Tsukuru Tazaki has spent his entire adult life in the shadow of the expulsion from his friendship group in his late teens. Now in his mid-thirties, he is given the impetus to go and find out what has happened to his friends since then, and why they cast him out.
This was not what I expected, and every twist took this in a different direction. Throughout though, I found myself rooting for Tsukuru and hoping that he would be satisfied with the outcome of his pilgrimage. It also offers a view on contemporary Japanese life, with the ordinary everyday, and social structures, being visible alongside the emotional journey Tsukuru has to travel. Of course he doesn’t really take ownership or drive, but I am learning that that is typical of Japanese literature. He at least makes his own decisions about his life in the end, and any lack of resolution is balanced against the complete absence of any clarity at the start.
The Ninth Circle is a fast-paced journey though the fantastical criminal underworld of Dublin, and its parallel in the circles of hell. There are a pair of sisters who are at odds with each other, and another sister who is missing, presumed kidnapped.
Although the concept, setting and even the writing style itself all appealed, the use of “episodes” instead of chapters, which each episode felt as though it was a stand-alone TV programme was disjointed. I don’t expect each chapter to have its own full story structure and be brought to nearly full-resolution. This structure stopped the story from flowing as well as it could have, as well as making the whole book feel like a failed pitch to a TV network.
This book was supplied to me by Netgallery in exchange for an honest review.
Guylain Vignolles is an unlikely central character in a book. He lives a reclusive life, with a job he hates and few friends. But he has one saving grace: he reads. Not only novels at home for pleasure, but aloud, without invitation on his morning train ride. This has gained him a small following, and along with his lunchtime friend’s habit of alexandrines, gives this lightweight novel an pleasantly pseudo-intellectual feel, perfect for Sunday morning reading.
He stumbles through life, guided by instincts and the colourful characters he finds himself alongside. There are a few bumps, and echoes of an earlier traumatic incident, but mostly he is just bumbling through life with Roger, his goldfish, for company. Until….
Of course a change has to be made for their to be any story to hand on Guylain, but his ordinary life is what makes this book so readable. Well worth a lazy morning with tea.
A follow up to What the ladybird heard, which is one of my son’s favourite books (and one we may well see in the theatre this summer).
The art is very similar, and for the first four pages of On Holiday, I thought this was going to be exactly the same with different animals. But then we moved onto the Ladybird’s solution, and it was again both hilarious and innovative, but also completely different. Julia Donaldson’s ability to innovate with children’s plots never fails to satisfy.
My five year old son read it with me (taking it in turns). He liked it at the end when all the animals cheered for the Monkey. He says “its all good”
Netgallery sent me a copy of this ebook in exchange for an honest review.
Alderman’s The Power well-deserves its place in the Bailey’s Shorlist. An Atwood-style utopian/dystopian future. I did though have a little less respect for the Atwood quote on the front cover when the acknowledgements make it clear that she mentored Alderman. I’m very keen for writers in a genre to mentor upcoming writers, but then providing public feedback seems misleading.
Onto the book though: I like the concept, a reversal of all gender-based power. It places misogyny into context, whilst questioning just how much is due to essential shared human nature, with the flipping of the power merely changing who abused it.
I found the introductory letters confusing, until I read the epilogue letters as well, at which point the whole story clicked into much clearer context. The setting of the main book is a near-future science fiction, in which all women have gained a new life and death power. We follow four characters, and see how the changing world shapes them. Each central character is given depth, and has their own voice throughout. Their stories twist together and apart through this, done perfectly smoothly.
A must-read, and my favourite so far to win the Baileys, although as a science fiction fan I may be biased!
Is anyone else reading from the shortlist?
I had never before seen an opera, and felt this was something I should do. When I was browsing this season at the Manchester Theatres, I was glad to see La Boheme on the programme. As a Rent fan since my mid-teens, I expected that the themes and plot of La Boheme would be accessible, and make the whole opera experience easier.
Still I didn’t know quite what to expect when we got to the theatre. In some ways an opera in a language I knew better than Italian may have been a better call, but I now know just how much of Rent is taken from La Boheme, including throwing artistic material into the burner during the first scene, a flitation through candle-lighting, dancing on the tables and Mimi overhearing the male friends discussing her health as the setup for the final scene takes place.
I’m not sure I would ever go to see another, but I am glad this was my opera, and would recommend anyone to give it a try.
I had this as an audiobook, read chapter-by-chapter as I took the train to and from work. Each day I lost myself in a mythical Japan, where Shikanoko finds his powers and influence within the Islands rises and falls. A strongly mythical setting, magical powers are real, and as important for influence as military powers. Spirits truly haunt, and fate plays a strong part in the direction of the characters.
This last part was one of the most frustrating parts of the book for me. Used to more active protagonists, heroes who fate repeated drops into the right place and time, again and again seem to lack decisiveness, and makes the novel more of a blocking piece than dependent on the characters.
But I will read the rest of the Tale of Shikanoko, to discover what happens to all these intricate, well-written characters.
Following the success of Dangerous Women II, I picked up II from the library. However whereas III was full of exciting, well-paced stories, this was dull and drab in comparison. Half the stories I didn’t even finish, just flicked onto the next one from about the fourth page. In other words, a disappointment that can’t be returned too soon.
One is a very adventurous book. Its the story of two conjoined twins, as they grow into themselves, told entirely in verse.
I like poetry, and this was well-paced, short poems interspaced with longer to move the story along. The choice to only ever hear one twin’s voice was well-chosen, giving us a view of Grace as her own person alone, even as she is never apart from Tippi.
As young adult fiction it shows two girls with difficult lives making choices and growing to share lives with others and move into the difficult word of alcohol and sex. I think it stood up well as a book without the final dilemma they are faced with. That dilemma was handled well, with the choices well-framed and the unexpected ending bringing a tear to my eyes.
If this wasn’t quite so short and one of the Bailey’s prize shortlist, I would have given up on it. A deary introspective look at Neve’s relationships First Love never really offers love, just an understanding of why she can’t share it fully.
I’m not sure why this was shortlisted, and am glad it was from the library and therefore easy to return.