Hagstone by Sinéad Gleeson

I've been greatly anticipating Sinéad Gleeson's debut novel having read her powerful book of essays/memoir “Constellations” and the enlightening collections of stories by Irish women writers she edited “The Long Gaze Back” and “The Glass Shore”. Gleeson is highly attuned to the ways art, songs, writing and storytelling not only capture a place and the different personalities who inhabit it, but stand as a testimony for those whose narratives are often ignored, erased or suppressed. Therefore it's fitting this unique and captivating novel evokes the lives of a community and individuals who reside on the margins.

“Hagstone” follows artist Nell who resides on a remote rocky island. She's highly independent enjoying swims off the coast and occasionally takes lovers. Both she and the small populace there rely on the income from tourists who arrive during the warmer months. To make ends meet, she acts as a guide to these visitors who hunger for salacious stories of shipwrecks and tantalising folklore. So Nell is cognizant of the way true stories can become sensationalised. Her artwork reaches for a more subtle understanding and connection with the past. The pieces she creates are often meant to be ephemeral and work as touchstones to the lives of women who were maligned or misunderstood.

She receives an unexpected invitation to make a specially commissioned artwork for a reclusive commune known as the Iníons. This is a group formed of diverse women who have moved here from all over the world and, until now, their lives have been shrouded in secrecy. But Nell's presence isn't welcome by all who reside there. She gradually becomes familiar with several members and the uneasy structure of their commune in the lead up to a celebration – a climatic event with unintended consequences. A strange feature of the island is that there is a mysterious sound which emanates from the landscape and the Iníons have a reverence for it. Not everyone can hear this sound, but it drives some to madness and other to a kind of spiritual awakening or connection with this singular location.

This is a story which wrestles with the tension between independence and community. It asks what advantages can be found in building a life in relative isolation and what is sacrificed by removing oneself from the larger society: “Solitude can be its own kind of loss.” It especially focuses on the plight of women and those who understandably want to escape from the patriarchy. However, any group inevitably forms its own hierarchy and involves power struggles. The novel cleverly feels out the levels of compromise required when seeking to achieve a truly peaceful existence. It’s also fascinating how it explores the relationship between artist and subject. In what ways does art memorialise the lives of others and how does it intrude upon their privacy? Nick, a famous actor visiting the island, seeks to make a film about the Iníons and becomes another suspicious presence in this commune. Tensions mount from both inside and outside this community resulting is a horrific clash.

I deeply connected with this novel's story and appreciate the complex way it engages with these issues while also delivering a highly entertaining, compellingly gothic, occasionally sexy and meaningful tale.

Nightbloom by Peace Adzo Medie

I love it when a novel can present two conflicting perspectives which are equally convincing. This demonstrates that relationships are very complicated and it muddles concepts of right and wrong. Throughout “Nightbloom” I felt my sympathy completely shifting in tandem with who was telling the story. It follows cousins Selasi and Akorfa who are best friends growing up in the same Ghanaian town. But, as they get older, they diverge in their academic pursuits and aspirations. Differences to do with economic status, social groups and family circumstances which didn't matter so much when they were younger play a factor into how they grow to misinterpret and misunderstand one another. Their connection becomes completely distant as Akorfa moves to study in America and Selasi becomes a successful restaurateur in Ghana with a politically ambitious husband. The narrative follows one cousin's point of view before switching to the other to show the same events from another perspective until their paths meet again. Though the break in their friendship partly has to do with personality conflicts it also has to do with larger factors such as familial expectations and societal pressure. The divide which forms between them is all the more heartrending because both experience similar abuse as women and pressure to overlook the injustices they must endure. They'd be able to find solace and strength in one another if the circumstances of the world hadn't come between them. The way this story follows the course of their journey is emotional and utterly gripping.

You can also watch me discussing this novel in my garden: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeA_CJw5QuU

Hangman by Maya Binyam

It's refreshing that there's a wave of contemporary fiction which is actively working against a confessional mode of storytelling. Many novels present the inner life of characters with all their history, memories, preoccupations and hopes for the future. However, Binyam challenges the reader with a nameless narrator who returns to his nameless native country in sub-Saharan Africa after living for many years in a nameless Western country. His purported mission is to locate his ailing brother who has been writing him letters entreating him for money, medicine, property and support. But really this journey is a reckoning with the place he left behind and with himself. However, he actively withholds personal information and his emotional state as he becomes reacquainted with this place, its people and their politics. This unashamedly draws influence from Rachel Cusk's “Outline” to build upon it. Binyam's novel even begins with its narrator conversing with someone on a flight. I greatly appreciated the absurdist and slyly surreal nature of this book with its flashes of wicked humour and his account becomes surprising emotional.

This style of writing may seem confusing and frustrating, but the narrator is highly suspicious about how tales such as his can be used to falsely frame people. At one point he emails a friend about his progress and instantly refutes that message's content “It wasn't accurate, but it didn't need to be accurate, because emails were just a mode of storytelling. In the case of the so-called immigrant returning to his home country, the story should be a good one.” Such a homecoming with all its conflicted feelings of estrangement and belonging can't be neatly contained. Nor can his personal past and the circumstances of his emigration. Any such attempt to convey them in a straightforward way would lead to interpretation and they'd become politicised so that any nuance would be ironed out. Much of the novel concerns his conversations with those he encounters as they eagerly describe their backgrounds and positions: “People liked to talk, because talking made them feel like their experiences amounted to something, but usually the talking turned those experiences into lies.” By withholding his own story, the narrator seeks to maintain a greater degree of honesty.

Nevertheless, details about his past and frame of mind gradually emerge. Through suggestions and hints the abstract gradually solidifies, but it can never be fully defined. It becomes increasingly poignant how people and places that he initially identifies as one thing are suddenly revealed to have great personal significance to him. A stranger becomes a relative. A building turns into a home he was forced to vacate. In this way the present world shifts around him and becomes realigned with history. Yet everything has changed and he's a different person from the one who left this place many years ago. Unsurprisingly, the consequences and ultimate result of this homecoming are ambiguous. Though the immediate experience of this book is befuddling it's developed more resonance the more I've thought about it. It's certainly not a novel that will be everyone's cup of tea but those who patiently engage with its larger meaning will most likely find it impactful.

My Friends by Hisham Matar

“My Friends” is the story of a man named Khaled who grew up in Libya and moved to the UK to go to university. Here he and his friend Mustafa get involved in a London protest about Gaddafi's government and things become terrifyingly violent. This radically upends his life and cuts him off from his homeland. This novel keyed me into so many startling historical incidents that I previously knew little about. This prompted me to look up and learn more about these particular conflicts. It involves assassinations, tense political standoffs and revolutions. Though this all effects the main character in an extremely personal way, he's reflecting on it and usually distanced from it. So there's a melancholy and meditative tone to the book. It's also filled with so many heartfelt insights and brilliantly composed sentences – the kind that give such a unique perspective I often had to stop and mull them over.

It's a story of exile, trauma and friendship. It's about finding a home in literature and the text is peppered with so many great reading recommendations – especially the affinity Khaled develops for the great (equally melancholy) writer Jean Rhys. But it also shows how Khaled creates a sense of home and family with a precious few people who he connects with on a deep level. It's about a specific conflict in history, the oppression and terror of living under the spectre of a military dictatorship and how this can cruelly warp people's relationships to each other and destroy any sense of hope. This also speaks to the universal struggle of people trying to live their lives amidst “unreasonable men”. And it's about the persistence of love in Khaled's biological family even when they've been physically separated for many years.

It's also the story of a city and how London becomes Khaled's unintended home for decades. The present day action occurs only over a couple of hours in 2016 as Khaled walks through the city. In this way the novel enters in a tradition of London literature such as “Oliver Twist”, Virgina Woolf's “Mrs Dalloway”, Sam Selvon's “The Lonely Londoners”, Monica Ali's “Brick Lane” or Caleb Azumah Nelson's “Open Water”. These stories contain routes that can be physically traced on a map or in person. Since I'm lucky enough to live in London it really brought this novel alive for me to travel to some of these places to view streets, buildings, statues, memorials and artworks mentioned in the book. There's also a wonderful section where Khaled's friend Hosam takes him to view some London locations where writers lived and worked. In this way the book shows how a cityscape can be overlaid with real lives and fiction.

I was deeply moved by this poignant and beautifully written novel's meditations on life, friendships and a sense of place (especially in exile.) The story made me contemplate what action we're prepared to take when living under an oppressive system. It explores a number of options including writing fiction, speaking publicly, protesting or living in silent opposition. I find it especially poignant thinking of Khaled's father who chose taking a humble teaching position (compared to the career he might have had but which would have made him more a political target.) Though his contribution appears to be humble he's having an effect (as we know from people Khaled meets that highly respect his father) and his continued presence in Libya (rather than moving abroad) is a statement in itself. The struggle Khaled has maintaining a connection to his family especially under the paranoia of government surveillance is harrowing.

Khaled's friends become like his family in London so the fact that we know they have left him at the beginning of the novel amplifies his sense of aloneness and estrangement from his native land. Perhaps if they had remained instead of returning to Libya and moving to America he might feel more grounded in this life. So, given the events that unfold, it adds to the poignancy of how this novel is framed around his saying a permanent goodbye to his friend Hosam. Although I feel like there's a note of hope at the story's end there's a melancholy sense that Libya is not a place he'll ever be able to call home again: “It is a myth that you can return, and a myth also that being uprooted once makes you better at doing it again.”

Overall, I think this novel is excellent as a meditation on exile, the meaning of friendship over time and the longterm effects of trauma. It gives a personal take from the inside about a specific period of history and political conflict. This intersection between fiction and historical events which might not be widely known can be really rewarding and Matar has done an excellent job framing this story. The novel also raises more universal issues concerning how we think about nationality and our relationship to homeland. It's a celebration of literature and the deep connection we can feel to authors. It's a stunning achievement and I hope it gets some award attention this year.

You can listen to me discuss this novel more and show some of the locations mentioned in the story while reading passages aloud here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPwu3keS-UI

A Flat Place by Noreen Masud

In this memoir Masud describes how flat landscapes have always been supremely comforting to her. Ever since she was a girl growing up in Pakistan's capital she's yearned for these barren vistas and frequently mentally travels to these empty spaces. She recounts the challenges of growing up in cloistered difficult circumstances, the process of moving to Britain to establish her independence and how she deals with complex trauma. Through this she convey a sense of establishing her unique cultural and national identity. She was raised to primarily speak English rather than Urdu and her domineering father placed an emphasis on a British education. So this makes up much of her frame of reference, but she's also highly conscious of the racial stereotypes and colonial history which come with this. These issues and fragmented memories of her early life are considered as she recounts journeys to a number of British locations such as Orford Ness, the Cambridgeshire Fens, Morecambe Bay and Orkney. It's an elegant and moving meditation on finding nurturing environments and methods of reconciling the past.

Something that immediately endeared this book to me is that the opening of the first chapter begins with a quote from my favourite novel Virginia Woolf's “The Waves”. The lines capture the sharply different perspectives and personalities of the story's central characters. I think it resonates with Masud's sense that everyone has a unique way of emotionally translating their view of the world. Some may view empty landscapes as bleak, but Masud finds them nurturing. It's beautiful how she describes the experience to travelling to a number specific location, the interactions she has there and the memories which are raised. Many of these memories come in fragments and remain incomplete. So, rather than seeking a complete picture, she allows them to remain obscure. Thus the past doesn't necessarily define her and she's able to fill her life with what she finds most fulfilling. In this way, this beautifully written memoir delivers an empowering and unique message.

Lies of Silence by Brian Moore

“Lies of Silence” is instantly thrilling because its protagonist Michael Dillon is presented with an impossible choice. Under duress he's instructed by the IRA to park his car which contains a concealed bomb at the Belfast hotel where he works as a manager. It will probably kill dozens of people. They emphasise that if he fails to do this his wife Moira will be killed. The result of this crisis leads to a terrifying personal and moral conundrum as he becomes caught in a media blitz and the political turmoil of his native Northern Ireland. All he really wants is to settle somewhere far away from The Troubles with the woman he loves and to rekindle his early passion for writing poetry. However, like the wider conflict itself, there are no easy answers. The heart pounding suspense of this story is imbued with an intelligent examination about the role of personal responsibility in a dispute so large it feels like there are no correct options.

Part of the terrifying thing about this crisis is that violence was such an everyday part of the news this specific incident wasn't viewed by the general public as noteworthy: “Just another bomb. Just an ordinary day, after all.” People are shown to be going about their ordinary lives as if nothing had happened. After all, what else can be done? But it's a frightening thing that such terror can become normalized. By being thrust into the centre of it through Michael's story we see the intensely personal consequences of this larger conflict. The choices of the characters are further complicated by the personal issues they're going through. It's especially interesting how Moira's motivation becomes swayed by revelations about Michael leading to a newfound cause that she champions. Moore has a clear, direct style of writing which is very effective in conveying scenes with fast action but it also conveys the larger issues which are at stake. I'll be keen to read more of his books.

Soldier Sailor by Claire Kilroy

This novel is narrated by an Irish mother describing the extremely difficult experience of raising her son. She addresses these reflections to the son and refers to this boy as Sailor. Though the narrative is directed at him it's left ambivalent whether she's writing this down as a letter or merely composing this monologue in her mind. We follow roughly a year or so in her life during which Sailor turns two and then three years old. She's deeply exhausted, frustrated and depressed. This state of mind is infused into the narrative itself which veers from sharply realistic and disastrous scenes of daily life to hazy waking dream like states to periods of deep contemplation.

The story puts out into the open a lot of the harsh reality concerning parenting which is often swept under the carpet. Early on she wonders: “Would you have had a baby if they told you that stuff?” Yet this isn't simply a story about the horrors of parenting which would scare anyone away from wanting to have a child. It is just one woman's perspective – it's not trying to be universal although I'm sure many parents will greatly relate to particular moments in this book and there's a lot to learn here. It's very raw and emotional and down to earth, but also finely written (almost poetic in places) and occasionally funny (often in a tragi-comic way). A small detail I found very funny early on is when she says “I unstrapped my prize marrow” as if the baby were a vegetable she's bringing to the country fair.

There's a real crispness to Kilroy's prose which can so neatly sum up her experience: “I was so tired and you were so hungry. But you wouldn't eat and I couldn't sleep. Mother and child.” Even though the story of the difficulty of raising a child has been told many times before and we all know a lot of what she describes (whether we have direct experience of it or not) it's never been told quite like this before. So it felt very original to me. At it's heart this book feels like a desperate cry to be heard and understood and a plea for people to stop being dicks. This is something she states a number of time in the way people react to her or dismiss her in public when she's clearly going through a tough time. In reference to a cashier she remarks “To him I was yet another clumsy housewife who couldn't keep up with him. I know this because I used to think that way too. I used to be a dick. There's a spectrum. I was on it. But you won't be a dick because I have enlightened you. Be an astronaut, be a nurse, be a postman, be whatever. Just don't be a dick.” One of the biggest dicks in her life is her husband. She's the main caretaker as he has a demanding job and is often at the office. But even when he is home the duties of parenting are still placed upon her. So she doesn't have the time to work herself or express herself creatively. Again, it's well known that high expectations are placed upon a mother at home while the father works but this novel really shows the ins and outs of that experience.

The husband does often come across as a villainous dick. He says and does some horribly dismissive and neglectful things. But because it's entirely from her perspective we only get her side so undoubtably it's very difficult for him as well. I feel like the novel acknowledges this in some of her extreme actions and the way she can dismiss his good intentions and questions when he's trying to understand her. Yet I primarily felt on her side because she's often wrangling with the child while he's there but he's just on his phone or watching tv.

It's very interesting that she also occasionally meets someone she refers to as her friend. This is a man she's known since childhood. He now has three children and they sometimes run into each other at the playground. As the primary carer since his wife works a demanding job he can really sympathise with her because he's going through the same thing. This has such a positive effect because part of the trouble is how isolated and lonely she is. He's a counterpoint to her husband and she remarks at one point: “my faith in masculinity was at stake and my friend redeemed it”. But I feel like there's a compelling ambiguity about whether the friend is even real or someone she's just imagined as a companion. This aspect really reminded me of the film 'Tully' where Charlize Theron portrays a highly stressed mother. I think the novel does leave it up to interpretation. The friend could be real and his life has coincidentally run parallel to hers. For part of the book I wondered if there was a romantic tension there but I don't think it's as simple as that because she also states at one point “I didn't want my friend to be my husband. I wanted my husband to be my friend.” And that seems to get at the crux of why she's relating her experience like this.

She understandably feels like she's losing her mind and that she's losing her connection to the people most precious to her: her husband and her son. So this account is a heartfelt attempt to solidify that connection and create an understanding between them. Even though it's almost definitely an internal monologue it raises interesting questions about whether it's right for a parent to be this open about the struggles they face. Is it damaging and placing too much guilt upon a child to let that child know the pain its mere existence has caused? Or is it better to have total honesty so there can be real understanding within a family? I think these are questions this novel is consciously raising and there aren't any easy answers. Certainly there have been points I've wondered what my parents really went through raising me but would I really want to know that full truth? It's hard to say.

There are a couple of brief poignant moments in the story where she recalls her own parents. There's the memory of being taken to a beach as a child and wanting to return to that beach but realising it's not the beach she misses but the parent and a connection to that parent. At another point she acknowledges the lineage of motherhood she's entered where she writes “I had sighed like my mother had sighed before me and hers before her...” So she seems to be relating this story so her son will feel this connection too. But, again, it's also ambiguous about whether Sailor actually hears or reads what his mother is telling him. It's more likely that she's silently directing her thoughts towards him and he'll never know how she really felt going through this often hellish experience. This adds another tragic element to the story. So I found reading this book a moving and eye opening experience especially since I don't have any children myself.

My Men by Victoria Kielland (translated by Damion Searls)

“My Men” is the story of a young Norwegian woman who moves to America towards the end of the 19th century, changes her name and establishes a new life. Eventually she's discovered to be a serial killer responsible for the deaths of at least 14 people. Kielland reimagines this historical case of Belle Gunness from the inside of her troubled consciousness. Yet, rather than poring over gory details or building a thickly plotted story of dread, the author traces the shifting emotions of this woman whose life is driven by loss, loneliness, bad faith and bad logic. There's a bewitching nature to the poetic prose style which is at once claustrophobic and achingly tender. Rather than offering an explanation for why and how this occurred, this novel is moreover concerned with meticulously recording the state of its heroine's mind.

There's a cumulative sense of Belle's bleakly abiding aloneness in the world and fractured relations to other people. It's noted how “Bella stared into life and saw herself lying all alone at the bottom” and “The world was a whole, she could see it, but it was like she was standing just outside it and there was nothing she could do but cry.” This sense of complete separateness seems to foster a sense of absolute independence where she is wholly self-reliant and governed by her own sense of righteousness. In doing so the story traces how she comes to feel fully justified in her murderous actions: “Her carnivorous heart was exactly that simple, moments of closeness, a big black wound. A whole European map of dead men.” It makes for a very unsettling and strangely haunting read.

Parasol Against the Axe by Helen Oyeyemi

How would a city respond if it were being trolled online? That's what Oyeyemi presents at the beginning of this curious, inventive and mischievous novel. Prague cannot be contained in a weekend but by following the experiences of three old friends who venture there for an uncommon hen party we see how their lives intersect and meld with the city's past. It's a riotous adventure travelling with them through the winding streets. Like anyone who attempts to take an idealistic stroll through a place which is new to them, things rarely go to plan. There are some especially funny scenes involving petty conflicts and bickering with the people they encounter.

The chequered pasts of these characters catch up with them while the metropolis' history and living present impresses itself upon them. Their colourful biographies reveal many surprises involving criminality, artistic differences and alternative names. It made me think about how we like to imagine that our identities are robust and fixed things that can slotted into an online profile. But really we're susceptible to changes as the world around us – especially a bustling city with a lively persona - demands attention.

The story about a bookstore which doesn't accept currency but works through an exchange of titles was extremely appealing. I was intrigued by the shapeshifting book Paradoxical Undressing which accompanies them. It shows how every story cannot be contained just like every personality cannot be classified. The way in which Hero engages with its text reminded me how any book which I take on a journey becomes a part of my travels as I dip into reading it at various points while experiencing new landscapes, meeting fresh people and learning about local tales. “Parasol Against the Axe” feels baffling at times but I was dazzled by the originality of its style and charismatic oddity. Oyeyemi's writing can be likened to Ali Smith and readers who require a strong plot should be cautious, but if you're in the mood for getting lost in a tangle of idiosyncratic stories her books are a joy to discover.

Women's Prize Longlist 2024

Here are the 16 novels longlisted for the 2024 Women's Prize for Fiction! It's an eclectic group that includes contemporary novels, historical fiction, political tales, coming of age stories and sci-fi. A new video is up on my YouTube channel unboxing and discovering all these titles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2j7ytX2h388

It's quite exciting how there are stories here which span the globe including Canada, the Caribbean, Great Britain, Ireland, Africa, the Middle East, Australia, East Asia and Sri Lanka. Former Women's Prize winner Kate Grenville is here alongside Anne Enright who has been nominated multiple times and former longlistee V.V. Ganneshananthan. There are 8 debut novels including Chetna Maroo whose novel “Western Lane” was shortlisted for the 2023 Booker Prize and it was one of my favourite books that I read last year.

I only correctly predicted four on this list and I've currently only read three of them. It's great to see “The Wren, The Wren” here as it was the very first novel I read this year and I was completely taken by this clever family story. I also was enthralled by “River East, River West” so I'm thrilled this debut is getting more attention.

I'd already been eager to read “Soldier Sailor”, “Nightbloom” and “8 Lives of a Century-Old Trickster” so I'll probably start with them, but I'm eager to explore more of these titles and might read by whim. Hopefully I'll have read most of these books by the time the winner is announced (alongside the first winner of the Women's Prize for Non-Fiction) on June 13.

It's always such a pleasure discovering new books through this prize and finally getting to some novels I've been meaning to read. What do you think of the longlist? Which novels do you want to read first?

Lublin by Marya Wilkinson

If I were to introduce this novel by saying “three teenage Jewish boys walk towards the Polish city of Lublin to sell brushes” it might sound like the start of a dodgy joke. But it's both accurate and in character with this wonderful story as Elya, the leader and entrepreneur of the group likes a good (or even a mediocre) wisecrack. He's convinced his pious friend Kiva to join him along with Kiva's mischievous and politically rebellious cousin Ziv. We follow their travels through the countryside and idiosyncratic towns trying to reach the marketplace in Lublin. Along the way they share bawdy tales, get into fights, compare peckers, exchange religious stories, run away from anti-semitic Cossacks, read “Crime and Punishment” and undergo a severe test of their willpower. Through this episodic adventure by foot the boys' vibrant personalities come to life as their friendship comes under strain and they contend with the circumstances of the early twentieth century. It's oftentimes funny, occasionally poignant and utterly refreshing in how it gradually morphs into a hauntingly surreal story.

Alongside the immediate action and trials these boys experience there are occasional references to larger events occurring in the world both in the past and the future. This narrative technique adds to the sense these lads have fallen out of a linear sense of time as they gradually run out of food and become lost. It's as if they are carrying their community and culture with them as they wander on a seemingly endless journey. Of course, this gestures at the plight of their people: “Everyone imagines a great finger reaching down from Gan Eden to designate a Jewish homeland... No sensible person or nation wants Jews on their doorstep. Farsteysh?” As the novel is set in Europe prior to the coming World Wars a reader can't help being aware of what trials such boys might face in the coming decades. However, their endearing dispositions are so lively this overarching theme doesn't weigh down the immediate story. Instead it builds to a moving portrait of these distinct figures trying to carve out their own path in a perilous world. I was utterly charmed by this book.

A Passage to India by E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster's “A Passage to India” was first published a century ago so it seemed like a good time to revisit this book which is consistently cited as one of the greatest novels of all time. I first read it at university but I remembered little about it. So it's been worthwhile rereading this as an adult to refresh my memory about its story and it was the February choice for my online bookclub. Naturally reading it now that I'm older I'm able to appreciate more about its ideas and themes. It was the final novel by Forster to be published in his lifetime despite the author living for almost fifty more years after its publication. His novel “Maurice” was published posthumously and he also left an incomplete novel titled “Arctic Summer”. The subject of “A Passage to India” concerns tensions between East and West in the later days of Britain's colonial rule over the Indian subcontinent. The central question of the story is whether friendship is truly possible between Indians and the English in this context. This plays out through the drama between an Indian man named Dr Aziz who meets an English woman named Adela Quested who recently arrived in India. There's a mystery or non-mystery about what happens between them on an excursion out to the fictional location of the Marabar Caves. I'll discuss more spoilers than I usually do in this post since this is an older well known book.

I found it a bit challenging to get into the book at first since it launches right into a dialogue where it's not always obvious who is speaking and it presents a wide range of people. However, I quickly became fascinated (and repelled) by so much of the talk between these characters – many of which are frank in their racial and religious prejudice. Forster completely immerses the reader in this oppressive colonial environment where interactions are regulated along strict lines. There's also a lot of humour which comes through in Dr Aziz's personality and the strategic ways he tries to navigate this society. There's also a tragic/comic absurdity to many of the outrageous statements certain characters make as well as the cross-cultural misunderstandings which arise. Since this novel is partly based on Forster's time living in India I'm sure he heard many real people making similar pronouncements.

The narrative switches between a wider discussion of India as a land, culture and nation and scenes between the story's characters. I felt like occasional generalisations and troubling comparisons felt more questionable when they were situated in sections from the authorial perspective. Forster was clearly deeply sympathetic with the struggles in Indian society but describing the country in such broad terms also feels simplistic – especially when the characterisation and drama of the story is so nuanced. One of my favourite moments in the novel is when the exhausted Dr Aziz enters a mosque and initially believes a sweet old English woman named Mrs Moore hasn't taken off her shoes. This misunderstanding could have easily erupted into a bigger fight. If the overly racist characters of Mr or Mrs Turton had this encounter I'm sure they'd have taken great offense and attacked Dr Aziz. But magnanimous and kind-hearted Mrs Moore is more eager to foster a connection than try to assert her dominance in the situation. Equally, Dr Aziz immediately overcomes his frustration and sees the potential for a possible friendship. The way in which Mrs Moore and Mr Fielding, a British headmaster of a college for Indians, interact with people says a lot about their character. So I found their fledging friendships with Dr Aziz touching. Forster shows how quickly people can find commonality when they overcome their preconceptions and initial prejudice.

There's also a moving section which describes Dr Aziz's process of mourning his wife: “He had known that she would pass from his hands and eyes, but had thought she could live in his mind, not realizing that the very fact that we have loved the dead increases their unreality, and that the more passionately we invoke them the further they recede.” This is such an interesting and heart-wrenching insight into the experience of losing a loved one. I wish Forster had shown some of Dr Aziz's interactions with his children to better understand how his present family life operates. But his grief and loss add to the reason why he might be channelling so much of his energy into impressing new arrivals from England. By creating this social connection he wants to establish a level of respectability within the constructs of this colonial society.

Adela Quested arrives in India because she's considering marrying a rather deplorable British city magistrate named Ronny who is Mrs Moore's son. Adela could be called sweetly naïve or it could be said that the way in which she wants to experience the “real” India is belittling. Like many tourists she claims to want an “authentic” experience but when what she witnesses doesn't match her imagined idea of what she'd find she's discontent. I found this line about her interaction with Dr Aziz quite significant: “In her ignorance, she regarded him as 'India', and never surmised that his outlook was limited and his method inaccurate, and that no one is India.” It feels really true that the character of a country can only be understood in the multiplicity of its inhabitants as everyone will have their own slanted perspective on it. And it's also true that whenever meeting someone from a different country or culture it's important to remember that they are merely an individual who shouldn't be taken as representative of a nation.

It's masterful the way Forster creates a slow building tension between Dr Aziz who is eager to please these English women and Adela Quested who earnestly wants to understand the country as a method for clarifying to herself whether she wants to marry Ronny. This crescendoes in their trip to the Marabar Caves. For the characters it's a trifling excursion that Dr Aziz rashly suggests when he wants to avoid the embarrassment of hosting the ladies in his humble home. They accept the invite more out of a sense of politeness because neither Miss Quested or Mrs Moore are very enthusiastic about it – especially when no one can explain why the caves are significant or worthy of a trip. From this rather tedious and dutiful journey emerges a crisis which brings to a head all the simmering conflict caused by the untenable existing colonial system. The accusation which emerges from it and Dr Aziz's arrest are truly shocking. But it's also perfectly understandable that such an incident would occur when there is so much cross-cultural tension brought about by an imbalance of power. Such pressure leads to paranoia and clashes where oppressed people are further victimised. The racist white colonial inhabitants seize upon this accusation as an excuse to act out the anger and frustration they have against Indians.

Just as the story takes a surprising turn, the immediate drama is quickly deflated. This is quite a daring thing for a novel to do in terms of its plot because such a turnaround would appear to dispel any tension. But it seemed to me that the tension only mounted as the characters were left wondering about the significance of this event and their relationships to each other. It also emphasizes the sentiment that India should become an independent nation. The mystery of the story isn't about whether Dr Aziz is guilty or not because it's always clear he's innocent. The real mystery is why honest connections and true friendship between people from these two different nations is impossible in this context. The answer Forster seems to present is that wider divisions don't necessarily exist due to racism (although there aren't certainly some extremely racist characters in this book) but because of economic, political and social conflicts brought about by the colonial system.

The character of Fielding did his best to mount a defence for Dr Aziz but if Adela hadn't spoken up it seems doubtful Aziz would have been cleared. Even if he was judged innocent his reputation would be tarnished – as indeed it was regardless of his unquestionable innocence. Although I'm critical of Adela it does feel like she was brave to own up to the fact she didn't think Aziz had tried to attack her after all. This leaves her totally isolated as racist Mrs Turton is naturally furious (and her embarrassment in court is very funny) but Mrs Moore is also unprepared to engage with Adela anymore. Forster writers of Adela: “She was no longer examining life but being examined by it. She had become a real person.” So Adela feels to me like someone who means well but then realises how good intentions really have little value when she hasn't dealt with her own unacknowledged prejudices and isn't prepared to embrace the true complexity of the world.

Adela is haunted by an echo after her time in the cave as if it were her conscience pestering her. Mrs Moore also hears an echo but has a very different reaction to it because she experiences it as a crisis of faith. It results in a malaise when she realises her essential belief in goodness and Christianity can't stand up to the insidious divisions of the real world. We learn of her sad fate but she'd already withdrawn from trying to forge connections with others or engage in any of these social issues anymore. Though this is tragic it's perhaps hopeful that we later learn her children other than Ronny travel to India and develop a real appreciation for Hinduism and India's culture. The echo (being one of the main symbols of the novel) seems to have defeated Mrs Moore. Personally, I took the echo to mean that individuals are trapped in their own limited understanding of the world. It's a kind of opposite of a wasp which in this novel symbolises global unity. In the echo people are hopelessly divided. This gets at the central question posed in the first section of the novel if there can be true friendships between Indians and the English.

On this point, the friendship or attempted friendship between Dr Aziz and Mr Fielding seems to be crucial. There's a misunderstanding where Dr Aziz believes Fielding has wedded Ms Quested which naturally leaves him feeling betrayed and amplifies his belief he's been cheated out of the monetary reparations owed to him. But, more than that, there's a divide between them because of status and certain assumptions they make about each other due to nationality, religion and race. Forster amplifies it to such a degree as to state that the landscape itself comes between them. It's suggested the colonial situation creates too wide a gulf between people to allow any true connection to come forth. It's unsurprising that Dr Aziz becomes completely jaded towards the English and wants to reject them entirely (including Fielding) after the humiliation and damage of being accused as he was. However, Fielding also seems to be stuck in his own prerequisite for how he believes India should be ordered as is evidenced by his view of Venice which he contrasts to India. The fact that they aren't able to find any true connection is the great tragedy of this novel.

Alongside following the last meeting between this pair of characters, the final section is concerned with a Hindu festival – which is interesting knowing that Forster found the religion so compelling during his trips to India. To me this conclusion is making multiple points: that foreigners can never fully understand the experience of being Indian and that the traditions and culture of the country is ultimately stronger than any colonial power that tries to dominant it. However, I appreciate that this final section can feel somewhat meandering after such a character driven story.

Overall, I was very impressed with the novel in handling and honestly portraying such a complex society. Certainly Forster was writing from a certain background and his own generalisations about India and its people can be scrutinized in the narrative. But I believe this book was more intended to highlight the levels of prejudice and misunderstandings which exist in everyone and how this has led to an incredibly difficult situation in a colonized country where Britain imposed its values and forced its dominance over India. Naturally the novel can't offer a solution to these dilemmas but instead presents them in all their complexity. I loved how Forster follows the nuance of his primary characters' emotions as they mature but don't always progress. It's fascinating how each of the characters struggle with their own sense of morality in a colonial system filled with racial and religious tension. In a way the characters of Ronny and Fielding are opposite in that they've both worked for an extended period of time in the country but they interact with it and its citizens in very different ways. Forster shows how people can become trapped in certain frames of mind which create divisions that cannot be traversed. However, he also shows there can be great beauty when there are true connections – even if they only occur in fleeting moments.

It's been wonderful revisiting “A Passage to India” and I'd also highly recommend reading Damon Galgut's “Arctic Summer” which fictionally reimagines Forster's life including around the writing/publication of “A Passage to India”. I think it's a brilliant and moving novel, but I also have a penchant for novels about novelists. Additionally I watched David Lean's film version of 'A Passage to India' for the first time which was quite interesting despite being very long. It received many Academy Award nominations and it's fairly good – especially the cinematography which is spectacular. It's a shame the story is more immediately concerned with following Adela rather than Aziz and the ending is much more simplified (like a typical happy Hollywood ending.) It's also very unfortunate that Alec Guinness portrays the Indian character of Professor Godbole. But many scenes and lines from the book are faithfully portrayed and it's compelling how it visually shows many of the tensions raised in the novel.

If you're a Forster fan I'd be keen to know where you think this ranks amongst his books. I've read most of his work and I think I prefer “A Room with a View” although “A Passage to India” is more ambitious and impressive in handling such a large subject.

River East, River West by Aube Rey Lescure

I was instantly drawn into this story of Alva, a teenager living in Shanghai in 2007 whose American mother Sloan marries a successful Chinese businessman named Lu Fang. For many years Alva and Sloan have lived hand to mouth. They've been less mother/daughter and more a team trying to survive – a relationship emphasized by how Sloan refers to Alva as “partner”. So this marriage prospect finally affords them some stability, but Alva disapproves of Lu Fang. She assumes Sloan is marrying out of convenience and Alva also resents being tied to Asia. She's lived there her whole life and knows nothing of her biological Chinese father as her mother simply describes him as “an unnamed squirt of sperm”, but she aspires to live in America and reveres Western culture. Alva frequently watches illegal dvd copies of American films and scrutinizes the landscape of US neighbourhoods on digital maps. She increasingly rebels against her parents and her public education in her determination to fully inhabit the Western side of her identity.

But that's just half the story. The narrative alternates between Alva's coming of age tale and an account of Lu Fang's troubled life. His story begins in China in the 1980s as he's trying to establish a family and a business amidst the country's economic boom. Though he's haunted by the difficulty of his early life, the horrors of his country's past and those who continue to propagate Mao's propaganda, he reasons “Maybe amnesia was the only way to go on in the new China.” Lu Fang longs for more than the circumstances he's born into and also partially falls for the lure of a Western lifestyle. However, both Alva and Lu Fang discover that cultural imperialism and racial prejudice run deep. An unlikely connection is formed in their joint alienation and the mystery of Sloan's past is gradually revealed. It's moving how this novel depicts each character's transformative journey and the way these conflicted individuals build a new form of family.

The List of Suspicious Things by Jennie Godfrey

During the late 1970s a serial killer dubbed by the press as the Yorkshire Ripper was at large for years before finally being caught and identified as Peter Sutcliffe in 1981. This created an atmosphere of fear and suspicion in the area, especially amongst women who obviously didn't feel safe and that the killer could be living next door. Godfrey begins her debut novel with the surprising fact that her father knew Sutcliffe and the shock of this discovery is one of her most vivid memories. This adds an immediate emotional charge to the story of inquisitive 12 year-old protagonist Miv who resides in a Yorkshire community when the novel opens in 1979. Her father raises the possibility that they may move south which sends Miv into a panic that she'll have to leave her best friend Sharon. She reasons that if the killer is identified they won't have to move. Inspired by a favourite Enid Blyton adventure series, Miv and Sharon embark on a mission to make a list of suspects and slyly investigate them. This makes them aware that there are many more troublesome issues and unspoken crimes occurring in their community – even in Miv's own home because for some time her mother has been comatose and won't speak. There's a building dramatic tension as more mysteries are presented, but it's also a tender coming of age story that becomes increasingly emotional as it unfolds. Ultimately, there are many more twists and surprises than the discovery of the killer.

Part of the great joy of this book is its immersive atmosphere depicting the late 70s in Northern England as seen through an adolescent perspective. There's the heady smell of a delicious ginger cake named parkin and the pleasure of getting cans of dandelion and burdock from the corner shop. However, there's also an awareness of unemployment caused by the closure of local industries and the imposing presence of newly elected Margaret Thatcher. Though there is certainly a lot to criticise about Thatcher, one of the main focal points at the time as Britain's first female Prime Minister was the fact of her womanhood. It's apt that this novel opens with Miv's highly opinionated aunt saying that power hardens women and putting “a woman in charge of the country just isn't right.” This sets the tone for the kind of sexism which was so pervasive at the time and which cast a shadow over the investigation of the murders because Sutcliffe's initial targets were female prostitutes. The effects of this can be seen in many ways through attitudes and conversations depicted in the novel, but also how people turned a blind eye to domestic violence and pervy men inappropriately touching young girls. The insidious effects of larger concerns such as racism and mental health issues are also meaningful portrayed in the interactions Miv has with many people.

Godfrey creates a clever structure to humanize these matters in the lives of her characters. As Miv adds more and more suspect people to her list the narrative briefly switches to different individual perspectives. It's charming to get these outside points of view on diligent Miv making her not so subtle inquiries. It also depicts the emotional turmoil and fear gripping these people's lives from the inside. Though this device succeeds in presenting multiple perspectives and a deeper understanding of the issues at stake, it sometimes deals too briefly with certain characters. I wish it had lingered longer with some stories to better appreciate their full complexity. But overall it's an effective way of invoking the connections and drama of a community. Some of the most poignant interactions are between the adolescents themselves – especially Sharon's budding romance with Ishtiaq, a motherless boy with Pakistani heritage who is the target of almost daily racist attacks. The precious friendship between Miv and Sharon is also beautifully presented. It becomes strained as their innocent detective project turns increasingly serious. Godfrey is skilled at showing the all-consuming turmoil which can overwhelm young people leading to horrendous violence. There are many engrossing revelations in this novel and the climax is utterly thrilling. It's a big-hearted book filled with life and personality.

Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

I've greatly enjoyed some of Ann Patchett's previous books such as “State of Wonder” and “The Dutch House”. She's won awards and maintains a lovely social media presence promoting books she's enjoyed reading through her Nashville bookstore Pernassus Books. Her latest novel “Tom Lake” has come with critical acclaim and the audiobook has the distinction of being read by Meryl Streep. However, my anticipation for the book was dampened when some readers told me how bland and cozy they found this novel. But I plunged into reading it and was pleasantly surprised to find myself falling for it. It's a story of quiet reflection, the pleasures of family life and how love develops different meanings as we mature.

I think part of the reason why this novel resonated so much with me is timing; it's the right book for me to read now. The main character and narrator is Lara who lives with her husband Joe on a Michigan cherry farm that's been in his family for generations. As the recent pandemic spreads across America their three daughters who are all in their 20s come to shelter with them and assist in the big job of bringing in the cherry harvest. While living together in isolation the daughters demand to know Lara's story about dating an actor named Peter Duke when she was younger. He wasn't famous at the time but he went on to become a big celebrity.

While in this state of lockdown limbo, Lara recounts her experiences in the 1980s becoming a promising young actress herself as well as her heated romance with Duke. They meet while performing in a Summer stock production of 'Our Town' at a location called Tom Lake. The question of why she didn't continue to pursue acting or her relationship with this rising star isn't simple wistful thinking about the road not taken. It's a confrontation with the past where revisiting it from a more mature point of view leads to realisations about what was really at stake and Lara's difficult process of growing into herself. Relating the story to her daughters and husband also requires selecting what to tell and what to leave out – not so much to conceal the truth but to preserve a tender part of her life.

I've seen criticism of this novel from readers bored by a lack of conflict and dramatic plot which is understandable and fair because it's not a showy book. There are certainly twists and revelations and part of the pleasure of this is when Lara realises the truth about something she didn't see at the time. Sometimes we can think back on the past or receive new information and suddenly there's clarity where there was once complete confusion. However, I also think there's a lot on the line for Lara even though she's genuinely content. She dearly loves her family, dog and life on the farm. So it's easy to think of this novel as just cozy fiction. But raking over the past forces her to consider how her story has been shaped by forces beyond her control as well as crucial decisions she's made. There's the very real risk of getting lost in longing.

Part of the pleasure I found in this novel is that it's so much about acting. I used to love acting and there's a lot of great scenes portraying the chaos and camaraderie of putting on a production. Also Patchett shows how the process of performing a character isn't just the portrayal of a role. It reveals different aspects of a person's personality. It can be like a stepping stone towards living more authentically and it's a process of becoming. Yes, it's a profession but it's also a more flamboyant example of how we all adopt personas to meet challenges and new developments in life. By inhabiting the role of Emily Webb in 'Our Town' that character becomes like a companion to Lara and someone she can play off from in the process of discovering what she truly wants. This novel is also a homage to 'Our Town' and if you know the play there will undoubtably be a lot of pleasure in the way Patchett incorporates it into the story. Personally, I've never read it or seen a production of Wilder's play though I'm aware of its plot and its place as a canonical piece of American theatre. So I don't think it's necessary to know the play to appreciate this book.

The main thing I loved about this novel is how it shows the way we shape the stories of our lives. And it doesn't resort to scandals and high drama to do that. In a way it feels more daring to portray contentment and the good fortune of achieving what one really desires rather than presenting anguish in one's lot in life. Ann Patchett is a very famous author and this book is very successful so it doesn't need defending from me. I can understand why it won't entertain or resonate with every reader, but I found it a very moving experience.