There’s Only Two David Beckhams – John O’Farrell

Football writer and England fan, Alfie Baker, lands his dream job at his paper, reporting on England’s tilt at the 2022 World Cup. But as the team progress, not without a glitch or two, through their qualifying group and into the final tournament in Qatar, Alfie begins to spot something odd about the crop of young players in the squad. They are good, but good in a way that is mildly disturbing. He starts to dig deeper.

Meanwhile his personal life is more straightforward but challenging in its own way. He is separated from his ex-partner and sees his son, Tom, only on a weekly basis. Football is key to their interaction, Alfie taking Tom to play for his under-8 team or to watch AFC Wimbledon. These are places to learn life’s lessons about winning and losing, and about sportsmanship and gamesmanship.

Alfie’s fatherly advice on these issues comes back to haunt him when, against expectations, England make the final of the World Cup in December 2022. At the same time, Alfie’s research finally bears fruit, and he is confronted with a dilemma: break the story of a journalistic lifetime and scupper England’s chances of glory; or spike the exclusive, be complicit, and savour a likely England triumph. What would he tell Tom to do?

Written with evident love for, understanding of, and frustration with the modern game, it is packed with knowledgeable jibes for the football fan. In addition, it has plenty to say about the responsibilities of fatherhood in the modern world, mostly funny with a dash of bittersweet.

Though the central premiss is spotted early, there is dramatic tension to the end and a splendid twist to finish. Great fun!

The Best of Me – David Sedaris

This collection of short pieces by the American humourist showcases his talent for observation, wit, pathos, and language. The ‘pieces’ (how else to describe them?) are neither short stories nor essays but share features of both.

While some are pure imagination, most are autobiographical, leaning on his sizeable family who are mercilessly mined for comic effect. He does not spare himself in that regard, self-deprecation abounds, and as gay, Jewish, and of Greek heritage, there is plenty to go at.

The tone is conversational. Those familiar with his broadcasts on BBC Radio 4 will be able to project his distinctive voice onto the page – otherwise think Billy Crystal delivering a Dave Allen monologue.

The quality of writing puts him up with the likes of Alan Bennet and Bill Bryson. Praise indeed but justified by a collection such as this.

The Farther Corner – Harry Pearson

Harry Pearson’s classic, The Far Corner, was published in 1994 and written as a journalist and recent returnee to the North-East. This follow-up, twenty-five years on, feels more personal than its predecessor.

The humour is still there, often laugh out loud in its observations of the characters who come together at a non-league football ground – players, staff, officials, and more memorably the spectators (generally too few to be termed a crowd). But in addition, Pearson shares elements of his changed circumstances and explores how and why just attending a game on a Saturday afternoon can provide solace, companionship, and a place to feel at home with other like-minded souls who have no better place to be.

As for the content, there are twenty-three games visited and many more referred to and reflected on. Facts (probably), figures, and anecdotes burst from the pages. Even when completed, the index provides a chuckle-filled bonus.

It is warm and funny, and for any follower of the beautiful game in its purest (or rawest) form, it is a gem.

When the Apricots Bloom – Gina Wilkinson

The book-packing journey reaches the Middle East with this novel set in Baghdad in 2002, where the story centres on the lives of three women and their relationship.

Rania Mansour is an artist, granddaughter of a sheik - not that that counts for much in the new Iraq ruled by clerics and the mukhabarat (secret police) thugs. She finds herself in gentle decline, selling off the family assets to maintain the appearance of a lifestyle. She has a teenage daughter, Hannan.

Huda’s origins are humbler. Though she and Rania were friends as girls they have since moved in different circles. She has a husband, Abdul Amir, and a thirteen-year-old son, Khalid, and works at the Australian Embassy.

Ally, ten years younger than Rania and Huda, is the wife of Tom Wilson, Deputy Ambassador at the Australian Embassy, but (keep this quiet) she is American by birth and cub journalist by previous profession. Either of these facts could get her thrown out of the country, or worse. But she has a personal reason for her risky presence in Baghdad – to find out about her mother’s life there before she married, had Ally, and died young.

The shadow of Saddam Hussein lies heavy on the land. Rania and Huda have their own reasons to live in fear. Huda is instructed to befriend Ally and pump her for diplomatic titbits; Rania is commissioned to paint a portrait of the glorious leader. Worse for both is the potential fates of their children – Khalid to be conscripted into a brutal cadet force, and Hannan to be ‘spotted’ and ‘taken in’ by Saddam’s notoriously lecherous son, Uday.

It is Ally who brings Rania and Huda back together when she requires Huda to accompany her on a visit to Rania’s gallery. It turns out there is a reason why the childhood friends are now distant, but as things progress needs must that they forget their differences and work together on an audacious plan to save their children.

It is atmospheric and menacing. The point of view switches between the women as each of them work to their own goals, weighing up the amount of trust they can give and receive. Thus, Wilkinson sensitively illustrates the dilemma of everyday life in Iraq (or any totalitarian state) – to accept the wrongs of the regime and survive, or work against them and risk ruin, torture, or death.

A decent, if workmanlike, read.

The Chemical Detective – Fiona Erskine

Dr Jaq Silver, industrial chemist specialising in explosives, and a keen skier, is in her element. Her new job with Snow Science is based in the snow-covered Slovenian mountains. Being far from England, and Teesside in particular, is a bonus, enabling unhappy memories to be left behind (though not for long). Alright, her boss is a dick, but aren’t they always? She’ll put up with that and enjoy the skiing and the party life that surrounds it.

But then a delivery from Teesside arrives at the Snow Science complex, and when Jaq takes the routine quality control samples, something doesn’t look right. From then on, an avalanche of events carries her on a breathless charge criss-crossing Europe, sometimes in pursuit of a lead, often fleeing a villain or two. Sexy men are involved, for good or ill. A back story begins to be revealed (but not in full – a sequel is likely) involving marital break-up and professional blame shifting.

In addition to Jaq’s point of view, the reader gets to see what the other characters are up to. To name but three: Boris, long haul lorry driver with villainous aspirations; Frank Good, the inappropriately named chief executive of Teesside based chemical firm, Zagrovyl; and Paul Polzin, international fixer nicknamed the Spider for his ability to spin webs of deceit.

Erskine peppers the narrative with scientific method and titbits, which works okay given her heroine’s occupation, but it is the exploits that stretch credibility. Any film adaptation would need Tom Cruise in drag to do them justice. The plot is complex, held together with coincidence, leaps of faith, and an alarming lack of common sense in Jaq. But we get there in the end.

And by the end I was glad it was all over.

Sapiens – Yuval Noah Harari

Self-proclaimed (and accurately) as a brief history of mankind, this book seeks to explain how homo sapiens came to dominate the world, before even more briefly speculating on how sustainable that dominance may be.

Interestingly, it identifies four key developments that marked seismic shifts in history. First, and most important, was a ‘cognitive’ revolution in which Sapiens came to recognise, value, and label in language intangibles (things we cannot touch or see - the products of imagination) that we now take for granted. Second came the agricultural revolution, whereby for the first time Sapiens gathered in greater numbers than could be individually known to each other, requiring social organisation and cooperation (voluntary or coerced). The third development was the unification of the world when its disparate parts became connected, enabling global trade in goods and ideas, not to mention conquest and exploitation. Fourth came the scientific revolution whereby the pursuit of knowledge and the admission of ignorance became something valuable, something to enhance rather than threaten those in power.

As we are taken through these stages, insights come in a steady stream, blindingly obvious – except you had never looked at it like that. Too numerous to mention individually but each a building block in Harari’s analysis.

Despite the enormous concepts in play – religion, economics, money, war, empire, ideologies – the prose is clear, concise, and very readable. Though sure in his own mind, Harari persuades rather than harangues. He admits the possibility of doubt but provides the evidence to put it in its place of low probability.

A most satisfying read with so much food for thought that you can dine on it for weeks after and digest its truths slowly.

Shuggie Bain – Douglas Stuart

The book opens with fifteen-year-old Shuggie Bain living hand to mouth in the South Side of Glasgow in 1992, but swiftly rewinds ten years to place him in his family home in the Sighthill area of the city.

It is a blended, multi-generational family shoehorned into a high rise flat. Shuggie’s mother, Agnes Bain, is the lynch pin: Lizzie and Wullie Campbell are her parents, and it is their flat; taxi driver Shug (Hugh) is her second husband; teenagers Catherine and Leek (Alexander) are the leftovers from her first marriage; and Shuggie (little Hugh) is the product of Shug’s loins. The household shows the strains inherent in the situation with fraught relationships and alcohol the go-to remedy.

Big Shug finally has enough. He relocates his family (stepchildren included) to a housing scheme in the Glasgow hinterland, built to house miners who are now jobless, hopeless, and invisible. Agnes is dismayed, and immediately the family begins a slow disintegration that lasts seven years. Agnes’ drinking gets worse, and the slow motion car crash of her life begins in earnest.

Shuggie grows up in the chaos, not helped by his self-awareness, reinforced by his neighbours and peers, that he is ‘not normal’. Despite the neglect by Agnes and abuse from the rest of the world, he remains good-natured and develops a creditable self-sufficiency.

Although Shuggie has the title role, he shares the spotlight with his mother. Agnes is a mass of contradictions: obsessive about keeping up appearances when sober but grossing out when drunk; her love for Shuggie is evident but her neglect is shocking. Only Shuggie sticks with her, to his cost.

The writing treads the fine line between harrowing and heart-warming. It is insightful on alcoholism and a testimony on how some communities were affected by the de-industrialisation wrought by the Thatcher years. That the author emerged from a similar upbringing to produce a fine book like this, gives us hope for Shuggie too.