Category Archives: Miscellania

The Heston Blumenthals of literature

Tonight I’ll be watching the new series of Great British Menu, which is perhaps unusual for someone who’s not overly interested in cooking per se. If you’re unfamiliar with the programme, it sees leading British professional chefs competing to have their dishes selected for a unique banquet (last year’s was a celebration of the London Olympics; this year’s is to mark thirty years of Comic Relief). Each week, three chefs from a particular region have their menus (one course per day) tasted and scored by another chef acting as mentor. The lowest-scoring chef is eliminated on Thursday; on the Friday episode, the entire menus of the two remaining chefs are judged blindly by a panel of food critics.

I got into watching Great British Menu last year, when I realised that it was treating cookery as a form of art – and therefore was a kind of art competition. Now, this programme goes out five nights a week on prime-time BBC Two, goes into the minutiae of cooking, and sees professional critics judging their subject at a high level in a way that’s meaningful to an interested general viewer. Imagine a TV programme doing something like this for just about any other creative art. Film programmes in the UK are nowhere near, and book programmes are even further behind.

I can see where Great British Menu is coming from, because I can understand that push for excellence in books. Actually, when I look at the other food programmes I like most, I can see parallels with what I like in books. A few years ago, I started watching River Cottage, and went on to read a book of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s food writing. I came away with a clear sense that he cared about what he was doing, had a broad interest in his subject but always with a focus on quality – and I found his style of writing and presenting very engaging. This (analogously) is a lot of what I look for in the books I read.

But if there’s one figure from food television who most sums up what I like in books, it’s Heston Blumenthal. I find the enthusiasm he shows in his TV programmes infectious; but, above all, I love his capacity to have an idea and just go with it, however outlandish it might seem to the viewer – to say, ‘why not?’ before others have even said, ‘why?. I see this kind of attitude in the works of writers like Helen Oyeyemi and Nick Harkaway; in books like The Quiddity of Will Self, or Nod, or the one I’m reading now, Communion Town. I love to come across the unusual and distinctive in books – and, when those books are reaching for and achieving excellence, I could scarcely be a happier reader.

Into 2013

Happy New Year! For my first post of 2013, I just want to talk about a few changes in direction that I’m planning. My default way of blogging over the last couple of years has been to mix longer reviews with sets of 250-word “book notes” pieces, as a way of covering as many of the books I read as possible. This year, I expect to have less time for blogging; so I want to be more selective and focus on the books I most want to write about.

I’ll still do longer reviews as before, but I don’t want the book notes pieces just to group together the last two or three titles that I’ve read. I want to try to forge stronger links within multi-book posts, even if that means not blogging about one book until several months after I’ve read it. To catch everything else, I’m planning round-up posts which will treat books more briefly; and I’ll keep a dynamic list of everything I read in the year on a separate page linked at the top of the blog.

I’m also going to look out for more things to join in with in the wider blogosphere, starting with January in Japan, an event hosted by Tony from Tony’s Reading List. More on that shortly.

A short intermission… and my day in books

It’s time for a short break in blogging, as I’m now in the process of moving house. I won’t have regular internet access for the next few weeks, but I hope to be back to regular blogging in December, or January at the latest.

Before I sign off, here’s a meme from Cornflower Books in which you have to complete the statements with the titles of books you’ve read this year. The links lead to my reviews of each book. Thanks for reading, and see you later!

***

I began the day by Touching the Void

before breakfasting on Sweets

and admiring The Longshot.

On my way to work I saw Viriconium

and walked by Hawthorn & Child

to avoid The Sisters Brothers,

but I made sure to stop at A Novel Bookstore.

In the office, my boss said, Everyone’s Just So So Special,

and sent me to research The Evolution of Inanimate Objects.

At lunch with Agnes Grey

I noticed Monkeys with Typewriters

in NW

greatly enjoying The Bellwether Revivals.

Then on the journey home, I contemplated The Quiddity of Will Self

because I have Fascination

and am drawn to Joy.

Settling down for the evening in The Apartment,

I studied The Panda Theory,

by The Remains of the Day

before saying goodnight Still.

Quiz: Name the Publisher

Just for fun, here’s a bookish quiz. Below are 25 cryptic (or maybe not-so-cryptic) clues to the names of UK publishers, imprints, and small presses. How many can you guess?

1. Story title
2. NaCl
3. Travelling show in WC1?
4. Leads the Tour de France
5. On the Royal Mile
6. Choose an entrance?
7. Ficus
8. Freshwater nymph
9. Star (Cymraeg)
10. A cloak for Mr Creek?
11. Eaten by the Ouroboros
12. Punctuation mark
13. A job for the end of the working week?
14. The Hunter
15. Writer of Eugene Onegin
16. The exception that disproves the rule?
17. Queen of the Shades
18. A fine wine
19. Android in a huff
20. City of Lanark?
21. Early calculator
22. Sad elk?
23. Second-largest ocean
24. The Hay Wain and DCI Banks
25. There are more tales

If you get stuck, here are the answers.

October wrap-up

The best book that I read in October was Lightning Rods by Helen DeWitt (the latest title from And Other Stories, publishers of Deborah Levy’s Booker-shortlisted Swimming Home). It’s a disturbing but superbly realised study of how language and thought can be manipulated to make something abhorrent start to seem reasonable.

Harry Karlinsky’s debut novel, The Evolution of Inanimate Objects, is a biography of a fictitious historical character — Thomas Darwin, youngest child of Charles, who thought he could apply his father’s theories to artefacts. It’s a playful mixture of fact and fiction, a poignant character study, and a reflection on science. I reviewed it for Strange Horizons.

More reviews from October:

…and I continued my story-by-story review of Roelof Bakker’s anthology Still.

In features:

September wrap-up

I read quite a  number of excellent books in September. M. John Harrison’s classic series Viriconium progressively destroyed the notion of fantasy literature as escape. In NW, Zadie Smith created a superb portrait of interlocking lives in north-west London. Scarlett Thomas’s Monkeys with Typewriters was a creative writing book with as much interest for reader as for budding writers.

I began a story-by-story review of Roelof Bakker’s anthology Still, a book of stories inspired by Bakker’s photographs of a vacated building. That project will continue into October.

I also reviewed: the fifth Bristol Short Story Prize anthology; Ryan David Jahn’s Low Life; Evan Mandery’s Q: A Love Story; Terry Pratchett’s Dodger; and Tarun J. Tejpal’s The Story of My Assassins.

In features, I blogged the first and second parts of a round-table discussion about State of Wonder by Ann Patchett. For Book Blogger Appreciation Week, I wrote about what book blogging means to me. I posted the shortlists of the BBC International Short Story Award, the SI Leeds Literary Prize and the Man Booker Prize.

There were three Sunday Story Society discussions, concerning Angela Carter’s “The Merchant of Shadows“, Alois Hotschnig’s “Two Ways of Leaving” and Krys Lee’s “Drifting House“.

August wrap-up

August was the month when I discovered the work of Muriel Spark. I found The Driver’s Seat a powerfully unsettling piece of fiction – the story of a woman’s impending death, a woman who’s acting strangely, for reasons we don’t learn. I was wrong-footed by Spark’s book in the best possible way, and now want to read more of her fiction.

In The Uninvited, Liz Jensen viewed a world of children turning against adults through the eyes of a scientist tested by extremes of emotion. The latest title from Peirene Press, Pia Juul’s The Murder of Halland (tr. Martin Aitken), took a crime as the starting-point for a striking portrait of bereavement. Ewan Morrison combined fiction, anecdote and history to examine a ubiquitous modern institution, in Tales from the Mall.

I also reviewed P.Y. Betts’s superb memoir, People Who Say Goodbye; Alison Moore’s intense Booker-longlisted character study, The Lighthouse; William Wharton’s classic war story, Birdy; Christopher Coake’s tale of the dangers of believing in ghosts, You Came Back; J.R. Crook’s jigsaw of a novel, Sleeping Patterns; Manu Joseph’s story of a father investigating his son’s death, The Illicit Happiness of Other People; and two short story collections: Jon Gower’s Too Cold for Snow, and Tim Maughan’s Paintwork.

In features, I made a list of ten favourite books read during the lifetime of the blog; and posted a couple of personal book round-ups: of the books I bought while on holiday in Bath and Oxford; and a snapshot of my library loans. There were also two Sunday Story Society discussions: of “Bombay’s Republic” by Rotimi Babatunde, and “Atlantic City” by Kevin Barry.

Borrowing

Photo credit: © Copyright Mark Anderson and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence
***
This building is Huddersfield Central Library. Strictly speaking, it’s not my local library (that would be a branch library, which I’m pleased still tohave); but it is the one I visit most often, and it’s where all my current loans are from. I don’t do that many library posts, but I thought it was a good time to go through what I’ve borrowed and why.
***

J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country

I borrowed this because it’s the current monthly read of the NYRB Classics group on Goodreads, which I’d had recommended to me and wanted to join. OK, so the edition I borrowed was a Penguin one, but still… I’ve finished the book now, and rather enjoyed it: it tells of a soldier returned from the First World War, who takes on the job of uncovering a medieval wall-painting in a Yorkshire village church. Carr elegantly carries the theme of uncovering the hidden through to the novella’s relationships, and the whole is rather engaging.

Leonora Carrington, The Hearing Trumpet

Another Penguin Modern CIassic, set in a bizarre retirement home. I saw it on the same shelf as the Carr, had never heard of book or author – but it looked interesting. ‘One of the most original, joyful, satisfying and quietly original novels of the twentieth century,’ says Ali Smith on the back cover – sounds worth a read to me.

M. John Harrison, Viriconium

It’s been my intention for some time now to read M. John Harrison, because I never really have. Now I’m going to do it: the Viriconium omnibus first, then the Kefahuci Tract trilogy by next spring – because chances are that Empty Space will be shortlisted for the Clarke next year.

Dorothy Whipple, High Wages

A number of bloggers speak very highly of Persephone Books, who republish ‘neglected classics by C20th (mostly women) writers’ (says their website). I’ve never read one of their volumes myself, so when I saw this in the library, I thought I’d give it a try. The book itself is a very nicely-produced object; and the story – an exploration of retail in 1920s Lancashire – is something I wouldn’t generally go for, so I’ll be interested to see what it’s like.

Banana Yoshimoto, Hardboiled & Hard Luck

Another book I picked up on spec. Yoshimoto was on my list of authors I wanted to read; this double novella was on the shelves; so why not? I mean, that kind of serendipity is one of the great things about libraries, isn’t it?

(Post cross-linked to Library Loot on The Captive Reader.)

July wrap-up

The most significant development on the blog in July was the Sunday Story Society. This is a book club for short stories, which I’m hosting here every two weeks. We’ve already discussed Jennifer Egan’s “Black Box”; this Sunday, we’ll start talking about Rotimi Babatunde’s Caine Prize-winning story “Bombay’s Republic“. Take a look at our schedule for the rest of the year.

One of my favourite reads this month – and of 2012 so far – was Karen Lord’s Redemption in Indigo, a Senegalese folktale extended and spliced with chaos theory. Gav and Simon of The Readers podcast invited me on to discuss it, and I also posted a review of the novel.

Another candidate for ‘book of the month’ – although completely different – was Keith Ridgway’s Hawthorn & Child. Where Lord’s novel revolves around storytelling, Ridgway’s is the opposite: an anti-detective novel that fragments as you read it, and where all attempts to impose narrative on the world fail.

Katie Kitamura’s The Longshot was a great debut: an intense study of a mixed martial artist and his trainer, pinning their hopes on one last fight. Other fine debuts came in the shape of Kerry Hudson’s coming-of-age tale, Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma; and Katy Darby’s Victorian-set fusion of melodrama and social commentary, The Whores’ Asylum.

The Madman of Freedom Square by Hassan Blasim and Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk by Ben Fountain were a couple of excellent books – one a story collection, one a novel – offering perspectives on different aspects of the Iraq War. I reviewed them in a double feature.

This month, I also reviewed Stuart Evers’ If This Is Home; Xiaolu Guo’s UFO in Her Eyes; Nikita Lalwani’s The Village; Toby Litt’s Ghost Story  David Logan’s Half-Sick of Shadows (at The Zone); Rosy Thornton’s Ninepins; and Benjamin Wood’s The Bellwether Revivals.

In addition, I blogged about the longlists of two awards: the Man Booker Prize and the Dylan Thomas Prize.

Teaser Tuesday: Pure

I’ve found this weekly meme over at the Should Be Reading blog: open the book you’re reading at a random page, and quote two sentences (without spoilers). Sounds fun. Today I am reading Pure, Andrew Miller’s Costa-winning novel set in pre-Revolutionary Paris:

When the assault took place, when precisely, no one could ever say with any certainty. Somewhere between very late and very early, some deep, velvet-lined pocket of a winter’s night. (p. 189)

I haven’t actually reached that page yet; I’m intrigued.