My book club is reading James by Percival Everett. I have already read it (as part of my Booker short list reading), so I thought I would listen to Huckleberry Finn and see how they were connected.
Here is the Wikipedia summary
Commentators readily distinguish three parts in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. In the first, the author believes he is writing a children’s entertainment, a sequel to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Then, at the beginning of Chapter XVI, he experiences difficulties and stops writing. It is at this point that his hero questions the notions of good and evil that he has been taught. It will take Twain seven years before he regains his creative momentum. Finally, in a third part— a highly controversial “burlesque about-face —the character of Tom Sawyer reappears, selfish, cruel, and unconscious. Huck falls under his influence again, and the author returns to the “Tom Sawyer” spirit of the beginning.
This is not my favourite book – I know it is an American classic, but it wore me down. The constant use of the N word, and the bit at the end when they play at rescuing Jim was excruciatingly awful. The sections where it was Huck and Jim having adventures were enjoyable and interesting.
I know it is meant to be a satire and we see characters that are more like caricatures, and Huck grapples with the morality, first of helping a slave escape and then secondly of slavery itself. But I feel it has not aged well, and James does a much better job of show casing the awfulness of slavery and the selfishness (and ignorance) of the people white people.
This was my next random selection from my TBR (number 66). I read The Gathering (I don’t seem to have blogged about it). I wasn’t 100% sure about this one, but it was nominated for the Women’s Fiction prize, which I like, so I thought I would give it a go (I think it was a Kobo deal).
Here’s the blurb …
An incandescent novel about the inheritance of trauma, wonder, and love across three generations of women.
Nell McDaragh never knew her grandfather, the famed Irish poet Phil McDaragh. But his love poems seem to speak directly to her. Restless, full of verve and wit, twenty-two-year-old Nell leaves her mother Carmel’s home to find her voice as a writer and live a life of her choosing. Carmel, too, knows the magic of her Daddo’s poetry—and the broken promises within its verses. When Phil abandons the family, Carmel struggles to reconcile “the poet” with the man whose desertion scars Carmel, her sister, and their cancer-ridden mother.
The Wren, the Wren brings to life three generations of women who contend with inheritances—of abandonment and of sustaining love that is “more than a strand of DNA, but a rope thrown from the past, a fat twisted rope, full of blood.” In sharp prose studded with crystalline poetry, Anne Enright masterfully braids a family story of longing, betrayal, and hope.
We have multiple view points (even a tiny bit of Phil) and different time periods. We watch the women (Nell and Carmel) navigate life, love and trauma. The characters are fully formed and leap of the page – I found Nell to be quite annoying. There is also snippets of ‘Phil’s’ poetry
Part of the Acknowledgements
There is domestic violence and poor decisions, but ultimately feels positive.
I have put all of my unread books into a spreadsheet (all 240!) and I am using a random number generator to select a book to read. If I don’t want to read it, then I have to move it on.
Shy Creatures was selected first. I enjoyed Small Pleasures, and so happily bought a large paperback version of this one.
Here’s the blurb …
In all failed relationships there is a point that passes unnoticed at the time, which can later be identified as the beginning of the decline. For Helen it was the weekend that the Hidden Man came to Westbury Park.
Croydon, 1964. Helen Hansford is in her thirties and an art therapist in a psychiatric hospital where she has been having a long love affair with a charismatic, married doctor. One spring afternoon they receive a call about a disturbance from a derelict house not far from Helen’s home. A mute, thirty-seven-year-old man called William Tapping, with a beard down to his waist, has been discovered along with his elderly aunt. It is clear he has been shut up in the house for decades, but when it emerges that William is a talented artist, Helen is determined to discover his story.
Shy Creatures is a life-affirming novel about all the different ways we can be confined, how ordinary lives are built of delicate layers of experience, the joy of freedom and the transformative power of kindness.
This was an interesting book, I enjoyed the insight into mental hospitals in the 1960s – it seemed a nice place to stay and the staff were kind (no Nurse Ratched!).
There was casual misogyny (as you would expect) and a bit of judgement around mental illness.
‘You mean a mental asylum?’ her mother had said when Helen called to tell her about her new appointment at Westbury Park. ‘Oh Helen.’
The characters are complex – Gil kind thoughtful and caring to his patients thinks nothing of cheating on his wife. William’s aunts, who obviously had their own issues, were trying to keep him safe, but denied him a normal life.
I think it is about our duty to fellow humans, to be kind and not to judge too quickly.
Here is one of my favourite quotes:
It surprised him how much time was taken up with the business of living; half the morning gone already and he hadn’t picked up a book or pencil. He experienced a belated appreciation for the many invisible offices performed without thanks by Aunt Elsie and Aunt Louisa. The jobs women did weren’t difficult, but they certainly ate up the hours.
How is Anne Tyler still writing? And still writing well? I have been a fan for quite some time.
Here’s the blurb …
Gail Baines is having a bad day. To start with, she loses her job – or quits, depending who you ask. And then her ex-husband Max turns up at her door expecting to stay for their daughter’s wedding. He hasn’t even brought a suit. Instead, he brings with him memories, a calm maturity, a shared sense of humour – and a cat looking for a new home.
Over the course of the three busy days of the wedding, the past is stirred up for Gail, even as the future – in the shape of the happy couple Debbie and Kenneth – is already underway. But ‘happy’ takes many forms, and sometimes the younger generation has much to teach the older about secrets, acceptance and taking the rough with the smooth.
Told with deep sensitivity and a tart sense of humour, full of the joys and heartbreaks of love and marriage and family life, Three Days in June is a feast of a novel to savour in a single sitting.
People don’t tap their watches anymore; have you noticed?
This is the opening sentence and soon after we hear how Marilee has to have her heart re-started to get it beating correctly. There is definitely a theme of re-starts and second chances.
The story is told from Gail’s point of view, and unusually, I didn’t find her to be sympathetic, she is lacking empathy.
I wondered why it was that I had so many irritating people in my life.
Possibly it’s you Gail.
It’s beautifully written, with all of those ordinary things made extraordinary. Will Gail finally be able to express her feelings to Debbie and Max?
A rich, magical new book on belonging and identity, love and trauma, nature and renewal, from the Booker shortlisted author of 10 Minutes 38 Seconds in This Strange World.
Two teenagers, a Greek Cypriot and a Turkish Cypriot, meet at a taverna on the island they both call home. In the taverna, hidden beneath garlands of garlic, chili peppers and creeping honeysuckle, Kostas and Defne grow in their forbidden love for each other. A fig tree stretches through a cavity in the roof, and this tree bears witness to their hushed, happy meetings and eventually, to their silent, surreptitious departures. The tree is there when war breaks out, when the capital is reduced to ashes and rubble, and when the teenagers vanish. Decades later, Kostas returns. He is a botanist looking for native species, but really, he’s searching for lost love.
Years later a Ficus carica grows in the back garden of a house in London where Ada Kazantzakis lives. This tree is her only connection to an island she has never visited — her only connection to her family’s troubled history and her complex identity as she seeks to untangle years of secrets to find her place in the world.
A moving, beautifully written and delicately constructed story of love, division, transcendence, history and eco-consciousness, The Island of Missing Trees is Elif Shafak’s best work yet.
First, I knew nothing about Cyprus and the Greek and Turkish struggle over it. The writing is beautiful – how does someone write so well in a second language? I particularly enjoyed the chapters from the point of view of the fig. The story moves around in time, so what you think you know about the characters turns out to be a false assumption. We get to knows the characters slowly, like what would happen if you meet them in person. Ada’s mother has died, then we understand her mother was unwell, then that she drinks too much, and finally that her death might have been suicide.
Some of my favourite quotes
A map is a two-dimensional representation with arbitrary symbols and incised lines that decide who is to be our enemy and who is to be our friend, who deserves our love and who deserves our hatred and who, our sheer indifference.
Her voice was like a flying carpet that lifted her up and carried her against her will.
Because that is what migrations and relocations do to us: when you leave your home for unknown shores, you don’t simply carry on as before; a part of you dies inside so another part can start all over again.
If families resemble trees, as they say, arborescent structures with entangled roots and individual branches jutting out at awkward angles, family traumas are like thick, translucent resin dripping from a cut in the bark. They trickle down generations.
You don’t fall in love in the midst of a civil war, when you are hemmed in by carnage and by hatred on all sides. You run away as fast as your legs can carry your fears, seeking basic survival and nothing else. With borrowed wings you take to the sky and soar away into the distance. And if you cannot leave, then you search for shelter, find a safe place where you can withdraw into yourself because now that everything has failed, all diplomatic negotiations and political consultations, you know it can only be an eye for an eye, hurt for hurt, and it is not safe anywhere outside your own tribe.
Because in real life, unlike in history books, stories come to us not in their entirety but in bits and pieces, broken segments and partial echoes, a full sentence here, a fragment there, a clue hidden in between,
It’s a beautiful, engrossing story full of hope and love, but also sadness and acknowledgement of the terrible things people do to one another.
I have been a Katie Fforde fan for a long time – some are better than others.
Here’s the blurb …
It’s 1968 and it’s cold when Felicity arrives in London to stay with her mother, improve her English, do a secretarial course – and meet a suitable man.
She is already missing her home in Provence and her father and his new wife and their extended family. But it’s only for a year she tells herself – and then she can go back to France and do what she really wants and become a painter.
And then she bumps into Oliver who is quite the most interesting young man she has ever met. He lives on a barge for one thing and has a selection of jobs including looking for hidden treasures along the shores of the river Thames.
In a word he’s a mudlarker – and before long Felicity is mudlarking too. She is also pursuing her dreams and painting scenery for Oliver’s actor friends.
But is Oliver a Suitable Man of whom her mother will approve? Felicity knows she will not …
Love, tangled relationships, and a real life adventure lie at the heart of Katie’s Fforde’s heart-warming new novel.
This is not one of my favourites. I liked the two heroines, but I found the situations contrived, particularly the bit about Violet having to help Henry so that he could get a position at Oxford. And Felicity and Oliver’s falling out over the mudlarking incident seemed unrealistic.
Having said that, its cosy, warm and a bit retro, all things I like.
Another Chief Inspector Gamache book! I love these novels.
Here’s the blurb …
It is Winter Carnival in Quebec City, bitterly cold and surpassingly beautiful. Chief Inspector Armand Gamache has come not to join the revels but to recover from an investigation gone hauntingly wrong. But violent death is inescapable, even in the apparent sanctuary of the Literary and Historical Society – where an obsessive historian’s quest for the remains of the founder of Quebec, Samuel de Champlain, ends in murder. Could a secret buried with Champlain for nearly 400 years be so dreadful that someone would kill to protect it?
Although he is supposed to be on leave, Gamache cannot walk away from a crime that threatens to ignite long-smoldering tensions between the English and the French. Meanwhile, he is receiving disquieting letters from the village of Three Pines, where beloved Bistro owner Olivier was recently convicted of murder. “It doesn’t make sense,” Olivier’s partner writes every day. “He didn’t do it, you know.” As past and present collide in this astonishing novel, Gamache must relive the terrible event of his own past before he can bury his dead.
For this one Gamache and Beauvois, both recovering from terrible injuries, separate and solve different murders. Beauvois in Three Pines looking into the Hermit’s murder (A Brutal Telling), and Gamache gets swept up into an investigation in Quebec City. Once again, the descriptions are magnificent – I want to go to Quebec City now.
The structure of this one was interesting as well. We know something terrible has happened, Gamache and Beauvois are both on leave, but the story is unfolded gradually told from their different perspectives.
Another Chief Inspector Gamache novel – and I have started the next one! I really enjoy listening to these novels.
Here’s the blurb …
Chaos is coming, old son.
With those words the peace of Three Pines is shattered. As families prepare to head back to the city and children say goodbye to summer, a stranger is found murdered in the village bistro and antiques store. Once again, Chief Inspector Gamache and his team are called in to strip back layers of lies, exposing both treasures and rancid secrets buried in the wilderness.
No one admits to knowing the murdered man, but as secrets are revealed, chaos begins to close in on the beloved bistro owner, Olivier. How did he make such a spectacular success of his business? What past did he leave behind and why has he buried himself in this tiny village? And why does every lead in the investigation find its way back to him?
As Olivier grows more frantic, a trail of clues and treasures— from first editions of Charlotte’s Web and Jane Eyre to a spider web with the word “WOE” woven in it—lead the Chief Inspector deep into the woods and across the continent in search of the truth, and finally back to Three Pines as the little village braces for the truth and the final, brutal telling.
Once again, it’s a complicated murder with lots of twists and turns and suspects. But the best thing about these novels is the characters and the insight into their thoughts and motives.
The setting is always fabulous, and the descriptions of the food is mouth-watering.
I also enjoy the parts of the plot that involve the ‘extra’ characters. This one focused a bit on Clara and her solo show (not to mention Peter’s jealousy of her talent and now her opportunities).
This is the first novel I have read by Kate Grenville. I know of her, of course, she is a famous Australian author (which I think has put me off reading her, but the cover convinced me).
Here’s the blurb …
Harley Savage is a plain woman, a part-time museum curator and quilting expert with three failed marriages and a heart condition. Douglas Cheeseman is a shy, gawky engineer with jug-handle ears, one marriage gone sour, and a crippling lack of physical courage. They meet in the little Australian town of Karakarook, where Harley has arrived to help the town build a heritage museum and Douglas to demolish the quaint old Bent Bridge. From the beginning they are on a collision course until the unexpected sets them both free.
Elegantly and compassionately told, The Idea of Perfection is reminiscent of the work of Carol Shields and Annie Proulx and reveals Kate Grenville as “a writer of extraordinary talent” (The New York Times Book Review).
This was great, Harley and Douglas are fabulous characters – very believable. And I particularly liked Felicity Porcelline (and her fixation on winkles), and Freddy who sees himself as the lothario of Karakarook. This is a character driven novel (the best sort) and all of the characters have a lot of baggage. So it’s about happiness, trust and community.
The writing is beautiful and I agree with the above blurb – it is reminiscent of Carol Shields, and I would add Anne Tyler, however, the setting is very small town Australia (beautifully described – I could feel the heat, see the main street, and the local hotel).
This was published in 1999, but it is still very readable.
This is the selection for my four times a year book club. I really wanted There are Rivers in the Sky, but someone else had thought it too slow.
As you can see, I put in lots of post it notes (mostly just quotes I liked – I enjoyed the way the author put words together).
Here’s the blurb …
The Barnes family is in trouble. Dickie’s once-lucrative car business is going under?but rather than face the music, he’s spending his days in the woods, building an apocalypse-proof bunker with a renegade handyman. His wife Imelda is selling off her jewelry on eBay, while their teenage daughter Cass, formerly top of her class, seems determined to binge-drink her way through her final exams. And twelve-year-old PJ is putting the final touches to his grand plan to run away from home.
Where did it all go wrong? A patch of ice on the tarmac, a casual favor to a charming stranger, a bee caught beneath a bridal veil?can a single moment of bad luck change the direction of a life? And if the story has already been written?is there still time to find a happy ending?
This was shortlisted for the Booker prize in 2023 and won the Nero Book Award for Fiction in 2023.
It had a very interesting structure. Each of the family members (Cass, PJ, Imelda and Dickie) have a section, and these sections have different punctuation styles. For example, Imelda has no punctuation, just capitals which I took to be the start of a new sentence. And then, in what I am calling the second section, they each get another section, but now it’s in second person (still the same punctuation style).
This is the story of a family imploding – Cass, the daughter, is drinking too much and not studying for her A levels, PJ’s section is heart-breaking – he is wearing too small shoes because he knows they have no money, and who is he talking to on the internet?, Imelda married Dickie while in the throws of grief for his brother, and Dickie is hiding his true desires even from himself.
In the final section they all end up in the woods (it reminded me of the musical Into the Woods where everyone has to go into the woods
[ALL] Into the woods without delay But careful not to lose the way Into the woods, who knows what may Be lurking on the journey? Into the woods to get the thing That makes it worth the journeying
[STEPMOTHER & STEPSISTERS] Into the woods to see the King [JACK] To sell the cow
[BAKER] To make the potion [ALL] To see To sell To get To bring To make To lift To go to the Festival! Into the woods! (To see, to sell, to get, to bring) Into the woods! (To make, to lift, to go to the Festival) Into the woods, into the woods (To see, to sell, to get, to bring) Into the woods, into the woods (To make, to lift, to go to the Festival) Into the woods Then out of the woods (To see, to sell, to get, to bring) (To make, to lift, to go to the Festival) Into the woods Then out of the woods And home before dark!
Although will they all be home before dark?
The writing is beautiful, here are some of my favourite quotes
The Crisis had transformed Main Street into a mouthful of cavities.
When he smiled his handsomeness exploded into a million pieces of miraculous light. It was like being showered in radiant shrapnel.
As if Frank’s speed and his kicks and his ideal physique were just another part of him Like the enormous coat and the enormous car and the enormous house with its breakfast room and its sessile oak forest and its piano that no one played
[…] it was like drinking lightening, very slowly, from a wine glass.
Alas, rights are – as indeed people say of children themselves – only ever on loan to us. Where they become sufficiently inconvenient to the powerful, those rights can be revoked in an instant.
That’s quite appropriate for our times.
Yet sleepwalking was possible now as it had never seemed before. The world was made with this kind of life in mind, he came to realise. The world was a machine designed to sustain and perpetuate this kind of life – adult life, normal life.
It took me a long time to finish this novel, and while I liked it, it’s not going to be one of this year’s favourites – I still think we should have read There are Rivers in the Sky.
