Showing posts with label Pippa Goodhart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pippa Goodhart. Show all posts

Monday, 30 September 2024

Guest review by Pippa Goodhart: FIERCE BAD RABBITS by Clare Pollard

  


"Just about anyone will meet old book friends in this book, and find things out about those old friends they never knew before. A treat!"

Pippa Goodhart has written over a hundred and fifty books for children. Best known is her picture book You Choose, illustrated by Nick Sharratt. Her most recent children’s novel, The Great Sea Dragon Discovery, set in her home village of Grantchester, won the Young Quills Award for best historical children’s novel for 10-13 year olds. More on Pippa's website. 

This book is a fascinating, heart-stretching, humanity-sharing, amusing read for anybody interested in children or books. Or, come to think of it, anybody who has ever been a child. It’s about picture books, but, more than that, it’s about story and about what makes us who we are.

Clare Pollard is a poet who became a mother. Sharing books with her two young children and remembering her own childhood experiences of story, she adds academic study and a perceptive mind to considering the books many of us know and love. She writes so lucidly, with humour, moving fast through her rich material, carrying the reader onwards.

We get something of a cultural history of the twentieth and early twenty-first century, reflected in what we present to children. It’s gob-smacking to learn that both Franco and Hitler were scared enough of the potential influence of The Story of Ferdinand that they banned and burned it. What was the scary power of that little story for children written by Munro Leaf and illustrated by Robert Lawson? Simply that Ferdinand, the bull, is a character who would rather sit and sniff the flowers than fight. The book was published in 1936. In the US it became a best-seller, knocking Gone With The Wind off the top of the sales chart.

We learn of Eric Carle digging trenches for Nazis aged only fifteen, really understanding what extreme hunger is like, before idly playing with the hole punch on his desk and coming up with his classic Hungry Caterpillar. So many classic children’s picture books have links to the Second World War. Eric Hill, ex-RAF, realised that he’d given Spot the dog aircraft markings with the placement of spots on his coat! There are many more stories behind the stories to discover when you read this book.

I loved getting something of the personalities and lives of children’s book creators. The enterprise of Beatrix Potter, not just self-publishing when publishers turned down her Peter Rabbit story, but also creating and selling merchandise based on her artwork. We hear that Alison Uttley, creator of saintly Little Grey Rabbit, was herself of a bitchy tendency, calling Little Grey Rabbit’s illustrator, Margaret Tempest, ‘a humourless bore’, and neighbour Enid Blyton, ‘a vulgar, curled woman'. In contrast, we have charming Jan Pienkowski regularly meeting-up with Helen Nicoll, the author of his Meg and Mog books, at Membury Service Station, always taking with him a small bunch of flowers for the table they sat at to discuss the next book!

But there are sadder things. It’s so poignant to learn that the Babar stories which open with Babar weeping over his dead mother, was written and illustrated by young father, Jean de Brunhoff, when he knew himself to have TB, and that his own children would soon face the death of a beloved parent. Other examples of stories behind stories had me in actual tears.

And there’s just the quirky interest to be found. Did you know that Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) had a stammer, so referred to himself as ‘the dodo’ as in Do-Do-Dodgson? Hence the dodo in Alice in Wonderland? Do you know what name Winnie the Pooh really had, if only AA Milne had listened more carefully to his son? Did you know that John Ruskin urged Kate Greenaway to undress the ‘girlies’ in her pictures? Urgh! I leave you to read and discover these things out for yourselves.

We also touch on picture book history through the development of different printing techniques, the start of children’s sections in libraries, the introduction of novelty elements of flaps and shaped pages, and more.

As Clare Pollard says, picture book stories are perhaps an area of culture shared more generally than almost any other. And they are important. Picture books, she says, ‘are teaching our children how they should be’. We know that the ones which strike a chord with children are loved and remembered for a lifetime.

I re-read this book over a couple of days, relishing reminders of favourite books and favourite book creators, some of whom I’ve been lucky enough to meet in my Heffers Children’s Bookshop days in the early ‘80s up to now being a picture book writer myself. Just about anyone will meet old book friends in this book, and find things out about those old friends they never knew before. A treat!

Fierce Bad Rabbits is published by Penguin.

Monday, 26 December 2022

Virtual Costa Book Awards Part 2: Celia Rees and guests




The second part of our Virtual Award nominations by guests past, present and future. Part  3 next week!

HELENA PIELICHATY nominates Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus for the Virtual Costa First Novel Prize:

It was Penny Dolan’s enthusiastic review on this blog that alerted me to this sublime novel, which I have no hesitation in nominating as my book of the year, not only in the debut category but as overall winner, too. Lessons in Chemistry captivated me from start to finish. In Elizabeth Zott, the book’s main character, Garmus has created a heroine, not only for the 1960s, when the book is set, but for today. Zott is every bright woman who has been told to ‘know her place’, who has had her ideas ignored or stolen by male colleagues, and has had to forge on through adversity. Garmus takes the reader on a roller-coaster ride of emotions with verve, wit and warmth. It is everything fiction should be and I applaud her for it. Read it. Read it now.

PHILIP WOMACK nominates The Young Accomplice by Benjamin Wood for the Virtual Costa Novel Prize:

Benjamin Wood's latest novel, The Young Accomplice, is a mature, reflective and immersive piece of work. Set on a farm in Surrey run by an architect with utopian ideals, the book details how the arrival of two young offenders disrupt the status quo. Exquisitely written, it marks Wood out as one of our best young writers.

CINDY JEFFERIES nominates Treacle Walker by Alan Garner for the Virtual Costa Novel Prize:

Living where I do, how could I not select Treacle Walker as the best novel in 2022? The rag and bone man no longer plies his trade here, but the scrap metal man does, his call echoing around the hilly streets as he passes. And this Christmas month a local college offered 'meditation, ritual and an appreciation of Garner's books, to find the crossing place that brings us home.'

Treacle Walker is both difficult and simple, profound and teasing. It has comics and donkey stones, magic and misunderstanding. Is it the only novel ever shortlisted for the Booker prize to be also suitable for children? (excepting the odd word certain adults might not approve of) Will my seven year old granddaughter understand it? Do I? We will travel its pages together, helping each other along the way.

I didn't go to the college's session, but the end of Treacle Walker feels very much like coming home. You don't need a scrap metal merchant's cry echoing in your ears to enjoy this book; you just need to feel the past, the present and the future in your heart.

LINDA SARGENT nominates Light Rains Sometimes Fall: A British Year Through Japan’s 72 Seasons by Lev Parikian for the Virtual Costa Biography Award (which may be stretching the category somewhat, but these are our awards and we'll distribute them as we wish!)

As a friend once wisely observed, “sometimes we forget what we’re good at”, a kind of disconnection perhaps. It could be said that in 2020 the world was given a chance to reconnect with the minutiae of our natural world. And this beautifully poetic and humorously written book is one reminder of how we might pick up those threads. Here the author follows the ancient Japanese model of the seasons, seventy-two in all. Imitating the Japanese approach with chapter headings ranging from Woodpeckers Start Drumming, Flying Ants Fill the Sky, to Leaves Lie Thick on the Grass, he covers just a few days at a time, detailing his daily walks in the local cemetery, common or his own garden, finding joy in the small things and gently guiding the reader to follow, wherever they live, during the same period. A gem of a book.

It would be nice to hear an owl.

I do not hear an owl.

But the air is damp and soft, and not as cold as I imagined, and I head back home considerably calmed by the experience.

BERLIE DOHERTY nominates The Boy Lost in the Maze by Joseph Coelho for the Virtual Costa Poetry Prize:

The Boy Lost in the Maze
is a novel told in poems. It's not a verse novel. Each episode is a new complete poem, distinct in form and content. There are two narrators, Theo and`Theseus, both sixteen: one a boy from today, one the mythical future Greek king. Theo is estranged from his father and desperate to find him. He is fascinated by the story of Theseus, and his search for his own father. Both boys have been lied to about their past and are determined to unravel the lies and find the truth. Theo's journey echoes emotionally and physically, the 'labours' of Theseus. The adventures of the two youths are graphically told in a sequence of fine poems that are sometimes free-form, sometimes rap, sometimes highly structured.

This powerful, painful, and exciting poetry novel is illustrated by Kate Milner. Her artwork is dramatic and balletic, a fitting complement to an exceptional book for older teenagers and adult readers.

LINDA NEWBERY nominates The Flames by Sophie Haydock for the Virtual Costa First Novel Prize:

Who could resist a novel set in Vienna, exploring the viewpoints of four women who modelled for that most provocative of artists, Egon Schiele? Certainly not me. Sophie Haydock's assured first novel conveys the atmosphere of bohemian Vienna in the years leading up to the First World War in her depiction of the troubled relationships and rivalries, of Schiele's driving ambition and the place he established for himself alongside his better-known mentor, Gustav Klimt; and, of course, the women themselves and their often unconventional lives. You'll certainly want to see more of Schiele's work after reading this, and his depictions of these four women: see Sophie Haydock's egonschieleswomen on Instagram for images and background.

PIPPA GOODHART nominates Three Little Monkeys Ride Again, by Quentin Blake with illustrations by Emma Chichester Clark, for the Virtual Costa Children's Book Prize:

This is such a joy of book! We’ve met the three exuberantly naughty little monkeys before, and it’s very clear that Blake and Chichester Clark love playing with them and their host Hilda, and that eternally deliciously enjoyable quality of naughtiness in others. This time, extravagantly hatted Hilda Snibbs takes those three little monkeys to visit her old mother at her ‘calm and peaceful’ house. But whenever boredom hits, the spectacular, yet relatable, monkey naughtiness ensues. What chaos! What protestations that Hilda will never take on holiday again! But then all comes good. ‘Thank goodness I brought you on holiday.’ But we’re left with one last dollop of gorgeously illustrated ducks in the sink, frogs in the rice pudding, pond weed everywhere, naughtiness to show that nothing so very much has changed!
 
CELIA REES nominates Bad Actors by Mick Herron for the Virtual Costa Novel Prize:

My choice is Mick Herron's Bad Actors precisely because as a genre novel, 8th in a series and a recently aired big budget TV production it would NEVER have been nominated for the actual late lamented Costas. It is, however, MY Best Novel of 2022.

Adele Geras and I are both massive Mick Herron fans and look forward to each new Slough House book. We are never disappointed. Mick Herron is one of the few writers who can make me laugh out loud and he is the only writer I know who even attempts to examine the current British political scene, faithfully chronicling our times from terrorist attacks through Brexit to the pandemic with all the accompanying betrayals, back stabbings, political missteps, coverups, bare faced lying, Whitehall shenanigans, astounding inefficiency and corruption. I hesitated to use the word 'satire' when applied to his books because, given what has happened in the months since Bad Actors was published, even Mick Herron couldn't make it up. He is the Jonathan Swift de nos jours and I can't wait to read the book he must be working on now...

I urge anyone who hasn't already, to read the Slough House books from the beginning. You have a treat in store.

 Click here for Part 1 ...



Monday, 3 January 2022

Awards Season! Part 3

 


Here's the third and final part of our virtual awards. Our contributors give a prize of their own choice and their own naming.  As usual, too, at this time of year, we give our grateful thanks to all the contributors who generously give their time, insights and enthusiasm to the blog. We couldn't keep going without you!

Paul Dowswell's prize for Book by an author I’ve just discovered goes to 
The Girl with the Louding Voice by Abi Daré.

I’m not an adventurous reader. My most recent good reads were Geoff Dyer’s Another Great Day at Sea, and David Mitchell’s The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet – both magnificently written and both entirely mainstream. But a good friend, who reads widely, recommended Daré’s book, and I bought it on a whim.

Narrator Adunni is a 14-year-old Nigerian girl, married off by her father to Morufu, an old man who, she tells us, looks like a goat. Adunni’s education comes to an abrupt end. She, wanting to become a teacher, is devastated. The book has the makings of a grim misery memoir but it is actually engaging, heartening and funny.

Daré brilliantly captures Adunni’s idiosyncratic Nigerian English, and I read on, transfixed as she pits her wit, intelligence and cunning against the terrible hand she has been given. Best of all, Daré conjures a world I’ve never imagined before – something all the best fiction should do.

Graeme Fife
: No prizes, but R C Sherriff's The Fortnight in September, an unexpected marvel, took me aback. Recommended by a dear friend and by an author whose output is dominated by that silly First World War play, it's beautifully observed, understated in its telling, acutely detailed and, albeit the story is, on the face of it, barely dramatic, it tells volumes about human relationships, how they are shaped, interact, develop, reveal themselves in strength and weakness. It's the work of an author who reflects deeply and strips away all flashiness of expression in an admirable quest for directness and truth. (Full review coming next week ... )

There are other books which have charmed and beguiled me this year. The novels of  J B Priestley richly deserved revisiting. Hadley Freeman's House of Glass is utterly bewitching and beautifully crafted. The story it tells not only compelling but necessary. Emily Wilson's translation of Homer's Odyssey is a tour de force.

Val McDermid: 
The McDermid Medallion for the book that made me cry more than once goes to Sarah Hall's Burntcoat. It’s an extraordinary narrative about love and art in a time of pandemic. It’s not our particular plague but it deals with the wrenching pain of loss, the divisive othering, the despair and the moments of hope we’ve all lived with these past months. But it’s also astonishingly uplifting, joyous even, not least because Sarah Hall writes of the physicality of love as well as its emotional impact. Her prose is engrossing -- dynamic, rich and authentically emotional. I read Burntcoat over two days, and I resented setting it aside to deal with the obligations of my own life. It moved me to tears and at the end, I felt as drained as if it had been a tale of grief and glories told by my best friend.

Ignaty Dyakov-Richmond
's award for A book I will keep on my desk and recommend to my clients over the next few years goes to How To Live by Professor Robert Thomas

At a time when we seemingly depend on pills and vaccines as never before, Professor Robert Thomas, a practising consultant oncologist and professor at the University of Cambridge, refreshingly reassures us that there is plenty we can do ourselves to sustain our health and wellbeing. With over 497 cited sources, it is still a very straightforward read and due to its structure can be used as a reference book too.

So many thoughts in the book resonate with me and provide answers to the current challenges we face: from lowered energy to the pressure on the NHS to the ever-increasing taxes we pay for healthcare, and to climate change. In the words of Professor Thomas, “The more I delve into the research from around the world, the more convinced I am of the influence of lifestyle over the genes we are born with."

Diamond Dystopian Award
, awarded by Jane Rogers for the best dystopian book of the year, goes to The Animals in That Country by Laura Jean Mckay (Scribe)

It’s already won a bunch of other prizes, including the Arthur C Clarke award, although I wouldn’t call it Sci Fi. Set in a very real Australia, it features a pandemic which causes humans to understand animal communication, a dignified dingo named Sue, and a foul-mouthed, alcoholic granny with no inhibitions. What the animals say is totally unexpected and often devastating – many humans are simply driven mad. But granny Jean and dingo Sue set off on the mother of all road trips to rescue Jean’s grand-daughter, and I defy anyone to put this book down unfinished. The tears in my eyes at the end were both of laughter and sorrow. The most original book I’ve read for years.

Linda Newbery
presents the Newbery Notable Award for Seasonal Uplift to The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. We've all wondered about the alternative lives we could have led - if only we had done something differently, or better. What if we had the chance to sample them, and live in them? It's an intriguing premise that's cleverly handled, as suicidal Nora finds herself in a library stacked with books that are portals to the infinite lives she might have lived. With a nod to It's a Wonderful Life in its focus on how small things in our lives can affect others, this is an ideal read for the turn of the year when we're all likely to be reflecting on what has, hasn't, and could have happened, and what lies in store. (See Julia Jarman's review.)

Sally Prue: The Glacier Award for the Slowest Book is presented to Nathaniel Hawthorne for 
The House of the Seven Gables.

Slowness in a book is not generally celebrated, but The House of the Seven Gables is a book so glacial, so majestically constipated, as to be mesmerising.

It begins as it means to go on, with a long (well, it seems long) description of the generations who lived in the house of seven gables (seven? Surely several of those must be otiose?) before the action (sorry, wrong word) begins.

I read this book years ago, and was very soon hypnotised by it. This means, sadly, that my memories are rather vague. There’s a death-dealing curse, and much gradual decay, and, best of all, surely the longest, slowest, and most incremental death-scene in the history of literature.

The House of the Seven Gables is gloriously ponderous, quite magnificently leaden.

And a simply extraordinary read.

Thanks to all those who've been so generous with their virtual awards! Normal service resumes next week - follow us for a great reading recommendation every Monday.

Monday, 20 December 2021

Awards Season! Part 1.



Something different for our end-of-year round-ups -we've invited our reviewers to give a virtual award to a book of their choice. Whether it's a book that's surprised them, a book they didn't expect to enjoy, a book that made them laugh or cry - here's what they've chosen in the first of three posts. Come back next week for more.

As always, we're immensely grateful to our contributors for giving their time, energy and insights to Writers Review. It wouldn't happen without them!

Tamsin Rosewell of Kenilworth Books: The Sheepish Bookseller Award for the Book I Didn't Think I'd Like But I Totally Adored, And Now Can't Stop Talking About It.


And I'd like to award it to Cecily by Annie Garthwaite.

When I read the first reviews, they compared it to Hilary Mantel. Like many booksellers I greeted this with an eye roll and a sinking feeling. I was expecting something perhaps over-indulgent; an.. er.. insufficiently edited draught-excluder of a book. But I should have ignored that reviewer, Mantel isn't a patch on Annie Garthwaite. I loved every word of Cecily, and thought it was one of the most astonishing books I've read in a decade. I was rooting for Cecily (and marvelling at Annie's ability as a writer) every moment. Far from being indulgent, it was beautifully, intelligently written - and the reader never forgotten. Annie Garthwaite's knowledge of history is deep, and her passion for her characters is infectious. She wears her love for Cecily like a crown of flowers. Off that throne Hilary!

Jonty Driver: I have two profound reasons to regard Arthur Koestler's novel Darkness at Noon as important in my life. I read it when I was 17 and still at school in South Africa, by then profoundly bored by much of the teaching provided. I had never been a racist but was beginning to be politically aware. so, when I went to the University of Cape Town the next year, because of the novel I was intellectually armed against attempts to divert me from my instinctive liberalism to hard-line Marxism (the South African Communist Party, though it was totally illegal and underground, Stalinist in demeanour, still worked hard to recruit students). Secondly, when I was detained by the security police, five years later, in solitary confinement under the "Ninety Day Detention" regulations, knowing what happened to Rubashov (the central character in Darkness at Noon) in solitary helped me cope better than I might otherwise have done. In particular, the "knocking code", described in that novel, enabled a friend detained in the same police station to give me the name of the person who had told the police I was involved in the African Resistance Movement, the ostensible reason for my detention; I wasn't in the ARM and actually thought it mistaken in its actions, although some of my closest friends were involved. In fact, the real reason for my detention was the work I had done as President of the non-racial and anti-apartheid National Union of South African Students.

Rachel Ward's Award for the Book I Wish I'd Written goes to We Begin at the End  by Chris Whitaker. I took a while to get into this book but then I was hooked. It’s a masterpiece in characterisation and plotting, and also how to break a reader’s heart into a million tiny pieces. I wish I’d written it, but - that being impossible - it has spurred me on to be a better writer.

Pippa Goodhart
: I present the Goodhart Award for the most good-hearted book of 2021 to …drum-roll... A Town Called Solace by Mary Lawson.

This gloriously quiet, beautiful, elegant story takes three deeply troubled and alone characters in a small town in Canada, marooned in winter coldness, and brings warmth. The seven year old child, the middle aged man, the old woman, are all trapped by mistakes made by themselves and others. But this kind book lets them come unexpectedly to each other’s aid, enabling them each to move on. Truly a story that does good to the heart and soul of the reader! Happy Christmas!


Linda Sargent
 awards Sargent's Sash to Old Age: A Journey into Simplicity by Helen M. Luke.

I was recently recalled this collection of essays when I recommended it to a younger friend who remarked that they were finding the ageing process trickier than they had anticipated. I first read it over twenty years ago when it was recommended to me by an older friend. I was middle aged then and found it inspiring and optimistic; a book about growth and creativity and, not, as some might imagine, decay and involuntarily loss. I returned to it often. In five chapters this wise Jungian writer insightfully references The Odyssey, King Lear, The Tempest and Little Gidding, with a final chapter on Suffering, revealing how ageing can, if we allow it, be an act of letting go of the familiar and of gaining through this process; learning that there are new things to explore and new levels of understanding to aspire to both in ourselves and in others.

Julia Jarman's Best Book You May Never Have Heard of Prize:  I first read this novel in hardback, called Miss Graham’s Cold War Cookbook. I loved it from intriguing first page to satisfying last, mostly because I loved the heroic, cookery-teacher turned spy, Miss Graham herself, and her fellow spies, brave women all, and the thrilling plot. It took me to painful places – the worst of Nazi evils – but these characters, based on real-life people who fought for justice lifted my spirits, and not just mine. There are 630 positive reviews on Amazon. My book group loved it, but why they asked, was this brilliant author not on the airwaves talking about this book like the famous author with a spy story out that month. Why weren’t there adverts all over the place as there were for the famous author? Because publishers don’t advertise your books till they don’t need advertising, I explained, but they didn’t get it. Nor do I.

Berlie Doherty: I award the Berlie Bouquet to Katherine Towers for her poetry pamphlet The Violin Forest, (2019 Happenstance Press).

The twenty short poems of The Violin Forest sing with lyrical imagery and musical grace. Her collection introduced me to W.S Graham – after reading his Imagine a Forest I returned to her poem Good Words Take from a river any thought of endlessness/or death to find it’s only water in its way.

I listened to Sibelius before re-reading Silence of Jarvenpaa, and wondered about his wife and daughters in the house where more than enough time did he spend looking up at the sky. To La Gaviota by Rodriguez …’the tenor’s airy triplets/ made me picture ghosts. To Schumann’s beautiful Gesaenge der Fruehe … you’ll hear dawn break/like the bones in a hand.

The poems are not all esoteric. One of the most accessible, Sparrows, contains my favourite image our old wisteria is a billowing palace/ of many green and lilac rooms..

The Book That Confirms Something Important Prize is awarded by Cynthia Jefferies to Alive Alive Oh! And Other Things That Matter by Diana Athill

 Diana Athill wrote more than one book about getting, or being, old. The other I love is Somewhere Towards the End, which turned out not to have been so very near the end because after winning the Costa for it she went on for another 11 years, publishing four more before she died in 2019 at the age of 101.

 These books are straight and honest, often amusing and also gracefully profound, These are not books of advice, but they are books of truth, and about how she lived her life. Somehow, in reading her I realise how many thoughts and feelings I share with her. Perhaps it is something to do with getting old that makes memories that float out of the past (to use her phrase) so very pleasurable to recall. 

I defy you not to be amused, moved and instructed, simply by reading the introduction. Yes, I recognise her thoughts about men, and think of Venice, and now remember, because she says it so certainly, and I hope you will remember it too, that looking at things is never time wasted. 

More virtual awards will be announced next Monday!



Monday, 4 January 2021

Reading ahead - New Year anticipation, part 3



Here's the third and final part of our Reading Ahead feature, and again we take the chance to thank all our contributors for supplying us with great reviews and recommendations all year round. This last part includes a number of titles due for publication this year, so - whatever tier we're in - none of us will be short of tempting books to read. Several of the titles mentioned here will feature on the blog in the coming months. 

Happy New Year reading!

Paul Dowswell: I’ve enjoyed retreating into music non-fiction during the pandemic. It’s a perfect comfort read for an anxious time. Rock writer and music magazine creator, David Hepworth, has been churning out a book a year since 2016’s 1971 – Never a Dull Moment. It’s a particular pleasure to read his work because his brilliant but defunct monthly music magazine The Word is greatly missed. From its marvellous title and fabulous cover shot of the Rolling Stones dressed in drag onwards, Overpaid, Oversexed and Over There - How a Few Brits with Bad Teeth Rocked America promises a fascinating journey through an era (1960s to 80s) when British bands dominated American popular music. His previous books have shown that Hepworth excels in the quirky anecdote, and being a publishing entrepreneur as well as a music fan, he is always able to present a perceptive insight into the business side of ‘show business’. I’m snapping this up as soon as it comes out in paperback.

Pippa Goodhart:
I bought a book for my daughter Mary that I’m longing to read myself. It’s The Other Bennet Sister by Janice Hadlow. Hadlow has taken middle Bennet daughter, Mary, from Jane Austen’s Pride And Prejudice, and imagined what happened to her after Austen’s novel finishes. Mary is the plain and serious sister amongst lively beauties, and she fails to find a man to marry within P&P, but this novel promises to see her ‘grow into herself’, and, yes, find love. Perfect, I hope, for some escapism during cold Brexit January.

​Talking of ‘hope’, a treat I’m very much looking forward to in March is Hope Adams (a.k.a. Adèle Geras)’s novel set in 1841 on a ship bound for Australia with 180 women convicts on board. I know that the seed of this story was planted by a quilt in the V&A Quilt Exhibition from a few years ago that I saw. I love real history woven into rich story! Reading Dangerous Women, I look forward to jumping aboard that convict ship!

Michelle Lovric
: I read up to my thighs during lockdown 1: when I put them in a pile, that’s where the books reached. I wasn’t surprised to hear Bloomsbury are doing well: my literature consumption definitely increased with Covid. Books on my looking-forward-to list: Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi, Dangerous Women by Hope Adams, a.k.a Adèle Geras of this parish; Casanoviana, including an account of 2019’s symposium – in a real room, with touchable international scholars – on the World’s Most Misunderstood Venetian. I discovered Donal Ryan’s The Spinning Heart recently, so now the rest of his oeuvre’s beside the bed. What else to do when you run out of Niall Williams and Sebastian Barry? (Hint, gentlemen!) For three wonderful years, I attended a poetry masterclass with Robert Vas Dias. Just arrived: his The Poetics of Still Life. For my own work, lately much taken up with puffins and millinery, I’m about to start Denise Dreher’s From the Neck Up.

Jane Rogers:
 This year I have been on the lookout for fiction about the Climate Emergency. Because it’s such a vital and overwhelming topic, I’m curious to see how other writers are dealing with it. And I should admit I’m hoping to write a climate novel myself.

In the interests of this research I’ve read Chris Beckett’s America City (recommended) and Jenny Offill’s Weather (well written, but doesn’t live up to the hype). I was delighted to hear a recent Open Book on Radio 4 devote a full programme to climate change fiction, or Cli-fi, as they are now calling it. It has become a sub-genre all of its own! Apparently there is lots in the pipe-line; I want to start with Carys Bray’s new novel, When the Lights Go Out, which is set in the near future, with floods outdoors and a collapsing marriage indoors. Carys writes beautifully - I loved her short story collection Sweet Home. And Diana McCaulay’s Daylight, Come, set in a fictional island closely resembling Jamaica, where she lives, in a future where the days are so hot everyone has to sleep in the day and work at night, sounds fascinating.

Adèle Geras
There’s much to look forward to in 2021, and these are the books I’m longing to read. First is Marika Cobbold’s On Hampstead Heath. I’m a big fan of this writer, and this will be published in April by Arcadia Books. It’s set in one of my favourite parts of London and concerns a journalist who invents a story, for the best possible reasons. Enticing.

Then there’s Caroline Lea’s The Metal Heart, which has a very striking cover. It’s a wartime love story set in a camp for Italian prisoners of war in Scotland. I suspect I will need tissues. Coming in April from Michael Joseph.

My last choice is Atomic Love, by US author Jennie Fields. (Michael Joseph) This is about a woman scientist working on the Manhattan project. I’ve read the first couple of pages and am drawn in already....

It’s going to be another good year for fiction.

Patricia Elliott
: I'm intrigued to read Stuart Turton's new second novel, The Devil and the Dark Water, set on board a cursed ship sailing to Amsterdam in the seventeenth century, a dangerous voyage even without the murder and mayhem I'm promised. His first, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, was an artful, twisty riff on a detective story, with a fiendishly complicated plot: a game he played with the reader. Turton is not a beautiful stylist but his writing is energetic and vivid, with startling similes. Also recently published, I think I shall enjoy Edward Parnell's Ghostland, in which the author goes on a cathartic journey after family tragedy, revisiting books and places in Britain's most haunted countryside. To reread? Among other books and inspired by the magnificent television adaptation of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials, now finishing its second series, The Subtle Knife, my favourite of the trilogy, last read 25 years ago. Jon Appleton: Echoes of adored, established writers have lured me to some recent independent publishing.

Jon Appleton: 
Echoes of adored, established writers have lured me to some recent independent publishing.

The Continuity Girl by Patrick Kincaid (Unbound) promises ‘A lost movie. An elusive monster. One last chance…’ It’s billed as a novel for fans of Jonathan Coe (whose work I adore). There’s a fanatical fan and an old film retrieved and the stage is set for a glorious homage and reckoning with the world today. I can’t wait!

 Penelope Lively’s clashes of the mores of past and present (Treasures of Time, Judgement Day) remain reading highlights. (They’re funny, too.) I predict Simon Edge’s historical fiction will be equally beguiling. Anyone for Edmund (Lightning Books) pokes fun at Westminster culture and celebrates the cult of a medieval saint. I’ve also ordered his A Right Royal Face-off, which contrasts Gainsborough’s high art with celebrity TV.

Another indie publisher whose work impresses me is Louise Walters Books. I love novellas and The Sweep of the Bay by Cath Barton evokes the brilliant film 45 Years. Louise has just released Helen Kitson’s Old Bones ­– I can’t resist a quarry-found corpse and the repressed secrets of spinsters. Could we have another Ruth Rendell in the making?

Sue Purkiss:
In the last few years, like many of us, I’ve become more and more concerned about our environment and what we’re doing to it. So in the New Year I shall look forward to reading more books about nature. One will be The Running Hare, by John Lewis-Stempel, which has been strongly recommended to me by my brother-in-law, who has a smallholding in Ireland. I’ve also heard good things about James Rebanks’ new book, English Pastoral: and I have my eye on Surfacing, by Kathleen Jamie, who writes about wild places with a poet’s perception, though this, like an earlier book, Sightlines, is prose. (Of the most elegant, spare and focused kind.)

I still have some excellent birthday books to look forward to as well – The Lying Life of Adults, by Elena Ferrante, and The Diary of a Young Naturalist, by Dara McAnulty.



Dara McAnulty's Diary of a Young Naturalist is reviewed here by Gill Lewis.


Susanna Clarke's Piranesi is reviewed here by Adèle Geras.


We will feature a Question and Answer with Hope Adams (Adèle Geras) to mark the publication of Dangerous Women.



Monday, 30 December 2019

CHRISTMAS ROUND-UP Part 2: What's in our sights?


More of our guests tell us what they're planning to read next - and our final round-up, or rather the first of 2020, will appear next Monday.

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Paul Magrs:  All I can think of is the fact that there's a new Anne Tyler out early next year! It still feels like a huge treat - and the fact that her last two have been so wonderful adds to the anticipation. Next year marks exactly thirty years since I read my first Anne Tyler. She had just won a big award for Breathing Lessons and I was with my first boyfriend Gene in the middle of 1990. He was in the UK for a year and started me off reading Tyler and Armistead Maupin, Margaret Atwood, Carson MacCullers and Amy Tan, among others. He gave me If Morning Ever Comes and I was hooked forever.
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Graeme Fife:  In a deluded time, as we confront an indefeasible 
tangle of misprision, misleading promise and fantasy arithmetic, exacerbated by the dumb stupidity of prime nitwits posing as keepers of wisdom, it seems a very apposite choice of reading to turn to Don Quixote. Misconceit and misadventure, tilting at windmills, forlorn escapades in a bonkers scenario? Bullseye.

The Road to Wigan Pier next, another apt read against the current backdrop of blurred reality. Orwell’s unflinching truth-telling and masterly prose. And Lara Maiklem’s Mudlarking for the stories attached to the vast gallimaufry of trouvailles washed up by the waters of old Thames.

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Linda Newbery:  Here are two enticing writers I feel ashamed to have neglected till now. In recent months I've read two novels by Jane Rogers, Conrad and Eleanor and the earlier Mr Wroe's Virgins, both of which confirm her as a writer of exceptional talent and versatility. Her new novel, Body Tourists, promises to be very different again. Ann Patchett, for some reason, I haven't read at all, but have seen such glowing reviews of her work from people whose judgement I respect that I'm going to plunge in with her latest, The Dutch House.


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Pippa Goodhart: Awaiting when I have time to snuggle by a fire and wallow in these book treats are: Mr Godley’s Phantom by Mal Peet. Mal Peet was a writer of such fresh, fun, sometimes shocking skill, who died too young. Here’s a new book, his last, glinting with gold on its cover and promising a ‘part ghost story part crime thriller’. And: a second-hand copy, bought from wonderful David’s Bookshop in Cambridge, of Daphne Du Maurier and Her Sisters by Jane Dunn. The sub-title is The Hidden Lives of Piffy, Bird and Bing. Lots of photos of posh Edwardians. Yum!

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Linda Sargent:  Fifty years ago when I was a “young adult” there were few books aimed precisely at my age group and consequently I read mostly from the adult shelves of our tiny village library. Among my favourite authors were Mary Stewart, Jean Plaidy, Mary Renault (must re-read her too), and Elizabeth Goudge. Recently I've been tentatively re-reading some of Goudge’s books, and have unearthed my battered paperback of Green Dolphin Country, first published in 1944 and set in the Channel Isles and New Zealand. At fifteen I was captivated, hoping that one day I might visit both places, but as is so often the case, travelling vicariously through strongly crafted stories can be almost as satisfying and Goudge’s vivid and detailed descriptions never fail here. And while there may be some aspects of her writing that feel a little out of step with modern sensibilities, as a friend of mine remarked, we should perhaps approach this body of work in the same way as we would that of – say – Dickens, Trollope et al, writers who, like Goudge, are products of their times. Meanwhile, I look forward to my travels in Green Dolphin Country ...


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Celia Rees:  I intend to read books I already have. If I don’t like the book, it goes to Oxfam; if I do like it, I’ll read then take to Oxfam. Slow speed de-cluttering. I’m starting with The Muse by Jessie Burton. I bought this because it had a pretty cover and sounded interesting. Next, The Raven King by Marcus Tanner. I loved the title and knew nothing about Matthias Corvinus, fifteenth century king of Hungary and his fabled lost library. Finally:Now All Roads Lead to France – The Last Years of Edward Thomas, by Matthew Hollis. I love Edward Thomas’ poetry, but I haven’t read this because I know what happened to him and it will make me sad.

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Paul Dowswell:  Having greatly enjoyed Craig Brown’s Princess Margaret hatchet job Ma’am Darling, I think I might have developed a taste for royal biogs. Edith Sitwell’s Victoria of England is sitting in a pile by my bed and a cursory glance through the pages suggests it will be a fascinating read.

As a long-time writer of non-fiction I have a deep admiration for Bill Bryson – his History of Nearly Everything was excellent. So his recently published The Body looks unmissable.

Finally, I have just spent a week touring Italian schools and the people I was with have been working with the YA author Melvin Burgess and tell me he is brilliant. So I must give one of his a read.

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Michael Lawrence: Ever keen to read about photographers and painters, having been both in my time, one of my 2019 reads was Francoise Gilot’s Life with Picasso. She was with him for ten years and in the book details his working methods along with some descriptions of him that did not please him, for it’s said that he never spoke to her again after its publication in 1964.

I also re-read, for the first time in about 40 years, Emile Zola’s novel The Masterpiece, published in 1886, which is full of information about the lives and difficulties of the Impressionists, and in particular Zola’s friend from childhood Paul Cézanne who (guess what) ceased to speak to Zola after its publication.

The book that I’m most looking forward to is a debut novel, The Age of Light  by Whitney Scharer, given to me by my friend Julia Wills. I’ve only read the opening paragraphs of the prologue so far (I’m saving this book for just the right mood – mine, that is), which are so beautifully written that I might have wanted to read on even if it hadn’t been about the youth of American photographer Lee Miller, whose work I’ve always admired.

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Adele Geras:  Like millions of other readers all over the world, the book I’m most looking forward to next year is The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel. That’s coming in March and I have pre-ordered it.

Other than that, I am excited about Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead (recently reviewed here as the choice of Orb's Bookshop of Aberdeen) by Olga Tokarczuk, the Polish writer who won the Nobel Prize for Literature this year. I was attracted to it for its title, which is a quotation from William Blake and I downloaded a sample of the book on to my Kindle. I liked what I read very much and bought the book. This feature, which isn’t much talked about, is one of the things I love about reading on Kindle. It prevents a lot of terrible mistakes. I have sampled quite a few dreadful books and saved myself a lot of money! Merry Christmas to all our readers and hoping for lot of wonderful books in the New Year.

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