Never Let Me Go – Kazuo Ishiguro

Kathy H, who is just 31, is looking back and examining the events of her early life, seeking clues and explanations to help her come to terms with an imminent change to her circumstances.

She tells of her ‘schooldays’ at the exclusive Hailsham, closeted with others of her kind; their graduation to an isolated farmhouse; and transition to designated ’careers’. But they are narrated as if we are already in the know, so it is only gradually we come to realise there is a disturbing background to this coming of age tale. That their lives and shadowy existence are part of an otherwise unchanged modern day Britain adds to the atmosphere of conspiracy and foreboding.

Through the lives of Kathy and her friends, Ruth and Tommy, we run the gamut of boarding school strife and adolescent angst. Despite their unusual upbringing, humanity is all too apparent in their actions and feelings, for what good it may do them. Curiously we see no teenage rebellion against their pre-ordained destiny.

Ishiguro knows how to portray relationships from fragments of things said or left unsaid and from small actions done or omitted, familiar from his “Remains of the Day”. In this work the style is breathy and conversational, but this creates an authentic voice and delivery for Kathy who, after all, is a ‘carer’ not a writer.

As the book rolls unevenly on the tension mounts and the need to know the whole ghastly truth is irresistible; can it possibly end well for Kathy H and those she has to care for?

The Gargoyle – Andrew Davidson

The novel opens with the narrator crashing his car which bursts into flames with horrific results, graphically described at a level of clinical detail that indicates both extensive research and morbid fascination. This continues in the description of the treatment and healing process of burn victims which sounds only marginally less painful than the original trauma but lasts a lot longer. Not for the overly squeamish.

In recovery the burn victim, curiously un-named throughout, reflects on his previous playboy life; contemplates the future as a hideous freak; and with cold-heart and cool head plans an elaborate and fool-proof suicide.

But while in hospital he is visited by the strange psychiatric patient Marianne Engel who insists they have history – ancient history as according to her they first met in 14^th Century Germany. Then, as a nun, she nursed him back from a previous burning before quitting her order to go on the run with him to avoid him having to return to his mercenary troop. Having, in her apparently unsound mind, saved him once, she is determined to look after him in his current incarnation (or incineration).

Their developing current and former relationships, separated by 700 years, are related in parallel strands, the then by her and the now by him. The narrative is punctuated with four fables told by Marianne, each on the theme of love and sacrifice (which does not bode well); we also have a hallucinatory descent into hell as our burn victim goes cold turkey on his more-than-painkilling morphine habit.

It’s compulsive reading, even where extraneous detail bordering on the obsessive is included. The twin narration works well, with hers in particular breaking off at cliff-hanging moments that create tension and drama. Gradually the tone of the book shifts from horrific, through cathartic to tender, culminating in a moving, even poignant, ending. Around the tipping point it maybe loses a bit of momentum, but a little perseverance brings its due reward.

On and Off the Field by Ed Smith

Read as part of the sport reading journey

This is Ed Smith’s personal account of the 2003 cricket season. Written in diary form it gives an insight into the life of a ‘county pro’ in English cricket; in his case of a batsman at a crucial juncture in his career. At age 26, having been a bit of a prodigy for Cambridge University, he is established in the Kent team and in contention for a place in the Test Matches against the touring South Africans.

His diary entries concern his preparation, performance and post-match feelings;  sometimes brief and pithy, sometimes deeply reflective and technical, as he searches for the frame of mind and physical adjustments that will produce the sportsman’s holy grail of “form”.

Smith got a double first at Cambridge and is now part of the revered Test Match Special commentary team so he writes both well and accessibly. It’s not thrill a minute, but cricket rarely is, and the periods of introspection outnumber the occasional but real emotional highs. But it is an honest book that concentrates on the sport without distractions of celebrity tittle tattle that can mar some sporting memoirs.

I like cricket with its elemental one-on-one battle between bowler and batsman. Where some people see dull, I see attritional; for me the meaningless draw can contain a myriad of meaningful performances. More than any other sport, the taking part in the game is as important as the result. This may be because luck plays such a big part – the toss to decide who bats first, the changing weather, the variable bounce in the wicket, the edged four, and the freakish run-out can all decide a match as much as the skill of the players; so much importance is given to how you deal with what fate hands you.

 

Notably Smith’s latest book “Luck” deals with this phenomenon in life as well as sport.

I haven’t read that one but I certainly recommend this one for cricket fans or anyone interested in sporting performance generally.

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children – Ransom Riggs

As the novel opens Jacob Portman is just a rich American kid with an eccentric Grandpa, Abraham, who backs up wild tales of his youth with a few weird looking photographs. These date from the Second World War when, as the only survivor of his Jewish family in Poland, he was placed at Miss Peregrine’s orphanage on a remote island off the coast of Wales.

Abraham is suffering from paranoia, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you, and one day Jacob finds his Grandpa dying from horrific wounds. His parting gifts to his grandson are some enigmatic last words, an old letter from Miss Peregrine, and the box of photos.

Suffering post-traumatic hallucinations and nightmares Jacob gets a shrink who concludes Jacob is obsessed with his Grandpa’s mysterious past and would benefit from a trip to Wales to confront reality.

So the action switches to the Island of Cairnholm where Jacob discovers the derelict, bombed out orphanage, yet more photos, and crucially a time portal that allows him to step back into September 1940 when the establishment was in full swing and occupied by real life children with peculiar talents.

But they are under threat from both the Luftwaffe bombing raids and their more eternal enemies – the ‘hollowgasts’ -  and Jacob’s own undiscovered talent is needed to help defend the Home for Peculiar Children.

The first person narrative takes the story along briskly, and though possibly aimed at the older teen fiction market, the use of vintage photographs throughout makes it enough of a curiosity to interest adults as well. The downside of the photographs is an occasional contrived reference but this does not detract from the story or the overall appeal of the book.

Death Comes to Pemberley – PD James

Yes it’s that Pemberley, country seat of Darcy and his wife Elizabeth (nee Bennet) of Pride and Prejudice fame. The couple are well settled and have a couple of children by now, but their idyllic existence is about to be intruded upon.

A violent death occurs in the grounds; and Darcy’s old enemy, and now his shamed and shunned brother-in-law, Wickham is involved. This creates conflicted emotions with personal antipathy struggling against family honour.

This gives a lot of scope for Darcy to stiffen his upper lip, for the family servants to display commendable loyalty, and for Elizabeth to simper about from good sister to bad sister via sweet sister-in-law, while ensuring the house is kept up to scratch.

The crime investigation is minimal, no Adam Dalgleish here, instead a Justice of the Peace and Coroner just ask a few questions and assume that those interrogated are either telling the truth or are lying for good honourable reasons, and so should not be pressed further.

A trial takes place, enlivened by a late revelation, and eventually the whole truth comes out as those in the know don’t so much spill the beans as spoon them out carefully, strictly on a need to know basis.

It is an interesting curiosity of a read; those more familiar with Pride and Prejudice may get more out of it than a one-time reader like me. PD James clearly enjoyed attempting to write in the style of Jane Austen, and I for one do not begrudge her this indulgence.

Gone With The Wind (volume 1) by Margaret Mitchell

The journey

Part of the America 1850 reading journey

How it got on the shelf

It’s a bit of a mystery as no one in the house will own up to buying it, but it has been there a while, intimidating in its bulk and close knit print in this 1996 (60^th anniversary) paperback edition. It probably arrived as a second hand, but clearly unread, makeweight in a buy three for a pound offer; picked up due to its inclusion in both the BBC Big Read best 100 novels of all time and the Channel 4 books of the century list.

The Review

This thousand page blockbuster is helpfully split into two volumes, which will allow a two part review. There may be some spoilers below but the main story will be familiar from the film and, of course, history.

Volume 1 is very much the story of southern belle Scarlett O’Hara, eldest of four daughters of Gerald and Ellen. He of rough and ready Irish extraction, she with French ancestry, which gives Scarlett unrivalled beauty dangerously mixed with a belief that life is for living and convention is for others. Life on the Tara plantation suits her down to the ground as she keeps all the young beaux dancing to her tune, although the only one she really wants (Ashley Wilkes) is proving resistant to her charms.

The war with the North is coming, but the South’s preparation more resembles that for just another, if rather large, summer ball – what colour uniform should the Georgia cavalry wear, and should they let the ‘poor whites’ join, even if their horses are a bit of a disgrace? Indeed much of part 1 could be mistaken for a haberdasher’s manual as organdie, muslin, lace, silk and taffeta combine to great effect (in the ladies’ dresses rather than the gentlemen’s uniforms).

The coming war produces a scramble for husbands and, despite a desperate last ditch attempt by Scarlett (witnessed by the dashing, if socially unacceptable, Rhett Butler), Ashley opts for another. Scarlett settles on the rebound for an unlikely alternative but her marriage proves short-lived though productive, leaving her a widow and single parent at just 17 years old.

In part 2 Scarlett, restless at Tara, takes up an offer to move to the bustling town of Atlanta, moving in with Ashley’s wife, Melly and her aunt. As the war cranks up and the Yankee blockade begins to bite Scarlett is distressed at the consequent shortage of new dresses and hats with even ribbons hard to come by. Not to worry, for Rhett Butler, now  a ‘blockade runner’ is able to keep her well supplied, tempting her out of her widow’s weeds and wheedling his way into the ladies’ society.

By part 3 the war dominates as the confederate army struggles and is driven back towards Atlanta. Reality finally hits Scarlett as she is pressed into helping at the hospital and keeping the home going with Aunt Pittypat, as useful as her name suggests, the increasingly pregnant Melly, and of course the last remnants of their loyal  ‘blacks’ . These latter are treated throughout a bit like favoured household animals for whom affection is held but who need to be scolded and occasionally beaten for their own good.

When the unthinkable happens and Atlanta falls Scarlett needs all her innate Irish practicality, independent nature and sheer cussedness to get her though some tough situations (with a little help from Rhett before he, better late than never, heads off in support of the now lost cause). Scarlett heads back to Tara with her motley crew, not knowing whether it will still be standing, whether her family will still be there or how they will survive. Her transformation is illustrated through her reckless exposure to the elements and the ever present danger of freckles, and the selfless destruction of her petticoat to provide a halter for a stray cow encountered on the journey. More dramatic trials await her at Tara.

By the end of volume 1 the war has been lost and along with it the comfortable plantation life, the cotton crops and worst of all the youth of the South; will Ashley and Rhett be numbered among them?

The Cat’s Table – Michael Ondaatje

On the ocean going liner Oronsay, the Cat’s Table represents the opposite end of the social scale to that of the Captain and his dinner guests; and this is where 11 year old Michael takes his meals during his three week voyage from Ceylon to London, where he will be reunited with his mother.

His fellow diners, as well as some interesting adults, include two boys of his own age with whom he soon forms a companionship based on a shared appetite for adventure and mischief; which without any meaningful adult supervision (it is the 1950s) they are able to indulge to the full.

The story is related by the adult Michael looking back with a mixture of nostalgia and hindsight, and as the book (and the voyage) progresses the lives of the adults on board take on more significance than the boys’ pranks. The fellow cat’s table diners, crew members and others on board form an eccentric bunch, with rich seams of adult experience for the boys to mine.  

As the book delves into their lives, and into more recent events in Michael’s life, its pace drops to a meandering reflective stage almost mirroring some sort of mid-voyage doldrums.

Just as the reader begins to accept that the book is no more than an enjoyable series of episodes and character sketches, the pace picks up again with moments of tension and glimpses of potential resolution that last to landfall in the Thames.

The sense of time and place and the unfolding of chance encounters carry the narrative along effortlessly, even though little happens most of the time. But how little is needed to disproportionately affect us at an impressionable age?

As Ondaatje says “it would always be strangers like them at the various Cat’s Tables of my life who would alter me”.