Book Reviews

Our reviews of the latest in literature

Joy to the world

Patrick Gale’s new novel could be read as a companion work to his hugely successful Notes from an Exhibition, and in fact, in a satisfying twist, some characters and even objects slip from the latter into this novel. Notes from an Exhibition centred around the character of Rachel Kelly, whose mental instability and solipsistic devotion to her art left a painful mark on her family. The ‘perfectly good man’ of this title is a vicar, Barnaby Johnson, as kind, gentle and balanced as Rachel Kelly was not, yet with the same sense of vocation — in this case, selfless service to the church — that moulds and in its own

Last of the swagmen

I have hitherto resisted my wife’s frequent recommendations that I should read a daily blog about the life of the denizens of Spitalfields, but, now that they have been published in book form, I can see why she is such an enthusiast. The Gentle Author is deliberately anonymous and bases his style on a combination of John Gay and Henry Mayhew, a pseudo-18th-century faux naïf, who wanders round his local neighbourhood collecting the tales of ordinary folk, including the last of the so-called swagmen who has a market stall in Spitalfields, the waiter in an Indian restaurant just off Brick Lane, Fred, who sells chestnuts at the corner of Bell

Here be monsters | 17 March 2012

The lovely title of this book comes from the philosopher David Hume. The question he posed was this: if a man grew up familiar with every shade of blue but one, would he be able to recognise the hue in a chart of blues, or would it register only as a blank? In other words, can the intellect supply information, or may we know things only through the senses? Dwelling too long on this sort of problem famously sends people mad. Hume himself suffered a breakdown, after which he sensibly made it his business to get out more. In this novel, two of the three people central to the story

Abiding inspiration

In 1971 looking back over his life, Lionel Trilling (1905-1975) declared himself surprised at being referred to as a critic. Certainly his plan when young had been the pursuit of the literary life, ‘but what it envisaged was the career of the novelist. To this intention, criticism, when eventually I began to practise it, was always secondary, an afterthought: in short, not a vocation but an avocation.’ As Adam Kirsch comments, in his timely, incisive, succinct study, this admission was made when Trilling was ‘the most famous and authoritative literary critic in the English-speaking world.’ His volumes of critical essays, beginning with The Liberal Imagination (1950) — which sold 70,000

Africa’s excesses

There are an awful lot of prostitutes in Africa and most of them seem to pass through the pages of Richard Grant’s book at one time or another. All this puts him in a terrible lather — ‘I had been so long without a woman’, he moans at one point, this while weighing up the attractions of a woman called Felicia ‘with extraordinary skin’ in the Rwandan capital, Kigali. But Grant also has a girlfriend back home who he’s determined to remain faithful to, and a mind set on higher things. He wants to become the first person to navigate the second longest river in Tanzania, the Malagarasi. The reason

Bookends: A life of gay abandon

Sometimes, only the purest smut will do. Scotty Bowers’s memoir, Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars (Grove Press, £16.99) is 24 carat, 100 per cent proof. Now rising 89, Scotty (pictured above in his youth) was for years the go-to guy in Tinseltown for sexual favours. Black, white, short, tall, same sex, opposite sex: he could supply it all. But this was no prostitution ring he was running, good lord no. He didn’t charge for his services. He just liked ‘to help folks out’. And he was winningly discreet — until now, that is. His book is Hollywood Babylon and then some,

Interview: Tim Weiner and 100 years of the FBI

It was a glorious spring day, but Tim Weiner was thinking about the folly of men. “It’s a beautiful day outside. I go past a statue of [Field Marshal] Haig and I remembered all those poor bastards who died on beautiful spring days.” Weiner has made a career documenting folly — and deceit. He won the Pulitzer Prize in 1988 reporting on black budget spending at the Pentagon and the CIA, and has spent the succeeding 24 years examining the American intelligence community. He is in London promoting his latest book, Enemies: A history of the FBI. Enemies is a history that moves at the pace of a James Ellroy

The art of fiction: On the Road

This is the year of literary anniversaries. Dickens, Durrell and Stoker are joined by Kerouac, who was born 90 years ago this week. In addition to the usual raft of special editions and gushing talks, Kerouac’s birthplace — Lowell, Massachusetts — will premier his only known play, Beat Generation, in October. The play was only discovered a few years ago. It was written in 1957, the year Kerouac published On the Road, the book which won him immortal fame. A film adaptation of On the Road is to be released in May. It has been more than 50 years in the making, as this letter (published by the inimitable Letters

Awake, arise, or be forever fallen

The latest edition of the White Review was launched at Foyles yesterday evening and long into the night. The magazine is a vehicle for new writers, supported by the work of and interviews with established authors and artists. This quarter’s edition features a short story by Deborah Levy, a discursive interview with Ahdaf Soueif and poems by the ever-iconoclastic Michael Horowitz. Each piece challenges present anxieties, which is no bad thing. There is a tendency in Britain to see everything through the prism of decline. This crushes the spirit and impedes growth (in every sense of the term). The magazine’s rousing editorial shakes this culture of exhaustion: ‘We must not allow ourselves the indulgence of

History is made at the Man Asian Literary Prize

– Hong Kong South Korean author Kyung-sook Shin has become the first woman to win the Man Asian Literary Prize for her novel Please Look After Mother, which tells the story of a family’s heartbreaking search  for their mum after she goes missing from a Seoul subway station. During a black-tie dinner hosted at the Conrad hotel in Hong Kong, BBC Special Correspondent and chair of this year’s judging  panel Razia Iqbal announced the winner of Asia’s most prestigious prize for literature. She said the reason they chose Shin’s book is because it is “an amazing story”,  beautifully written and poignantly told,  through a compelling structure of different narrative voices.

Reading in Florence

Ninety per cent of the population of Florence is Roman Catholic. Apparently that’s common knowledge, but sometimes it’s the little things that hammer home the big statistics. In my case it was a recent tour of the city’s bookshops, which reveal far more besides about Florentine reading habits relative to British ones. Many of the general bookshops in the city centre double as stockists for theologians and are consequently rammed full of browsing monks. The other curious thing about these shops is that several are thence divided again into two halves, one dedicated to novels and non-fiction printed in Italian, the other to the same books printed in English. One

Read all about it, talk all about it

The latest issue of the Spectator is out today and it asks a question we’ve been pondering on the Book Blog: why are there so many Titanic books?Melanie McDonagh explains that ‘the Titanic offered any number of moral dilemmas to ponder in 1912. It still does.’ The disaster prompts us to ask how we and our society would behave. It is classic dinner party fodder. No wonder we’re still hooked. You can read Melanie’s article (and James Delingpole’s glowing review of Julian Fellowes’s new TV drama, Titanic) on the Spectator’s interactive App. The App is free and provides constant access to the Spectator’s rolling blog content. Magazine articles are free

Inside Books: Mum’s the word

It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday and what could be a more thoughtful present for one’s mum than a good book? Especially a book that features a happy relationship between a mother and her child. Surely it beats an overpriced, overcrowded Sunday brunch out somewhere, or a bunch of panic-bought, petrol-station flowers? With this in mind, I have racked my brains and scoured the bookshelves for some good motherly books to recommend. But I’m sorry to say I’ve come up with very little. The shocking fact of the matter is: literature seems to be nearly devoid of role-model mums. At first I thought of recent books, alighting on The Blackwater Lightship

100 years on, the un-dead are in better shape than ever

It is, of course, entirely appropriate that the estate of Bram Stoker should choose to mark the 100th anniversary of the author’s death this year with a series of events, such as the publication of Bram Stoker’s Lost Journal, and a special edition of Dracula.    With other writers you might decide to commemorate their birth, or the date of their greatest work. But death — and in particular the way it needn’t stand in the way of a man’s career — was the underpinning theme of Bram Stoker’s most famous novel. And with the popularity of vampires at an all time high in the early years of 21st century,

Shelf Life: Sue Townsend

A last minute cancellation by Adrian Mole meant that Sue Townsend had to step in to answer this week’s Shelf Life questions. She tells us which books she read as a child and what she would title her own memoirs. Her latest book, The Woman who Went to Bed for a Year, is out now. 1) What are you reading at the moment? Nothing I am registered blind, I listen to plays and readings 2) As a child, what did you read under the covers? Comics, Mad Magazine, P.G. Wodehouse, The William books, Jane Eyre, Little Women… 3) Has a book ever made you cry, and if so which one?

Libraries get political

The political battle over library closures has intensified. Earlier this morning, shadow culture secretary Dan Jarvis chastised libraries minister Ed Vaizey for being the ‘Dr Beeching of libraries’. Jarvis said that Vaizey should not be so ‘short-sighted’ as to permit 600 libraries to shut in England. He urged the government to intervene to save these ‘vital assets’, adding that not to do so would make a ‘mockery of the 1964 Public Libraries and Museums Act’. The Act allows the secretary of state to intervene if local authorities are in breach of their statutory requirement to provide a ‘comprehensive and efficient’ library service in local communities. Library campaigners have already demanded that Jeremy

Childish things

As the publishing industry comes to terms with the latest reports that the book is dead — this time at the hands of a digital revolution — we can count Penguin’s illustrated edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland among the reasons to be optimistic for its future. This latest version of Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece, for which Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama has supplied the artwork, makes full use of every advantage the printed book enjoys over its electronic counterpart and, as such, points the way for publishers fearful of the digital age.   The characters and meandering plot of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland will need little introduction to readers of this

Discovering poetry: Edmund Spenser’s ideal marriage

From ‘Prothalamion’ There in a meadow by the river’s side A flock of nymphs I chancéd to espy, All lovely daughters of the flood thereby, With goodly greenish locks all loose untied As each had been a bride; And each one had a little wicker basket Made of fine twigs, entrailéd curiously. In which they gather’d flowers to fill their flasket, And with fine fingers cropt full feateously The tender stalks on high. Of every sort which in that meadow grew They gather’d some; the violet, pallid blue, The little daisy that at evening closes, The virgin lily and the primrose true, With store of vermeil roses, To deck their

Across the literary pages | 12 March 2012

It is literary festival season, and there seem to be more than ever. In the next three months, there will be gatherings at Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwick, Swindon, Oxford, Cambridge, Hay, Glasgow — I could go on and on and on. The second wave of festivals comes in the high summer, before the final and long hurrah in the autumn. The proliferation is perplexing. These are hardly the best of times for the consumer; you would expect demand to be relatively low, especially as these events are populated by the same authors saying the same things about the same books. Was Martin Bell, for instance, more or less interesting at Guildford than he