Jack of Hearts (And Other Parts) by L.C. Rosen
This was exactly what I needed to read right now. A breath of fresh air, and a reminder that I hadn’t gone too far in my pre-teen novel when I used the word ‘willy’ in the context of a scan photo. Jack of Hearts is the seductively readable YA story of a gay teenager, Jack. He has no insecurities or inhibitions when it comes to his own sex-life and is well-used to being talked about by his peers, regardless of the validity of their gossip. As the basis of a high school drama, that in itself is enticing. I’ve read lots of stories with gay characters, but not enough where their experiences are the main viewpoint. But there’s more. Jack finds himself with his very own stalker. What starts out as mildly odd, becomes creepier, scarier, and ultimately behaviour-changing as the threats progress.
Rosen does a bang-up job of showing how bullying changes behaviour. The lust for life that Jack has at the start, is slowly drained away as his fears increase. The isolation of being targeted is clear. His friends mean well but can’t help him. It’s a clever study of human behaviour, all enacted by likeably flawed characters for whom you only want the best. On top of that, the sex-advice that peppers the novel via Jack’s Agony Aunt column, is both graphic, and informative. Homophobes would struggle, but for everyone else, whether teenager or older, this is a wonderful read.
October 2018
Kill 'Em All by John Niven
Blimey. I need a lie down after this. Kill ‘Em All is a dizzyingly un-PC, sweary, grotesque romp of a tale. And I loved it. It’s the sequel to a book I’ve not yet read but I don’t think that mattered. Those who've met protagonist Steven Stelfox before (Kill Your Friends) will know that his moral compass is somewhat skewed. It’s a risky move to create a central character that is so unlikeable. As the book progressed, I wondered when his redemption story was going to kick in. There’s an argument to say it did slightly towards the end, except that would mean shutting your eyes to the horrific and irredeemable behaviour he’s exhibited until then. You see, this is Tr*mp’s America. It’s Brexit Britain. The old rules don’t apply. Stelfox is riding high, with his money, power and unearned privilege cushioning him against the slightest resistance to his megalomania.
Within this grossly decadent world is a page-turner of a plot. A former child-star-turned-emperor-of-pop is causing his management problems. His increasingly drug-addled criminal activities in the bedroom need a fixer. Stelfox is the man. Set amongst record industry execs, Sultans, and grifters on the make, this repulsed and excited in equal measure. Niven’s writing grabs your throat and shoves you hard against the wall. It’s full on and visceral. I’m sure I’ll read the prequel, Kill Your Friends. After I’ve got my breath back and consumed a vat of hot sweet tea.
October 2018
A Keeper by Graham Norton
One of my (many) pet peeves is when a big-name celebrity is given a book deal. It only bugs me when the book is rubbish but I’ve read several that wouldn’t make it off the slush pile if it hadn’t been written by a famous TV presenter/actor/comedian who the world already knows. I suppose my argument is that they have their own room on the autobiography shelves, so should leave fiction to real writers. Or something. Anyway, it was with all those feelings of resentment in mind that I read Graham Norton’s first fictional effort a couple of months ago. Holding was a slightly dark, slightly creepy, atmospheric mystery in a small Irish town. I enjoyed it at the time, and thought it was a decent effort. But I still had reservations it would have caught an agent’s eye if he hadn’t been Graham Norton. (Because you see, I AM EXPERT IN THESE MATTERS.)
Last week his second fiction book came out - A Keeper. I do like Graham and I’d heard good things so I allowed myself to get swept up with the marketing buzz of it all. And here’s the thing. It was spectacular. I read the first chapter towards the end of a busy day, then the next afternoon I picked it up again. I didn’t put it down until four hours later when it was finished. I know! It went in the blink of an eye. It was impossible to leave as I really needed to know what happened. The small town Irish life was kindly observed alongside the harsh realities it held, and I cared about the characters very deeply. As much as there were similarities between his previous subject matter – secrets from the past, small town Ireland, sadness, loneliness, and ageing – it felt like his writing had ramped up several notches since his first book. I loved it. A properly good read in which to lose yourself.
August 2018
How to be Famous by Caitlin Moran
I'm a fan of gender-neutral language. I prefer its inclusivity. There are periodical reminders of the need to dismantle patriarchal norms when phrases like 'man-made' are used to describe clothes made by predominantly female workers, for example. 'Staffed' instead of 'manned'. 'Humankind' instead of 'mankind'. It makes sense to stop disregarding around half the population with old terminology. But with all that in mind, I'm struggling to work out a better way to say 'master craftsman'. Obviously, 'mistress craftswoman' may be more female friendly, but still specifies a gender. 'Brilliant maker of things?' 'Exceptional person who crafts stuff with their hands?' Whichever way you go, I want to describe Caitlin Moran this way. She is someone who builds sentences, imagery and ideas with precision and skill. Her books are crafted. The pages are filled with paragraphs hewn from actual language-rock. As I read her latest novel, I found myself screen-shotting perfect sentences; building up a digital reference bank of her skills. It was like being taught by the best. Reading her work always makes me want to up my game.
This book - following on from How to Build a Girl - continues the story of Johanna Morrigan, AKA Dolly Wilde. It's funny, it's encouraging, it's a sometimes subtle, sometimes overt polemic on the nature of fame, sexual politics, and modern life in general. It's marvellous. Just as with Caitlin Moran's previous books, I wish I'd read these when I was in my more formative years. But even so, reading now was like downing a confidence shot. I got drunk with the thrill of a character who lived on her own terms. A character who wasn't defined by others, or by her relationship to other people. It was a treat to read, whilst also showing myself and a generation of younger women, what is and isn't acceptable. I believe there's a third novel planned. I cannot wait.
July 2018
Rush of Blood by Mark Billingham
Until about fifteen years ago, I used to read a lot of crime fiction. Michael Connelly, Lee Child, Harlan Coben, John Grisham, Greg Iles... I read anything I could find that had enough intrigue and twists to provide a couple of days of escapism. But then I started to tire of the genre. Something about the way that female characters - stand by for a sweeping generalisation - were mostly consigned to being murdered and abused, or two dimensional assistants and ex-wives. I got bored of all that. As a result I never really got into Mark Billingham novels, as he came along at about the time I was getting annoyed with it all. Rush of Blood was recommended to me as being different, and in many ways it is. The setup is simple but effective. Three couples meet on holiday. At the same resort, a child goes missing, just as the couples are set to return home. Back in the UK, as they meet up socially in the following months, it transpires that things might not be what they seem.
In basic terms, Rush of Blood is a classic whodunnit. My suspicion fell on pretty much every character at one point or other. But beyond that, it's a fairly uncompromising take-down of middle-class pretensions and social climbing. I didn't really like any of the characters but was still keen to see what happened. (I was reminded of Abigail's Party on more than one occasion.) The end result was not a complete shock, but then I'd been compiling a case for the prosecution for everyone by that point. It did, however, keep me gripped for two days and reminded me that crime novels come in all shapes and sizes. Fair play, Mark Billingham.
June 2018 The Cows by Dawn O'Porter
There were times in the early stages of this book, that felt a bit... preachy? The sexist and limited roles with which women regularly battle - readers of this blog with know this is right up my alley - were explored via the lives of three fictional women, Tara, Cam and Stella. The challenges of being a single working mother, the frustrations of being happily childfree yet having to justify that decision to nosy strangers, and the heartbreak of desperately trying to conceive against a ticking clock, were scenarios outlined and explored in the story. Once I'd allowed the characters to develop however, the sense of being 'on message' calmed down, and I was able to dip into their world, empathising along the way. By the end, I was properly immersed, shaken by twists I didn't see coming, and left feeling satisfied I'd been taken on a decent romp of a tale. I'd happily recommend it, but would love to share it in a bookclub style debate, as it gave a tonne of food for thought. (No spoilers, but the character's story I most identified with - Cam - had an interesting ending that made me want to discuss it at length with wine. Just saying.)
May 2018
Logical Family by Armistead Maupin
I don't believe in reincarnation but if I did, I'd bet money I'd been a seventy year old gay man in a previous life. Such is the pull towards Armistead Maupin's memoir. Our lives are very different, but Logical Family feels like he's narrating what it means to be human, rather than his specific life story. You get the facts of Maupin's life, alongside the arch of family, love, loss and living honestly. It's a powerful story for everyone, regardless of sexuality, gender or any other label we can slap on ourselves. Reincarnation theories aside, an alternative explanation could be that I've read everything Maupin has written since I stumbled across the first 'Tales' book twenty years ago. His writing - whether fact or fiction - continues to be reassuringly familiar. Like an old friend you catch up with every couple of years. His words are both direct, and full of artistic flourish. I didn't want this book to end, but it has and I miss it already.
September 2017
How Not To Be a Boy by Robert Webb
I knew this was something I wanted to read when Robert Webb first tweeted about it months ago. I like Peep Show and I'm always interested in the analysis and dissection of gender stereotypes. It sounded good and I planned to buy it next time I was near a bookshop. But then I got a cold, and had a sleepless night dealing with an uncontrollably runny nose. I found myself buying the book online and reading it in bed via the Kindle app on my phone. Let me reiterate - I read this book in one night, on the small screen of an iPhone whilst feeling lousy and wishing I could sleep. Not the best circumstances to enjoy a good read, but I honestly couldn't stop once I'd started. Yes it tackles the issues surrounding gender stereotypes and yes it's written by the guy from Peep Show but it is so much more than that. At the core of the book is a moving memoir of a modern man. Webb writes honestly about his life - there is a lot of laugh out loud humour, but at times the pathos is so intense it hurts. Webb interrupts his story here and there to comment on how his self-esteem and development might have been different if he had been given alternative messages at the time. It's a neat skewering of the assumptions people place on what it means to be male. Like Caitlin Moran's How To Be a Woman that came before, it feels essential reading for everyone, regardless of their gender.
September 2017
Nørth: How to Live Scandanavian by Brontë Aurell
If you're anything like me, you'll love a bit of Nordic Noir. You'll have devoured The Killing, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Wallander and Dicte. You'll have been made up when your newborn nephew was named after Pilou Asbæk's character in Borgen. (Shout out to Kasper with a C!). You'll have planned a holiday to Copenhagen the second Emmelie de Forest won Eurovision, mostly so you could travel over the Øresund Bridge, and the second you aren't sure what to cook for tea, you automatically think hotdogs with proper Danish remoulade. Yes, we all secretly aspire to be Nordic. But to aid us in a more authentic way is Brontë Aurell from Scandi-Kitchen. Scandi-Kitchen is the current stockist of my Danish remoulade and long may it continue. Store-cupboard essentials and salivating food don't seem to be enough though. She also writes books. Moving on from her previous recipe-based ones is Nørth. Knowing part of her audience is made up of the likes of me - a non-Dane/Swede/Norwegian who just really likes Birgitte Nyborg's home - the tone is firmly tongue in cheek. That said, the information is plentiful, ranging from recipes to history, from politics to family life.
It simply begs to be savoured with a cinnamon bun and a large coffee. Repeatedly.
September 2017
The Break by Marian Keyes
It's one of those books that feels like you're slipping into a warm bath. You lose yourself. With a spare ten minutes you allow yourself another chapter, only to hear the pasta water boiling over as those ten minutes have lurched into thirty. Hugh is a troubled man in the wake of his father's death. His solid marriage no longer provides solace after his bereavement so he decides he needs a break - six months away to find himself. Amy, his wife, is devastated. With Marian's customary wit, we see Amy's attempts at working it all out, leaning on her equally messed up friends and family and learning who she really is in all the mess.
An utter joy of a book that can evoke tears and laughter within the same page.
August 2017
Let Go My Hand by Edward Docx
A seemingly cerebral and detached study of family relationships in the light of devastating medical diagnosis. It sucks you in without you noticing only to hit you over the head with raw emotion when you least expect it. Laurence has three sons, (the youngest of whom tells the story.) Upon learning of his motor-neurone disease diagnosis, he arranges a trip to Dignitas. Lou, the youngest son ends up driving him, replicating the European camping trips of his childhood. With his two (very different) older half-brothers thrown into the mix, alongside a variety of academic debates, mud spatted campsites and posh wine, the family work its way to dealing with the reality of the inevitable.
I couldn't wait to see what happened whilst at the same time not wanting it to end. Moving stuff, not easily forgotten.
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