Marcus Berkmann

This seems as good a place as any to admit to one of my guiltiest pleasures. As a child I was an avid fan of the comic strip, ‘Peanuts’, and bought every single paperback selection published in this country by Coronet. Even during grumpy adolescence I maintained the collection, which now sits in a box in a loft somewhere. You grow up, you carry Garcia Marquez novels on public transport, you try and airbrush these childish enthusiasms out of your life.

Fashions change in the most unexpected ways, though, and since his death in 2000, Charles M. Schulz has acquired a critical approval he never really enjoyed during his lifetime. All sorts of important writers have marvelled at the glorious simplicity of his draftsmanship and his unerring jokecraft, all underpinned by a quiet melancholy and stoicism you don’t tend to find in four-frame daily comic strips. Now, by some miracle, the entire Peanuts oeuvre is gradually being republished in this country, by Canongate, over approximately a 20-year period, in lavishly appointed hardbacks (The Complete Peanuts Collection, £15 each). I had the first two — 1950-52 and 1953-54 — for Christmas last year, and have put in a pitiful, plaintive request for the next two this year. Unlike almost everything you read as a child, they are actually better than you remember them.

Oldish and newish novels I have particularly enjoyed this year include J. G. Farrell’s The Siege of Krishnapur (1973), Rachel Cusk’s Arlington Park (2006) and Amy Bloom’s Away (2007).

Blackwell Bookshop

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