The littlest prince

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

On a summer’s day in 1596, a young girl in Stratford-upon-Avon takes to her bed with a sudden fever. Her twin brother, Hamnet, searches everywhere for help. Why is nobody at home?

Their mother, Agnes, is over a mile away, in the garden where she grows medicinal herbs. Their father is working in London.

Neither parent knows that Hamnet will not survive the week.

Hamnet is a novel inspired by the son of a famous playwright: a boy whose life has been all but forgotten, but whose name was given to one of the most celebrated plays ever written.  It is also the story of a kestrel and its mistress; flea that boards a ship in Alexandria; and a glovemaker’s son who flouts convention in pursuit of the woman he loves. Above all, it is a tender and unforgettable reimagining of a boy whose life has been all but forgotten, but whose name was given to one of the most celebrated plays ever written.

It really is terrific. A remarkably moving story, based on just a few scraps of history which nevertheless builds into something really powerful and impressive. The father, who works away in London most of the time, is of course Shakespeare himself but he is, entertainingly, never actually named. And the link between his masterpiece Hamlet and his dead son is brilliantly made.

I had completely forgotten also this reference to Hamnet in Joyce’s Ulysses:

—The play begins. A player comes on under the shadow, made up in the castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is the ghost, the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the years of his life which were not vanity in order to play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbage, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a name:

Hamlet, I am thy father’s spirit,

bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince, young Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has died in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.

Anyway, that’s a bit of a different text but an interesting point of connection.

Maggie O’Farrell is just a superb writer and in her recent outing on Desert Island Discs paid tribute to her English teacher at North Berwick High School for the original inspiration – she includes him in the acknowledgements too:

(This was, sadly, six years after I left the school and whilst I was incredibly fortunate and had some fantastic English teachers there, Mr Henderson arrived too late for me.)

Anyway, it is highly recommended.

Rebus Rides Again

A Song for the Dark Times by Ian Rankin

‘He’s gone…’

When his daughter Samantha calls in the dead of night, John Rebus knows it’s not good news. Her husband has been missing for two days.

Rebus fears the worst – and knows from his lifetime in the police that his daughter will be the prime suspect.

He wasn’t the best father – the job always came first – but now his daughter needs him more than ever. But is he going as a father or a detective?

As he leaves at dawn to drive to the windswept coast – and a small town with big secrets – he wonders whether this might be the first time in his life where the truth is the one thing he doesn’t want to find…

Yet another very good outing for the increasingly aged John Rebus. A family disappearance is, improbably, linked to an Edinburgh murder which means that Rebus is, inevitably, playing his traditional role of unorthodox detective both in the North of Scotland and remotely leaning over his former colleague’s shoulder back in the capital. And she has to help him unpack his things in his new (ground floor) flat as well as look after his dog while he’s away. Still, all of this allows plenty of time for Rebus to continue to attempt to atone for his previous poor parenting while trying to solve the mystery of his daughter’s disappeared partner and dig into all the local historical goings on too. It’s an exceptionally readable and entertaining tale as ever from Rankin. How long can Rebus keep going…?

A Walk on the Wilder Side

Mr Wilder and Me by Jonathan Coe

In the heady summer of 1977, a naïve young woman called Calista sets out from Athens to venture into the wider world. On a Greek island that has been turned into a film set, she finds herself working for the famed Hollywood director Billy Wilder, about whom she knows almost nothing. But the time she spends in this glamorous, unfamiliar new life will change her for good.

While Calista is thrilled with her new adventure, Wilder himself is living with the realisation that his star may be on the wane. Rebuffed by Hollywood, he has financed his new film with German money, and when Calista follows him to Munich for the shooting of further scenes, she finds herself joining him on a journey of memory into the dark heart of his family history. 

In a novel that is at once a tender coming-of-age story and an intimate portrait of one of cinema’s most intriguing figures, Jonathan Coe turns his gaze on the nature of time and fame, of family and the treacherous lure of nostalgia. When the world is catapulting towards change, do you hold on for dear life or decide it’s time to let go?

It’s a terrific tale capturing both ageing Hollywood glamour in decline and an overlapping coming of age plot. Jonathan Coe is such a good writer too, this is an incredibly assured story which handles every character with real care and delicacy and delivers a cinematic-feeling narrative which is perfectly paced too. There is a dark segment too which is different in tone but nevertheless completely fitting – it’s a delight to read and yet another excellent book by Coe

No milk today

Milkman by Anna Burns

 

In this unnamed city, to be interesting is dangerous. Middle sister, our protagonist, is busy attempting to keep her mother from discovering her maybe-boyfriend and to keep everyone in the dark about her encounter with Milkman. But when first brother-in-law sniffs out her struggle, and rumours start to swell, middle sister becomes ‘interesting’. The last thing she ever wanted to be. To be interesting is to be noticed and to be noticed is dangerous. Milkman is a tale of gossip and hearsay, silence and deliberate deafness. It is the story of inaction with enormous consequences.

It’s a really good read. An unusual and very effective style makes for a a compelling read. It’s all about the Troubles of course or rather the bizarre routine of ordinary life within one community during the Troubles. The dangers of being interesting and noticed, mainly on the strength of reading while walking, mean that middle sister faces no end of difficulties. Strongly recommended and I really wish I’d read it before now (but it was that general scepticism about Booker winners which deterred me).