In the vaulted Gothic towers of Notre-Dame Cathedral lives Quasimodo, the hunchbacked bellringer. Mocked and shunned for his appearance, he is pitied only by Esmerelda, a beautiful gypsy dancer to whom he becomes completely devoted. Esmerelda, however, has also attracted the attention of the sinister archdeacon Claude Frollo, and when she rejects his lecherous approaches, Frollo hatches a plot to destroy her, that only Quasimodo can prevent. Victor Hugo’s sensational, evocative novel brings life to the medieval Paris he loved, and mourns its passing in one of the greatest historical romances of the nineteenth century.
I was rather bowled over by this big and bold book and really enjoyed it a lot. Expecting a lot more of it to be focused on Quasimodo, it was revealing to discover how much there was in here about politics and change in medieval Paris but especially about the city itself and its buildings and architecture. There are plenty of great characters on display with the cathedral itself being one of the foremost. A hugely impressive achievement and well worth reading.
‘… a human being, an intellectual human being who constantly bends the entire force of his mind on the ridiculous task of forcing a wooden king into the corner of a wooden board, and does it without going mad!’
A group of passengers on a cruise ship challenge the world chess champion to a match. At first, they crumble, until they are helped by whispered advice from a stranger in the crowd – a man who will risk everything to win. Stefan Zweig’s acclaimed novella Chess is a disturbing, intensely dramatic depiction of obsession and the price of genius.
It’s an excellent novella which really does capture the nature of one particular obsession but also compellingly explains its origins. This really did not go quite where I was expecting it to but is a powerful short piece which is well worth a read.
I was prompted to read some more Zweig (having enjoyed this one a while back) having happened across an exhibition about him in Barcelona recently. It included his ledger in which he recorded all of his books, translations and film deals. Apparently he preferred to make all of these arrangements himself rather than work with an agent.
A game of cross and double-cross in Venice, one of the most beautiful cities on earth.
From his office on the Street of the Assassins, Nathan Sutherland enjoys a steady but unexciting life translating Italian DIY manuals. All this changes dramatically when he is offered a large sum of money to look after a small package containing an extremely valuable antique prayer book illustrated by a Venetian master. But is it a stolen masterpiece – or a brilliant fake?
Unknown to Nathan, from a vast mansion on the Grand Canal twin brothers Domenico and Arcangelo Moro, motivated by nothing more than mutual hatred, have been playing out a complex game of art theft for twenty years. And now Nathan finds himself unwittingly drawn into their deadly business . . .
It’s an entertaining thriller in a great setting, historic Venice. There is lots of rich detail in here, especially for those familiar with the city, its history and layout. Beyond the complexities of the criminal goings on there is a lot to entertain those interested in art history too. Sutherland is an interesting protagonist who you suspect will not be depending wholly on DIY manual translations for income in future.
Erasure is a tableaux of many delicate interconnected parts. Ostensibly though, it’s a book about books, a novel about writing. An overpopulated genre perhaps, but Percival Everett’s jack-in-a-box of a novel offers something fresh and quite unique. His narrator and protagonist Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, a professor of English literature, is “a writer of fiction” whose obtuse books are regularly criticised for saying nothing about the “African American experience”. He is so incensed by the runaway success of We’s Lives In Da Ghetto–a novel that purports to represent contemporary black life but which Ellison describes as akin to finding “a display of watermelon-eating, banjo-playing darkie carvings” in an antiques mall–that he knocks off an expletive-riddled hood yarn of his own. Circulated to publishers under the pseudonym Stagg R Leigh, his pastiche, initially titled My Pafology later shortened to just Fuck, instantly draws a six-figure advance and Hollywood interest. The critics are equally fulsome in their praise: “Dazzling, raw and simply honest” emotes a New York Times reviewer. Monk, who has to meet agents and interviewers disguised as the monosyllabic Stagg, even finds his literary Frankenstein’s monster nominated for a prize that he is judging.
An absolutely outstanding book this from the ever-creative and prolific Everett. Having seen the movie, American Fiction, which is based on this novel, and hugely enjoyed it, I was really looking forward to reading this. And it did not disappoint. It is a really clever premise with lots of different layers which offers a good deal more in the way of subtlety than the film. It’s both amusing and darkly clever and is certainly worth reading.
The Stellar Debut of Galactica MacFee by Alexander McCall Smith
Glasgow for Bertie is the promised land. The city of pies and Irn Bru, far from his controlling mother, Irene – his place of escape. But how will he respond to the news of the proposed merging of Edinburgh and Glasgow? A new member of Bertie’s class at school is causing ripples in his social circle. She is called Galactica MacFee and is going to be a match for Olive and her lieutenant, Pansy. And, an incredible new discovery: a Pictish stone, that is said to have the first-know written poem carved into it is the talk of the town. But, when the poem is eventually translated, it is thought it is best to keep it under wraps. In this new instalment in the perennially popular 44 Scotland Street series, we are back in the world of Angus and Domenico, Bruce, Matthew and Elspeth, and, of course, Bertie and his friend Ranald Braveheart Macpherson.
It’s as entertaining as ever and I never fail to enjoy the genuinely charming and just all-round nice and pleasant tales that McCall Smith weaves around this great group of Edinburgh New Town residents. Bertie and his young friends (and enemies) are smartly and convincingly portrayed as you would hope and the overall feeling is, as previously, at the feel-good end of the spectrum.
However, the never-ending controversy around the pronunciation of the name of my home village continues:
The spelling of Gullane suggests that it should be pronounced gull (as in seagull) and then an (as in the name Anne). The correct pronunciation, though, is gill (as in a fish’s gill), followed by the agreed an. This is on the basis of the origins of the word, which are generally agreed to be Welsh, since, to complicate matters, it was that form of Celtic language that was spoken in the area when the settlement first came into existence. In spite of the linguistic evidence, there are those who insist on what they see as the demotic pronunciation. This leads to significant distress on the part of the linguistic purists and, on more than one occasion, has resulted in the trading of sharp words in the bar at Muirfield, one of the local golf clubs.
Suffice it to say that, once again, the author has got this wrong (just as he did in several previous Scotland Street books, such as this one) and it is surprising that he keeps flogging this particular dead horse.
It doesn’t undermine the overall impact too much though.
In UNRULY, David Mitchell explores how England’s monarchs, while acting as feared rulers firmly guiding their subjects’ destinies, were in reality a bunch of lucky sods who were mostly as silly and weird in real life as they appear today in their portraits.
Taking us right back to King Arthur (spoiler: he didn’t exist), David tells the founding story of post-Roman England right up to the reign of Elizabeth I (spoiler: she dies). It’s a tale of narcissists, inadequate self-control, excessive beheadings, middle-management insurrection, uncivil wars, and at least one total Cnut, as the population evolved from having their crops nicked by the thug with the largest armed gang to bowing and paying taxes to a divinely anointed king.
How this happened, who it happened to and why it matters in modern Britain are all questions David answers with brilliance, wit and the full erudition of a man who once studied history – and won’t let it off the hook for the mess it’s made.
A funny book about a serious subject, UNRULY is for anyone who has ever wondered how we got here – and who is to blame.
A surprising offering this perhaps from top media funny person David Mitchell. It is though very good indeed and a really entertaining read. It’s the kind of history book that really does make history much more interesting than you might have thought it could be and Mitchell’s distinctive voice shines through here meaning that it is never dull. Highly recommended (and thank you H for getting it for me for Christmas).
A vivid and affectionate portrait of a provincial town in early Victorian England, Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford describes a community dominated by its independent and refined women. Undaunted by poverty, but dismayed by changes brought by the railway and by new commercial practices, the ladies of Cranford respond to disruption with both suspicion and courage. Miss Matty and her sister Deborah uphold standards and survive personal tragedy and everyday dramas; innovation may bring loss, but it also brings growth, and welcome freedoms. Cranford suggests that representatives of different and apparently hostile social worlds, their minds opened by sympathy and suffering, can learn from each other. Its social comedy develops into a study of generous reconciliation, of a kind that will value the past as it actively shapes the future.
I found this to be a surprisingly light and entertaining set of tales – for some reason I was expecting something more grim and gritty. It is more a collection of inter-related pieces than a novel but does sort of hang together. Anyway, all good fun as a representation of Victorian England and the societal changes which were underway. Also strangely pleasing that it seems to be based on Knutsford.
Dress Your Family in Corduroy & Denim by David Sedaris
David Sedaris plays in the snow with his sisters. He goes on vacation with his family. He gets a job selling drinks. He attends his brother’s wedding. He mops his sister’s floor. He gives directions to a lost traveller. He eats a hamburger. He has his blood sugar tested. It all sounds so normal, doesn’t it? In his new book David Sedaris lifts the corner of ordinary life, revealing the absurdity teeming below its surface. His world is alive with obscure desires and hidden motives – a world where forgiveness is automatic and an argument can be the highest form of love. Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim finds one of the wittiest and most original writers at work today at the peak of his form.
He really can’t do much wrong. In this collection of pieces we get more of the trademark drollery, the humour found in every corner of a distinctive family life and day-to-day experience. It’s as entertaining as ever and extremely well written (as you expect with Sedaris, who really does seem to work hard on making his words hang together whether spoken or read) and covers a lot of familiar as well as less predictable ground. Not half bad.
Middle-aged, jaded and divorced, TV scriptwriter Harada returns one night to the dilapidated downtown district of Tokyo where he grew up. There, at the theatre, he meets a likable man who looks exactly like his long-dead father. And so begins Harada’s ordeal, as he’s thrust into a reality where his parents appear to be alive at the exact age they had been when they had died so many years before.
Having recently seen the movie, All Of Us Strangers, which is based on this book, I was keen to read the original story. It really is just as strange and unsettling as the film with its regular appearance of ghostly parents. But the book if anything is even darker and spookier than the film and, despite the occasionally odd dialogue (which sounds sometimes like it is taken from a 60s US B-movie), it is pretty compelling. Well worth a read.
A work of coruscating moral brilliance, The Nice and the Good revolves around a happily married couple, Kate and Octavian, and the friends of all ages attached to their house in Dorset. The novel deals with love in its many aspects, as embodied in a fascinating array of characters. The resonant sub plot involves murder and black magic in Whitehall, as the novel leads us through stress and terror to a profoundly joyous conclusion.
It’s entertaining stuff, if rather dark in places and there are some well-drawn and interesting characters in here. John Ducane, the central character here, is both a bit of an emotional mess and an intriguing quasi-detective (for a civil servant). The complexities of Ducane’s romantic life are dealt with at some length including his strange on off relationship with Jessica, a much younger school teacher. Although written in the 60s this does feel surprisingly fresh and timeless apart from the portrayal of the Civil Service and, for example, postal operations – Jessica, during the school holidays, waits in every day for written communication from Ducane and is pained by the non-arrival of letters in each of the three deliveries a day(!).
There is much to enjoy here among the darkness and the human challenges.
Prole Art Threat 