The Trumpet Major – Thomas Hardy

The trumpet major is John Loveday, but the central character here is Anne Garland who lives with her widowed mother adjacent to Loveday’s father’s mill in Overcombe.

It is early in the nineteenth century, and with Bonaparte poised across the Channel this part of England has become a military camp, and John Loveday’ return with his unit gives him a chance to renew relations with Anne, and to realise his childhood friend is now an attractive young woman.

He is not the only one to notice Anne’s charms. The socially superior but boorishly mannered Festus Derriman also has designs on Miss Garland, which he pursues with brutish persistence. Anne is flattered but not thrilled by either advance. She holds a torch for John’s brother Robert, long since gone to sea.

Preparation for war brings Robert home; but with a woman in tow this further complicates matters for Anne; and from then on the juggling of suitors gets serious with lots of opportunity for honourable sacrifice and devious dealings. The outcome remains in doubt to the very end.

This is Hardy in unfamiliar light-hearted mood, with none of the doom and gloom of Tess and Jude. Instead he directs his keen observation of human nature to romance and the pursuit of happiness.

The historical context is interesting and the characters are engaging in their imperfection, making for a decent read.

A Mini Adventure – Martin Wainwright

Witten in 2009 to celebrate 50 years of the iconic small car, this appropriately small, chunky book surveys all things mini.

While the narrative moves chronologically through the inspirational birth, troubled launch, technical challenges, unexpected market success, to the final achievement as cool icon, Wainwright brings in other strands to vary and broaden the story.

He visits current enthusiast rallies to garner anecdotes and talks to old engineers and production line staff to get the inside stories. The mini’s wide cultural influences also get a good airing, including but by no means limited to Mr Bean (TV), The Italian Job (film), Damien Hirst’s spotty mini (art) and John Betjeman’s “Meditation on the A30” (poetry).

Sport is represented from the sublime (Monte Carlo Rally success) to the ridiculous (mini-cramming, with the record at time of publication being 21 lithe female Malaysian students). And of course the celebrity involvement, which turned out so important for the brand image, is covered in pictures and words, ranging from the comedic (Kate Moss’s parking attempts) to the tragic (Marc Bolan’s death).

But for me it is the engineering and business development that gives the book meaning. The role of designer Alec Issigonis is well known, as is John Cooper’s involvement in souping up the engine; less so is the importance of engineer Bill Cull’s revolutionary constant velocity joint. The book also cleared up my (understandable) confusion over the Austin and Morris marques, not to mention how the Wolseley Hornet and Riley Elf fit into the picture.

Anyone who has had a mini will find much to smile about, and a rich fund of fascinating facts to drop into conversations whenever (and it is surprisingly often) the mini gets mentioned.

Death and the Penguin – Andrey Kurkov

In post-soviet Ukraine, aspiring writer Viktor Zolotaryov lives alone with a penguin named Misha, acquired when the local zoo gave away animals it could no longer afford to keep. Although he can’t sell a story, Viktor is offered  job writing obituaries with a difference – not only are the subjects not yet dead, what he writes must include certain specified insinuations. Still, the pay is good even if he can’t claim credit - another condition being his anonymity as author.

Viktor finds his social circle expanding (the penguin is a bit of a draw), but while his sense of loneliness decreases a sense of foreboding grows as deaths start to occur both in his stock of obituaries and in his new pool of acquaintances. However the funerals of the great (if not the good) do provide a new line in the business of death, with Misha’s attendance at the graveside becoming fashionable (and remunerative).

Viktor and Misha are clearly on the periphery of a criminal world, seemingly safe enough - until his anonymity is threatened.

The book is shot through with black humour as life in the ex-soviet republic is spelled out in all its bleakness, physically decaying and morally corrupt. It is also about loneliness, with more than the penguin seeming at odds with their surroundings.

The style is spare, as befits the context, but never dull, making for a good short read, with a title that is strange, but completely apt.

Here and Now – Paul Auster and JM Coetzee

Not a collaboration from these well-respected authors, but a conversation conducted by correspondence over a three year period from July 2008 to August 2011.

Although touching on world events (the financial meltdown, Arab – Israeli relations, FIFA world cup, the Arab spring) the letters mainly exchange and compare ideas and views on more commonplace aspects of life. One of them will introduce a topic – why waste so much time watching sport on TV – which is discussed over a few letters, during which time the other will open up a new area - the cultural significance of names – and so it goes on.

Politics, history, travel, cinema and of course literature – what they are writing and reading, and what the critics are saying - all feature, but whatever the subject the views are fresh, interesting, and expressed concisely with wit and style.

Possibly due to their age and left-leaning politics (I am not far behind in both) I was in tune with most of what they had to say to each other. But this is not two grumpy old men whinging at the modern world. Yes they have regrets and reservations (the comment of the world going to hell in a hand-basket starts a whole new topic – about hand-baskets) but they have the wisdom to accept change happens and the humility to admit their point of view is just that.

A short and stimulating read.