Book Reviews

Our reviews of the latest in literature

A choice of first novels

Rocco LaGrassa was ‘stout around the middle . . . wee at the ankles, and girlish at his tiny feet, a man in the shape of a lightbulb’. In Salvatore Scibona’s first novel we join this lightbulb of a man on perhaps his darkest day: the day on which the police arrive at his door to tell him his son has just died of tuberculosis in a prisoner-of-war camp in North Korea. Rocco LaGrassa was ‘stout around the middle . . . wee at the ankles, and girlish at his tiny feet, a man in the shape of a lightbulb’. In Salvatore Scibona’s first novel we join this lightbulb of

Melanie McDonagh

Bookends: The last laugh | 8 April 2011

Melanie McDonagh has written the Bookend column in this week’s issue of the Spectator. Here it is for readers of this blog. In July, the world’s most famous restaurant, elBulli, closes, to reopen in 2014 as a ‘creative centre’. Rough luck on the million-odd people who try for one of 8,000 reservations a year. It’s also a blow for the eponymous young cooks of Lisa Abend’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentices, the 45 stagiaires who labour in Ferran Adria’s kitchen for a season in the hope of sharing in the magic. Ferran, you see, is no mere cook. With him, ‘hot turns into cold, sweet into savoury, solid into liquid or air’.

Unashamedly high-brow

Montaigne has acquired new followers, thanks to Sarah Bakewell’s award winning biography. This has inspired a breath of enthusiasm in the form; the essay is back in vogue.  Writing in the FT, Carl Wilkinson reviews recent efforts from Hanif Kureishi and Alaa Al Aswany. He also mentions the foundation of Notting Hill Editions, an imprint with a brief ‘devoted to the best in essayistic nonfiction writing’. Lucasta Miller, Notting Hill Editions’ editorial director, explained this new venture to me: ‘Newspaper articles have got shorter and shorter, and more and more driven by an “instant comment” agenda…In the 19th century the periodical press offered scope for the long, considered essay –

A riot act

Jonathan Coe is surprised by his eminence. ‘I’m just a comic Agatha Christie,’ he says. Coe was at the Guardian last night in King’s Cross – the newspaper’s book club has been reading What A Carve Up, Coe’s satire of the Thatcher years. Coe understands the book’s continued popularity and relevance. ‘The political mood has not changed in that time, arguably it’s got worse.’ He welcomes the book’s success; but regrets that society has not rejected the apostles of greed and laments that even the Labour party now dallies with the filthy rich. Coe conceived of writing a political-satire-cum-social-panorama in the mid-eighties, but took several years to complete the project.

Book of the Month

Tessa Hadley’s The London Train is the dark horse in the race for the Orange prize for women fiction writers. And it is this month’s Spectator book of the month. The novel has an understated, almost kitchen sink quality to it. Austen Saunders reviewed the book for this blog, and wrote: ‘The London Train is really two associated novellas connected by the themes of love, infidelity, and Bristol Parkway…Hadley’s loosely connected stories attempt a low-key exploration of how even people who have shared a home for years can be very much alone. No myths, just microwave dinners.’    Hadley’s previous book, The Master Bedroom, sailed in much rougher waters –

Journey of a lifetime

Tessa Hadley’s The London Train will feel very much at home in the Paddington branch of W.H. Smith. For like almost all of Dickens’ novels, The London Train involves a series of journeys to and from London. Unlike Dickens, however, Tessa Hadley chooses to subject her characters to repeated trips to South Wales – a part of the world that mostly escaped Dickens’ attention (a paucity of urchins, perhaps?). The London Train differs also from Dickens in that all these journeys add up to less than the sum of their parts. If Dickens’ novels weave new mythologies about how people live together in the modern world, Hadley’s loosely connected stories

Poetry ‘dealt with in fell swoop’ by the Arts Council

The Arts Council (ACE) has not one ounce of sentiment. Faced with a tight spending settlement, ACE has withdrawn £111,000 funding from the Poetry Book Society (PBS), founded by T.S. Eliot to promote poetry. In consequence, the PBS is threatened with closure, along with the prestigious T.S. Eliot prize. This has inspired a furious reaction in the mainstream media and the blogosphere. A petition has been established and PBS board have written to the Times today threatening to challenge ACE’s decision. This follows separate interventions from 9 poets and Carol Ann Duffy, each expressing their concern and, in Duffy’s case, disgust that so much funding is to be withdrawn from

Around the world’s book blogs

Philip Larkin is not the best poet in HMP Norwich, but could console himself by licking a colouring book. The effects of high-speed rail would be familiar to Dickens. Martin Amis’s complaints would be familiar to Proust. John Fowles’s desk is emigrating to Texas. Ebooks are indeed the wild frontier; and Google might not be the bloke in the white hat. Shouting at critics remains unwise.

Across the literary pages | 4 April 2011

Though not strictly a weekend literary supplement, the Flavorwire has 19 pictures of achingly sharp authors working at their typewriters. They include Tennessee Williams, John Cheevor, Slyvia Plath, Francoise Sagan and William Faulkner.   A.C. Grayling was on the Today programme this morning, debating his secular Bible, The Good Book, with the Canon Chancellor of St. Pauls. Grayling has also given an interview to Decca Aitkenhead in the Guardian, where, among other things, he expands on secular morality, spiritual understanding and the importance of language.    ‘He insists that his new book does not belong in the same canon as Dawkins’s The God Delusion and Hitchens’s God Is Not Great.

Bookends: Murder in the dark

When the Observer critic Philip French started writing on the cinema in the early 1960s, he once explained in an interview, books about film were a rarity. ‘Now I have three book-lined rooms dedicated just to the cinema, including 50 books on Hitchcock and 30 on film noir.’ I Found it at the Movies (Carcanet, £19.95), a collection of essays and occasional writings about film first published from 1964 up to the present, is intended to ‘throw light’ on the times in which they were written and chart the shifting attitudes to film as entertainment and art. But it is surprising how little has changed. The 1964 essay ‘Violence in

In the pink

In 1988 Katherine Swift took a lease on the Dower House at Morville Hall, a National Trust property in Shropshire, and created a one-and-a-half acre garden in what had been a field. In The Morville Hours (2008), she placed that garden in its landscape and wrote one of the finest books about the history, philosophy and the practice of gardening you are likely to read. She is currently working on a sequel, and The Morville Year is a very welcome interim volume, gathering the columns she wrote for The Times between 2001 and 2005. The book is arranged by month, starting not in January but in March: as Swift characteristically

The trail goes cold

For centuries, the history of the far North was a tapestry of controversies and mis- understandings, misspellings, dubious arrivals and equally dubious departures. Pytheas the Greek sailed north from Britain in the 4th century BC, found a place where the sea, land and sky seemed to merge, and was trounced by later scholars as a terrible charlatan. The Vikings mingled cartographical details with stories of trolls and hauntings. During the reign of Elizabeth I, Martin Frobisher went north and (mistakenly) thought he’d found gold. Undeterred, successive explorers and treasure hunters ventured into the Arctic wastes, many of them vanishing among the floes. Frederick Cook claimed to have reached the North

The evil of banality

Aimez-vous Heidegger? According to his admirers, he was the most significant and influential philosopher of the 20th century. For Hannah Arendt, despite her claims eventually to have found the perfect husband in Heinrich Blucher, Heidegger was the love of her life. She was his precocious teenage pupil when he lectured on Plato’s Sophist at Marburg in 1924, and the Herr Doktor’s dark-eyed Jewish mistress not long afterwards. He was 35, married with two sons, only one of whom (it emerged much later) he had fathered. His wife Elfride was an eager anti-Semite; Heidegger’s eagerness was for his own advancement and fame. Hannah never got over the thrill of being his

Haitian horrors

Twenty years ago, in 1991, I was shown round the National Palace in the Haitian capital of Port-au-Prince. A government official led me through long rococo halls crammed with oriental rugs, gilded boule clocks and vases of deep pink roses. Little had changed since Jean-Claude ‘Baby Doc’ Duvalier had fled Haiti in 1986. The Hall of Busts was lined with bronze heads of other Haitian presidents up to Elie Lescot in 1946. However, the bust of Jean-Claude’s dictator father ‘Papa Doc’ Duvalier had been removed to the ‘Dépot de Débris’, where it lay covered in dust. On 12 January 2010, the National Palace was turned to dust in an earthquake.

A world of her own

This book, written by someone whose husband was for three years prime minister of Britain, is impossible to review. Yes, it is dull, but it is so triumphantly, so ineffably, dull it enters a breezy little monochrome world of its own. There is no characterisation, for no value judgments are passed, except those on Mrs Brown’s husband, who is portrayed as such a force for good he is virtually an extra-terrestrial being intervening in the affairs of men. As for the rest they are ‘charming’ or ‘lovely’. This is Mrs Brown showing HRH Prince Andrew, as she calls him, round Chequers: Without thinking, I open the drawer that holds the

Bookend: Murder in the dark

Edward King has written the bookend column in this week’s issue of the Spectator. Here it is for readers of this blog. When the Observer critic Philip French started writing on the cinema in the early 1960s, he once explained in an interview, books about film were a rarity. ‘Now I have three book-lined rooms dedicated just to the cinema, including 50 books on Hitchcock and 30 on film noir.’ I Found it at the Movies, a collection of essays and occasional writings about film first published from 1964 up to the present, is intended to ‘throw light’ on the times in which they were written and chart the shifting

To ban a book

There is much howling and gnashing of teeth in India at the moment. Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and author Joseph Lelyveld has written a book about Gandhi, which, it is alleged, portrays Gandhi as having homosexual and racist tendencies. When in South Africa, Gandhi lodged with a German body-builder and architect, Hermann Kallenbach. Lelyland quotes Gandhi’s in a letter to Kallenbach saying: ‘How completely you have taken possession of my body’ and ‘this is slavery with a vengeance.’ In his correspondence from that period, Gandhi referred to black Africans as ‘kaffirs’; Lelyveld mentions this contoversy also.    Lelyveld insists that is not implying that the two men were lovers or

A weekend away

The weather for the weekend looks bad, so usually a jaunt to Oxford, the dankest place on earth, would be ill advised. But this weekend is different. The undergraduates are long gone for Easter and the Sunday Times’ literary festival is in town from Saturday 2 April until Sunday 10th April. The headline speakers are King Abudullah of Jordan, Kazuo Ishiguro, A.C. Grayling, Michael Frayn, Karen Armstrong, David Starkey and Gilbert and George. The list of other speakers is equally impressive: Phillip Pullman, David Nicholls, David Lodge, Edna O’Brien, John Julius Norwich, P.D. James, Colin Dexter, Nigel Lawson, Prue Leith and Matthew Parris. Tickets are still available, so click here

New release: Henrician hygiene

By day five without shampoo, I didn’t dare take off my hat for fear of frightening children with horrible hair. Despite its awfulness, my itchy week on a Tudor personal hygiene regime was as good an argument as any for experimental archaeology, or ‘trying things out’. It was all part of the research for my book If Walls Could Talk, published tomorrow by Faber & Faber.       I wanted to know how the Tudors managed before the invention of the bathroom, why they knew about but ignored the flushing toilet, and why they were afraid of bathing.  My week taught me lots of things:   1. If you don’t