Book Reviews

Our reviews of the latest in literature

Much ado about Israel

Ian McEwan is in hot water with some of his lesser known fellows. A group of self-styled ‘pro-Palestinian authors’ wrote to the Guardian on Monday, and expressed their regret that McEwan will accept the biennial Jerusalem Prize. They averred that the prize, which is awarded to those who explore the theme of individual freedom in society, ‘is a cruel joke and a propaganda tool for the Israeli state.’ Some politically strident people have been cracking that cruel joke: Jorge Luis Borge, Bertrand Russell, Simone de Beauvoir, Isaiah Berlin, Susan Sontag, Eugene Ionesco, Arthur Miller, V S. Naipaul and J M. Coetzee. However, as you may have noticed, these tools of

Of art, beauty and life

If you are new to Ruskin, this volume from Penguin’s ‘Great Ideas’ series is the perfect place to begin. It contains two self-contained essays, ‘The Nature of Gothic’ (from The Stones of Venice) and ‘The Work of Iron’ (a lecture he delivered at Tunbridge Wells in 1858). The two essays are short enough to be both read over in a couple of hours or so, but they cut right to the heart of Ruskin’s concerns. What do examples of good art have in common, and why should those specific qualities make them better than bad art? What is the connection between beauty and morality, and how should a well-ordered society

Walcott wins

At last, Derek Walcott has won the T S. Eliot Prize for poetry. Walcott’s latest collection, White Egrets, was described by chairman of the judges, Anne Stevenson, as a “moving, risk-taking and technically flawless book by a great poet; in the best traditions of the Eliot Prize.” Walcott overcame some renowned competition – including his fellow Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney and Simon Armitage – to secure Britain’s most prestigious poetry award. The panel of judges is comprised of poets and academics, bestowing professional recognition on the winner, who also collects a handy cheque for £15,000. Critics and reviewers concur that White Egrets is an exceptional work, sufficiently brilliant to compete

Coming to a screen near you

Some intriguing literary whispers did the rounds yesterday. Both the Telegraph and the Observer carried the story of Anne Robinson’s imminent leap from quiz-master to literary chat-shown host. And today confirmation of such an unlikely move was confirmed by the BBC: My Life In Books, a new daily show hosted by the queen of mean is set to hit our screens with confirmed guests like the Duchess of Devonshire, P.D. James, Giles Coren and Sir Trevor McDonald. As Vanessa Thorpe points out in her Observer piece, My Life in Books is one among a clutch of new bookish shows coming from the BBC in the next few weeks: Stephen Fry’s

Across the literary pages | 24 January 2011

The New York Times’ Janet Maslin reviews Frank Brady’s review of Chess playing wild child Bobby Fischer. ‘It’s no exaggeration to call Bobby Fischer both one of the most admired and one of the most reviled figures in American history. The admiration is prompted by his precocious rise to the pinnacle of the chess-playing world and his galvanizing 1972 cold-war-era triumph over Boris Spassky, the Soviet champion. The vilification stems from the monstrousness he exhibited in later years. On Sept. 11, 2001, he told a radio interviewer, “Yes, well, this is all wonderful news,” and, “It’s time to finish off the U.S. once and for all.” Thanks to the Internet,

Dark art

Shadow Catchers is an effective title, with its magical and occult associations, and a nice echo of body snatchers into the bargain. Shadow Catchers is an effective title, with its magical and occult associations, and a nice echo of body snatchers into the bargain. The exhibition (sponsored by Barclays Wealth) it labels is less impressive: a group of five individuals who might be photographers or might be artists showing us their experiments with light-sensitive materials. Wandering round the more than usually subfusc exhibition space, I wondered whether this was not more properly a display for the Science or Natural History Museums. The dim lighting, apparently dictated by a concern for

All these Indias

Some years ago I went to a dinner party in Lucknow, capital of India’s Uttar Pradesh, where the hosts and their guests were Hindus who as children had fled Lahore in 1947 at the time of Partition. A week later I was in Lahore, capital of Pakistan’s Punjab, and found myself in a house where the other diners were Muslim refugees who at a similar age had come from Lucknow. Midway through the second meal, I suddenly realised how similar the two groups of middle-class professional people were. Lawyers, teachers, booksellers and architects, they shared the same tastes and the same worries, their chief anxiety being that their belligerent governments

Under Eastern eyes

The Ottoman Empire inspired great travel books as well as great architects. Travellers like George Sandys, Richard Pococke or the Chevalier d’Arvieux in the 17th and 18th centuries were curious, erudite and less arrogant than their 19th-century successors. The Ottoman Empire inspired great travel books as well as great architects. Travellers like George Sandys, Richard Pococke or the Chevalier d’Arvieux in the 17th and 18th centuries were curious, erudite and less arrogant than their 19th-century successors. Like cameras, they recorded monuments, encounters, manners and customs. They can make the reader feel that he or she is there, in Smyrna or Beirut, at that time. Ottoman travel writers on Europe, however,

Living dolls

Born in Japan, growing up in America in the Sixties, Yoko Kawaguchi was perplexed by the persistence of what she felt to be an anachronistic image of Japanese culture: the geisha. ‘That mincing, simpering personification of female subservience to the male infuriated me,’ she writes in the introduction to Butterfly’s Sisters. Her book explores the Western portrayal of Japanese women with emphasis on the geisha, from the mid-19th century to the present day, comparing perception with reality, misunderstandings compounded by prejudice. She details the geisha’s appearance from head to toe (tortoiseshell hairpin to wooden-soled geta), and the life, from the market in virginity to retirement and/or violent death, encompassing history,

Pig in the middle

Writing an autobiographical account of middle age is a brave undertaking, necessitating a great deal of self-scrutiny at a time of life when most of us would sooner look the other way and hope for the best. Jane Shilling took up riding relatively late (she even joined a hunt, as described in her book The Fox in the Cupboard), so she has physical daring. The Stranger in the Mirror shows that she also has emotional and intellectual courage. Unsurprisingly, the news is not good. God and gardening are the traditional refuges of the menopausal, but neither seems to hold much interest for Shilling. Romantic entanglements seem unlikely and her teenaged

Hell or high water

As his battered bomber hurtled towards the Pacific in May 1943, Louis Zamperini thought to himself that no one was going to survive the crash. If he had had the slightest inkling of what lay ahead of him, he readily admits that he might have preferred death, staying beneath the surface of the water rather than wrestling his way from the wreckage as it sank. Clambering into a life raft floating amid the blood and wreckage, he knew the odds were bad. Search planes were more likely to crash — just as his barely airworthy B-24 had — than rescue downed airmen. Only three of the crew survived — and

Bookends: OK, by Allan Metcalf

One of Allan Metcalf’s contentions in OK: The Improbable Story of America’s Greatest Word is that the two letters have become America’s philosophy: ‘we don’t insist that everything be perfect; OK is good enough’. One of Allan Metcalf’s contentions in OK: The Improbable Story of America’s Greatest Word is that the two letters have become America’s philosophy: ‘we don’t insist that everything be perfect; OK is good enough’. It’s a pity that his book proves the point. There are occasional snippets of interest. Modern texters shorten the word to ‘k’ (how lazy can a thumb get?), while NASA were the first to lengthen it with an initial ‘A’, seeking clarity

Bookends: OK

Mark Mason has written the Bookends column in this week’s issue of the Spectator. Here it is as an exclusive for this blog. One of Allan Metcalf’s contentions in OK: The Improbable Story of America’s Greatest Word is that the two letters have become America’s philosophy: ‘we don’t insist that everything be perfect; OK is good enough’. It’s a pity that his book proves the point. There are occasional snippets of interest. Modern texters shorten the word to ‘k’ (how lazy can a thumb get?), while NASA were the first to lengthen it with an initial ‘A’, seeking clarity amid radio static. Baseball pitchers sometimes employ an ‘OK’ grip, the

What the Dickens?

It was the literary equivalent of Gordon Brown’s Arctic Monkeys moment.  Disgraced American politician Michael Steele was asked to name his favourite book. ‘War and Peace,’ he said, aghast that anyone could have imagined anything else. He then illustrated his mastery of Tolstoy with the following quotation: ‘It was the best of times and the worst of times.’ This must be the age of foolishness rather than wisdom. To have misattributed a famous quotation is one thing, to have bastardised it another. Anyway, this slip reminded me of Robert Gottlieb’s wonderful and extensive examination of Dickens, published by the New York Review of Books last July. Drawing on recent biographies

Discovering poetry: London, capital of the world

With new taxes and regulations being placed on London’s financial sector, come predictions of London’s demise as a global financial centre. But an important part of London’s mythology is of a city which is repeatedly destroyed, yet always rises again. The great fire of 1666 is one of the most famous of these episodes of cyclical apocalypse. In Annus Mirabilis, written shortly after the fire, John Dryden imagines a rebuilt London rising stronger and more beautiful before. Dryden is apologetic about old London, which was “but rude and low”. Another constant feature of London’s mythology is that it’s ugly, despite its fantastic wealth. But this is through choice. England’s political

Coming in 2011: David Lodge on H.G. Wells

Literary biography is dead, long since in fact. Biographical works of literary figures are becoming a vogue. Arthur and George and the recent Tolstoy film biopic will be joined by David Lodge’s A Man of Parts. This is the life of H.G. Wells, as remembered by H.G. Wells, according to Lodge that is. No small task, not least because of the many potential pitfalls facing the writer as he tries to control voice and narration. Where does Lodge end and Wells begin? And vice versa.   Wells is a particularly daunting subject, riven with contradictions. A feminist womaniser, a Darwinist with intense religious convictions, a stylist who abandoned the literary

Rod Liddle

A digression

This post is not about one of the crucial issues of the day, so if you’re hungry for controversy, please move on. This is a trivial personal thing and I wondered if you might help. A couple of months ago I started to read a new novel by one of our esteemed highbrow-ish writers. I cannot remember the name of the writer or the novel, and I don’t wish to be reminded either. The story was written in the first person and the thing was I got half way down the first page and flung the book away from me in intense irritation, an irritation which stayed with me for

The name’s Holmes, Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes and James Bond are to be resurrected. Anthony Horowitz, children’s novelist and TV writer (Foyle’s War, Midsomer Murders), is writing the Holmes novel, while Jeffrey Deaver is following up Sebastian Faulk’s Bond effort, Devil May Care, with a new 007 thriller – Carte Blanche. A new Holmes volume is intriguing. The cerebral sleuth is out of step with the gruesomeness of modern, hard-boiled detective narratives. Forget Robert Downey, Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch: Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories are winsome tales, meandering along in a haze of psychology, subterfuge and pipe smoke. The razor-wielding grizzle of Silent Witness, Law and Order or CSI is chalk to its cheese. And,

Pressing for the prize

The judges of the T S. Eliot poetry prize are in session. The prize is the most prestigious and the most lucrative poetry prize in Britain and this year the competition is comprised of luminaries. In fact, ‘luminaries’ doesn’t do justice to this field of Nobel laureates, contenders for the poet laureateship and other acclaimed originals. The winner will be announced on Sunday. As light relief from the weighty matters of the times, the Today programme has asked each nominee to read their allotted poems. Here you can find Simon Armitage The English Astronaut and Knowing What We Know Now; Pascale Petit reading The Little Deer and What Water Gave