A House Through Time – David Olusoga & Melanie Backe-Hansen

Although this book uses the same title as the TV series presented by Olusoga, it applies not to a specific house but to the generic. The three properties in Bristol, Liverpool, and Newcastle featured in the programmes are often referred to but only incidentally to illustrate a point.

After a chapter detailing useful tips and sources for those interested in house histories, the authors plunge into a comprehensive canter through the history of housebuilding in Britain. From the early cottages and houses in villages it moves to the Georgian and Victorian heyday of town and city development - grand mansions, elegant terraces, and workers’ hovels.

They tie the next phases of development to the social forces at work – industrialisation, labour demands, transport systems, and developer profits – to explain the growth of the slums and the exodus to the suburbs. The effects of the two world wars are discussed along with the gradual acceptance of housing as a government responsibility, leading to council house building, slum clearance, and tower blocks.

It is an interesting and enlightening thread of history that affects us all, giving insight into the built environment we, often unthinkingly, inhabit.

Trespasses – Louise Kennedy

Cushla Lavery is a young primary teacher in Northern Ireland. Miss Lavery to her pupils, who include Davy McGeown, a bright child from a troubled home. Troubles are all around. It is the 1970s, and though where Cushla lives, just outside Belfast, the sectarianism is less violent, it is there, bubbling away.

Her family is Catholic. She teaches at a Catholic school, but her brother runs a pub where the clientele, reflecting the community, is mainly Protestant. It is a good pub, so tolerated. And Cushla is an efficient and attractive part-time barmaid, less troubled by sectarian bias than by over-familiar punters, all too ready to take advantage of their ethnic majority status.

One customer is different. An older man, Michael Agnew, uses his natural authority to slap down the banter. Cushla is grateful. He’s attractive, the feeling is mutual, and before long nature takes its course. But in addition to being Protestant, he is married and old enough to be her father. So, it doesn’t auger well.

Throw in her mother’s alcoholism, her professional differences with Father Slattery who pulls the headteacher’s strings, and her well-intentioned but fraught involvement with the McGeown family, and it makes for a heady and emotional six months in her previously stable life.

The narrative hangs together well, moving smoothly between episodes while in the background the sectarianism, prejudice, and military presence provide an oppressive brooding atmosphere. Cushla has her flaws. But they are human flaws that in a different place or at a different time would not have their effect so tragically magnified.

A tense, illuminating, and enjoyable read.

The Voyage Home – Pat Barker

And so, to part three of the trilogy, and the baton of carrying the narrative forward passes to Ritsa, a Trojan woman of mature years. She is in servitude to Agamemnon due to her usefulness as a healer working with his physician, Machaon. These three are on a fast ship back to Greece, along with Agamemnon’s prize captive, Cassandra. She is the daughter of Priam, the slaughtered King of Troy, and she is sort of married to Agamemnon, despite him having a wife, Clytemnestra, back home.

Machaon and Ritsa have their hands full with both Cassandra who is crazed with visions of the future, and Agamemnon who is racked by guilt over his sacrifice years since of his daughter Iphigenia to secure fair winds for Troy.

Back in Mycenae lies more trouble for them. Clytemnestra, ten years ruling the roost, is preparing a royal welcome suitable for her bigamous and filicidal husband. And for his upstart Trojan concubine. She, Cassandra, has her own murderous plans for the king.

Where will all this leave Ritsa? Clytemnestra and Cassandra are like a rock and a hard place. Ritsa needs to ensure she, unlike Agamemnon, is not caught between them.

Pat Barker continues to successfully meld the classical with the modern. Characters’ motivations are relatable to today’s world, and the dialogue is snappy and includes modern usage. An excellent finale to the trilogy.

[So much for Agamemnon’s voyage home, what of the rest of the Greeks? On next to Stephen Fry’s Odyssey to continue the Trojan reading journey.]

Jimi Hendrix Live in Lvov – Andrey Kurkov

Each 18 September, in the Ukrainian city of Lvov, a handful of ex-hippies, or rather surviving hippies (once a hippy always a hippy) gather in the small hours at a disused cemetery where, they believe, is buried the hand of one of their musical icons, Jimi Hendrix. Alik is a regular, but this year (2011) there is a new face, who reveals himself as Captain Ryabtsev, ex-KGB officer, or maybe that too should be surviving KGB officer. Ryabtsev used to monitor dissidents such as Alik, but secretly he admired their lifestyle and now wants to befriend Alik and make amends.

As the two of them leave the cemetery, Alik is clipped by an erratically driven old Opel. Thus, we are introduced to the other main character, Taras. His driving style is deliberate. After dropping out of medical school he now operates an unconventional therapy – the shaking loose of kidney stones and their forced expulsion by micturition, all brought about by drinking cognac and being driven at speed over the cobbled streets of Lvov. At night, obviously!

More characters are introduced including Alik’s neighbour Yezhi, and his actress friend, Oksana. Taras, whose fees are paid in cash and in a variety of currencies, frequents a 24-hour exchange booth in the city, where he falls for the pretty cashier, Darka.

So far, so Kurkov. Then more so. Something is amiss in Lvov. Anomalous for a landlocked city six hundred kilometres from open water, there is occasionally a salty taste in the air, a smell of rotting seaweed. Seagulls gather, caw, swoop. One of them even attacks Oksana’s aquarium. Alik and Ryabtsev decide to investigate.

Combining wackiness with precise prose, Kurkov convincingly paints lives lived on the periphery of Lvov society. Strangely compulsive, the activities of Alik, Ryabtsev, Taras, and Darka would hold the interest even without the narrative hook of discovering the source of the seaside anomalies. There is a resolution on that, but the grave of the Jimi Hendrix hand remains a mystery.

Death at the Sign of the Rook – Kate Atkinson

Jackson Brodie, private investigator, has a new case. Immediately following the death in Ilkley of 96-year-old Dorothy Padgett, a Renaissance painting that hung on her bedroom wall has gone missing. As has her capable carer of six months, Melanie Hope. Dorothy’s offsprings, twins Ian and Hazel, want this missing and potentially valuable portion of their inheritance back. Jackson has misgivings about Ian and Hazel – why not call the police, why wasn’t it insured – but a case is a case and he is onto it.

Melanie Hope is a dead end, but researching other recent art thefts turns up a couple with a similar MO, including one in Yorkshire. The removal of a Turner landscape from its frame at the Burton Makepeace estate occurred two years previous. In the frame for the theft was new housekeeper Sophie Greenway, not seen since.

Now, as it happens, Jackson used to know someone in the Yorkshire force, and he still has her number. DC Reggie Chase takes the call with mixed feelings. She likes Brodie, shares his passion for justice, but abhors his approach and disregard of rules and due process for such things as providing an evidential trail.

Inevitably, as she worked on the Turner theft, she is drawn into working in concert with the maverick Brodie. Jackson barrels into Burton Makepeace where a range of characters – Lady Melton and her dysfunctional dynasty, a vicar who has lost his faith, and an ex-soldier who has lost his leg – await to confuse, confound, and entertain.

Expect plot twists, black humour, death, destruction, and a dramatic dénouement enhanced by the arrival at Burton Makepeace of a blizzard, a troop of murder mystery players, and an escaped convict, armed and dangerous.

How does this latest compare with the previous Jackson Brodie books? The man himself is up to scratch, and it is great to meet Reggie Chase again. The plot holds together and minor characters have the usual depth and appeal, but that frantic ending teeters on the brink of farce.

However, Kate Atkinson has literary credit in the bank with me, so that minor point is a tiny bit of rough to take with an awful lot of smooth.

Notes from a Small Island – Bill Bryson

This long-overdue ‘booket-list’ read is Bill Bryson’s 1995 farewell to the UK before moving back to the USA. After a two-decade sojourn in Britain, during which he married and started a family, he picks an eclectic mix of places to visit. Using mainly public transport and low-budget accommodation he zig-zags north from Dover to John O’Groats before returning to his home in the Yorkshire Dales.

En route he exercises his wit and erudition in recounting his travels, the places he goes and the people he meets. Corporatisation of the town centres, decline of resorts, illogical transport connections, and rude people all get a withering tongue-lashing. But he also waxes lyrical on the delightful eccentricities, the charm, and beauty that he finds in the country that, he finally admits, he likes very, very much.

As always with Bryson it is funny, with laugh out loud lines, but also insightful and interesting.

Ripeness – Sarah Moss

Edith (73) lives alone on the west coast of Ireland. Alone but not lonely. She has friends, like Gunter (with whom she has benefits) and Meabh (with whom she swims and drinks coffee). Gunter is an incomer like her, but Meabh is local born and bred. It’s a good life, settled in the wild, windy and wet landscape.

When Meabh confides in her that an unknown, unsuspected, illegitimate half-brother has tracked her down and wants to visit from the US and connect with his past, learn about his birth mother, it brings to Edith’s mind another illegitimate baby parted from its mother over fifty years previously.

Seventeen-year-old Edith, had her plan for a gap year in Europe (a place awaiting at Oxford) amended to take in a trip to Lake Como where her elder (by some years) sister, Lydia, is holed up to have her baby away from prying eyes. Edith, armed only with A-level Italian and experience of birthing lambs on the family hill farm in Derbyshire, rolls up her sleeves and pitches in.

Lydia is a ballerina in a top company; the pregnancy is an inconvenient interruption in her career; the baby, when it comes, is to be shipped off immediately through a convent network to a “good home”.

Edith’s two narratives, half a century apart, are related in Moss’s unfussy prose that beautifully captures the distinctive landscapes of the two locations. The character of Edith, in youth and experience is finely drawn and provides for a thought-provoking and elegiac read.