One likes to read

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The Uncommon Reader
by Alan Bennett

This is a brilliantly funny, astute, thought-provoking book that is sadly small enough to read in one short sitting. I immediately added a whole bunch of Bennett books to my wishlist (any advice on which to read next appreciated).

The “uncommon reader” of the title is the Queen, who has never had much time for reading, but on bumping into a travelling library in the grounds of Buckingham Palace takes out a book, initially to be polite. Politeness turns to genuine interest, tempered by a keen awareness that she doesn’t know much about books besides having met most of their authors. So she promotes kitchen hand Norman, the library van’s only regular customer, to be her amanuensis and literary adviser. As her passion for reading grows, she becomes distracted from, and then bored by, her royal duties, and her staff conspire to cure her of this bad habit.

The first half of this book is acutely observed, laugh-out-loud funny, with the character of the Queen being charming, intelligent and completely believable. There is absolutely no doubt that this is Queen Elizabeth II and not some nameless dateless monarch. From the corgis to the extended family to the list of prime ministers she has worked with, this is undoubtedly our very own Queen. And Bennett has made her initially very likeable:

“‘Do you know,’ she said one evening as they were reading in her study, ‘do you know the area in which one would truly excel?’
‘No, ma’am?’
‘The pub quiz. One has been everywhere and though one might have difficulty with pop music and some sport, when it comes to the capital of Zimbabwe, say, or the principal exports of New South Wales, I have all that at my fingertips.’
‘And I could do the pop,’ said Norman.
‘Yes,’ said the Queen. ‘We would make a good team. Ah well. The road not travelled.'”

In the second half of the book, the tone shifts a little. The emphasis is a little less overtly comedic and more seriously looks at how reading can change a person, both in perhaps obvious ways such as informing and widening horizons, and in less obvious ways – increased observation of details, reduced tolerance for the status quo, an appearance of being constantly distracted – that in some people might not be a problem, in fact might be welcomed, but in the Queen are seen as troublesome and even dangerous.

I was a little sad about the reduced comedy but still greatly entertained and impressed by how smartly Bennett envisaged this scenario and how various people might react. The denouement is fantastic, though I’ll admit it did change my mind about making this book the topic of any conversation I may ever get to have with the actual real-life Queen.

First published in 2006 in the London Review of Books.
Published as a book by Faber in 2007.

What you do to survive

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In the Country of Men
by Hisham Matar

I got this book as part of an event at the Oxford Literary Festival in 2006. Penguin Books had won a bidding war over it and was therefore keen to promote this talented debut author. I think perhaps the big promotional push put me off. Certainly, it wasn’t until I started to hear about Matar’s second novel, published earlier this year, that I became interested enough to pick it up.

Of course, it’s now timely because Matar is Libyan and was writing here about the early days of Qaddafi’s rule…in fictional form. Young man Suleiman looks back on the summer of 1979, when he was nine years old and became aware that his father’s disappearances were not always business trips, and his mother’s sadness was more complicated than feeling lonely when her husband was away.

Child Suleiman is a bit of a dreamer. In his head he is the romantic hero of the Arabian Nights and will grow up to be a jetsetting art dealer. In reality he finds that it is far too easy to do what he is told and then regret it later.

This is a beautiful, well told story. There were times when I was surprised by Suleiman’s actions or his reaction to other people, and I had to remind myself that this was a nine year old boy, with a simplified view of the world that is straining under the weight of all that is happening around him. He’s confused and angry and trying desperately to be the good boy he was raised to be, which isn’t easy when “good” is a relative term.

The narrative device of older Suleiman looking back allows Matar to inject a little history and hindsight into the story but this never gets heavy-handed. For a book about awful, weighty subjects (and it’s really not just in the background), this is an accessible, gripping read.

First published 2006 by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Books. Shortlisted for the Man Booker prize in 2006.

UPDATE: See also the Guardian Books podcast with Hisham Matar (mostly talking about his new book, Anatomy of a Disappearance, but also touching on this one) and the World Book Club episode featuring Matar discussing this book (click on the link and scroll to September 2011).

Not my cup of tea

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The Fifth Mountain
by Paulo Coelho
translated from Portuguese by Clifford E Landers

Usually disliking a book isn’t a barrier to having plenty to say about it; in fact the opposite is often true. But even though this was a book club choice and I’ve therefore spent an evening down the pub discussing it, I still don’t feel I have very much to say.

I must admit I wasn’t enthusiastic when this book was suggested. Like many avid readers, I had my Coelho phase and quickly discovered that his books can be a bit samey and preachy and that’s not really my thing. (Though I will say that I enjoyed Veronkia Decides to Die and Eleven Minutes.) But a retelling of the story of Elijah from an author who gets oh-so-spiritual and life-lesson-y didn’t get me excited.

And sadly it turns out I know myself well. I have nothing against using religion as the backdrop or even the foreground of a novel, in fact it worked very well for our previous book club read, The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, but it still needs to be well written and have a storyline and engaging characters and all the rest. I think you can guess where this is going.

I didn’t know the story of Elijah well but I’m pretty sure I could tell you which bits of this book were biblical and which were added by Coelho. Elijah is a bit of a wishy washy hero who should have been so much more. At a surprisingly young age he abandons his career as a carpenter because he is called by God to be a prophet. But prophets are being slaughtered in his homeland of Israel so he flees to neighbouring Lebanon, where they don’t believe in his God and only let him live because he could be a useful bargaining tool. And there’s a little bit of a love story. And a foreign army is threatening to attack Elijah’s adopted city.

So there’s plenty going on. And yet I was frequently bored by this book. It’s not long or complex, the writing is light and simple, there aren’t too many characters, so why was it a bit of a slog? First of all, almost nothing is described – people, places, anything, nothing is visualised for you. In fact few of the characters, including main ones, even have names. Second, the majority of the narrative is Elijah whining and philosophising and whining some more. He doesn’t do anything unless God tells him to, resulting in one of the wimpiest, dullest characters I’ve ever come across. And third (though certainly not finally) Coelho injects it all (somehow) with an isn’t-this-meaningful self-help vibe.

One thing that I did enjoy and that could have been made more of, was the story of the spread of the alphabet. I have no idea how historically accurate the coverage of this was, but I was interested in how it was resisted and the reasons for that. Sadly Coelho did not dwell on this as much as I’d have liked. Maybe I’ll search out a better written book on the subject.

First published by Harper Collins 1998.

Local bookshops: Bloom & Curll

Bloom & Curll

Bloom & Curll is so close to being the perfect bookshop for me that I feel I should apologise for not being a regular customer. It has a quirky, arty feel and look but is still most definitely all about the books.

They are piled everywhere, almost higgledy piggledy yet meticulously organised. Old and new sit side by side, with some classic Penguin editions serving as both booklover lures and eyecatching art. Section labels epitomise the style of the shop – they are either handmade paper cutouts in classily chosen colour and pattern combinations, or bright childlike magnetic letters. The book selection leans towards the literary end of fiction, with some specialised areas for philosophical, theological and sociological works. The shop is small enough not to overwhelm me with choice, while still stocking more books that I want than I can afford.

I love the location of Bloom & Curll, nestled among the indie stylings of Colston Street, Christmas Steps and nearby Upper Maudlin Street, but I worry that that also works against it – on my every visit I have been the only customer. However, the shop window promises chess classes and apparently this Thursday they’re hosting a book launch, which looks worth checking out. Hopefully such events will keep attracting new customers through their doors.

Bloom & Curll, 74 Colston Street, Bristol

When is a ghost story not a ghost story?

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The Little Stranger
by Sarah Waters

Once again I’m sad to say that I’m a little disappointed by an author I had invariably liked. Not that this is by any means a bad book, it just wasn’t great.

What it is is a long book, and it takes a few hundred pages for the story to get going. The narrator is solid, sensible bachelor Dr Faraday and he tells the story the way you imagine he might tell any anecdote: dully, with too much dry detail and no distinction between what’s important and what isn’t. This actually turns out to be key, but that doesn’t take away the dullness of the style.

It’s certainly cleverly written, with hints and clues and red herrings aplenty. But for what purports to be a chilling ghost story, I was not frightened or spooked once.

The story is set shortly after the Second World War. Dr Faraday has worked hard to rise from humble beginnings to being a village doctor. He has always been fascinated by Hundreds Hall, the mansion at the centre of the local landed estate, and when he is called to a patient there he is saddened to see that the place is in serious decline, largely due to the sagging finances of the once-great Ayres family. The doctor gradually befriends the three remaining members of the family and records the increasingly strange goings-on at the hall. He is torn between finding a logical physical explanation, a medical psychological explanation or an entirely supernatural explanation for it all.

Which might have been the basis for something fascinating indeed. And to her credit, Waters did surprise me with some of the directions the story goes in. But for me nothing can make up for dull narration and, while a few quiet slips from the narrator near the end made me look at the story rather differently, with more respect, that couldn’t undo the experience of slogging through hundreds of pages semi-bored.

First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Virago Press. Shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2009.

Fiction noir?

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Farewell My Lovely
by Raymond Chandler

This is the second book in the Philip Marlowe series, which began with The Big Sleep. I’ve not read that title but having seen the film a few times I figured some of the plot twists and turns might be spoiled for me, so Farewell My Lovely would be a better test of whether I am likely to enjoy the books. I really, really did. Purple prose is amazing.

In case you don’t know, Philip Marlowe is a private detective in Los Angeles. The tale is narrated by Marlowe in that overblown, sarcastic, slang-laden voice now famous for narrating film noir, but originated by Chandler in this series. Unlike other detective stories I have read, it would be hard to guess where the story is going or solve the crime before Marlowe because he doesn’t share his insights until the last moment. You just have to go along for the ride, watch and enjoy the methods and accidents that Marlowe uses.

Marlowe has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, so he’s learned to make the most of it. When bankrobber Moose Malloy is released after eight years in jail, Marlowe witnesses him commit murder in his search for former girlfriend Velma. Later that same day, Marlowe receives a mysterious commission to act as a man’s bodyguard for the evening, an evening that does not end well. Clues slowly emerge from both cases and fascinating later-than-life characters abound:

“He was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a big man, but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a beer truck…He was worth looking at…From his outer breast pocket cascaded a show handkerchief of the same brilliant yellow as his tie. There were a couple of coloured feathers tucked into the band of his hat, but he didn’t really need them. Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.”

Marlowe is flawed but loveable. He is completely aware of his limitations and tends toward pessimism and distrust, yet he carries right on getting involved, even if there isn’t a pay cheque promised. He’s a sucker for a pretty lady and has a love-hate relationship with the police.

I have heard and read many takes on Chandler’s style, but nothing comes close to the real thing. It is brilliantly melodramatic, darkly funny and strangely beautiful. The language rolls around on your tongue:

“There was just enough fog to make everything unreal. The wet air was as cold as the ashes of love.”

I suspect if I read too much of this at once the effect would be spoiled, so I’ll wait a while before reading the next title in the series, but I’ll greatly look forward to it in the meantime.

First published 1940.

N.B. One of the reasons I finally picked this book out of the TBR was that a new film has come out loosely based on it. The Big Bang sounds terrible but also possibly enjoyable? Only one way to find out.

Literary Giveaway Blog Hop: the winners!

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Give Away Blog Hop!

And the winners are…drumroll please!

Thanks to random.org, Col of Col Reads won Our Spoons Came From Woolworths and Tanya won Naked Lunch. Congratulations! I have e-mailed you both, please badger me if you don’t receive the e-mail!

Thank you to everyone who entered, I was surprised by how much of a response this got. I’m sorry I can’t give you all a little prize. However, I do plan to do another giveaway soon, so keep an eye out for it!

If anyone is completely confused and doesn’t know what all this is about, this was a blog hop giveaway with a literary flavour run by Judith of Leeswammes. Thank you so much Judith. Entries are now closed.