The Chessmen – Peter May

In this final book of the Lewis trilogy ex-DI Fin Macleod stumbles over another historic crime scene, but this one is connected to his personal, rather than the island’s past.

Again the device of relating past and current events in parallel is used to good effect as the connected narratives unfold. We learn a bit more of Fin’s youth, particularly his college and university days and circle of friends there, who he needs to track down to quiz about the mystery. But its solution may have dire implications for their present lives.

Fin’s investigations take him into the rain and wind swept moors and mountains, lovingly described, while his introspections continue to confront his personal issues and relationships.

The writing is as tight and compulsive as the first two books (The Blackhouse & The Lewis Man), but the historic context grips less – the chessmen are peripheral and the other back story is less revealing of Hebrides culture. May was wise to keep it to a trilogy; the impact of landscape and lifestyle loses some impact with familiarity and the Isle of Lewis was in danger of rivalling Midsomer as a murder hotspot.

Despite these minor reservations, The Chessmen is well worth reading in its own right and a must to complete the trilogy, enabling the reader, along with Fin, to achieve some sort of closure.

The Big Ask – Shane Maloney

The tone of the book is set right way by the author in his dedication “to Christine, Wally and May – they know where I live” and his disclaimer that includes “there is no such place as Melbourne. The Australian Labour Party exists only in the imagination of its members”. His hero Murray Whelan then takes up the cudgels of wit relating a tale with a deft balance of action, suspense and humour.

Whelan is political aide (AKA fixer & spin doctor) for the Melbourne minister for transport, which pitches him into the tough world of road hauliers and their bosses. Australian state politics and union relations is murky business that soon spills over into crime and corruption, for which Whelan is only partially suited.

As the thickening plot drags him deeper into the doo-doo he talks a good game, but his combat skills reflect his career choice, and instead he has to rely on his well-honed aptitude for scheming to pursue personal and professional survival.

It’s the one-liners that lift the book above the norm for the genre. Whelan could be one of Raymond Chandler's or Dasheill Hammett's PIs, having the same dry depreciating delivery, albeit with an antipodean twang, whether describing an adversary – “eyes set like raisins in a stale fruit cake” – or his own increasingly tenuous situation – “so far out on a limb I could’ve got a job as a ring-tailed possum”.

The ‘film noir’ content is handled lightly to produce a well plotted, enjoyable, quick read that would provide superior airline or train journey fare.

The Scramble for Africa – Thomas Pakenham

Part of the ‘Into and out of Africa’ reading journey.

In the decades prior to the 1870s the only European interest in and knowledge of the African continent was some coastal areas and the banks of a few navigable rivers, with contact limited to minimal trade (once that in slaves was outlawed) and staging posts on the way to India and the East.

Then David Livingstone, emerging from years in the interior, reported that although the Europeans weren’t taking slaves, the Arabs were, and slavery within the continent was rife. In his view Africa needed three things – Christianity, commerce and civilization – and many in positions of influence agreed with at least one of those.

As the missionaries and explorers heeded his call and pushed inland, European traders followed uncovering new potential, and as the value of their business grew so did their demands for governments back home to protect their interests.

Treaties and alliances proliferated; soldiers and guns followed to enforce them; spheres of influence developed; and once one power claimed territory as their own the others followed suit in order not to miss out. And the undignified, unwarranted, scramble unfolded to the bitter end of an almost total carve-up of the continent.

The above is of course a vast over-simplification of fifty years of tumultuous upheaval across a vast area, and even Pakenham’s 700 pages do not claim to be the full story. But his account comprehensively builds up the big picture from a myriad of detailed incidents that bring the human element into the tortuous march of history, and say much about the motives and methods of those involved.

The trials and tribulations of the explorers, the missionaries, the natives, the traders and the soldiers are recounted alongside the strategic aims and machinations of the politicians and the lobbyists in the capitals of England, France, Germany, Italy and, more sinisterly, in the court of Leopold II, King of the Belgians.

I am not qualified to comment on the historical accuracy or interpretations put forward, but as a general reader I found the book excellent; clearly written, informative, interesting, at times fascinating, with perhaps the biggest achievement being able to focus on one theatre of operations at a time while linking it to the wider continental, European and global context.

The Good Lawyer – Thomas Benignio

We are sometime in the 1980’s and Nick Maninno is a young lawyer starting out at the bottom defending prospective felons for the Legal Aid Society in the South Bronx. He’s good, but his growing reputation includes success with “sicko sex cases” with the latest not guilty verdict leaving a villain still on the streets, the victim suicidal and Maninno with his head in his hands.

His new batch of cases includes more promising, if high profile, material – a school aide accused of molesting three boys, and a janitor arrested for a series of rapes and murders. Maninno is convinced of the innocence of both and sets to work.

 he legalese flows thick and fast and Nick’s personal life gives him some potential conflicts of interest to deal with: his girlfriend, as well as being old-money rich and beautiful, is an assistant district attorney; and his Uncle Rocco is big in the New York mafia.

The plot becomes complex with interconnection between cases and even links to Uncle Rocco’s shady past. The cast list resembles a Dickens novel with lawyers, judges, clerks, policemen, witnesses, gangsters, crime reporters and even a mysterious stunning blonde. Their coming and going enables Benignio to mess with the head of the reader who doesn’t know which of these will prove significant later down the line as the plot twists and turns.

It’s a fast-paced page-turner and, with Maninno straying from the courtroom into vigilante territory, there is action as well as argument. Credibility is stretched at times (as is standard in the genre) despite the book being ‘inspired by a true story’.

It made for a fine thriller but I would have enjoyed it more if I had known more, or cared less about trying to follow, the intricacies of the US criminal justice system.

Two for Sorrow – Nicola Upson

Read as part U of the “Along the Library Shelf” reading journey

Chosen because

Very limited choice for U, but this looked a meaty crime thriller with one or two unusual features.

The Review

As the book opens in 1930’s London, Josephine Tey, an author, is drafting chapters for her latest book, not her usual detective novel but an account of a real crime from 30 years previous involving some notorious ‘baby farmers’ and the impact on those who were present at their execution in Holloway Gaol.

At the same time she is, rather reluctantly, caught up in the glamorous whirl of London society, for her centred on the splendid Cowdrey Club which provides a pied-a-terre for independent, professional women such as her and also supports the adjacent college of nursing.

Conveniently for a crime writer she is pally with Inspector Penrose of the Yard; he clearly holds a torch for her, as do a couple of her lady friends, but she’s keeping all (and I mean all) her options open. In the meantime it’s all very genteel with afternoon tea, visits to the theatre and dress fittings for a gala ball at the club, until a shockingly contrasting crime is perpetrated and Penrose’s investigations unearth a possible connection to Tey’s work in progress.

Is it just coincidence (unlikely) or is the aftershock of the 30-year-old crime still reverberating a generation later? Penrose does the detecting while Josephine’s concern is sorting out her own personal life.

It’s a clever, pleasingly complex, crime novel given depth by the inclusion of accurate period detail (the baby farmers, the execution, the Cowdray Club and even Josephine Tey all existed as portrayed). Upson unpicks her tangled threads with a nicely paced precision, punctuated with occasional, unexpected, intrusions of violence and passion, to arrive at a satisfying ending not without a surprise or two along the way.

Read another?

This is the third book featuring crime novelist Josephine Tey’s adventures, and frequent references in this book to past events has made me curious for the full back story; and there is nothing in this one to put me off seeking out ‘An Expert in Murder’ or ‘Angel with Two faces’.

The Man Who Cycled The World – Mark Beaumont

Mark Beaumont had done a few long distance rides, including Land’s End to John O’ Groats while still at school and Sicily to Innsbruck during his pre-university gap year, and as his degree course neared its conclusion the idea of cycling round the world began to take hold. But not just cycling, racing to set a new record.

On graduating he spent 31 days cycling 2,700 miles around Scandinavia and the Balkans, leading him to believe 100 miles a day was a sustainable pace; at that rate the 18,000 mile ‘True Circumnavigation of the Globe by Bicycle’ looked possible in 180 days. Adding a day off per fortnight for rest, recuperation and intercontinental transfers would still total only 195 days, some 81 days less than the existing Guinness world record.

Though looking physically feasible the logistical planning and securing financial backing for the trip would be as big a challenge, but within 12 months he was sufficiently prepared to set off from Paris with loaded bike and a mobile phone his only contact to his ‘base camp’ operated by his mother, Una, in Scotland.

This pre-race stage is covered only briefly in the book which soon dives into the realities of the ride with three main themes emerging.

First there’s the day by day grinding out of the miles – the route, the road surface, the terrain, the weather, the mileage and the time, the condition of the bike, the wear and tear on the body (particularly that bit in most contact with the bike), getting enough to eat and finding somewhere to sleep – which all combines to give a real feel for the scale of the task and respect for the physical and mental effort involved.

Secondly the unfolding cultural diversity is related; he’s racing not touring so there’s no time to seek out universal truths, he just shares his experiences, acknowledging the narrowness of his perspective.

The third strand is dealing with the bureaucratic and organisational frustrations of international travel, particularly border crossings, intercontinental flights (with a bike), and the mobilisation of help in far flung places for a moving target (tracked by GPS) from a network of friends of friends, embassy contacts, and the global cycling community (often supplemented by random acts of kindness by strangers met en route). This is all coordinated by Una at base camp, whose short postscript gives a flavour of her vital if virtual involvement in the journey.

It’s an enjoyable read if you, like me, are an enthusiastic armchair explorer / adventurer. I took my time, reading a few pages a day, making it almost a real time experience, so that when the 18,000 miles (or nearly 600 pages) were completed (no spoiler here – the title does that) the sense of achievement and feeling of elation were easy to share.

Galapagos – Kurt Vonnegut

The first thing to get out of the way is that the story is narrated from one million years in the future by the disembodied spirit (ghost) of Leon Trotsky Trout (Vonnegut aficionados will make the connection to Kilgore Trout) who died shortly before the events he wishes to relate took place.

Bear with me; the million year perspective is necessary as a central theme is evolution, which takes this sort of time frame to operate. But this is no overblown epic as most of the action occurs over a few days in 1986 around the planned departure date of the SS Bahia de Darwin on the “Nature Cruise of the Century” to the Galapagos Islands.

That things do not go according to plan for the captain and would-be passengers (a strange but interesting mix) is due to a man-made crisis and potential catastrophe inevitable, according to Trout with the benefit of his million year hindsight, as the human brain had got just too big and clever for the good of the species.

His (Trout speaking for Vonnegut) hypothesis is that brain development, having given an evolutionary advantage for millennia is now (1986) doing the opposite, evidenced by irrational and short term attitudes to war, crime, economics, climate change, etc. An evolutionary correction is overdue; and when it arrives, those aboard the Bahia de Darwin heading for the Galapagos may be the raw material on which it has to work.

Those who have read the classic Slaughterhouse 5 will recognise the style and structure; easy conversational narrative, looking backwards and forwards in time, with regular excursions to fill in back stories of more or less relevance to the tale. The frequent references to events yet to happen are at first intriguing, then teasing, but by the end were in danger of becoming irritating.

Based on my sample of two books, read 40 years apart, Vonnegut (who died in 2007) was a writer with something to say, be it idiotic or idiosyncratic, who said it with wit and style. Slaughterhouse 5 has never left my consciousness, and I’ve a feeling Galapagos will stick too.

When George Came to Edinburgh – John Neil Munro

Read as part of the sport reading journey

George is the mercurial George Best who in November 1979, eleven years and countless drinking binges after winning the European Cup with Manchester United, washed up at Hibernian FC in the Scottish capital.

Hibs were struggling at the foot of the Scottish Premier League and chairman Tom Hart, in search of inspiration for the team, settles instead for desperation and signs Best, offering the wayward genius a way back into footballing respectability after years of peddling his name, if not his talent, in short lived appearances for a variety of lower, even non-league clubs and a few nascent US “soccer” teams.

George and model wife Angie (in the sense she posed with clothes rather than provided matrimonial perfection) roll into town, the media circus follows, and attendances rise to see one of the greatest perform albeit in less than glamorous surroundings. He’s overweight and unfit but still has the eye for a pass and the feet to hit it accurately; the shimmer of the hips is still there to beat a man but the pace to leave him behind has gone; the shot with either foot remains deadly. Above all the weakness for the booze and the tendency to self-destruct persist.

John Neil Munro saw it at the time and here, 30 years on, presents a retrospective off that short bizarre period in Hibs’ history. It combines contemporary reports with newly obtained, largely fond, remembrances from fans (who have now found fame), ex-players, the media and an occasional barman.

The book is as short as Best’s Hibs career and concentrates on his impact on the club; his off the field antics are not sensationalised but their effects on the club are evidenced. The writing is easy and to the point; there is some repetition, but Best’s whole later career was a depressingly repetitive cycle of wasted opportunity, and thankfully there is no attempt to over-analyse his problems here.

I found the book interesting having followed football closely ever since my first “Charles Buchan Football Annual” circa 1960. Living in Manchester I saw Best at his best many times at Old Trafford; and at university in Edinburgh I supported Hibs during one of few good periods in the early seventies; so there was a personal element in my enjoyment of the book.

Anyone with an interest in George Best or Scottish Football should find this a diverting and nostalgic read.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen – Paul Torday

If you think the book title unlikely imagine the reception the idea gets from Dr Fred Jones, fisheries expert at the quasi-governmental National Centre for Fisheries Excellence.

But the request comes from an influential Yemeni Sheikh and when the Prime Minister’s spin doctor sees some PR benefits and gets involved, Dr Jones has no alternative to working up a feasibility study, aided and abetted by the efficient and attractive consultant Ms Harriet Chetwode-Talbot.

Although the political wind blows hot and cold, the Sheikh’s faith is unshakeable and his purse is bottomless, so Dr Jones’ workable if costly scheme finds itself moving off the drawing board into implementation, the questions are: what will be the political fallout in both countries and more crucially will the fish cooperate?

The tale unfolds through a dossier of documents – governmental and personal e-mails, witness statements, letters, press cuttings and diary extracts. The device works quite well. The existence of the dossier is an early indication that we’re heading for an unfortunate event - personal, political or physical - and a sense of foreboding grows steadily without giving away too much too soon.

Beginning as almost a comedy of manners, as genteel official correspondence bounces around, the book develops, adding touches of pathos as we gain insight into the personal lives of Fred and Harriet, and spirituality as the Sheikh expounds his philosophy of faith, hope and love.

I really enjoyed the first, funny section of the book and raced through the early pages; the later stages were slower possibly due to their more contemplative nature or possibly due to a sub-conscious desire to delay the unknown but inevitable sticky end lying in wait at its conclusion.

It is a good read, thoroughly recommended.

Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad

Part of the ‘Into and out of Africa’ reading journey

The story opens on board a yacht moored in the Thames but due to set sail for parts unknown; the men aboard are drinking and swapping yarns as they wait listlessly for the tide to turn. The setting sun provides a brooding backdrop and leads one of the men, Marlow, to declare “this also has been one of the dark places of the earth” and launch into a tale.

He’s speculating how the first Roman invaders must have felt sailing up the river into the unfamiliar British terrain in an inhospitable climate populated by savage natives; an interesting parallel to his own experience captaining a river steamboat up the Congo to ‘relieve’ the resident of a remote ivory trading post.

The man at the centre of the mission is the charismatic Mr Kurtz whose trading prowess is second to none due in part to a skill in oratory that gives him a Messianic quality that spellbinds colleagues and natives alike. In fact the natives are so devoted they don’t want him to leave.

Marlow’s engagement, induction and voyage up river is recounted; with hard-nosed detachment as far the physical dangers are concerned, but with more circumspection as regards the psychological pressures that emanate from the jungle beyond the riverbank – the continent’s heart of darkness. He can begin to understand how a white man may succumb to “the fascination of the abomination” that can be found there and be prey to “the growing regret, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate”.

The immensely powerful language (quoted to do it justice) gives the novella the feel of a horror story; as it is – but there’s nothing supernatural here, it is all horribly, if unfamiliarly natural in the time and place that was Equatorial Africa in the time of colonisation. And Conrad should know, he did the steamboat job himself and, as a result, this anguished take on colonisation provides an interesting contrast to Rider Haggard’s bravado. (See previous review of King Soloman’s Mines).

Derby Day - D J Taylor

Read as part T of the “Along the Library Shelf” reading journey

Chosen because

It seemed to promise a classic Victorian mystery with a cast drawn from the various layers of society, maybe in the vein of Wilkie Collins with a dash of Dickens.

The Review

The classic Derby horse race attracts the interest of all classes in Victorian England from the gentlemen owners, through the working poor who like a spectacle, to the disreputable bookies and petty criminals who grub around anywhere that money changes hands.

Representatives of these social strata permeate the book as they orbit, at various distances, one of the big race favourites – Tiberius. Most of these characters seem fairly stock - the widowed owner with an impoverished estate, troubled daughter and a new young governess; the scheming ‘gentleman’ of modest means but high ambitions to marry money and own the Derby winner, with a shady sidekick in tow to do the dirty work; the lady he has targeted but whose own scheming is a match for most; and a master safe-cracker who has a no-nonsense police detective on his trail – but they are all well developed into individuals with stories to tell.

Over the months leading up to the race the plot develops and thickens slowly like a pot of stew on a Victorian range as the diverse ingredients are stirred and mixed to deliver up a tasty concoction. As Derby day at approaches events accelerate and all head to Epsom with more to resolve than whether Tiberius wins the race.

The measured, laconic style with the odd wink to the reader worked very well for developing the characters and building the plot but was less effective in describing the climactic events of the race day itself. A minor issue though in an enjoyable read.

Read another?

Maybe give “Kept” – another Victorian mystery - a go.

Brooklyn – Colm Toibin

The book follows Eilis Lacey, a young girl on the verge of womanhood but with limited prospects in 1950s rural Ireland. She’s studying bookkeeping but despite being ‘good with numbers’ can only get a Sunday job serving in a local grocery.

Her elder sister has contacts at the golf club and soon it is arranged, almost without Eilis’s involvement, that she will go to the land of opportunity, America - specifically Brooklyn - where there is an established Irish community and an ex-pat priest who can smooth her path to employment and lodgings.

The experiences of the voyage to New York and of immigrant life in the cultural melting pot of Brooklyn are the meat of the central section of the work (interesting but not, to me, riveting). Ironically as the homesickness is overcome and she begins to carve out her new life she is called back to Ireland; older, more experienced and suddenly with a choice of prospects, she faces the dilemma of whether to stay put or return to what she has left behind in Brooklyn.

In my ignorance I assumed Colm Toibin was a woman such was the intense focus on Eilis and her life, with only the photo inside the back cover putting me right. Maybe my own gender contributed to a lack of empathy for Eilis for most of the book. She is a bit of a mouse, generally following the line of least resistance; but at the end as the pressure (not quite excitement – Eilis does not do excitement) builds the question is will she finally decide for herself what we wants for her future?

The writing is understated, in line with Elis’s character, but subtly builds up layers of feeing and experience that shape and influence an ordinary life. It clearly impressed the critics, leading to the Man Booker long list and a Costa award, but it won’t make it onto my ‘books of the year’ list.

The Lewis Man – Peter May

In this second book of the Lewis trilogy, now ex-DI Fin Macleod is drawn back to the Hebrides where he plans to restore his parent’s crofthouse back to habitable state. This means he is on hand when an annual peat cutting ceremony unearths a potentially ancient ‘bog body’. These occasionally emerge, well preserved by the acidic peat moss, and this one is immediately dubbed ‘Lewis Man’.

The title is short-lived as the autopsy reveals that the deceased young man not only suffered a violent death but also sported an Elvis tattoo; so it’s a potential murder from half a century ago. DNA also points to a connection to Fin’s family, but the old man who may know the answers is suffering from dementia and can’t help.

The author repeats his trick from ‘The Blackhouse’ of having a back story related in parallel to Fin’s efforts to solve the riddle, this time using the dementia sufferer to relate to the reader historic events that he can only communicate to Fin in tantalising snippets.

Fin’s own personal story also moves forward, unobtrusively, as he warily picks up the pieces of his Island life after the revelations in the previous book.

This book is every bit as atmospheric as the first and again reveals to a wider audience an unusual Island tradition, central to the story; this one quite shameful (but thankfully no longer current).

The action builds to a powerful climax and leaves the reader both satisfied and eager to move on to the concluding volume ‘The Chessmen’.

Black Swan Green – David Mitchell

It is 1982 and Jason Taylor is 13, an ordinary kid living in the quiet backwater that is Black Swan Green tucked away in the Malvern Hills. His family – executive father, home-maker mother, older sister who calls him ‘thing’ – is middle class normality, better off than most but not excessively.

He also knows his place in the schoolboy pecking order – outside the top dogs who set the trends and call the shots, but above the perennial no-mark losers who bear the brunt of their juvenile posturing. There are two flies in the ointment: he’s a secret poet (“how gay”) and has a stammer that is getting increasingly hard to disguise and that he worries will sooner or later become a stick for the bullies to beat him with.

Jason takes us through this formative year as his stock within the adolescent pack fluctuates according to events and the whims of others. The account is articulate, painfully accurate but without self-pity – he accepts the way of his world; but when the going gets really tough, at home as well as at school, will that be enough to survive?

The quality of writing and characterisation drew me in easily and just as I was thinking this is a pleasant nostalgic read (It’s a Knockout on TV; space invaders in the pub; Chariots of Fire at the cinema and the Falklands war in the news), but going nowhere special, something kicked in and gripped me through to the end.

David Mitchell was born in Worcestershire and was 13 in 1982 so he writes from personal knowledge of the time and place that oozes authenticity. He absolutely nails the world of the 13-year-old boy, at least in 1982 (and 1966 for me); particularly how small incidents magnify in the lens of adolescence into ludicrous highs and desperate lows.

Having also enjoyed ‘The Thousand Autumns of Jacob DeZoet’ (see August 2012 review) I am in danger of becoming a bit of a Mitchell fan and may try one of his more esoteric creations such as ‘Cloud Atlas’.

King Solomon’s Mines – H Rider Haggard

Part of the ‘Into and out of Africa’ reading journey

Grizzled veteran big game hunter and adventurer Allan Quatermain (familiar these days for his resurrection in the 2003 film The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) is on a boat to Natal when he is approached by two other Englishmen – the aristocratic Sir Henry Curtis and ex-Royal Navy Captain John Good – who are on a mission to find Curtis’s estranged younger brother.

It’s a small world in colonial Africa and Quatermain has heard tell of a young hothead who set off to find the legendary King Solomon’s Mines, fount of untold riches in gold and diamonds. A fool’s errand in Quatermain’s view but as it happens he does have a map he was given years ago by a dying ‘Potugee’ that purports to show the way. And while he wouldn’t undertake such a wild goose chase for the fabled riches, he is prepared to lead an expedition with the noble cause of helping a couple of good chaps recue a fellow Brit. Of course if there are any diamonds available he will take a share.

What follows is a ripping yarn that helped to make the template for many more, with hardships endured, pitched battles fought, and narrow squeaks negotiated; all faced with stiff upper lip and manly camaraderie.

The story is presented as a memoir of Quatermain, so he obviously makes it, but the fate of his comrades and success of the mission are the driving force of the narrative. The wonder of the African interior probably has less impact on the modern reader – we’ve seen it all on TV courtesy of David Attenborough – but at the time of publication would have contributed to the book’s popularity.

Published in 1885 as the European scramble for Africa was gathering pace, Haggard sets this tale in the Southern Africa that he knew from personal experience. As such the book is of its time and its attitude to the native African is instructive. The white man’s supremacy is a given but there is respect for the inferior race, many of whom have admirable, even noble, qualities (including deference!). Indeed the attachment of one of the party to a young native girl could have led to a rather awkward social situation if not terminated by an unfortunate (or fortunate) incident. More distasteful is the gleeful description of the wanton slaughter of elephants, only valued for their ivory tusks.

In summary an instructive read with a period charm and a strong narrative thread that carries the reader steadily through the 300 pages of adventure and derring do.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s – Truman Capote

The unnamed narrator is looking back a few years to the early 1940s when, newly arrived in New York, he moved into an apartment block and was intrigued by the mail box label for Apartment 2 which declares “Miss Holiday Golightly, Traveling”.

The name and the voice on the stairs soon take form in the delightful Holly – petit, short hair, dark glasses perched on up-turned nose, and chic little black dress (in other words Audrey Hepburn) – and he is smitten by the kitten. As other neighbours tire of her charms in the wake of her late night parties, that she either hosts or returns from keyless and demanding entry to the block from anyone she can rouse, he is more than happy to step up to the plate.

Is she just a good time girl, a gold-digger, or something more professional? What is her background? What’s behind her weekly visits to Sally Tomato imprisoned in Sing Sing? The more she reveals the more the less sense it makes.

Told mainly in snappy New York dialogue it’s an engaging portrait of a free spirit in single minded pursuit of the good life, epitomised by having breakfast at Tiffany’s among the diamonds and the rich smells of alligator wallets and silver.

The narrator is not in that league so he shouldn’t have a chance with Holly; but he’s on hand when her fragile confection of a world looks in danger of collapsing.

Little more than a novella in length and format it makes an excellent quick read.

Love in the Time of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The book’s title is odd but accurate. It’s about love and is set in the Caribbean coast of South America between the middle of the 19^th and the early 20^th century when cholera was an ever present threat at least to the poorer communities.

The story moves backwards and forwards in this period exploring aspects of love. Fear not of apparent spoilers below – what happens is set out early and it is the how that engrosses.

To start (chronologically) there is Fermina Daza’s schoolgirl fixation on the plain but enigmatic Florentino Ariza, which he reciprocates in spades. She moves on, to be wooed by the sophisticated Dr Juvenal Urbino, and we see young married love bloom then fade to indifference under the pressure of in-laws; adultery rears its loveless, lustful head.

Meanwhile Florentino Ariza holds a torch for Fermina through the years, decades even, taking comfort where he can in his many affairs but unable to give of himself in his pitiful state of unrequited love.

Eventually, in old age, Dr Urbino suffers a parrot related death and the widow Fermina is revisited by her childhood suitor. Will this lead to a companiable friendship; a late flowering love; or a final crushing rejection?

The episodic time-shifting story meanders along like one of Ariza’s steamboats on the Magdelena River, with leisurely trips up tributaries and side channels. The long luxuriant paragraphs require unhurried reading but reward with total absorption into the time and place, and lives and loves, created by Garcia Marquez. It has passion and pain, joy and heartache, humour, irony and wisdom.

It reads longer than its 350 pages but is rich and satisfying throughout.

A Street Cat Named Bob – James Bowen

When James Bowen first comes across a ginger tom cat sat on his tenement stairs he just gives it a stroke and moves on. After a day or two it becomes clear it has no home and is in need of food and attention. James knows how it feels to be in that situation – he is off drugs but on methadone and trying to live on what he makes busking around central London.

This is not a lot but despite his meagre resources he takes in the cat, who he has named Bob, with a view to nursing it back to health and releasing it back to the streets. Bob has other ideas and sticks to James, even following him across London to sit in the guitar case as James plays, boosting takings in the process.

It is new to James to have responsibility for anything as his life since adolescence has been troubled, with each ‘second chance’ thrown away regardless of consequences. Now though, with Bob’s welfare to consider, he realises that he has to sort himself out.

It’s hard - there are hurdles and setbacks for James as he tries to come off methadone and get on to the legal side of the street; but through it all he has Bob’s unconditional affection and knowing looks to anchor him to the real world.

James Bowen is not an author, he is a musician, but his writing is simple, clear and genuine. As a cat ‘owner’ I found his descriptions of some of Bob’s more familiar antics spot-on, but Bob’s talents go much further than the average moggy.

The read is easy on the eye, but sheds discomforting light upon life on the streets today. In future buskers and Big Issue sellers may get a more sympathetic response from readers. But the strength of the book is simply in its remarkable story which is told well enough.

The Humans – Matt Haig

The good news for Professor Andrew Martin is that he has just achieved his lifetime ambition as a mathematician by discovering a proof of the Reimann Hypothesis, key to understanding the distribution of prime numbers (not that you need to know that).

The bad news is that his discovery is perceived as a threat to the rest of the civilized universe by its self-appointed guardians, the “Host”. Their view is that mankind’s lack of social development and a propensity to violence would make such a discovery dangerous. As a result the professor is immediately abducted, killed and replaced by a look-alike agent of the Host with instructions to eliminate all traces of the discovery. So bad news too for Andrew Martin’s wife, son and close colleagues at Cambridge University.

Haig has fun pointing out some absurdities of human customs, which take some getting used to even for the super-intelligent imposter. This is not helped by learning the English language and a skewed view of social behaviour from perusing a copy of Cosmopolitan.

At first these absurdities strengthen his contempt for humans. However as he establishes his position in his new typically dysfunctional family he slowly realises that beneath the superficiality of style and posturing there is something he has never known before – a feeling of belonging and responsibility for others.

The initial premise is easily swallowed, and then the book runs smoothly through the gears. From its comedic start it moves through insightful comments (my favourite that everything on Earth is wrapped up and hidden from plain view – food, bodies, even feelings) to emotional turmoil and tension as the new Professor Andrew Martin tries to resolve divided loyalties to his mission and his increasing respect for these earthlings.

A good book on more than one level.

When Will There Be Good News – Kate Atkinson

Joanna Mason’s mother, sister and baby brother were killed in a senseless attack when she was just six years old. She escaped unscathed and thirty years later is living happily in Edinburgh with a nice but dim husband and small baby. But thirty years was Andrew Decker’s sentence and now he is out.

It falls to DCI Louise Monroe to let Joanna know. The policewoman has got married since her previous outing in “One Good Turn”, but still broods on what might have been with Jackson Brodie (ex-army, ex-police, ex-private eye and current uncomfortably well-off man of leisure). He too has moved on in marital terms if not emotionally, with a new wife and a possible son from the previous relationship.

Brodie’s trip to Yorkshire, to surreptitiously gain a DNA sample from the potential son, propels him northward by train to crash back into Louise Monroe’s personal and professional life.

Added to the mix is sixteen year-old Reggie Chase, Joanna’s ‘mother’s help’ devoted to her and the baby but struggling to cope with a ravaged home life. And there is Joanna’s dog – Sadie the German shepherd.

Atkinson does what she does better than most – developing interweaving plot lines with such ease that the complexity is hardly noticed until a connection is made with a satisfying “ahh” from the reader. It’s not just the plot though; characters are interesting and engaging, with well-articulated opinions and emotions. Sardonic humour and social comment are blended in seamlessly.

It gets serious though when Joanna goes missing with the baby. Has she run, has she been taken, is her husband not so nice after all? We are kept guessing on that and the many subplots right to the end, when the book is closed to a final, satisfying, spine-tingling link.

Just excellent.

Skios – Michael Frayn

Skios, the Greek island home of the Fred Toppler Foundation and destination of Dr Norman Wilfred, eminent scholar, booked to deliver the prestigious annual lecture to the great and the good gathered there.

Skios, also the destination of Oliver Fox, feckless philanderer, for an illicit assignation with the gorgeous Georgie in a luxury villa borrowed from a friend of a friend.

Skios Airport, where the confusion begins: first, Dr Wilfred and Oliver Fox have identical suitcases; second, Oliver eyes the ‘discretely tanned, discretely blonde’ Nikki Hook holding up the sign to welcome Dr Wilfred and he just can’t resist the opportunity for a free ride from the airport, probably a free meal, and possibly more besides. Particularly as Georgie is delayed.

Dr Wilfred is left with no luggage and no limo, but it is not all bad as Oliver’s taxi, the luxury villa and Georgie (back on schedule) have become available.

Frayn’s capacity for farce in theatre (Noises Off) and cinema (Clockwise) translates well into the written word as he skilfully keeps all the plates spinning as characters enter and exit foundation and villa, with two Greek taxi drivers, brothers Stavros and Spiros, providing the necessary, if largely unremunerated, shuttle service.

It’s clever and funny, but Frayn provides some food for thought through Dr Wilfred’s belief (well tested here) in cause and effect; and in his realisation that not being Dr Wilfred is not all bad.

The read is light but fairly breathless as events hurtle towards a finale full of possibilities. Dr Wilfred would argue they are probabilities based on cause and effect, but would have to concede that this ending is at the lower end of the bell curve.

 

Pure – Andrew Miller

By 1785 the cemetery at les Innocents in the heart of Paris has become a problem that can be ignored no longer. The rotting of countless bodies, particularly in the common pits, is producing a stink that pervades the district and threatens public health. The King has decreed that the church and graveyard, bones and all, be removed.

Young provincial engineer Jean-Baptiste Baratte is given the task and arrives in the capital keen to make his name as the man who purified Paris. He soon meets a cast of characters who would be at home in Les Miserables.

There is the demonic remnant priest, heard but not seen; an aged sexton with a young, innocent daughter eager to help; the organist with revolutionary tendencies; Baratte’s landlord and landlady with an eligible if unattractive daughter; and finally the mysterious “Austrienne” who plies her ancient profession to the better off local tradesmen.

The engineer brings into the mix his former colleague from the mines of Valenciennes with his handpicked crew of ex-miners to dig out the burial pits and extract the bones for transfer out of the city.

Jean-Baptiste’s professional, personal and even political life comes under close scrutiny as his mission becomes known; welcomed by some locals but resented by others. He is a free thinker, a man of the future, but this job could grind anyone down and pressure grows as the summer heat builds.

The story unfolds in the present tense, giving an immediacy and volatility that suits its ends. The writing is crisp and, despite its dark subject, light, drawing the reader effortlessly into pre-revolutionary Paris. The characters are well drawn and tension and uncertainty remain to the end.

All that is known for sure is that Jean-Baptiste will finish the year more than 12 months older and much wiser in the ways of Paris.

Trick – Sean Hancock

School’s out, and Richard Trick having finished his GCSEs, is at a loose end. He lives in Hitterton, a non-descript little town in North Devon remarkable in his view only for the absence of an appropriate initial letter S in its name. He is in with a bad crowd and they are into fags, booze, dope and now a (not very) armed robbery on the local store.

The raid is unexpectedly successful both in terms of execution and the proceeds, but this brings more problems than it solves for the gang. They can’t spend the cash without attracting suspicion and the money taken includes the ill-gotten gains of a local hoodlum, who wants it back.

Trick’s problems don’t end there: he is the only black kid in town; he’s in love with a girl he thinks is unattainable; and relations with his mum and stepdad are fraught (or normal for a teenager).

Hancock takes us through Trick’s pivotal summer at a fast pace, with liberal references to fashion (branded T-shirts & trainers), music (retro heavy metal), and soft drug culture. Also used liberally is the unsavoury language of unsavoury youth.

The subject matter, style and language would probably go down well with the young adult market. But while some may consider it unsuitable for younger teens due to the casual swearing and drug references, older teenagers may find the story lacks sophistication and depth.

As an adult (vetting the book for my 15 year-old) I found it passed the time well enough, and I did feel for Trick. Hancock does capture some of the vulnerability, frustration and irrationality of adolescence, as Trick perversely pursues paths that he knows will lead him to no good. Will his dawning maturity and native wit be sufficient to find a sustainable route out of the mess?

Care of Wooden Floors – Will Wiles

The book opens with the un-named narrator arriving in an obscure Eastern European city to flat-sit for his old university friend, now classical musician, Oskar.

Oskar’s compulsion for neatness and order, illustrated by his minimalist composition ‘Variations on Tram Timetables’ finds expression in his stylish flat. To ensure it is looked after he has left detailed written instructions for its care, many out of sight but strategically placed in anticipation of need at some juncture. Care of the pristine wooden floors is particularly urged.

The temporary custodian is at first amused, but then irritated by Oskar’s ability to second-guess his every move; after all he can surely be trusted to look after a flat for a week or two, even one with wooden floors, a leather sofa, grand piano and two cats. There is even a cleaner who calls twice a week.

In fact it is an opportunity to prove that his personal disorganised lifestyle is due to circumstance not nature. But no: he asserts his capacity for independent thought, ignores some apparently over-prescriptive notes, and the first minor mishap occurs.

Order is a fragile, unstable state of being. Once upset, attempts to restore it can be counter-productive (in life as well as in flats). As his eight-day stay proceeds the various components – floor, sofa, piano, cats and even the cleaner – are at increasing risk, not to mention the narrator himself, the unwilling agent of entropy.

The novel unfolds beautifully from early philosophical musings, through awkward social interactions, to frantic farce. All related with the same detached, elegant prose shot through with descriptions and metaphors that drip originality and wit.

A read that starts intriguingly and just gets better and better.

 

Sleepyhead by Mark Billingham

Read as part of the World Book Night 2012 reading journey.

When an observant pathologist is curious about the death of a young female stroke victim, who has none of the usual risk factors but has traces of a tranquiliser in her blood, he shares his concern with colleagues. As a result two other similar cases come to light and the police are alerted. Someone is plying young women with alcohol and drugs before applying a medical procedure to induce a stroke.

Then a fourth victim, Alison Willets, is left dumped at A&E; still alive but in a coma, specifically locked-in syndrome, fully conscious but unable to move or speak.

DI Tom Thorne is on the case and he receives a chilling note from the killer. Alison’s survival was not a mistake but the intended outcome; it was the preceding deaths that represented failure. And having now succeeded in suspending Alison between life and death, he plans to test his technique again.

The procedural crime thriller takes it from there at a good pace. Unsurprisingly we get conflict between Thorne and his superiors as he is determined to pursue his prime suspect despite the lack of evidence. Last time he ignored a hunch there were tragic consequences. We also get some love interest as he hits on Alison’s neurologist, who’s attractive, recently divorced, and has history with the suspect.

But in addition to following Thorne we get two other perspectives. One is locked-in Alison’s view of the world as her thoughts on the case and her situation punctuate the narrative with punchy, Geordie-girl directness. The other is from the unidentified killer. But here Billingham teases us throughout with clever use of the personal pronoun; the reader is unsure whether the ‘he’ referred to in these passages is always the killer – sometimes it turns out to be another character entirely.

The uncertainty lasts to the climax when all is satisfactorily revealed; but what represents a satisfactory ending for Thorne, his neurologist friend, or indeed Alison Willets?

This first in the DI Thorne series was a good read, well written with a pleasing balance of action, procedure and psychology. Thorne’s personal demons emerge but don’t dominate the book. Whether that remains the case in the next book in the series, “Scaredy Cat”, I will let you know in due course.

The Hitman’s Guide to Housecleaning – Hallgrimur Helgason

Hardened in the crucible of the 1990’s Croatian – Serbian conflict, Tomislav Boksic graduates through the Croatian Mafia to be a top contract killer – 66 professional hits and counting. And, taking a pride in his work, he is counting. Unfortunately #66 turned out to be an undercover FBI officer and the agency is turning New York upside down to find the killer.

His cover blown and feds all over the airport, he takes refuge in the gents and emerges with #67’s clothes (including dog collar), passport and flight tickets to Iceland. His hopes of a low profile arrival in Reykjavik are dashed by a welcoming committee of local Christians expecting the Reverend David Friendly, the famous (in their circles) US evangelist with his own TV show.

Cultural misunderstandings abound as the peaceful Icelanders and the Christian do-gooders get to work on redeeming the soon unmasked Croatian hitman, whose name has not been abridged to “Toxic” without reason. More effective are the attentions of the young, sexy, “butter-blonde” Gunnhildur, who is strangely attracted to the middle-aged, balding, overweight criminal; (it must be the glamour of notoriety or else subconscious wish-fulfilment from Helgason).

Can the leopard change his spots and become a fluffy white polar bear? Can this Icelandic refuge indefinitely shelter him from the FBI and his old Mafia bosses?

The Icelandic Helgason wrote the book in English, and it bobs along easily enough. There is some black humour, some farcical moments and much use of the F word. My interest flagged in the middle as credibility stretched and empathy with Toxic evaporated. However the finale had tension and pathos giving a glimpse of what the novel might have achieved.

In my view the book it suffers from a lack of identity: not funny enough for a farce; too light–hearted for a thriller; unbelievable as a romance; and lacking the weight to be redemptive. Other than that it was OK.

Gone with the Wind (volume 2) by Margaret Mitchell

The Review (continued)

The first 500 page volume was reviewed in April 2013 and took us up to the loss of Atlanta and the defeat of the Confederacy.

In volume 2 the war is over and sufficient of the main characters have survived to continue the story. Tara is still standing; or rather it’s on its knees. With the hated Yankees in control, the negroes freed and carpetbaggers from the North flooding in to plunder the defenceless Southern states, Scarlett needs cash to pay taxes or lose the plantation. She turns gold-digger (not in the Californian sense) and returns to Atlanta to entrap one of the few respectable southern gents with any cash.

This saves Tara and gets Scarlett a toe-hold in the now booming Atlanta economy. Her approach to the carpetbaggers is if you can’t beat them, join them. Rhett Butler has the same view and they continue their tempestuous relationship, making dollars, infiltrating the new-moneyed Yankee folk, but losing the respect of the downtrodden, proud remnants of Confederate society. Only faithful friend Melanie Wilkes and her husband Ashley will give them the time of day.

These desperate days for the Southerners give birth to the abomination of the Klu Klux Klan, which attempts to mete out a rough justice on negroes perceived to have slighted (or worse) any white lady’s honour. Following one of their skirmishes Scarlett finds herself widowed for the second time; free once more, but to wed Rhett Butler or to prise Ashley Wilkes from his passionless marriage?

The painful reconstruction of the South eventually gives way to recovery as Georgia gains a measure of self-governance. But the complex four-cornered relationship between Scarlett, Rhett, Melanie and Ashley shows strain and stress under the pressure of events, producing uncertainty right to the end.

The power of the book is in Scarlett’s uncompromising character; frequently dishonourable, always selfish, but undeniably resilient in the face of adversity. Any problem too big to solve today can be shrugged off until tomorrow – famously “another day”. What lifts the book out of the chick-lit pot-boiler category is the broad historical sweep and the riveting scenes between Scarlett and Rhett that crackle with sexual tension and expostulate Rhett’s “don’t give a damn” philosophy.

Six month’s reading (both volumes) and no regrets; tomorrow is another book!

Down and Out in Paris and London – George Orwell

Written in the 1930s this slim volume relates the young Orwell’s personal experience of extreme poverty in the two cities.

In Paris, out of money, he eventually secures a position as a ‘plongeur’, the lowest rated menial in a hotel or restaurant. This provides a pitiful income in exchange for long hours in the stifling heat of the kitchens with the valuable compensation of access to food. His fellow workers provide a treasury of tales of false hopes and ruined dreams. His income pays his rent and no more.

He returns to London on the promise of a job but when it is delayed he is forced to spend a month penniless in the capital. He joins the ranks of the itinerant tramps, kept moving by the vagrancy laws from ‘spike’ to ‘spike’ (a casual ward of the workhouse). From the old hands he learns survival techniques, which spikes are best, and the alternatives to institutional dormitories such as the accurately named two-penny hangover.

Orwell’s writing is clear, concise and is all the more affecting for being un-emotional. In the main he just reports the facts, reserving judgement to a couple of chapters where he sums up his personal opinions and offers simple if unconventional ideas to improve matters.

Is it of relevance today, or is it just of historic interest? It may be possible to judge if much has changed after reading the reputed modern equivalent - A Street Cat Named Bob. As a historic document its personal testimony delivered with a light touch makes it both informative and very readable.

Florence and Giles – John Harding

In late 19^th century upstate New York eleven year old Florence and her younger half-brother Giles are orphans immured in the gothic pile that is Blithe House, looked after by a housekeeper and staff employed by their absentee guardian uncle. He does not believe in educating girls but Florence has secretly accessed the vast library and independently developed her reading and language skills.

In fact they are over-developed; leading to a penchant for synthesising new forms of words whenever she feels the standard lexicon is un-sufficiently expressive. It is her first-person account of events that we get throughout; her synopsis could read thus:

Her brother is boarding-schooled for a while and she friendships a boy from the neighbouring estate. But things pearshape when Giles quits school and a new governess is appointed (we learn a previous governess fatally-accidented on the lake). Florence suspects Miss Taylor is up to no good and witbattles her in a struggle that starts with polite sniping but soon gets life-and-deather.

The precociousness and resourcefulness of Florence, as well as her passion for books, is reminiscent of Roald Dahl’s Matilda; but Florence is older, lacks powers of telekinesis, and is working pretty much alone against an adversary more threatening than the comic Miss Trunchbull. Although you have to root for her, and fear for her welfare, her capacity for ruthlessness is more than a little concerning by the end.

It is hard to decide if Florence and Giles is aimed at the youth or adult market – it seems to occupy ground between the aforesaid Matilda and Henry James’ Turn of the Screw. (Which features similarly named siblings Flora and Miles in a not dissimilar environment).

Not that it matters; I enjoyed the read which was well worth the £1.99 download. The oddities of vocabulary, which could have been irritating, actually fitted in well with and added charm to the narrative.

A Dark Matter by Peter Straub

Read as part S of the “Along the Library Shelf” reading journey

Chosen because

An attractive cover, as ever, drew my eye: a lonely barn in a field of corn below a high white sky dotted with menacing black birds. The blurb was promising with comments from Stephen King and The Guardian, and the first couple of pages left me wanting to know more. The horror genre is not my usual choice, but that is what the A to Z journey is all about – variation from the norm.

The Review

Lee Harwell is a writer in late middle age in need of literary inspiration. A chance encounter brings back to mind a long-buried episode of his youth and soon an irrepressible desire forms to dig it up and examine it.

It was buried for a good reason. His high school friends (one now his wife) took part in a psychic experience, led by the guru-like Spencer Mallon, which ended in death, disappearance and damage to the survivors, who then clammed up and spread far and wide. Harwell himself had chosen not to get involved but now needs to know what actually happened and sets about rounding up the gang and persuading them to talk.

Two strands emerge and intertwine. In the normal world the old friends re-engage and spend time joining the dots from their shared adolescence to their current separate lives. In doing so they each recall and describe the traumatic experience of the para-normal world called forth by Spencer Mallon. Was the spirit world they revealed real or imagined?

The writing is good and maintains interest, although concentration is required as the story flits between now and then, character and character, and first and third person narration (often in the same paragraph). The depictions of horror are vivid and powerful but to me were too unworldly to produce fear or dread.

Read another?

I’ve nothing against the (award winning) author but, as this book has not drawn me into the horror genre, probably not.

On Unfinished Books

When is it alright to give up on a book?

Not never; clearly reading time is a limited and precious resource and should not be wasted on un-rewarding books when there are so many others out there waiting to be enjoyed.

Neither, though, immediately the reading gets a little difficult, drops in pace, or starts to get a bit silly.

Somewhere between these two we each have to draw our own line in the sand. For me it is unusual to abandon a book part way through, I think for the following reasons:

1.    I choose books quite carefully – to get onto the ever growing ‘to read’ pile it has to pass more than a cursory glance; and then to get picked from that pile for reading it will face stiff competition. To abandon it would then call my initial judgement into question, making me naturally reluctant.

2.    Having invested a few hours to get well into the book it seems a bit of a waste to give it up – but this has to be weighed up against the potential greater waste of time in continuing.

3.    It may always get better or produce a late revelation that makes sense of it all or justifies the early indifference.

4.    As I tend to have 3 or 4 books on the go at once I can press on with one dubious volume while getting light relief from the others, so avoiding feeling deprived by the offending tome.

So few of my reads have been discarded, shelved or disposed of unfinished – just half a dozen come to mind – but they do include some well-regarded books that just did not do it for me, including:

§  20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne – due to interminably turgid descriptions of underwater inactivity this sank without trace in the Sea of Nonentity.

§  The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers – I anticipated a thrilling period spy story and found instead a manual of yachting terms, techniques and torpidity that became becalmed somewhere off the Coast of Nowhere.

§  Moby Dick by Herman Melville – I am embarrassed by this one and have vowed to return, older wiser and with more time, to search for the mythical great white whale of universal truth that lies reputedly somewhere within its pages.

The nautical theme of these three may seem significant but I happily sailed through The Kon-Tiki Expedition, The Life of Pi, and A World of My Own (Robin Knox-Johnston’s account of his single handed circumnavigation) without getting sea-sick of them.

§  Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak – I have tried twice to read this but have twice hit the buffers like a train in a Siberian snowdrift; I blame the translation.

§  Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor – I found the author’s laconic radio broadcasts amusing but the book was too slow paced and more woeful than beguiling.

And now I need to transfer Honore de Balzac’s ‘Cousin Betty’ from ‘currently reading’ into the retired unfinished select few. I quite enjoyed his ‘Pere Goriot’ many years ago but I’m finding this volume of his ‘Comedie Humaine’ a bit of a chore. The satire is aimed at French politics and society of a period of which I am clearly ignorant, and the prose is very clunky – possibly a questionable translation in this free down-loaded ‘public access’ edition.

So my advice on unfinished books is: choose your reads with care, but don’t be afraid to experiment; persevere at least 50 to 100 pages to acclimatise yourself the style and pace; before baling out give it a week off and then read another chapter; if you then decide it’s not for you take it to the charity shop – it may be for somebody else - and move on with no regrets.