The SafeKeep by Yael Van Der Wouden

What “Call Me By Your Name” did for peaches, “The Safekeep” does for pears. I do love a good historically set novel with lots of twists and turns in its plot. So I found this very pleasurable and moving to read as it's a story that has multiple levels. It's a creepy tale with almost gothic “Rebecca”-esque undertones about the claustrophobia of being stuck in a house with someone you resent and feel a growing animosity towards. It's about sexual repression and the transformative experience of all that pent up desire being released. And it's about the weight of history, the calamitous after-effects of war and how to reconcile what has been lost and displaced.

There are a number of reveals in this story so I'll do my best to avoid spoilers. The novel initially centres around Isabel who seemingly has little motivation other than maintaining her deceased mother's house and its contents. It's the 1960s and Isabel lives a severely self-contained existence in a rural Dutch province. Isabel is a real piece of work. She's nasty and rude to almost everyone she meets. There is a special kind of humour and pleasure in reading about a character who so unapologetically brushes aside social conventions because she's someone I'd never want to meet but it's fun to read about her dismissive attitude towards everyone. I did feel this became repetitive at times in this first section of the novel, but overall she's a compellingly unlikeable character. Isabel fiercely guards both the house and its contents and finds it hard to keep a maid because she continuously lashes out at them with judgements and accusations. However, Isabel is little more than a caretaker for this building which belongs to her uncle and it will be passed on to Isabel's older brother Louis when their uncle passes. I enjoyed how small details about both her family life and the contents of the house are dropped into this early section of the novel hinting at a larger story and adding to the complexity of her character.

Other than the maid the most human contact she has is with her younger brother Hendrik who has a teasing rapport with his uptight sister. Hendrik has lived away from this location since coming out to their mother who is now deceased. But Isabel studiously ignored the reality and reasons behind his leaving. It describes how “she could sometimes blur her eyes when looking at something – decide not to see it in full focus, decide to disengage.” This explains a lot about Isabel who uses self-denial when it comes to things that are emotionally difficult – both external and internal. Near the beginning there's a scene which sets this novel's plot into motion. Isabel's older brother Louis arranges a dinner for both Isabel and Hendrik to meet his new girlfriend Eva. (Interestingly in interviews the author has described initially writing this scene as a short story.) There's all the tension of the new girlfriend wanting to make a good impression and trying to get to know her partner's adult siblings, but in return the brother and sister are dismissive towards her because they see her as merely their brother's latest squeeze since he is a notorious womanizer. But there is a difference with Eva because Louis needs to travel for work and he informs Isabel that Eva will be staying with her in her carefully guarded house. Of course, Isabel is vehemently against this plan but she's not given a choice. So when rambunctious Eva moves into the family home it's like she is entering a powder keg ready to explode.

The house itself is like the central character in this novel. It is the safe keep which contains many possessions which are filled with meaning and it has witnessed many people and events passing through it over the years. I do like novels such as “North Woods” by Daniel Mason or “The Dutch House” by Anne Patchett or, indeed, “Rebecca”, where a house is itself a protagonist that possesses emotion. We're shown how The Safekeep has persisted throughout WWII and maintains a lot of secrets from both the personal lives of these characters and larger historical events. Isabel is a fascinating character who possesses a fierce determination to remain independent. There are small glimpses of her early family life and details strewn throughout her abode which I found intriguing as I wondered what the real story is behind Isabel and this house. It also builds a highly-pressured and stifling atmosphere where something eventually needs to break. But I never got a full sense of why Isabel is so fiercely attached to this house and its objects. I know she was following the direction of her deceased mother to maintain the house and she's extremely repressed so this was all she had, but as the full story of the novel is revealed this came to feel more like a plot device rather than something which would naturally occur.

Many readers have been debated about the very end of the novel is too saccharine. I guessed very early on where the novel was going. Part of why I had a strong sense about this is because I knew the author is a big fan of Sarah Waters' “Fingersmith”. I'm sure anyone who has read that novel can see the strong influence it's had upon “The Safekeep”. The books are obviously set in very different time periods and contexts, but I couldn't help feeling like Van Der Wouden's novel is somewhat slighter compared to Waters' impressive yarn. The ending certainly didn't surprise me, but I think the author did a good job at showing how the conclusion for these characters is hard won. There was naturally a lot of mistrust and animosity because of their respective pasts and the lack of transparency between them. I don't think the ending is the main point of this novel as it's more about the tension of the story and what goes unspoken in our personal lives and the political workings/social attitudes of a nation in the aftermath of war.

I really appreciated Hendrik as a character and enjoyed the section where he and his partner Sebastian come to stay at the house. This loosened Isabel up which felt like a relief since her life with Eva was so stifling up to this point. I found it really moving learning of the conflict of Hendrik's early affair with the teacher and how he left the family home to be able to live honestly as a gay man. I wish there had been more about Hendrik and Sebastian's story, but I appreciate that the novel was necessarily centred on Isabel and Eva. If you've not seen this already, I'd strongly recommend reading Van Der Wouden's essay from several years ago 'On (Not) Reading Anne Frank'. It's really fascinating to discover she was never a natural reader and, even more so, her family history when she was an adolescent moving from Israel to the Netherlands and the anti-semitism she experienced there throughout her teens. It's interesting how this personal history could be interpreted as feeding into the underlying conflicts and simmering tension of “The Safekeep”. Overall, I really enjoyed this often gripping and atmospheric novel.

Caledonian Road by Andrew O'Hagan

“Caledonian Road” is a dramatic and epic novel about modern London. It presents snapshots of many different levels of society which mostly circle around this area of the city to the northeast of King's Cross. It gradually forms a grand portrait about how people and the issues they face are interconnected. There's a sense that the economic disparity in this particular area persists despite decades of reforms and that this is representative of imbalances throughout the nation as a whole. From the plight of immigrants, the dangers of criminal gangs, the workings of the media/politics and the immorality of the elite/super-wealthy, Andrew O'Hagan utilizes his journalistic experience to harness many of the most pressing news stories of our day and distills them into a Dickensian tale replete with virtuous and comically repulsive characters.

Though the point of view often switches between many different individuals the most central figure is art historian Campbell Flynn. He's undergoing an artistic and financial crisis having published a respectable biography on Vermeer but now he's written a self help book about men which is projected to be a huge bestseller. He comes from a humble Scottish background but now inhabits the upper echelons of society. Various dealings have left him desperate for money and led him to compromise his integrity and talents to take lucrative jobs ranging from fashion industry write-ups to an inspiring podcast series. He's also an academic that has recently formed a strong connection to his student Milo whose vociferous cultural critiques tap Campbell into something real and modern. However, Milo has his own designs to utilize his skills as a hacker to become a whistle blower reminiscent of Julian Assange (O'Hagan once attempted to ghost write an autobiography for this activist.)

Despite his privilege, Campbell is surrounded by a number of people who regard him with contempt from some of his academic colleagues to the sitting tenant in the apartment of his building. Campbell's good friend Sir William is also going through a crisis as his financial and sexual affairs come under scrutiny. His prosecution and some other dramatic events unravel the secrets and corruption underpinning many of the lives of this large cast of characters – so large that there is a list of the dramatis personae at the start of the novel (a handy reference I frequently flipped back to keep track of who is who.) Although many of the characters are arrogant, corrupt and distasteful (especially amongst the upper set) I enjoyed how O'Hagan reveals their flaws through scenes where they demonstrate how self-justified they feel in their opinions and positions. They're well aware what others think of them but they stick to their guns as they believe they are in the right. A lot of humour emerges from this and keeps the story rollicking along as Campbell moves between the cast. I'm impressed with O'Hagan's ambition to not only present many levels of society and a broad social landscape of contemporary London but to actually inhabit a number of these different characters' voices through dialogue and their mental process. It's brave of him and I couldn't testify to the authenticity of the many different people he portrays but it's handled with confidence. Sometimes it does feel like characters embody certain issues and communities that O'Hagan wants to discuss in a way which makes them feel more representative than authentic. Nevertheless, there are scenes where a psychological complexity and emotional levels develop with certain characters so that I grew to care about several of them and I was intrigued to follow their storylines.

I know some readers have felt somewhat alienated from the book when they're not as intimately familiar with London as a city or British politics, but O'Hagan's evocative descriptions give a strong sense of the environment, people and issues at stake. It's difficult for me to judge how effective this is since I have lived in the city for over twenty years so I've observed how it's changed and I'm more familiar with what's being portrayed. I've even met some people who feel very reminiscent of some of the novel's characters. There's also a pleasure for me recognizing certain aspects of the cityscape in the narrative even when it's something as casual as Byron Burger (a once large food chain which diminished considerably after the pandemic) or Google's enormous new building which is still being build in King's Cross. Many of the characters' routes can be physically traced and followed through the city. I also appreciated how O'Hagan links some characters' experience of the capitol through different imagery (such as swans) and their individual interpretation of these reference points.

The many individual stories of these characters feed into a larger entangled tale of criminal activity, exploitation and economic disparity. It makes sense that “Caledonian Road” is frequently described as a state of the nation novel since so much of the story questions how the country's character and politics is being dictated by greed and a desire to maintain the appearance of power/dominance/being a first world nation. A character comments at one point that the English will do anything for £1million and it's been well reported how much London property is being held as an investment by international tycoons making the city more into a shell rather than a living metropolis. It feels effective how the overarching story is gesturing towards these larger issues and their complexities.

Overall, the story felt consistently engaging to me although I was interested in some characters more than others (Elizabeth, Moira, Jakub being amongst the most sympathetic to me.) However, other characters were intriguingly monstrous such as Yuri, Jake and Antonia. Still others were fascinating in their denial of the truth about what's happening because they are so fixated on their version of reality like Mrs Krupa, Candy and Mrs Voyles. Milo is one of the most contentious characters in the novel. For much of it he feels simply like a counterpoint to Campbell. As a computer wiz who is morally righteous and driven by the loss of his mother/friends, he's intent on disrupting the system and exposing corruption. Rather than feeling invested in his storyline itself I was more interested in how he is one of the few characters not willing to compromise his values in any way. Many characters (gang members, truck drivers, models, pot growers, politicians, writers) set aside their moral sense for the time being as they expect to soon be financially independent enough or socially powerful enough to live by their own code, but the day where that happens keeps getting extended into the future until their actions catch up with them. Campbell seems to be the supreme example of this as his underlying financial crisis/reliance on substance abuse means the more he tries to get himself out of this mess the more he becomes entangled in it until it reaches an absolute crisis point.

I think O'Hagan is effective in demonstrating how difficult it is in this day and age to wholly live by certain moral standards because we're often shielded from how we're involved in a much larger system. The characters' actions show how many of us want to retain our own personal comfort as a priority. Maintaining the status quo is also very appealing. There are certain characters such as a Russian oligarch whose status and actions come across like something directly extracted from a news story - as do many of this novel's plot lines. That's not bad necessarily as the novel uses satire to paint a large canvas with what concerns the English sensibility at this period of time. However, it does add to the sense that some characters come across more like symbols or stereotypes and this feels more problematic for those individuals that come from other nations: the wealthy/criminal Russians, the Polish immigrants, the Irish drivers. Nevertheless, there are moments where I felt emotionally involved with them so I keep going back and forth about how I feel about this novel as a whole. It's one I'd like to return to at some point as I think I'll be able to pick up on the nuances better now that I'm familiar with the characters and overall plot as a whole.

Clean by Alia Trabucco Zerán (translated by Sophie Hughes)

I was captivated by the narrator of this novel who immediately declares that her name is Estela Garcia. She is locked in a room (initially we don't know where this is or why she is being held there) and delivers a monologue about her life to unknown listener(s) on the other side of the wall. She's spent the past seven years working as a maid, cook and nanny to a well-to-do couple in Santiago ever since the birth of their daughter Julia. However, Julia has been found dead and through Estela's circuitous narrative we discover the circumstances and events leading up to the girl's demise. The suspense about whether she was murdered by Estela or someone else or died because of some other reason persists throughout the novel. But the more compelling mystery is about the psychology and point of view of this domestic worker who has been a near-silent presence amongst this family. There is tremendous strength in her charismatic voice though she's obediently followed orders for years. Now she is finally having her say and her observations about the uneasy balance of power in this household is riveting.

There's a sense throughout the book that larger social, economic and political troubles are brewing in the country. News of protests and public disturbances reach the household. At one point their home is invaded by thieves who cruelly humiliate Estela while she demonstrates great fortitude. Though Chile's larger conflicts aren't specifically named or deeply explored their presence adds to the sense that, like Leila Slimani's “Lullaby”, this novel is really a sly social critique dressed as a thriller. Estela initially moved to the city from the near-impoverished countryside seeking better work opportunities and a way to help support her ailing mother. She's worked six days a week for this family for years and been reduced to an anonymous being who is painfully isolated and taken for granted. The parents' rigidly formal manner towards her is gradually soul destroying so that Estela's small transgressions such as putting on the mother's new dress or feeding a stray dog feel like triumphant declarations of autonomy. Sinister descriptions of ordinary objects and actions within the house deftly add to the sense of uneasy atmosphere and building tension of this compelling story. “Clean” is a much more commercial book and less experimental than Zeran's previous novel “The Remainder”, but it's no less politically engaged and maintains an ardent commitment to centring marginalized voices.

The Booker Prize 2024 Longlist

The Booker Prize 2024 longlist has been officially announced and here are the 13 novels nominated for this year's award! It's quite an exciting group of books which includes some novels I've already read and loved. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing each book and the longlist as a whole: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wyJx5_eDyk

I've read 5 of these thus far and I'm currently reading another. I'm especially thrilled to see Matar's “My Friends” included as I've been predicting it will win this year's Booker ever since I read it earlier this year. It's also fantastic that Everett's “James” is on the list as this is a brilliant homage to a classic and a new classic itself. Also, absolutely wonderful to see “This Strange Eventful History”, “Orbital” and “Headshot” included as I think they're all excellent.

The novels on the list differently approach common themes such as community, faith, family, trauma, war, the environment and friendship. They also use a variety of styles and incorporate different forms of genre including the caper, the spy novel, the family saga, the ghost story, the thriller and gothic fiction.

There are three debut novels on the list (“Wild Houses”, “Headshot”, “The Safekeep”) – I'm especially eager to read Colin Barrett's first novel since I think his short story collection “Young Skins” is excellent. I read Bullwinkle's novel while on holiday recently and I was surprised to find a story about female boxers so engaging. I've heard van der Wouden's novel is influenced by du Maurier's “Rebecca” but it's more queer and this makes me so excited to read it!

Authors Percival Everett, Samantha Harvey, Claire Messud, Rachel Kushner, Hisham Matar and Richard Powers have all been previously listed for the Booker Prize. There's a high proportion of female authors on the list with only five male authors included. It's great to see stories from many different backgrounds, cultures and nationalities.

Two books aren't released yet: “Creation Lake” and “Playground”. I know this always frustrates readers but it's possible that the publishers will push forward their release dates now. I'm most sceptical about Kushner's new novel since I had mixed feelings about “The Mars Room”. However, I'm SO excited to read Powers' new novel since I loved “Bewilderment”.

What do you think of the list? Any recent favourites included? Any you're eager to read first? Will you be ambitious enough to read the entire longlist? Any books you're disappointed not to see on the list?

Good books to read in the middle of the night

Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I'll read to lull myself back to sleep. Of course, I need to pick the right sort of reading material or else I'll wake myself up even more. It can't be too thrilling or disturbing, but it also has to be engaging enough that I won't feel bored or annoyed. Ideally, my late-night reading will be something which is beautifully written, soothing and pleasurable. It's a bonus if the prose discusses the strange state of being conscious at night when almost everyone else is asleep or has a dream-like quality to it. Here are some suggestions of books which have been especially pleasurable to read at night and I'd love to hear if you have any of your own.

A deeply thoughtful novel with absolutely gorgeous prose is Marilynne Robnison's “Housekeeping” which follows two sisters that are raised by a series of relatives in the Mountain West area of America. It's such an atmospheric story with deep wells of complex feeling. “Piranesi” is a novel with so much beautiful imagery. Its protagonist inhabits and navigates through a strange enormous structure whose upper levels are filled with clouds and lower levels with ocean water. Meanwhile its infinite halls are populated with large enchanting statues and the story gradually explores his unique psychological state. A luminous novel I read recently is “Orbital” which follows a group of astronauts in a space station as it circles our planet. It describes their observations about our world from this unique vantage point and stories of their pasts as well as their connection to each other and the Earth.

One of my favourite novels of all time is Anne Tyler's “Ladder of Years” which follows a woman who literally walks out on her life to spend an extended period of time in a space of her own just reading. I like how its plot neatly mirrors the nighttime state of being removed from everyday life and reading in peace. A childhood story which continues to delight is Lewis Carroll's books on “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland”. This tale is hallucinatory, absurd and hilarious – as much in its tricksy prose as the weird scenes which sensible Alice navigates through. A great classic series of novels to read at night is Anthony Trollope's 'Chronicles of Barsetshire' which begins with “The Warden”. These follow a range of social, political and romantic manoeuvrings amongst the clergy and the gentry in this fictional English county. His prose are such a delight as he deliciously skewers many of his characters while also showing real affection and tenderness towards them while frequently going on amusing tangents.

An excellent anthology literally designed to be read in the middle of the nights is “Night Walks” edited by Joyce Carol Oates. This includes fiction, essays and poems by authors such as Charles Dickens, Robert Penn Warren, John Updike, Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Walt Whitman, Elizabeth Bishop, Paul Bowles, Jean Rhys and many more. These pieces meditate on being awake in the middle of the night and the bizarre state of sleeplessness. A wonderful memoir which evokes a bygone era is Edmund White's “Inside a Pearl” which fascinatingly describes the several years he spent living in France with much socialising, amorous meetings and artistic stimulation. It's a dream life for anyone who comes from humble small town beginnings. A selection from a decade of Joyce Carol Oates' journals fill a volume which I love to reread for its charming descriptions of the natural world, witty reflections on life and acute observations about the craft of literature. Finally, Edith Hamilton's wonderful book gives many insights into great Western mythology from the vein and squabbling Olympians to a Norse god's attempt to postpone the final day of doom. Reading these tales keys the reader into stories that have enraptured people on the brink of sleep for centuries.

Another difficulty about reading at night is finding adequate lighting. The reading lamp in this photo is from Serious Readers and they've kindly sponsored this blog post. I've been using this light for almost two years and never had any issues with it. It's great at illuminating the pages of my book as overhead lighting is too harsh. Serious Readers replicate the daylight spectrum as closely as technically possible with what they call Daylight Wavelength Technology. So the light feels warm and natural. I have a High Definition Table Light in White with the Lightweight base. Its neck is very easy to manipulate and angle so it shines exactly where I want it. Additionally, there's a dimmer switch so I can easily make the light brighter or weaker. And I can also adjust the beam width so more or less space is illuminated. If you're looking for a good new reading light I'd recommend this one. Have a look on their site at their range of lamps here: https://try.seriousreaders.com/pages/eric/

If you decide to buy one be sure to enter the Offer Code Eric24 when you're checking out as this will save you £100 on a High Definition Light and it will give you free delivery within the UK.

Please let me know if you've also enjoyed any of these books and recommend some of your favourite night time reads!

Butcher by Joyce Carol Oates

Oates does not shrink from depicting violence in her fiction. From her haunting fictionalisation of the Chappaquiddick incident in “Black Water” to a representation of the mind of a Jeffrey Dahmer-like serial killer in “Zombie”, this literature exposes not only horrendous events but the warped reasoning of the perpetrators of these crimes. However, JCO is also a strong advocate for giving a voice to the voiceless by writing about those who are abused, marginalized and discarded. Such is the case for this new novel which is dedicated “For all the Brigits – the unnamed as well as the named, the muted as well as those whose voices were heard, the forgotten as well as those enshrined in history.” Brigit is an indentured servant working at the New Jersey Asylum for Female Lunatics in the mid-1800s. She becomes a patient and assistant to the asylum's director Silas Aloysius Weir, M.D. whose “chronicle of a physician's life” makes up the bulk of this narrative. The novel is a fictional biography by Weir's son as he's gathered testimonies to account for how his father became known as the 'Father of Gyno-Psychiatry'. But, rather than presenting a distinguished career, the book shows how Weir was really an ambitious man whose experimental operations on the bodies of women makes him more of a butcher than a doctor.

In Silas' own words we see how he arrogantly attempts to justify his actions for the sake of science and his version of Christian duty when really it is about proving himself to his father, enhancing his own reputation/wealth, kowtowing to those in power, taking credit for the knowledge/discoveries of others and perpetuating the assumed superiority of white men. Not only are the inept surgical procedures he performs stomach-turning but so is his attitude, egotism and arrogance. I felt so deeply for all the women who he was assigned to see and were forced (sometimes drugged) to receive his inept ministrations. Weir ruthlessly plots to have access to a wider choice of subjects to conduct experiments on with as minimal accountability as possible. Alongside the horrendous violence inflicted upon his subjects' minds and bodies is Weir's total repugnance of the female body. The only thing which impinges upon Weir's sense of narcissistic self-belief is the figure of Brigit. It's curious and fascinating how their relationship evolves as Silas becomes increasingly convinced that this initially deaf/mute individual is speaking to him and they engage in several (imagined) arguments as she becomes the voice of reason and his conscience.

Oates shows how misogyny is built into the medical profession leading to a near total ignorance about how the human body actually works, wrongful treatments and the sense of shame put upon women about their own bodies and natural functions. In the background are the midwives/nurses (Betje and Gretel) who often have much more practical knowledge and applications to treat the issues that women face. Yet they are often dismissed or treated as uneducated amateurs. Gretel is a nurse at the asylum and it's fascinating how she cunningly plays up to Silas' ego suggesting options which he can dismiss and then come back claiming as his own as this is the only way to help the female patients get anything close to practical treatments. It's perhaps Gretel's only viable option working in such an unjust system. This also allows her to achieve more favour under Silas' authority and hence be able to better care for the women.

It's so interesting how the story expands upon the history of indentured servants in America running parallel to the practice of slavery showing how there was a whole other class of people with no rights and no financial resources to turn anywhere else. Of course, even women with more means and status who suffered from physical/mental conditions which the medical profession didn't understand were also vulnerable as women were basically treated as the property of fathers/husbands. Nevertheless, when the bodies begin stacking up through mistreatment or suicide there is a sense of growing outcry and charges begin forming against those in power. This builds up to a dramatic conclusion which is foreshadowed at the beginning of the novel. Oates is particularly skilled at portraying a frenzied consciousness or mob mentality to convey scenes where there is fast action and heated feelings at play.

It's notable how Oates' novel is set in a similar time period and setting to Jayne Anne Phillips' recent Pulitzer Prize winning novel “Night Watch”, but “Butcher” presents a corrupt and terrifying institution rather than the progressive one which Phillips portrayed. Though Oates highlights the way many women in history have been butchered and killed under the guise of advancing science and a misguided version of Christian values, the novel is also commenting on what happens when decisions about women's bodies are left in the hands of men. It feels intentional that Oates has produced this historical novel now when the rights of women are being more constricted in some states in America and continue being minimised in some other countries around the world. I feel like this gives the story a relevance and urgency which makes the violence portrayed have meaning beyond simply being horrific. Oates is so skilled at evoking a psychological intensity with her narrative style which makes it gripping and mesmerising to read. However, there are some sections of this novel which feel less convincing especially in the mantra of a female patient from a higher social class which feels too self-conscious and knowing to be believable as a diary entry. Also some of Silas' sections seem so hopelessly naïve it reads more like Oates is overtly building criticism against him into the story rather than mimicking his voice. Nevertheless, as a fictional amalgam of doctors from this period of history which Oates researched, Weir typifies a kind of arrogant man who will do anything to maintain his own position and dominance so he must believe wholeheartedly in his righteousness no matter how ludicrous.

“Butcher” is a haunting account of the kinds of early experiments performed on human subjects which led to the medical knowledge we have today. It's also a striking representation of a misogynistic mind which is motivated more by self-belief and personal gain than caring for his patients. It's an arresting, horrifying and impactful novel.

My Favourite Books of 2024 (so far)

Here are my 10 favourite books that I've read this year so far! A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing why these are so special: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=764cINHF94k

I've read around 60 titles so far this year and many have been excellent, but these stories all made a big impact, got me thinking, made me want to learn more about their subject matter and were examples of brilliantly engaging storytelling.

From a plot of New England land populated by ghosts over the centuries to three Jewish boys travelling through an increasingly surreal landscape to a cherry farmer reflecting on an early love affair to a newly formed family in Shanghai to a sensitive Libyan man locked into a limbo existence in London to a search for consoling barren landscapes to a daring production of Shakespeare in the West Bank to a trans woman's coming of age in 80s/90s Spain to a runaway slave's quest for independence and his family to a dark and bizarre fishing excursion which leads to a tense beach dance. All these tales were so immersive and resonated with me personally.

Have you read any of these books? Are you interested in reading any you haven't? What are the best books you've read so far this year? I'd love to hear all your thoughts.

Her Side of the Story by Alba de Céspedes (translated by Jill Foulston)

Céspedes was a mid-20th century Cuban-Italian writer whose excellent novel “Forbidden Notebook” I fell in love with last year when a new English translation appeared. There's been a resurgence of her work given her influence on Elena Ferrante and this year a new, lengthier translation of her novel “Her Side of the Story” has been published. This was originally appeared in Italian in 1949 and a heavily edited English edition was originally published in 1952 under the title “Best of Husbands”. The story draws upon the author's own life and experiences as a woman who came of age in Italy before and during WWII. Although the novel is a forceful account of the limitations women experienced at this place and time, it also centres around a frustrated love story which is much less interesting. Where this story shines are in its observations about the social milieu and the imposing force of fascism. However, it feels quite repetitive in several sections and it makes me wonder if the edited version which first appeared in English might be a stronger novel.

I found it immediately engaging following the perspective of Alessandra as she looks back at her life, starting with her childhood and working up to her marriage. She has a kind of doppelgänger in Alessandro, the brother who came before her and tragically drowned at a young age. It's interesting how his loss has a different meaning for every family member and, for Alessandra, he's a kind of shadow she must live under. She also feels him like a kind of devil-on-her-shoulder presence and her mother maintains a stronger superstitious belief in his continued presence - even taking numerous visits from a medium named Ottavia to try to contact him. I found it especially gripping and moving reading about these sessions as her mother Eleonora's grief over the loss of her son is plainly evident. Alessandra gives a highly detailed account of Eleonora's melancholy life and there's a tremendous scene where her mother gives a musical performance. I loved the detail about creating a dress from Eleonora's actress mother's former costume (it felt very Scarlett O'Hara of her.) However, her talents and beauty are suppressed by her controlling and tyrannical husband. The vile remarks he makes to his family (both to his wife and daughter) is truly odious.

Eleanora also harbours a secret passion for a man named Hervey. In a way her mother's maturity feels stunted by being forced to remain in their domestic setting except to give lessons. Alessandra describes how “Her love for Hervey, which others would have judged guilty, in my eyes enveloped her in a magic veil of innocence”. This is such a refreshingly mature perspective showing an absence of moral judgement, but given the enormous lack of affection she witnesses between her parents it's not surprising she was glad her mother could find happiness by aiming her passion towards someone else. The moments where her mother tips over into a more confessional mode (acknowledging it's probably inappropriate to be burdening her daughter with such adult concerns) were very touching and the way her determination to flee with Alessandra is stymied is heartbreaking. But I do appreciate how she notes she might be viewing her mother somewhat through rose tinted glasses since she only exists in her memory.

As a depiction of the social milieu of this Italian era focusing especially on this community of women, I think the first section of this novel is wonderful. Céspedes so powerfully evokes and thoughtfully presents the gender imbalance whereby men maintained all the authority, living for the jobs they complained about and taking for granted the women that raised their children and maintained their homes. I especially liked this line about men's misconception about female desire: “They thought love was a brief fairytale for their companions, a brief passion necessary for a woman to secure the right to be a mistress of her own house, have children, and dedicate her entire life to the problems of shopping and kitchen... none of them grasped that behind every gesture, every bit of self-denial, all that feminine bravery was a secret desire for love.” Sadly, Alessandra's observations and recollections become quite circular. Maybe this is because there was a lot of monotony to her and her mother's days which seemed largely filled with inertia and silence.

However, the repetitive nature of the story continues with the introduction of Francesco, an anti-fascist academic and later leader who Alessandra falls in love with. She is initially wary of his political beliefs because all she knows of the label is from propaganda: “Anti-fascists were outlaws, suspicious individuals, banished”. I like how the novel shows her naivety as a young person who didn't really understand what was at stake and the nature of the different political camps. However, there's a curious lack of development in her maturity and understanding of the war which consumed her country. Despite getting involved with covert operations for the resistance movement she does so more out of a desire to impress Francesco than out of her own convictions. It's only natural that younger people are drawn towards people rebelling against the establishment and are led by love instead of ideological belief but it's like she gets caught in a state of improbable desire and she's incapable of maturing.

Although I found sections of the novel depicting the intensifying war engaging I do wish there had been more descriptions of changes to the landscape and its effect upon the lives of citizens. There are references to hiding in bomb shelters, food shortages and the smell of dead horses after the bombing but considering how the entire cityscape of Rome must have radically changed during that time it felt to me like Alessandra wasn't very concerned or mindful about it. I also wish there had been a bit more context in some scenes such as when during food rationing she gets some rare flour to make pasta, but Francesco returns and insists they must listen to music all day while sitting on the floor. As a consequence the pasta goes to waste when they've seemingly only had potatoes to eat for a long time. I struggled to understand the significance or logic of this though it seemed like some momentous change must have been occurring in the city. I suppose there is a lack of contextual detail because we're completely steeped in Alessandra mind and so she doesn't feel a need to explain the situation. I'm mindful that I'm imposing what I wanted from the story over what the author might have intended but I felt it made this a less satisfying novel. I don't understand how she couldn't mature more or care about the reformation of her country after the seriousness of events like her former classmate who was Jewish and taken away.

I enjoyed how there were some references which led me to learning more about Italian culture in general. For instance, I previously hadn't been aware of the Christian tradition of name day or “Onomastico” in Italy (though it's also celebrated in other European countries as well.) This is a celebration like a birthday where people mark certain days from the saint that they are named after. Sorry if other people were already aware of this but it was new to me. Of course, in the story it merely serves as another reason for Alessandra to feel slighted because Francesco forgets to celebrate her on this day. And when he tries to make up for it it's too little too late. Francesco is definitely not a great partner because he is completely engrossed in his work and seems to expect Alessandra to be the housewife who will always wait at home for his return. However, he really can't ever satisfy Alessandra's neediness because it feels like she won't be happy unless he's constantly staring at her affectionately and repeatedly saying that he loves her.

The dramatic conclusion of the novel felt rushed and unsatisfying to me but maybe that's because I'd grown too frustrated with Alessandra's lack of progression over the course of the narrative. An explanation for her mindset seemed to come with this passage where she described her feeling that “You couldn't buy the body of a slave, but you could enjoy owning the body of a woman. You acquired it with the obligation to maintain it, just as with slaves. But if I had decided to leave Francesco, the law would have recognised his right to remain master of my body. He could prevent my making use of it for years, for my entire life... A slave has greater freedom than a woman.” If this is literally how she felt then it's not surprising she's driven to such a frenzied state. However, I take objection with this logic. Firstly, it seems quite crass to liken her experience to being “worse than slavery” in this way. I think someone who has been an actual slave would disagree. Since Francesco is physically away so much she actually has quite a lot of freedom. She frequently complained about the obligations of her domestic chores but I can't realistically see how maintaining a small apartment for two could be so demanding that she has no time for herself – even while also working a job. She flirts with a man named Tomaso who seems like a much better suitor for her than Francesco yet she refused to accept him as a romantic partner - either as a lover or leaving her husband to be with him. She also refused to simply take the advice she continuously gave to her mother when she was a teenager and leave her husband to start another life. Yes, the nature of the law and social conditions might have meant she “belonged” to Francesco but he seems quite different from her father. I feel like she got in her own way of achieving any sustained sense of happiness or contentment in becoming an adult. Though there was the tragedy of her mother's situation and the example for how a woman must live laid out by grandmother Nonna, it felt frustrating that she couldn't see beyond the confines of these restrictive mindsets.

So I'm afraid I ultimately found this novel disappointing. It seems telling in the afterward by Elena Ferrante that she focuses on the first section about Alessandra and her mother. This felt to me like the strongest part of the novel. Throughout her entire relationship with Francesco the narrative grew increasingly repetitive because she seemed locked in a circular frame of mind. I think this novel could lose quite a few pages while maintaining its central premise and meaning. By the end I felt quite exhausted with Alessandra and I was glad to finish the book. There were many parts I admired but if Alessandra stood in as a kind of cipher for the author herself I don't understand why she couldn't show the protagonist progressing towards a more successful career as Céspedes obviously did herself or Alessandra trying to enact political changes for women's rights rather than imposing a melodramatic conclusion to the story. This book felt bloated in comparison to the novel “Forbidden Notebook” which felt more artfully composed and true to life.

Women's Prize Winners 2024

It's been such a pleasure following the Women's Prize season this year especially since they created a new Non-Fiction award alongside the Fiction Prize. It pushed me to read some fascinating memoirs, extended essays and historical examinations such as “How to Say Babylon”, “Thunderclap”, “A Flat Place” and “Doppelganger” which I probably wouldn't have got around to reading otherwise. So many books listed for the fiction prize were very good and some were excellent. I was especially glad to read the longlisted titles “In Defence of the Act”, “Ordinary Human Failings” and “Nightbloom”. And it was great to see a favourite that I read last year “Western Lane” nominated for another award. The fiction shortlisted books were all of high quality so it's nice to feel in the lead up to the ceremony that I'd be glad to see any of the nominated books win.

I was absolutely delighted to be invited to the award ceremony and made a vlog about the experience. Though it was a bit drizzly at this outdoor party there was still a great atmosphere. My favourites to win were “Enter Ghost” and “A Flat Place” but I'm also a big fan of the winning books “Brotherless Night” and “Doppelganger”. The speeches that V.V. Ganeshananthan and Naomi Klein gave were very impassioned and moving. Both books tell very specific stories that also say much more about larger social and political issues in the world today. It's been wonderful discussing all the nominated books this year with my friend Anna and readers online.

What do you think of the winners? Did you favourites win?

Long Island by Colm Tóibín

A striking thing about reading Toibin's novel “Brooklyn” was how much its emotional power slowly crept up on me. The story follows Eilis Lacey, a young Irish woman who is coaxed into moving to America in the 1950s to find work. While this book was engaging and beautifully written I didn't understand the point of it until Eilis gradually became caught in an unbearably tense dilemma. Suddenly the overwhelming heft of its meaning hit me and I was both utterly engrossed and very moved by it. Since “Long Island” is a direct sequel to “Brooklyn” many readers will wonder whether its necessary to read this earlier book first. This new novel certainly stands on its own and it cleverly keys readers into the drama of the first book in case they're not familiar with these characters. However, there's also a great pleasure in already intimately knowing these characters so I think it's advisable to read “Brooklyn” first and it's certainly worthwhile.

Unlike “Brooklyn”, “Long Island” immediately has a gripping plot as we meet Eilis again twenty years later. She's living a seemingly content life with her Italian-American husband Tony and their two nearly adult children when an unexpected visitor arrives at her home. This stranger tells her that his wife is pregnant with Tony's child and when the baby is born he will leave it on Eilis and Tony's doorstep. The news not only makes Eilis question her marriage and the choices she's made, but brings into sharp focus the limitations of her position. Tony's family close ranks and Eilis is expected to support her husband (and this new child) even though he's betrayed her. Since her mother back in Ireland will soon be celebrating her eightieth birthday, Eilis has a convenient excuse to return to her native country and take some time to think about how she wants to handle this painful situation.

When she embarks on this journey the narrative point of view begins alternating between Eilis, her lifelong friend Nancy who is now running a chip shop whose fumes and rowdy customers disrupt the locals and Eilis' old flame Jim who now runs his family's pub. Nancy and Jim have been through a lot in the intervening years. They've made tentative plans for the future but the reintroduction of Eilis creates new possibilities and problems. In this story Toibin cleverly reproduces the central drama of “Brooklyn” that made it so thrilling while bringing a new spin to the story following the lives of these characters who are a little older and more world-weary. Their options for making big life changes seem to be shrinking, but there are still unexpected possibilities. While this trio are the heart of the story there are a host of brightly rendered individuals from Nora Webster, the protagonist of another novel by Toibin, to Eilis' irascible old mother to Tony's brother Frank who is obliquely referred to as “one of those men”. The communities of a New York Italian/American quarter and a small town in Ireland are brought vividly alive with interfering family members, gossiping neighbours and charismatic banter.

However, Toibin also has a masterful ability to suggest much more through what's left unsaid between the characters. There's the painful silence between a married couple lying in bed together who are awake in the dark. But there are also acute gaps in dialogue between characters. For instance, in one scene a character asks another “Can you say you love me?” and the other character replies “Yes, I can.” But this isn't the same as actually saying aloud “I love you.” Some characters exhibit hilariously blatant contradictions claiming not to be gossips but eagerly spreading rumours. The narrative also seamlessly moves between these characters' thoughts of an imagined future and the actual reality of what they want or need or what's possible. Toibin expertly describes how people keep each other in check and control each other while intending to be supportive. He shows how people want to know each other's business but not openly communicate with them. The story demonstrates the ways communities and families support one another, but also inhibit individuals from realizing their potential if their identity and dreams don't align with the values of the majority.

“Long Island” is a wonderful addition to the ongoing tale of these characters and I hope Toibin continues to write about them from new angles and introducing new drama to this beautifully realised fictional world.

Night Watch by Jayne Anne Phillips

I was greatly anticipating the announcement of the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and made a video speculating what books might be listed for this year's prize. When “Night Watch” by Jayne Anne Phillips was declared the winner I was highly intrigued because personally I'd never heard of this novel before. Some readers I follow who had read this novel were disappointed by this winner, but nevertheless I went into reading it with an open mind. Unfortunately I found reading the novel to be a frustrating and disappointing experience. The plot is not only melodramatic but often feels like a cliched soap opera with double identities, amnesia, separated lovers and a dramatic fire/physical altercation. Of course, these can be elements in great literature but this novels feels somewhat like an unsuccessful mashup of “Wuthering Heights” and “Rebecca” set during the American Civil War. Its heavy reliance on coincidences and artificially conjured emotional situations makes it seem like a cheap and facile imitation of an epic tale.

The story is primarily set at the Trans-Alleghany lunatic asylum in West Virginia in the year 1874 and follows the gradual recovery of a mother named Eliza who is so mentally unwell she's nearly comatose at the novel's beginning. Her teenage daughter ConaLee joins her at the asylum, but pretends to be Eliza's carer because family aren't allowed to live with patients. Both mother and daughter take pseudonyms while at the asylum. Prior to their time at the facility they've been captives of a tyrannical scheming Confederate soldier who insists on being called Papa. The narrative occasionally flashes back to a decade prior at the end of the American Civil War to show different characters' points of view including Eliza's lover John, a wounded Union soldier, and Dearbhla, an Irish healer. There's also an orphan boy nicknamed Weed dwelling at the asylum who oversees many events which occur between the characters. Eventually true identities are revealed, a professionally questionable romance forms and everyone goes on a jolly carriage ride.

The Pulitzer simply declared this to be “a beautifully rendered novel” and in a Publisher's Weekly interview Phillips described wanting the reader to “understand the history of another time, to appreciate it—and the best way to understand,” she says, “is fiction. I want to write scenes where the reader can feel the shattering moments.” There are certainly shattering moments including an unnecessarily extended rape scene whose gruelling nature points to why Eliza is psychologically destroyed. However, I didn't feel the story sufficiently conveyed the dynamics of this long-term abusive situation and I was left with a lot of questions which it felt like the authors skipped or avoided. Despite giving a sense of the facility including reproductions of photographs and documents, I didn't understand how the hospital operated. I don't understand why ConaLee was denied from knowing about her true father for so long. Eliza's neighbour Dearbhla is the kind of character I'd normally be intrigued by and want to read about, but her involvement in the plot felt forced. There was a lot of potential in the story regarding revelations about John O'Shea and Weed's ambiguous nature and origins, but these didn't feel sufficiently developed.

The momentum of the book rests in the damage of the past and this is embodied in the monstrous figure of Papa. However, the primary action takes place in the present as Eliza slowly heals and the story leads to an artificial confrontation. Of course it's inspiring to find that there existed a facility at the time which was so caring to its mentally ill patients as most such institutions during this period were cruel and abusive. But the story and the choice to focus on this benevolent facility don't give much insight into this period of history. Or, rather, they suggest a simplistic sense of hope amidst a devastating period which left many casualties. Consider the example of Keneally's “Schindler's Ark” which highlights an inspiring example of humanity amidst a genocide. Yet the book also doesn't shy from portraying the complex cruelty and destruction of this period of history. “Night Watch” only offers a flattened version of the past with a syrupy plot designed to suggest that benevolence ultimately prevails, but this has little to do with reality of war or its aftermath.

Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck (translated by Michael Hofmann)

What if you woke up one day to discover that your country no longer exists? That was the experience for East Germans and the protagonists of this novel in October 1990. However, the story begins in East Berlin in June 1986 when a chance encounter between Hans and Katharina spark a passionate romance which continues for years. There is a 34 year age difference between them. The first half of the novel follows the intensity of their affair where the age gap feels somewhat inconsequential when considering the span of history. Descriptions of their trysts are meaningfully paired with heart soaring pieces of music and mythology. The second half of the novel follows the unspooling of this romance which grows increasingly dark and abusive. Though this is a story of toxic love the central question of the book isn't whether their affair is right or wrong; it was clearly doomed from its inception. This couple remains together long after they clearly should have separated, but they also linger in the idea of their nation even as it crumbles around them. The real question of the book is why do we cling to our romanic and political ideals when we know they are inherently faulty and bad for us?

The novel is framed around a future point where Katharina inherits boxes of documents after Hans has died. She sifts through these remnants of the past recalling the years of their affair and the many cultural references they shared. So the book is structured like a piece of archival research, but it's also structured like a piece of music. These incongruous modes of telling would clash if it weren't for Erpenbeck's elegant way of combining them to reproduce these characters' deeply-felt experience. The narrative effortlessly flows between their viewpoints to mimic the way their consciousness has been fused amidst this passionate romance. It becomes a locked box and a territory of their own. But as their relationship sours this paradise turns into a prison from which they - and the reader - can't escape. It becomes increasingly uncomfortable to read this novel as the second half turns intensely claustrophobic and painful. This obviously isn't a pleasurable experience but it is an impactful one because it reveals how deeply lost these characters have become in the changing country and world around them. Erpenbeck brilliantly probes issues of belonging and nationhood as she did in a very different context within her novel “Go, Went, Gone”.

Hans and Katharina come from very different generations, but they hold onto one another longing for a life which is no longer possible. Hans has a shady past and part of his belief in the German Democratic Republic comes from wanting to distance himself from the armed forces he was a part of in his youth. Katharina was born long after the end of WWII, but the system under which she was raised causes her to gaze critically at the commercial and cultural imperialism which is absorbing her country. As their affair painfully persists so the marking of different anniversaries continues as if dedicating themselves to these dates can hold their imagined reality together. But they come to feel increasingly hollow and twisted. Following the dissolution of their private world is a melancholy endeavour. Persisting to the end of this novel felt challenging but I'm glad I did because the overall effect is haunting. It made me question my own assumptions having grown up with a Western mentality and probe what romantic notions I allow to unhelpfully steer my life. I'm also sure it would be valuable revisiting “Kairos” at some point to better understand the innumerable cultural and historical references it contains.

And Then She Fell by Alicia Elliott

It's tricky trying to summarize how I feel about Alicia Elliott's debut novel as the experience of reading it was often frustrating, but the power of its voice and the complexity of the many issues it raises have inspired me to engage in a lot of discussion with my bookclub about it. There's also a very clever narrative twist a long way into the book which helped me to emotionally engage with it in a way I struggled to up until that point. The story focuses on narrator Alice's experiences grieving the loss of her mother and living in a predominantly white Canadian neighbourhood separate from her familiar indigenous community. She's a writer endeavouring to compose an updated version of the Haudenosaunee Creation Story, a wife to a kind-hearted white man who is academically researching her culture and a new mother to an infant she feels she's failing. Increasingly she senses that inanimate objects, creatures and strange visions are speaking to her. This introduces the question about whether she's suffering from mental health issues, the disorientating effects of sleep loss or whether she's deeply communicating with spirits/ancestors from her culture (or perhaps some mixture of all of these things.) So there is quite a lot going on and it's not surprising that Alice feels continuously overwhelmed!

It's quite a surprise in the prologue when Pocahontas (or Matoaka) begins speaking to Alice through the television screen. This feels both comic and playful, like something from a horror story. It's also meaningful in how there is a darker truth to indigenous history/experience than what non-First Nation groups acknowledge in popular culture. I feel like Elliott tries to balance these three modes throughout the novel's narrative which is a difficult thing to pull off. The novel uses a very conversational style of writing which makes it very personal and immediate. I appreciate how this conveys a strong impression of Alice's point of view and state of mind however, to me, it can sometimes feel too much like a rant where Elliott hammers through messages rather than letting them arise naturally within the story. Alicia Elliott wrote a very interesting personal essay about perceptions of mental illness: https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/books/the-power-of-alicia-elliott-how-the-indigenous-author-embraced-the-unreality-of-fiction-and/article_b0e3c11d-7092-5c59-ac2a-07c83b34a815.html It's really challenging not to dismiss someone's perspective when they've been categorised as suffering from “madness”. At the same time, there are so many practical difficulties which accompany this experience especially when clear and honest communication becomes nearly impossible.

Alice's daily physical interactions seem fairly benign – being gifted dvds, buying alcohol from staring shop assistants and being pounced upon by a hyper vigilant neighbour. Certainly there is unacknowledged prejudice and micro aggression within these encounters but Alice's reactions often feel out of proportion to what's occurring. I understand she is frustrated that the white community she's surrounded by can't understand her perspective and that she desires to exhibit positive representation to deflect stereotypes about Native people and feels the need to keep up appearances – especially to her husband Steve. This poetic line from the novel seems to really encapsulate her experience: “I'm a puddle pretending I've got shape and form.” However, it feels like her increasing panic about her predicament would be tremendously eased if she were to speak honestly with others about what's happening and her state of mind. Instead, she constantly covers this up and keeps an increasing amount of “little secrets” from Steve. Though we don't get much backstory about the formation of their relationship this seems to be a consistent aspect of it: “I've kept so much from him from the very beginning. Edited my life to make it seem a little less tragic and a lot more functional.” Of course she wants to present herself as capable/confident but a big part of any successful long term relationship is allowing a partner to see your vulnerabilities. Instead, Alice seems to be trying harder to cover them up so the truth of how she's feeling can only come out in erratic or paranoid behaviour.

Perhaps this is part of the point of the story. However, it makes it frustrating and difficult to empathise with Alice when she's not willing to let others into what she's experiencing except through this narrative and her rewriting of the Creation Story. I'm aware my reaction might be biased because this character's life is very different from my own. I want to listen to what this book has to say and I'm not trying to minimise the impact of her cultural heritage, position in this society and the difficulty of new motherhood. I was really struck by the lines: “Motherhood is sacrifice. Not metaphorical sacrifice. Literal sacrifice. Every day I feel like I'm destroying pieces of myself to win the favor of this insatiable demigod who wants and wants and wants.” It must feel devastating to rapidly lose yourself in this way and feel like this baby is the antagonist while also loving your child. I've found it really interesting to compare Elliott's novel with “Soldier Sailor” by Claire Kilroy since there are parallels in how new motherhood causes such a terrifying physical and mental breakdown and sense of isolation. What's clear from both is that it's a tremendous strain no matter the circumstances and support/lack of support from one's family/spouse.

It was a complete surprise to me how the story switches its nature later in the novel just as Alice's manic energy and all-consuming paranoia become too much to bear. By getting an outside perspective of Alice (and getting a heartrending peek at the many directions her life might have taken) I suddenly understood the tragedy of her plight better. I'd previously felt sympathy for how overwhelmed she's been with the grief for her mother, the responsibilities and sleeplessness of new motherhood, separation from her Indigenous community, wavering mental health, semi-reliance on drugs/alcohol and frustration trying to honour her heritage by rewriting its stories. But being locked in her point of view also made me feel like a therapist listening to a hopelessly tangled diatribe and this made the reading experience increasingly laborious. It's not often that it seems worth it to read through hundreds of pages to get to a pay off like this. But, in this case, I am very glad I read until the end. It felt necessary to see Alice's increasing frenzy from the inside in order to really know how she got to this point of absolute despair. There's a pleasure in re-viewing the events that have come before given that the nebulous voice is given a personality. It's also quite playful and inventive how the author has structured the book as if self consciously drawing upon the kind of popular culture films she frequently references. I was reminded of the films 'Get Out' in the dinner scene, 'Interstellar' in the family reunion across time – as well as the numerous movies which have drawn upon concepts of alternate realities/the multiverse. Some might see this as derivative but I think it felt natural for this story and a way to show the tension Alice experiences as someone whose identity is a blend of both Indigenous and colonial culture. I found this concluding section really heartwarming and moving, but I'm sure not all readers would agree.

The title of the novel is taken from the story of the Sky Woman being dropped by The Great Spirit into a hole so that she falls towards the Lower World. But I like that it also has a popular culture meaning in how Alice connects to Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka because she thinks if she makes the wrong choice the floor will fall out from beneath her. There's also some “Alice in Wonderland” influence given the protagonist's name, that Sky Woman falls (or is pushed) down a hole and at a disastrous dinner party Alice believes that guests shout “Off with her head” at her. I'm glad to have read this book and to have received Alicia Elliott's point of view. I do question whether she might have been able to use a different writing technique or structure to better tell this story. It's really difficult to say because Alice's mindset is so messy it feels like the narrative needs to emulate that and if it'd been more formalised it might not feel so authentic. So it's difficult to know how to rate this novel or whether I'd recommend it. I'm continuing to mull it over and I'd be very keen to hear reactions from other readers about the book as a whole.

James by Percival Everett

In the past couple of years it's been exciting to see new books coming out which self consciously build upon canonical literature from the past. “Demon Copperhead” brilliantly reimagined “David Copperfield” in contemporary rural America. Sandra Newman's “Julia” was a clever retelling of “1984” from the point of view of Winston's love interest. I'm sure there have been others and this isn't a new phenomenon. “Wide Sargasso Sea” is an excellent example of taking a striking character whose perspective we don't get in the original, the so-called mad woman in the attic from Bronte's “Jane Eyre” and imagining this world from her point of view. And now Percival Everett has used a similar method in the much talked about and highly publicised new novel “James”. I think this book deserves all the attention it's been getting! It shows some of the same events from Mark Twain's classic “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” from the character of Jim's perspective. Utilizing Everett's customary sense of wit and satire, he re-envisions this story and period of history to give a refreshing and revelatory take on James' precarious position as a runaway slave, his struggle to free his family and his yearning to achieve a sense of freedom outside the boundaries of the subjugation he's been born into during the Antebellum South.

Firstly, though I don't think it's absolutely necessary, I did reread “Tom Sawyer” and “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” before getting to this novel. I had read abridged versions of both when I was younger. Reading them as an adult was largely enjoyable though I now find it difficult to relate (or care much) about these boys' cravings for high adventure and high-jinks in their rural community. The episodic story seems designed for the entertainment of young boys so often it felt like the plot was unrealistically skewed to show these adolescent characters triumphing in situations and coincidentally happening upon dramatic scenes. This leads them to achieve great fortune at the end of “Tom Sawyer” and “Huck Finn” does feel like a stronger book in many ways. It's especially vivid and terrifying reading about Huck's abuse under his father at the beginning. Nevertheless, his journey thereafter often feels like a game he's playing. All the while Jim is portrayed as the honourable, superstitious and mild-mannered character at Huck's side. His friendship with Huck is touching. It's impressive how Twain's novel deals with the moral complexity Huck feels growing up in a culture where people with Jim's skin colour are treated as property but his growing emotional connection to Jim disallows him from seeing Jim in this way. But, obviously, this is only one side of the story. Of course, it's also jarring reading these novels today given the language used.

Interestingly, in Paul Beatty's 2016 Booker Prize winning novel “The Sellout” there's a fascinating and funny debate where a character named Foy Chester describes how he rewrote “Huckleberry Finn” after he began reading Twain's novel to his grandchildren but stopped when he discovered the 'n-word' appears 219 times in the book. He describes how “where the repugnant 'n-word' occurs, I replaced it with 'warrior' and the word 'slave' with 'dark-skinned volunteer... I also improved Jim's diction, rejiggered the plotline a bit, and retitled the book The Pejorative-Free Adventures and Intellectual and Spiritual Journeys of African-American Jim and His Young Protege, White Brother Huckleberry Finn or They Go In Search of the Lost Black Family Unit.” However, the narrator of Beatty's novel then challenges Chester stating: “why blame Mark Twain because you don't have the patience and courage to explain to your children that the 'n-word' exists... no one will ever refer to them as 'little black euphemisms' so welcome to the American lexicon”. The language in Twain's book has been subject to a longstanding debate and censoring or erasing what was cruelly, thoughtlessly and freely used in the past prevents us from learning from history. Therefore, I think it's important and smart how Everett has positioned his novel not as a rewrite, but a chance to tell Jim's story.

“James” begins with a section of the notebook of Dan Emmett (the real life composer and founder of the first troupe of blackface minstrels) and this takes an important role later in Everett's novel. I love that the story then launched into Tom and Huck playing one of their familiar jokes on James only to show that James is very aware of their game and indulgently playing along. James recognizes throughout the book that adolescent Huck is naturally attracted to adventure and he will sometimes manipulate Huck towards taking a certain action by persuading him it will be fun in this way. This new characterisation immediately negates the idea that James is a naïve butt of the joke which would be easy to assume from Twain's novel. Instead, Everett portrays him as highly intelligent, literate and an educator who teaches enslaved black children in the language and manner they must use around white people to avoid punishment and survive in this world.

It's poignant how the importance of language is emphasized throughout the novel. Natural speech carries on into conversations James has with other black people in private, but everyone speaking will quickly revert to another form of “dumbed down” language whenever white people are present and overhear them. They know that it's not only expected that they'll speak like this but they will be punished for using the language white people use. James must continuously check himself while travelling with Huck because even though they develop a camaraderie he must be mindful of maintaining that barrier. This necessary front comes to feel even more sad the closer he becomes to Huck. It's also striking that when James drops the affected form of speech in front of white characters he's confronting it's the inability to believe he can use such language that preoccupies them more than the immediate threat of violence.

I was also so moved by the reverence James has for books and writing since they are the only sources of true freedom available to him. He attentively dries books after they become soaked in the river and he clings to moments when he can read them when not being overviewed by white people. But also it's wonderful how he enters into a dreamlike/hallucinatory dialogue with philosophers of the Enlightenment such as John Locke and Voltaire to challenge them about their views on freedom as a concept vs the reality of his life. It's a brilliant way of interrogating a whole school of influential thought. It's also easy to imagine that if James had been born in a different time, place and circumstances he'd have been a great scholar, studying philosophy and publishing important books. As it is, his intense desire to write his own story is very touching and we also see him testing out different surnames for himself throughout the story. The mere ability to obtain a pencil and writing paper becomes so precious. So it's all the more heart wrenching when we see the price paid and consequences for the black man who obtains the pencil for James.

It's interesting how Everett mostly follows the timeline/events which Twain laid out in his novel. There are interludes when James is separated from Huck and here Everett had the freedom to fill in his story however he wanted. Through James' eyes some of the characters of Twain's novels such as the con artists they meet appear much less fun and more threatening – actually quite vicious and terrifying in Everett's novel. The events and timeline become altered more towards the end. I think I read how Everett mentioned somewhere (not in the interview I saw him give with Nelson) that he felt Twain was indulging the reading public by reintroducing Tom Sawyer at the end of “Huck Finn” because he felt they'd want more of this character. But this doesn't serve the story or primary characters of Huck and Jim well. So I found it really clever and harrowing where Everett takes James' story. The whole question of freedom and identity becomes much more layered as James joins a minstrel show, meets a man who is passing for white and ultimately reveals his true relationship with Huck. This gives a whole new meaning to their bond and why James is especially attentive and caring towards Huck.

In the past I've not been a very big fan of satirical writing where there are often exaggerated versions of villainous characters being presented in a way to (often justifiably) diminish their power. It usually seems to me better to give more nuanced presentations of characters to show the complexity of all individuals. However, Everett uses it to fantastic effect. His novel “The Trees” used satire in a much more blatant way where some of the white characters were purposefully portrayed as stereotypes. To portray them as such is Everett's clever way of challenging us to think about and re-view other stories (novels, films) where black individuals are presented in a stereotypical way. Probably little exaggeration is necessary in depicting many of the racist white characters in “James” because their assumed superiority was so much a part of the culture and even those who felt they were kind to slaves maintained their dominant position and were glad to wield their power when it suited them. Conversely, the slaves James engages with in private have cerebral conversations using heightened language to emphasise the unrealised intellectual potential and psychological complexity for these characters merely portrayed as (good-hearted, jovial) slaves in Twain's book and countless other stories. I think it's really effective and powerful how Everett achieves this in “James”.

In Twain's novels the boys often surreptitiously view people and scenes while they are concealed. This amplifies the entertainment and drama of it all – as if we're being allowed secret access to conversations and information. It's ingenious how Everett uses this same dynamic several times throughout his novel especially towards the end where James witnesses an enslaved woman now inhabiting his old home being raped. Rather than the voyeuristic charge in Twain's novels, being trapped in a concealed position to witness this utterly horrifying incident emphasizes the real practice, repercussions and violence of slavery. Of course, Twain could never have written such a scene but in thinking about the world he was evoking Tom and Huck would have realistically witnessed many acts of violence towards slaves. But getting that terrifying scene from James' perspective and throughout everything he's endured and his burning desire to find his family it's so satisfying how Everett allows James to go on a path of revenge towards the end. If you watched the interview I posted below it sounds like Everett was really inspired by the memory of his mild-mannered father who took out a gun and was prepared to fight when Everett was a child and they were almost stopped by the KKK. Similarly James is a calm and peaceful individual whose anger rouses him to justified violence to find and rescue his family.

So I think it's incredibly impressive how Everett handled writing this novel bringing with it all the adventure of Twain's classic but also challenging the reader to think about race, language, literature and history in a more complex way. It was especially striking to me how when news of the coming American Civil War reaches James he understands it has little to do with him. I think this makes us ponder more about the way we consider this period of history which is often characterised as a moral/virtuous battle to end slavery, but there were also other motivations behind it (economics/political power/preserving the Union) and to many of the individuals caught up in these events it meant something else. I found James' journey completely engrossing and came to really care about him and the multilayered connection he forms with Huck over the course of this magnificent story. I think the only thing I wish we'd had more of was James' family – I know the timeline of the story means we're not with them for most of it but we only get brief glimpses/details about them in the beginning and references to how he misses them but I wish the story had portrayed more memories and thoughts about them to give a more dynamic understanding of their connection. However, that's a minor quibble about an excellent novel which is a welcome addition to the cannon of American literature.

Women's Prize Shortlist 2024

Here are the 6 novels shortlisted for the 2024 Women's Prize for Fiction! A new video is up on my YouTube channel giving my instant reaction to the list and discussing each book: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Amh06jLxKeY

It's been a pleasure reading all of these excellent novels. It's especially interesting how this fiction approaches similar subject matter from different angles – generations of family life, individuals caught in large scale conflict, cultural displacement and motherhood. Some use multiple perspectives to show different angles to a story while others are firmly rooted in a first person point of view. There are tales set in the distant past and others that take place in our present time.

There's a high level of regional diversity from Ireland to Sri Lanka to Singapore to New South Wales to Palestine. There are highly established authors such as Anne Enright and Kate Grenville as well as debut novelist Aube Rey Lescure. It also feels like these new titles by Isabella Hammad, V.V. Ganeshananthan and Claire Kilroy are overdue for prize attention. I think it's a very strong group of books and would highly recommend reading all of them.

“The Wren, The Wren” was the first novel I read this year and, while I think some of Enright's other books are stronger, I thoroughly enjoyed how this tale evokes the life of a mother and her adult daughter while slyly skewering the patriarchy – especially arrogant writers. I was completely captivated by “River East, River West” which so creatively presents a different kind of strained mother/daughter relationship with the introduction of a complex step-father. I read “Soldier, Sailor” right after the longlist was announced and the high praise this harrowing novel about early motherhood has been getting is well deserved. I've read “Restless Dolly Maunder”, “Brotherless Night” and “Enter Ghost” more recently so I'm still processing my thoughts about them but found them all engrossing.

It's a shame “In Defence of the Act”, “Western Lane”, “Ordinary Human Failings”, “Nightbloom” and “Hangman” didn't make the cut but this is how competitions go. We've also had such interesting conversations about “And Then She Fell” with my online book club. However, honestly, it's not really about winners and losers but the pleasure of discovering and discussing books I might not otherwise read. I've certainly found many I enjoyed from this year's prize.

What do you think of the shortlist?