The Vegetarian Tigers of Paradise by Crystal Jeans

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What Crystal Jeans captures is an authentic teenage experience.

That tension of the transition between childhood and the adult world – at times pushed forward to deal with situations without the life experience to deal with them. But then the adults around you don't seem to be coping any better...

Also the awkwardness of trying to form an identity – attempts to be cool, attempts to be yourself and somehow failing at both...

A world with limited horizons – but new perspectives – full of hopes for the future, but also the beginning of moments of realisation that you probably can't “do anything”, that setting your mind to it is not enough, circumstances will hold you back, drag you back.

A powerful encounter with real life.

A Spy Among Friends by Ben MacIntyre

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MacIntyre is a consistent and skilful writer, and with Kim Philby he has a great story to tell.

He uses the case of Kim Philby to give an insight into the working of the British Establishment, and the ways in which so many continued to fail to see what Philby was doing despite there being plenty of evidence. It was almost as if he was hiding in plain sight – but maybe that is the wisdom of hindsight talking. It is a case of truth being stranger than fiction – if you made the case of Philby up no-one would believe you – which is perhaps how he got away with it for so long.

Mrs Hemingway by Naomi Wood

(Not including usual link to Hive - as I don't want to encourage you to buy this book...)

This book has great reviews – not just on the cover, but online too – as I looked them up after I decided to stop reading it.

I rarely give up on a book, but in this case I didn't finish part 1 of 4. Why? Because I found it so misogynistic – we seemed to be following weak women who could only find their existence by reference to a great man.

Maybe if I had read on the book would have rebalanced that picture, but I really couldn't be bothered to put the effort in to find out.

In the weeks since my attempt at reading this, the media has been dominated by the stories of Harvey Weinstein and the associated sex scandals – which centre on the unhealthy power dynamics between men and women which have allowed men to get away with their actions for far too long – the same power dynamics that are uncritically depicted in Mrs Hemingway.

The Red House by Mark Haddon

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I read this on the same holiday as Notes from an Exhibition and in many ways a novel from the same stable. Exploring the layers of family life – the love and joy, the dysfunction and manipulation. Yet somehow to the same measure that Notes from an Exhibition felt safe the Red House was anything but.

I seemed to invest in this family (families) in a total way – not all of them were likable but they got under my skin. Their brokenness became a pain that I felt very personally – wishing, willing, them to be better people and confounded time and again that they weren’t.

Isn’t that a quality of family life, we hope that our beloved will live lives of shinning virtue – we set such high expectations that even the best fall short. And love is mostly about dealing with the gap between the two.

Haddon's writing of the children / young people is one of the strengths, these are rounded and full-bodied individuals. For a writer to give such authentic voices to a range of generations seems to be an unusual skill.

There is also a power in the fact that “nothing” happens – they have a week in a holiday cottage, some of them go for a walk, some a run, they visit some second-hand bookshops, and there is a thunderstorm. It is easy to keep the audience on the edge of their seats during an action moive, but to do the same when there is essentially no action at all is a real talent.

Notes from an Exhibition by Patrick Gale

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Decided to read this as a follow up to watching Gale's “the Man in the Orange Shirt”.

While it was an enjoyable read, I had this strong sense of deja vu reading this book – I am not sure why this was.

Maybe I have read it before, but if I had my recall was not that strong, and it must have been before I started to blog about books.

Maybe it was something about the authenticity of the characters…

…or maybe, just maybe, this was actually fairly generic writing filled with standard tropes played together in the guise of creativity? The maverick artist mother, the strong and silence father, 3 children – one a big shot in London, one loyal and close to home, one off the map altogether.

I feel bad if offering that last possible conclusion seems to rip into the book – I enjoyed it, the ebb and flow of their lives were believable and engaging. The picture of Quaker life and worship was deeply appealing. But somehow it never surprised me, and never really moved me beyond the safe space of the observer.

I thought there would be Cake by Katharine Welby-Roberts

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Katharine offers a very personal and vulnerable account focused on practical advise about hope to cope better with the mix of depression, anxiety and self-doubt.

For me she perhaps talks about God too much although she is honest about the ways in which Church can be part of the problem when in theory it should be being part of the solution.

While I found it difficult to warm to this book it was really helpful in moving me another step along the journey to admitting that I have “anxiety” as a thing and that most of my current [gin-based] coping strategies are unhealthy.

In particular she introduced me to the concept of a “replay” - the concept is new to me but the experience isn't. I do that all the time – that I sometimes lie in bed and replay and beat myself up about things I did 20 years+ ago is not normal – and that acknowledgement is progress.

That I remember every failure and have forgotten every success – that I am driven by the desire not to end up looking stupid – ending up looking ridiculous because I am tongue-tied by the fear that what I would say would reveal my inner stupidity. I find small talk painful because of a belief that no-one would anything I say interesting so stand there silently at the edge of the circle.

Typhoon by Charles Cumming

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Picked up from the “new books” shelf in the Library despite its publication back in 2008.

Cumming is a writer is same school as Le Carré – the strength of the characters is what carries the plot, the ability to create worlds within worlds – layering the secrets one upon the other meaning that you are drawn forward seeking the full picture, each revelation pointing to the limits of knowledge. Questions about who is manipulating who abound, that one persons motives might be being used by another to completely different ends. As with Le Carré while creating a fiction there is an intense plausibility to the set up – he can believe that this is a tale only one step removed from reality.

To note that this was a great holiday read is not to disparage the quality of the writing – I will be looking out for his other novels now.