification for study, surely John Williams speaking here against the tide of change in universities. Then about passion, which none would expect from this reticent, withdrawn man. It is a good story, you will turn the pages wanting to know what happens and then at the end you will put the book down and think, what was that, what is a person, how can we ever know, ourselves, those nearest to us, or anyone. Its super prose, and great feeling for the life and politics in a Missouri university way outback.|
The Self Enchanted by David Stacton,
|I read recently that Stacton was the greatest American author of the 20th century and I thought, crickey, I've never even heard of him, so I read The Self Enchanted which was one of the only books I could find by him on the shelves and happens to be his third novel at the beginning of a career of writing fiction history and poetry. Was it that good? Well I'm not sure of that but it was definitely good. This book oozed menace, it was about a disordered charismatic person, wealthy, living in sunny California but drawn to the north snowy remote states. Stacton surely had observed such a type and knew the disturbing detrimental effect they had on people who were drawn to them. He has constructed a drama based on personalities tussling with each other, driven by their passions which ultimately they cannot control. Would I read another book by Stacton, yes, - if I could find one.|
Memoir by John McGahern
|Memoir! definitely the best book I have read this year, and I have read many. It is also (to my shame) the first book I have read by John (Sean) McGahern, written I realise now, one year before his death. While I was engrossed in it and even now, I felt I really knew Ireland, strange and foreign country (to us Brits) that it was (is?), and its spirituality the people felt so keenly. Theirs was a hard life but the important thing was not this life but the next. Sean himself was destined for the priesthood and this was an honour, the highest thing one could aspire to. He was the eldest of seven, all of whom became wonderful people, and from such an appalling background. Sean loved his mother and that was the main thing about him, she was a lovely woman, educated, spiritual, who walked the country lanes of Ireland with her children, collecting flowers for the classroom in which she was head teacher. She earned the money, held the house together, gave the children morals, cooked the dinners. The book though is dominated by the father, as awful as the mother is good. I wish I could have had a conversation with Sean and said to him, 'do you not realise, your father was a psychopath, all this thought and coming to terms by you is pointless, he was a psychopath, you were unlucky the only thing you can do is get away' (all the children did as soon as they could). There is so much in this book, what I have said above merely scratches the surface. I have other books of his lined up to read.|
Beware Pity by Stefan Sweig1938
|I read this book attracted by the author of one of the best Radio Dramas I have ever heard, adapted from a story of his which was about a chess game on board a boat. Beware Pity was brilliant, equally good as the Chess Game and longer and more profound as well. It is a good story, you want to know what happened next but what I liked about it was, unlike many people, Sweig took the important things of life seriously, for example the feelings of a 17 year old girl. How many would give this any thought today at all, not even a sentence would be spent on it. But Sweig doesn’t distinguish between people and he gives the young ordinary person a whole book. To him all people are important and good relations and decency and good feelings between people are the most vital things in the world. Writing in the 1920s and 30s he could be said to understand Freud though probably he never read him, he just knew the way a novelist knows, that emotional feelings are the basis of eveything and it is why this book will not date.|
by Patricia Wentworth
|What an awful book, I determined to finish it but my goodness it was hard, stupid sexist nonsense. It was written in 1935 but had a definite 50s feel to it. It was all about a whimpish, beautiful (yawn) woman, rescued by a dare devil brilliant charismatic (yawn) man who adored her, and carried her through door ways and told her not to worry it would all be all right … say no more, you get it. In the unlikely event that you want to read it, you will have to go elsewhere, it's not in the shop any more, thank heavens|
The Little Red Chairs by Edna O Brien
|I was interested in this book as it is a topic that has dominated me for the last two years, that is, the nature of the psychopathic personality. Edna O Brien of course is a brilliant writer with great insights into the human soul but I have to say, in spite of the quote on the cover, by Philip Roth no less ('this is her best book'), I don’t think it is her best book and I think the reason for that is that the book is dominated by an idea and not by the characters. So the characters are pushed about in an illogical sort of way. The idea is about refugees, refugees of all types from all countries who meet and mix together in refuges (what a good name that is) in order to survive. They need first of all shelter and then jobs, so they can at least live and will take virtually anything going. They are all scared, of whatever appalling thing has happened to them, and this is where the psychopaths come in, and of the authorities catching up with them and of losing their job. Injustice continues in their lives albeit in a smaller meaner way, of the type that is not prosecutable unless you are a secure confident sort of person with a bit of clout. They are all sort of amazed at being where they are, but … it can happen to anyone as this story so clearly tells us.|
The High Flyer by Susan Howatch
|A friend recommended this book to me, she got it from her local library (where incidentally they have a policy of only stocking books less than 20 years old – you what ??!!). It is all unbelievable, the protagonist is the High Flyer, she speaks in a horrible language (Nutterguff, cut the crap, ) and earns megabucks and has a Life Plan. Everyone has loads of money. There are super attractive men all over the place and other nice religious people prepared to risk all to help this unattractive (and unbelievable) main character. I know why my friend liked it, it is a psychological drama that builds to a crucendo and to be fair to the book, I read it, and it is quite long, I didn’t discard it, which I could have done. But I am pleased it is finished and I can get onto something good, I shan't attempt another.|
The Ice Beneath Her: Camilla Grebe: Zaffre: translated by Elizabeth
2015 UK 2016:
The Ice is a Nordic Noir novel of the creepy scary type we Brits love. The author is young, blonde, Swedish and female and she gives the tone for the book. You can just imagine her working in the dress stores, walking the sludgy streets and sleeping in the sparse apartment blocks in which the drama is set.
It is a psychological thriller set against the backdrop of a cold snowy Christmas in Stockholm. The stylish dust jacket is stamped Guaranteed To Keep You Up All Night and I can confirm this is true, well almost in any case as I have to be out early for work, but I happily turned off the telly and read it by the fire through the evening. It took me a couple of days, and when I put it down I wanted to get back to it, to find out what happened. I was intrigued by the main characters and their interactions All of them, police, suspects, victims have their character flaws and these weaknesses, predilections, and traumas drive their actions and the plot. The prose is easy to read, no wasted words on description or extraneous characters. Grebe has written four crime novels with her sister Asa Traff which won various awards and also the Moscow Noir trilogy with Paul Leander-Engstrom. I imagine co-authoring hones the writing style and this shines through in the easy to ready first novel as solo author
The Tenant of Wildfell
This fascinating novel begins where most end, with a marriage. I adored this book. It came at just the right time for me, I am a woman at the end of her life suffering from the effects of bad men, who took home, money, jobs, friends and most of all, emotions. If only I'd read and inwardly digested Wildfell at the age of its heroine, and authoress, that is in my early 20s. Well actually I had read it, when I was about 12, and I dimly remember bits of it, but it had no effect on me then. In fact I may have put it down in the early pages after a passage on badger baiting (reader, get past this, it doesn’t feature again and bears no relevance to the plot). This time round every page was soooo relevant. Conversations are given verbatim, the heroine's feelings recorded in a journal (as one does), horrific domestic events occur daily, with their effects on the emotional life of our heroine detailed. The story is set in a backdrop of English country life. We are given genuine glimpses of the minor gentry in midlands England (so that's how one got through the days living in country piles surrounded by fields), of travel, meals, clothes and customs. This is Bronte world though and violence rumbles just below the surface, sometimes erupting onto the pages. How did Anne know so much at such a young age. She has a real understanding of the absolute importance of a good moral character fortified by religion, if one is to lead a happy, stable and useful life. Love and friendship are secondary. Without moral character one is lost, in this world and the next
|Louise Symonds||Gerald Seymour 2017 Jericho's War||
I'm afraid I abandoned this book about one fifth of the way in. I will say straight away the fault is me not the writer, it is just not my sort of book. I gave up the evening I saw Mission Impossible (No 4) on the telly over Christmas and the two stories became muddled in my mind. Jerichp's War is very Mission Impossibily, I stopped at the point a donkey entered the plot. I am sure something nasty was in store for him and I would rather not know. The bit I read was about extreme characters working on their own carrying out highly secret and dangerous tasks that will alter the course of history, except no-one but us will know about them, as it is highly secret. So if you like that kind of thing you may well like this. The book is long, so one fifth was actually pretty good going, and it is plot and war technology, not character driven. The protagonists are introduced just enough to explain why they are there, though I didn't get it. Why for example would a young attractive graduate risk his life, take life and live undercover in war deprived Yemen rather than being a lawyer, adventure holidaying and drugging or whatever in London. The people in it are called The Ghost, The Girl, Belcher and Jericho and are archetypes rather than people. The Archaeologist, (aka The Girl) for example, I mean, which university did she belong to, and NO, under 30 year old women however blond and beautiful (yes she is) don't get to run digs, and where were the diggers and what was she digging anyway?
The author, Gerald Seymour, is very experienced and very successful (he wrote Harry's Game), but I found the style difficult, it is very factual. You have to read where the wounded man turns left, crawling on his belly, along the ditch, how long the ditch is, about the wire, the recessed doors, cement etc etc he has to negotiate while making an escape. As I don't care about the wounded man I don't mind if he makes it or not, so this is boring to me. But ... hands in the air ... I don't read war books. Its a man's book I guess though I imagine most would find the length daunting and wouldn't pick it up in the first place
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