I requested a review copy of The House at Bishopsgate by Katie Hickman because it has a beautiful cover and it holds itself out to be a richly-textured, historical novel. I was promised that it would be ‘completely absorbing and delightful’ and that I would be taken ‘to a magical land’. Unfortunately for me, and this review, it didn’t deliver any of these things.
Let’s admit it. Even if some of us (er, like me) are a bit ‘bah humbug’ about Valentine’s Day, we all love a good romance. Imagine life without Gilbert and Ann, or Rochester and Jane, or Heathcliffe and Catherine.
To honour St Valentine, Melbourne author Heidi Catherine unveils the key ingredients to the perfect romance novel.
I can imagine how hard it is to write a book, and to write one that people not only choose to read, but might actually even like.
Notwithstanding this, I can be a harsh critic. I’ve read a few books recently that would have been so much better if they’d just had a bit less … y’know … [*sigh*] … or perhaps fewer … [*hmmm*]….
Let me explain it better: here are my top ten books that need less stuff.
Although relatively new to them, I’ve quickly come to love the accessibility of audio books – that I can be walking or driving or hoovering and still be consuming books. I can drown out irritating chat on public transport and still be buried in a novel. I’ve only listened to a couple, and whilst I’m largely won over, I now realise that listening to a book is very different to reading it, and not necessarily always in a positive way.
There’s been a fair bit of chat about whether listening to a book is ‘cheating’. The simple answer to that question appears to be no – for typical adults, listening comprehension and reading comprehension is mostly the same thing, says Daniel Willingham, a Professor in Psychology.
The far more interesting question though, I think, is whether by listening to a book I’m experiencing it in the way the author intended.
It was only by accident that I came to hear Sarah Waters discussing her newest book The Night Watch at the Edinburgh Book Festival in 2006. It was a beautiful Scottish summer’s day; perfect for a day trip from Glasgow. I had planned to just wander around the festival at Charlotte Square Gardens; tickets were £8 per session and I knew my meager Oxfam salary couldn’t support too many purchases. But then on a whim, I decided to get a ticket to Sarah Waters, an author I’d never heard of. It changed my literary landscape.
I’m a feminist. Every day I notice how women’s lives have been shaped to sustain male privilege. I get angry when I think about the gender pay gap. I’m furious about the prevalence of family violence. The way that women in particular (but men too) are poked and prodded into hating their appearance by global beauty companies makes me livid. But I am nowhere near as angry as Clementine Ford.
Dear Santa – if you feel so inclined, here are eight books I’d love to wake up and find miraculously waiting for me on Sunday morning. I’ve been good, I promise!
I loved the book Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn; it was one of my top reads for 2014. I feel a bit embarrassed to say that out loud these days, what with lots of other ‘girl’ books floating about. In my defence, I read it before the hype and before the film and before I realised that some people had good reason to really dislike it (I’m thinking of you, Jan @ What I Think about When I Think About Reading). Although I still stand by it as a book – I found it utterly compelling.
So it was with great relish that I picked up Gillian Flynn’s debut novel, Sharp Objects. It was, however, a disappointment. In a nutshell, it’s no Gone Girl.
It’s Top Ten Tuesday and this week it’s Top Ten New-To-Me Authors I Read For The First Time in 2016.
I thought this list would echo my ‘best book of 2016’ but actually it doesn’t completely (I wonder which book Hag-Seed might dislodge?). Plus, the year isn’t totally over yet is it? I’ve still got at least three weeks of reading time, completely uninterrupted except by Christmas concerts, Christmas shopping, Christmas decorating, Christmas chat, Christmas office parties, Christmas cooking, Christmas travel, Christmas manic excitement (kids), Christmas meltdowns (me).
Anyway without further ado, this year’s top ten new-to-me authors are:
Twenty years ago, I considered Margaret Atwood to be a demigod; I reverentially devoured all her books. If there had been an Atwood holy site, I’d have made the pilgrimage (as I’ve done with Prince Edward Island and Haworth). Alias Grace, Blind Assassin, The Robber Bride, The Handmaid’s Tale are still up there as some of my all time favourite books. Then came Oryx and Crake, which Atwood assured us was not science fiction, but rather ‘speculative fiction’. All the same, I was left unmoved by it. In fact, I felt decidedly let down by it. So I consciously (and somewhat painfully) turned away from any Atwood books that followed.
For me, Hag-Seed was like coming home. From the opening paragraph I knew I was back in the literary arms of the Atwood I had once known and loved: ‘Felix brushes his teeth. Then he brushes his other teeth, the false ones, and slides them into his mouth. Despite the layer of pink adhesive he’s applied they don’t fit very well’. I loved this book because of the wonderful writing and clever storytelling, but also because it showed me that Atwood and I do have a future together after all.
I love it when I pick up a book, for which I hold no expectations and know very little about, and am totally captivated by it. This was how it went with Mullumbimby. I reckon Mullumbimby by Melissa Lucashenko will feature in my top five books of 2016; it’s funny, tender, instructive and a page-turner all at once.
Salt Creek, by Lucy Treloar is a really great book. It’s set in South Australia in the 1860s and centres on the misfortunes of the Finches, an English family trying to make their living from the inhospitable land around Salt Creek. At its core Salt Creek is a story about colonial Australia’s place in the Empire, of white people’s uneasy foothold in Australia and the displacement of native Australians through farming, disease and misdirected religious fervour.
The writing is beautiful, evoking the period and the landscape. The plot begins slowly and we’re gradually drawn into each of the characters’ individual sense of alienation. The story increasingly gathers pace as Papa Finch’s fortunes fall further into decline and the family disintegrates.
Salt Creek is about love, racism, colonial pioneering, ego, familial tension and bitter disappointment. These big themes are teased out beautifully over the course of the novel. For this reason, I think Salt Creek is destined to be a film. I’ve pondered over who could play the central characters thoughtfully enough to do proper justice to this book, and I’ve come up with the following list:
Magabala Books recently sent me two children’s books to review – Return of the Dinosaurs and Cheeky Animals. I find it hard to review kids’ books because in the end, it doesn’t really matter whether I like the book!
Then I thought, who better to review these books than Master Five and his pals from kindergarten. So last week I headed into his early learning centre to do a group reading with him and his classmates.
I was actually a bit nervous as I walked through the doors. What if other kids aren’t as into books as mine? Would they find me dull? Do five-year olds heckle?
I recently read the Forbes list of highest paid authors, which provides a fascinating glimpse into the earnings of some of our favourite authors, and by proxy, our reading habits.
Two Sisters is a fascinating and engaging account of sisters Ngarta and Jukuna growing up in the Great Sandy Desert of Western Australia as the last indigenous ‘desert people’ in the region in the 1960s.
I had high hopes for Walking the Lights by Deborah Andrews. It’s been shortlisted for this year’s The Not the Booker Prize; it’s published by an independent Scottish publishing house that gave us last year’s The Not the Booker Prize winner (Fishnet by Kirsten Innes); it’s set in Glasgow, and its blurb promises that it ‘perfectly evokes 90s Britain and those living on the margins, while others prosper’. A winning combination, I thought.
I recently stumbled across George Orwell’s 1946 gem of an essay, A Nice Cup of Tea. It’s not surprising that as ‘the 20th century’s best chronicler of English culture’*, Orwell had some strong opinions about this quintessentially English institution.
In his short, humorous essay, George Orwell lists 11 inviolable rules one must follow to create the perfect cup of tea. For the most part, his dogma stands the test of time. But, there are a couple of points that are less ‘golden’ and, in my view, quite simply wrong.
George and I go head to head on what does, or does not, create the perfect cuppa.
A year ago, I moved back to Australia after 10 years in Scotland. Over these last 12 months, I’ve been relearning what it is to be Australian – not in the cliched sense, but in terms of the nuances of daily life that I’d just clean forgotten about (such aggressive driving, for example) or never even known about (the oddities of school drop offs).
But more than anything, I’ve had to confront and compute my country’s attitudes to its indigenous people and its asylum seekers. I feel like I’m seeing these issues with fresh eyes, and I really don’t like what I see.
After 1,500 votes were cast for nearly 150 books the Not the Booker prize shortlist for 2016 has been announced by The Guardian.
I’ve just finished reading what I reckon will be one of my top books of the year, The Dry by Jane Harper. Within minutes of starting this book I knew I was in safe hands, and right to the very end I couldn’t put this book down. It’s the kind of book that makes you miss your train stop; it’s an engrossing and very satisfying read.
Hands up those who get sick of explaining why we still need feminism?
It doesn’t seem to matter what statistics say about the gender pay gap, occupational segregation, family violence, women in leadership, poverty, misogyny in mainstream and social media etcetera – some remain unconvinced.
Hands up those who get sick of explaining why we still need women only book prizes?
Today the Man Booker Prize announced its longlist of 13 books, which you can find here.
I’ve not read any of the books on this year’s longlist, so can’t offer any comment on their relative merit. But I did immediately notice the absence of Charlotte Wood’s The Natural Way of Things, which made me sad.
However, I have a means to remedy this! The Guardian’s Not the Booker Prize 2016 gives us all a chance to champion our own favourite book of the year.