Reading ahead - New Year anticipation, part 2

Here's part two of what's ahead for some of our guest reviewers - whether it's a new publication, a return to an old favourite, or an author newly-discovered. What's on your reading pile or wishlist for the year to come? And it's our second chance to thank our wonderful contributors - this weekly blog wouldn't happen without them!

Daniel Hahn: 2021 is the year that brings us a new David Grossman novel, which is always something to be grateful for. More than I Love My Life, translated by Jessica Cohen, comes out in August. I know very little about it, except that it’s by David Grossman and therefore will be clever and beautiful and generous and humane and surprising, which I reckon is a pretty good start. In the chidlren's/YA world, The Smell of Other People's Houses was one of my books of the year in 2016, and I couldn't be more excited that the next Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock book is on its way at last - Everyone Dies Famous in a Small Town comes from Faber in April. We’ve also got Hilary McKay’s follow-up to The Skylarks’ War to look forward to – anybody who read that first book will share my excitement; we only have to wait till May to meet the next generation, in The Swallows’ Flight. But before any of these comes Sasha Dugdale’s translation of In Memory of Memory by Maria Stepanova, due in February, a big and deliciously unusual-sounding multi-genre “exploration of cultural and personal memory”. Can’t wait. (Oh, and I’ve just started reading a proof of Chris Power’s debut novel A Lonely Man – coming in April – and I can already tell I’m going to love that, too.)

Rosemary Hayes: The reading pile never diminishes but Claire Tomlin’s biography of Charles Dickens and Hilary Mantel’s The Mirror and the Light have both languished on it for too long and I really will read them next year. The captivating Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens has alerted me to the books she co-authored with Mark Owens about their time in Africa, Cry of the Kalahari and The Eye of the Elephant. I’ve not read any of John Lanchester’s books, so am looking forward to reading The Wall. A recent discovery is Lisa Jewell and I’m racing through several of her titles. Helen Dunmore’s A Spell of Winter is on my list as is Kate Grenville’s latest, A Room Made of Leaves. Extinctions by Australian author Josephine Wilson is another and, also with Australian connections, there’s the intriguing sounding Dangerous Women by Hope Adams, aka Adele Geras. Can’t wait for that one!

Sophia Bennett: One of the family’s favourite all-time books is The Martian by Andy Weir. His new book, Project Hail Mary, is also set in space, and I expect to be on the edge of my seat. I’ve recently discovered Louise Penny’s Three Pines series, set in a small village in Canada. If you love contemporary, classic crime fiction, I recommend her. I’m also looking forward to Andrew Marr’s look at twentieth century Elizabethans, which has resonances with my own series about Queen Elizabeth II (as a detective). And I have my eye on The Rose Code by Kate Quinn, is about three women who meet at Bletchley Park. Finally, I’m looking forward very much to Dangerous Women, by a certain Hope Adams. I’m a sucker for anything to do with needlework, history and women in the judicial system. A book that combines all three will be a perfect read.

Savita Kalhan: Kololo Hill  by Neema Shah, to be published by Picador, February 2021, promises to be a compelling debut. It is set in the tumultuous time of Idi Amin’s eviction of Asians from Uganda in 1972. I know that Asians were given ninety days to leave the country with only what they could carry, leaving behind their homes, their businesses and belongings, and their money. But I have not read any stories set at that time. In Kololo Hill there are secrets, disappearances, turmoil, violence and fear before Asha and Pran, newly married, and Pran’s mother Jaya, manage to escape into an unknown future.

I read Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line by Deepa Anapara when it came out in 2020, but already I know I must reread it in 2021. The story is told through the eyes of nine year old Jai, who, with his two best friends, investigates the disappearance of another friend from the slum they live in. It is a vivid and darkly realistic story, leavened by the humour, the naivety and optimism of the child detectives, and that makes this a very poignant read.

Linda Sargent: As usual the older I grow the greater the number of books I want to read grows too. So far, I have only one on my reading ahead list, but Christmas is coming and I live in hope. During this past year, as for many, poetry has become even more crucial in my life and from what I’ve heard and seen of Margaret Atwood’s latest collection, Dearly, it is high on my list. She manages that rare combination of wisdom, lyricism and simplicity – and, what’s more, reads her own work as if she’s addressing me personally and not some sacred congregation. Hamnet by Maggie O’ Farrell: how I’ve resisted buying this I don’t know and why it hasn’t been on more prize lists, well, I don’t know that either! Helen MacDonald’s Vesper Flights: I heard a couple of episodes on Radio 4 and knew it was one for the list. And, finally, Michael Rosen’s Book of Play is, I’m happy to report, sitting next to me on the to-read pile.

Ignaty Dyakov: Two books I can’t wait to receive for Christmas and New Year are Homo Deus by Yuval Noah Harari and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. I have discovered both authors only this November, having read Homo Sapiens, The Humans and How to Stop Time alongside each other. 

Despite obviously having been written independently of each other, together they have created a wonderful narrative about humankind, our past, and our impact on the Planet and fellow planetary residents, humanoid and otherwise.

Somehow, I feel that Homo Deus and The Midnight Library ought to be read side by side too and I treasure those – as yet only imaginary – moments of morning non-fiction reading and dark evening reads of a novel with modern jazz playing in the background.

Yvonne Coppard: In 2021 I will tackle the toppling stack of panic-bought titles from the first Lockdown, when I feared I might run out of good books. Lined up for the New Year are: Tidelands, Philippa Gregory, set in the English civil war. I know I’ll love it because, well, it’s Philippa Gregory, innit?

The Woman in Cabin 10, by Ruth Ware. ‘A passenger is missing. But was she ever on board at all?’ is a great tag. The author is new to me, but a Sunday Times bestseller seems a safe bet.

The Ode Less Travelled, by Stephen Fry, is one of my Lockdown projects. It’s a masterclass in poetry, complete with practical exercises. I made a start and promptly mislaid the book. It’s turned up now, and I’m looking forward to indulging a neglected love of poetry.

Gill Lewis: I’m really looking forward to Fifty Words for Snow by Nancy Campbell. Snow represents so much for many people across the world, and there is a palpable ecological grief at the loss of it in some regions due to climate change. And second in my TBR pile is What is Life? by Paul Nurse, where I hope to find some answers to this huge question.

Celia Rees: I’m looking forward to reading Mick Herron’s Slough House, due to be published February, 2021. I love spy novels and I love Mick Herron’s writing. I eagerly devoured books I - 6 and am eagerly anticipating the seventh in the Slough House series. I’m also thinking of re-reading the Master, John Le Carré.

I also like the Australian novelist Jane Harper, and notice that her next book, The Survivors, is to be published in February, 2021. I very much enjoyed The Dry and The Lost Man, so I’m looking forward to this one. 

The TV series of His Dark Materials has made me want to re-read the Philip Pullman novels, particularly The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass. I fear I read them too quickly the first time round! 

Julia Jarman: I will read everything Patrick Gale has written, and am currently enthralled by A Perfectly Good Man.

Guest review by Ignaty Dyakov: THE ART OF POSSIBILITY by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander

"There are many books on self-development ... What is different here is the angle, the point of view and the calibre of stories, parables and personal experiences which fill this book."

Ignaty Dyakov wears several hats (apart from a deer-stalker and a faux-fur Russian hat). A Chartered Linguist, he has authored a series of unconventional Russian and ELT textbooks, which help students learn grammar and vocabulary through fun-to-read detective stories. They are now used at universities and schools all over the world, US, UK and France being the biggest markets. Ignaty is currently on the Management Committee of the Society of Authors, where he also chairs the Educational Writers Group.

In recent years, after he qualified as a life coach and Ayurvedic consultant, he has set up a health and wellbeing coaching practice in the Midlands. He works on a one-to-one basis, delivers talks and workshops and writes articles on a holistic approach to health, complementary therapies and coaching methods. More information can be found on www.lifesensei.uk or on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lifesenseiuk/

In his spare time, he loves writing and reading short stories, walking, vegan cooking and a bit of DIY.

There are many books on self-development written by motivational speakers, business performance coaches, and inspirational gurus. Some will be considered classics, some will have merit, many will be vanity projects. Among them one finds a book co-authored by a conductor. A conductor, I hear you ask, a conductor? What can an orchestra conductor teach us about life, mindset, positive thinking? Admittedly, the usual ideas, mostly, what a well-read person with at least some analytical inclinations would know anyway. What is different here is the angle, the point of view and the calibre of stories, parables and personal experiences which fill this book to its cover.

Two authors: an introvert and an extrovert; a wife and a husband; a psychotherapist and a conductor; a quiet, more theorising voice with the narrative of case studies and personal childhood stories and a full-bodied brass ensemble of… to appreciate Benjamin’s impetus, one might want to watch a talk or two of his on YouTube. Authors of each story in the book are clearly identified, but we would probably feel who has penned it – Ben or Roz.

The Zanders’ mindset is pretty much summarised in the first line of The Art of Possibility: “Waiter,” I said in an exuberant mood, “I have a perfect life, but I don’t have a knife” (that is, of course, Ben talking). It is all here: harmony, mischief, directness, positivity. What follows is the explanation of twelve practices, which can either work altogether, or be picked up individually – whatever each of us, readers, might find useful. There are chapters on passion and igniting a spark, on creating frameworks for possibility or being a contribution; my favourite ones are ‘it’s all invented’, ‘rule number 6’, and ‘giving an A’.

It is indeed all invented. We don’t see the world, but a map of the world, one of many. The world seems to us sorted and packaged, with the help of the culture we live in, the education we get, the personal journey we make. The famous experiment, in which Me’en people in Ethiopia were presented with photographs for the first time and were unable to ‘read’ them, proves that without the conventions of modern life we wouldn’t see anything but a shiny piece of material. The frames our minds create define (or rather confine) what we think to be possible, what solutions we find. If we remember that we are the inventors, we can create new frames.

This leads us nicely to the practice called ‘Rule Number 6’, which reads, “Don’t take yourself so goddamn serious”. It is based on a widely publicised story of two prime ministers, in which one PM observes remarkable and instant transformation in staff behaviour every time his counterparty announces ‘Remember Rule Number Six’. There aren’t any other rules, by the way. If we follow said rule and lighten up over our demands, caprices and entitlements, the Zanders point out, we will be transported into a new universe, co-operative in nature.

Grades rarely say much about the work done, they are just matching one student’s work against another’s. We then take the same approach to life and assign different grades to people, events, or places. This doesn’t offer any reflection on them, but creates a strain of competition and, often, a blow to morale. The practice of assigning an A to anyone and anything at any time gets you to a place of respect, which, in turn, provides said people, events, or places room to realise themselves. The Zanders say, “This A is not an expectation to live up to, but a possibility to live into”.

A book on developing a positive mindset could easily be indigestible: king-size in many hundreds of thousands words, ideally simmered in small font, boiled with a pinch of patronising, over-spiced with guru-style ‘revelations’ and professional jargon. The Zanders created quite a different type – simple, concise, yet versatile and full of real-life examples. How fascinating!

The Art of Possibility is published by Harvard Business School Press.