Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal?
Jeanette Winterson
London, Vintage, 2011, 230p

I have been rationing words on these last few days of my half term holiday. That is because I didn't want to rely on book swaps in hostels, since my luck with them proved to be limited. So over the last weekend of my adventure, I read and reread the Forward Book of Poetry 1994 (review coming soon), and I took my time enjoying Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Jeanette Winterson, author of Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, is a clever and sharp writer, both of fiction and non fiction. I always find myself seeking out her commentaries in The Guardian and elsewhere, and everything I read leaves me feeling reassured that I am not alone, that life is a mad experience for all of us. 

Why Be Happy? is the sister book of the semi-autobiographical Oranges: Winterson confesses that her 1985 novel brushed over some of the harsher realities of her upbringing, including the creation of Elsie, the saviour of Oranges who makes Jeanette's harsh upbringing slightly softer. In reality, there was no Elsie. Winterson's childhood was full of explicitly repressive religious doctrine and nights locked out of the house, camped on the doorstep, as punishment for some odd crime, like reading. 

Despite only having six books in her house growing up, Winterson could not help but fall in love with words. She hid books under her mattress and learned stories by rote, just so she could indulge in the magic of literature and poetry. Her love for language is infectious, and by the end of the memoir I had a long list of things I wanted to read or return to. 

She also explores the challenges of suffering from depression, and explains the reality of finding her birth mother - a muddle of difficult administrative procedures resulting in a reunion she feels is rather less dramatic than typical reunion stories. 

What touched me most was Winterson's process of coming to understand her approach to love and relationships. Her feelings towards her adopted mother are impressively positive; she finds herself coming to the defense of Mrs Winterson whilst it is clear that her child-raising techniques were somewhat unconventional. And this has had an interesting effect on Winterson's adult life - in particular, the feeling that she is not wanted and does not deserve to be loved in the way many others think of being loved. 

This is the first book I have read more than once in years (other than Persuasion), and definitely the first book I have ever read when I started from the beginning again as soon as I had finished. It added something to the reading process that I have never experienced before - a feeling of familiarity, as I read words and scenes I had already stored in my memory, but some scenes shifted and altered as I read them a second time. 

And I think this made me love Jeanette Winterson's writing even more - she could make me laugh when I already knew the punch line; she made me put the book down and think about what I had just read; and when I knew what was coming later, I could see elements of her future being shaped in her youth. 

There was so much going on in this memoir, I do not have the space to explore it all in this blog, but it goes without saying that I think everyone should read this. Winterson's story makes it okay to be who you are, and I think we all need to be reminded of that every now and then. 

A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing

A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing
Eimear McBride
Norwich, Galley Beggar Press, 2013, 203p

So this turned out to be a slightly unconventional choice of reading for my holiday in Italy...

A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing tells the story of a young woman's developing maturity and sexuality, alongside the tragedy of her brother's haunting brain tumour and her mother's staunch Catholicism. The novel is written like an extended poem, with unusual sentence breaks and unexpected points of emphasis. Both it's content and form make for very difficult reading, but it is fascinating. 

The two predominant themes of this novel are presented with frank honesty. The protagonist is abused by her uncle aged thirteen, and the consequences stay with her well into adulthood. The fact that her mother's religion is so loud alongside this makes it all the more difficult for her to move on. The style, with it's disregard for any of the formal rules of grammar and syntax, reflects her demise into mental instability. 

This is Eimear McBride's debut novel, and won the Women's Prize for Fiction 2014. I have not read the full short list, but it is clear why McBride's book stood out - her style is incomparable to anything I have read before, and the story of her young protagonist is powerful and political. A few days after finishing this read, I am still distracted with thoughts and questions about it. 

Transformatrix

Transformatrix
Patience Agbabi
Edinburgh, Payback, 2000, 78p

No poet packs such a punch as Patience Agbabi. From the opening line of this collection, she calls her reader to battle, seeps rhythm through their bones, and empowers one to be strong. 

Transformatrix contains a series of poems designed for performance - reading them in your head is not good enough. They are written to be shouted and sung, with unusual rhythm and unconventional rhyme that only reveals itself through the spoken word. 

The collection explores Agbabi's observations about contemporary society - about race, poverty, femininity and sexuality. Some are funny and some are angry, but all are passionate.

The first poem is one of my favourites - 'Prologue'. As with a novel, the first line of a poetry anthology should grip you and make you want to read more, and with 'Prologue', Agbabi has written a poem full of pizzaz and joy. To read it aloud, you can indulge in the magic of language as the words roll off your tongue, each carefully crafted and executed. You can feel the influence of British music and culture, 

The book is broken down into sections; the focus of many being women - powerful women, subordinated women, women in love. Each little poem tells it's own story, and when collected together in sections, each part of the book tells a wider story. As a whole, Transformatrix is uplifting, exciting and invigorating. 

Stay Where You Are and Then Leave

Stay Where You Are and Then Leave
John Boyne
London, Random House, 2013, 247p

I love the way John Boyne writes - it is so poetical and descriptive that you become completely lost in his world. His novels are so emotional, taking you on a journey of love, loss and hope.

Alfie's fifth birthday is overshadowed by the outbreak of the First World War. At the last minute, most of his friends find they cannot come to his party, caught up in their own family concerns. And those who do attend are distracted by the impending stress and fear of war. The next morning, Alfie's father volunteers, convinved it will be over by Christmas. But four years later, he still isn't home and his letters have stopped coming.

Although his mother tells him his father is away on a special secret mission, Alfie is convinced his father is dead. Until one day, shining shoes in Kings Cross station, he accidentally reads the papers of a  doctor and discovers his father is actually in a hospital in Ipswitch. He sets out to bring him home, but finds himself totally unprepared for the impact the war has had on the mind of his father.

John Boyne is the kind of writer who manages to make you completely adore a character before putting them in a situation of drama and heart ache. Stay Where You Are and Then Leave is slow paced in the early chapters, setting a scene of wartime poverty and family separation. Alfie is a fundamentally good young boy - perhaps a little idealised in contrast to many teenage protagonists of today - but he is determined to go about his secret mission alone rather than asking his mother or neighbours for help and advise, which innevitably cannot end as well as he hopes. So as the reader, you watch helplessly as Alfie stumbles into territory from which you are convinced will only end in tears.

Today, we have a much better understanding of shell shock than doctors had in the early twentieth century. We can empathise with the distress of battle and the struggle faced by soldiers returning to everyday life. But people continue to suffer from the psychological effects of warfare, and not all families are as lucky as Alfie's.

Death Comes to Pemberly

Death Comes to Pemberly
P.D. James
London, Faber, 2011, 324p

My second piece of meta fiction in as many book reviews, but unfortunately is one was somewhat less satisfactory than the last. Eager to stick to my rule about reading the original before watching the adaptation, I wanted to read Death Comes to Pemberly before the BBC version reached my screen this Christmas, aired over three consecutive evenings. 

We are reunited with Janes Austen's infamous Bennett family, six years after the marriages of Darcy and Lizzie, and Jane and Bingley. The Darcys are planning the annual ball, supported by their abundant staff at Pemberly, when Lydia draws up in a carriage, declaring her husband has been murdered in the woods. Darcy sets off to find out what really happened, embroiling himself in a scandal that will dig up hidden secrets and and well-repressed feelings. 

As I have noted before, some meta fiction simply makes you want to repeat the original. Unfortunately, this was not one of those sequels,: although I love the concept of a murder mystery containing all my old favourites, I felt James was unable to write the see characters as well as Jane Austen once did. 

And now, seeing the adaptation on screen, it is clear that the concept it pure genius, mixing classic romance and drama with contemporary demand for crime fiction. In the BBC version, we are one again shown those characters we so greatly loved. Darcy is stubborn but noble, sometimes misguided in his actions but always acting with the best intentions. Lizzie is intelligent and observant, and proving to be a brilliant mother and wife. Lydia and Mrs Bennett (although not in the book) return, as hysterical and ridiculous as ever. Jane and Georgiana add a touch of feminine sensibility to the whole party, and Georgiana's suitors vie respectfully for her attention.  And, to top it all off, Wickham brings drama and controversy to the peaceful existence of the Darcy home. 

But the book didn't bring any of this delight for me. I found the plot confusing and convoluted, unnecessarily jumping between characters, time and settings. Often, James' use of unclear pronoun was frustrating; for example she'd start a paragraph talking about two male characters, and continue the paragraph using just "he", leaving the reader confused about who was being discussed. As such, the revelation towards the end gave me no thrill, feeling instead like a necessary process I had to go through just to make it to the end. 

I found myself ploughing on, hoping for more, which I eventually found in the television adaptation. I think this might be the first time I've preferred the screen to the book! Hopefully, this novel will not put me off reading any P.D. James in the future.

Mister Creecher

 

Mister Creecher
Chris Priestley
London, Bloomsbury, 2011, 384p

I'm a little uncertain of meta fiction, especially if I'm a fan of the original. But I do love the Gothic, and love taking a trip down memory lane, reminding me of my A-level days studying Dracula and Frankenstein. 

It's the start of the nineteenth century and life is not easy for young Billy. He is a street boy, a petty thief, when he meets Mister Creecher. This mysterious, terrifying giant helps Billy out of a sticky situation, and each become embroiled in their new friends life. Creecher is Frankenstein's famous creation - this novel tells of the time Frankenstein spends in England working on a mate for his "monster". Creecher asks Billy for help: he supports Billy in his thievery, and Billy follows around Frankenstein to ensure that the creation can keep tabs on the scientists progress. 

The two companions begin their journey in London, haunting the streets of the city. Billy's life is greatly improved by his new friend: he is well fed, properly clothed and lives in warm accommodation for the first time in his life. And yet, he knows very little about Creecher and his peculiar qualms with the mysterious scientist. 

This is a brilliant Gothic tale - dark, gorey and tragic. Priestley is brilliant at this, as I found when I read his Tales of Terror, which caused many a sleepless night. He draws on some traditional tropes, dating back to the original story of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley; but he adds some modern twists and more accessible language for his young contemporary audience. 

Part of my love for the original Frankenstein novel comes from Mary Shelley's exploration of the concept of the noble savage: is the creation moulded most by nature or nurture? In the 1818 novel, the creation is given the chance to tell his own story, explaining how his initial innocence was corrupted by the judgements and unkindness of mankind. In Mister Creecher, Priestley expands on this concept, taking the reader on a journey that allows us to understand how his anger and aggression grows through constant rejection and lack of love. 

In this story, Creecher's relationship with Billy seems like an opportunity for redemption, but we all know where the story ends. Well, I assume many readers do, but of course it is not guaranteed that Priestley's audience would have read Shelley's original. I found myself musing on what a young reader might think of Mister Creecher without the contextual knowledge of the original story, the Romantics Movement and early nineteenth century London. Luckily, this novel is being read as part of my school book club, and I cannot wait to hear what my students think!

Any Human Heart

Any Human Heart
William Boyd 
London, Penguin, 2009, 490p

It's quite nice to read a 'grown-up' novel for once. Any Human Heart contains the diaries of the fictional Logan Mountstuart, detailing his life across the twentieth century, incorporating real events and people. At different times, Logan is a writer, a spy or an art dealer; he lives in London, Paris, New York and Africa; he experiences the hardship of the Second World War, the swing of the sixties, and the simple peace of family life. I was utterly engrossed.

The diaries begin during Logan's school years, boarding in Norfolk, and travel with him all over the world. They are sporadic and often undated, with gaps filled by an omniscient, anonymous narrator. In places, there will be a gap of many years, but then they pick up again for no apparent reason. His entries vary in detail and tone, sometimes philosophical, sometimes bluntly matter of fact, but always honest. Being a well-educated writer, Logan's vocabulary is sophisticated and complex, with many words that I had to look up, but I loved the challenging nature of the novel. 

It is a magnificent account of life, true in it's everyday occurrences and extraordinary moments. As Logan states:

"Isn't this how life turns out, more often than not? It refuses to conform to your needs - the narrative needs that you feel are essential to give rough shape to your time on this earth."

Logan's life is not without drama, but it also has great sections in which nothing much happens. And yet you get drawn into the details, from the days spent hobnobbing with literary greats to the end of year reviews in which he always declares he must cut down on alcohol. 

What I admire most about this novel is the historical accuracy. There were episodes I read that seemed to be great works of literary fiction, but turned out to have actually occurred. Logan mixes with Hemingway and Virginia Woolf in the 1930's London - his fictional adventures pass cross their real lives. Later, he works for the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, becoming embroiled in a murder scandal that later sees him imprisoned in Switzerland under mysterious circumstances. I was so in awe of Boyd's detailed knowledge of the twentieth century, to the point where I started to believe the fictional characters in the novel must also be real. 

Any Human Heart was a pleasure to read. It is a gift to history and literature. 

1984

Nineteen Eighty-Four
George Orwell
London, Penguin, 1989, 326p

Some reviews are extremely difficult to compose: sometimes because the book is pretty rubbish and I have to formulate an articulate way of saying why I didn't enjoy it; but sometimes because the novel is so complex that it takes a while to develop a succinct commentary.

The story of 1984 is so well known it is hardly worth repeating, but in case you have just stumbled upon the Internet because of exchanging a mobile phone for safe passage across the bridge you live under: Winston Smith lives in a dystopia in which your every movement and thought is scrutinised. It is 1984, and the world is split into three states, Oceania, Eastasia and Eurasia, each vying for power. But Winston has his doubts; he sees through the brainwashing, past the unnecessary war: he sees the structures of power and the manipulation of the everyman.

When Winston encounters Julia, he finds love and peace. Julia is a rebel, subtly defying the rules and expectations outlined by the state. She offers him companionship and a feeling of belonging, and finally Winston sees a way out a way to help a rebellion and create equality.

Some books change you as you read, and I wish I had read this when I was younger, as I might have known less about it and been more open to its effect. And yet, I still found it incredibly invigorating - it angered and inspired me. I felt like Orwell's language was alive, seeping into my subconscious, shaping my thoughts. Although it was a criticism of the society in which Orwell lived, the subject is timeless and universal, exploring the evil of social power structures and greed.

Big Brother is a terrifying concept, watching you all the time; and yet this is the society in which we now live. The power held by a minority is overwhelming, and the extent of their exhortation of the masses is incredible. It is brainwashing to the highest level, with documents being destroyed and history being altered. (As a librarian, this is my worst nightmare!) But as it is happening on such a large scale, I struggled to comprehend how the deception could succeed. Even though much of the written information was being corrupted, those doing the corrupting had to be aware of what they were doing and what the original documents stated, so should have been capable of doing something. But even this Orwell has thought of, and has introduced the concept of doublethink, a concept that feels almost impossible to explain. Perhaps I shall leave that to Orwell and make you read it.

Whilst 1984 scared and angered me, it also made me feel very lucky. Oceania is a dystopia, and however much it reflects contemporary reality, it is not real. In theory, it still could become our reality - Orwell was writing in the 1940s about a future he feared might develop, and of course it still could. What would be fascinating would be to know what Orwell makes of our world now. I speculate he would not be best pleased.

The Fat Black Woman's Poems

The Fat Black Woman's Poems

Grace Nichols

London, Virago, 1984, p85

I have opened this collection several times over the course of the last couple of weeks, searching for and finding new meanings and details with every read.

The Fat Black Woman's Poems is a refreshing and challenging look at the world through the eyes of Grace Nichols. It consists of four different collections, each with a different tone and theme running through. The first is the title collection - a series of passionate poems, sometimes angry, sometimes comic, about the experiences of a fat black woman. She contrasts ideas of Western beauty with images of African culture and climate. Nichols isn't resentful or self-loathing, but joyous and confident, full of the wonder of womanhood. She is proud.

The collections that follow are similarly loud. Some are about London life, set in conflict against her African heritage. Some are about family and friends, full of affection and admiration. And some are political, exploring the history of black lives, from slavery to racism and everything surrounding these subjects. 

I love Grace Nichols confidence. She is strong and brave, and her power is perpetuated through her words. 

This is an inspiring collection, both in terms of its subject and its form. Nichols is unconventional, refusing to conform to standard rhyme, structure or language. But in this way, she demonstrates that poetry can be whatever you want it to be. 

Much Ado About Nothing

Much Ado About Nothing
William Shakespeare

I have this really beautiful old copy of Much Ado, which I brought from the book shop around the back of Winchester Cathedral (if you haven't been there, it is a must!). I think it is my favourite Shakespeare play - I have always preferred the simple jolliness of the comedies to the macabre depression of the tragedies, and Much Ado is a fabulous story about two incredibly proud individuals being bought down a peg or two.

Beatrice and Benedict have met long before the start of this play, and have already declared a dislike for each other. Beatrice is a confident, intelligent woman who has no desire to be subject to the tradition of marriage; and Benedict is a promiscuous bachelor who follows around rich young men, feeding off their popularity. In theory, they seem vile, desperate creatures, but they are sharp and witty, equal matches for each other in terms of pride and foolishness.

And so, their friends and families plot against them, in order to trick them into loving each other. Whereas in Taming of the Shrew, it appears that only the woman is overtly tamed, in Much Ado, they are both ridiculed and made far more amenable. They deny their love for each other, right up to the end scene: too proud to admit the feelings they have discovered. Their competitiveness is full of banter and wit, building up the sexual tension that characterises their love.They are the original love-to-hate couple.

There are some brilliant one-liners in this play: many from Beatrice and Benedict, but also from the watchmen in the subplot. Dogberry is offering advise on what to do if the watchmen come across any scoundrels on the night:

"If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty."

It is not a flawless approach to policing that Dogberry presents, but his team provide entertainment for the other characters and for the audience. He is the caricature of ridiculousness. Later, when listing the offences of a criminal, Dogberry says,

"Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves."

Shakespeare has this incredible way with words and, through Dogberry's 'synonymising', demonstrates his intellect.  In his plays, he offers something for everyone, and often, his best characters are the supporting cast. In this play, there is the drama and romance between Hero and Claudio, the evil plotting of Don John, the argumentative love-making of Benedict and Beatrice, and the strange detective work of Dogberry. And it is not Hero and Claudio's ups and downs that I love, but the language and conversations - from Beatrice's angry rebuffing of Benedict to the watchmen's strange soliloquising. There is power in language, and Shakespeare wields it like a sword to woo his audience into admiration.

The Collected Dorothy Parker

The Collected Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker
London, Penguin, 2001, 610p

I first came across Dorothy Parker a few years ago at a Dead Poet's Slam, in which people performed the poems of their favourite deceased writers. Her poems were sharp and witty, full of cynicism and anger, but not ranting-and-raving anger, but a more poignant and observational social critique.

This collection includes Parker's poems, short stories, and journalistic writings. Her style is singular and her tone is unique. In the introduction to this collection, one particular phrase stood out: "the imagination of disaster". By this, it is implied that she always manages to see the worst in things, as all her stories end badly. It is suggested that Parker did not think she would live as long as she did: in an age when all young female writers seemed to die prematurely, Parker lived to the ripe old age of 73. The theme of death, particularly suicide, is prominent throughout her poems ans stories, in which many of her characters are angry, lonely or depressed. 

Most of these works were written in the 1920s, a time in which anything seemed possible. There were riches, sex and parties: the American Dream. But nothing was ever enough, and Parker highlights people's dissatisfaction with this world, anticipating the crash of the 30s. Her stories are about people who are lonely and confused, always wanting: wanting for their absent lover, wanting for a fur coat like the one the neighbour has, wanting for more of this or less of that. These characters turn to gossip, alcohol or extra-marital sex. They crave meaning and purpose, but always seem to be unable to find that fulfillment.

And yet, her language and descriptions are so captivating and addictive that I found myself in love with the beauty in the world, rather than lamenting the problems in it. Her stories are magnificently visual, and in just a few pages, you become engrossed in these worlds, intrigued by these people. For example, in one story, she describes a women as such:

"She was tall, and her body streamed like a sonnet. Her face was formed all of triangles, like a cat's is, and her eyes and her hair were blue-grey."

There is a beauty to this language that is unprecedented. Parker's humour is sharp and observational, drawing your attention to some of the most common-place things and making them entertaining:

"Men seldom make passes / At girls who wear glasses."

And that is the whole poem. Two lines: just brilliant. Though I think my favourite poem is Observation, because it perfectly encapsulates a thought I have almost every day.

 Her tone and wit continue into her journalistic writing: reviews, commentaries, columns. It is like she is sat across the table from you in a coffee shop, telling you about the play she saw last night, laughing at the unconvincing acting or praising the audience's reaction. 

I really enjoyed reading these stories and poems over the last few weeks, and I am ashamed I knew so little of her before now. Parker's stories end in tears or death - none of them offer the that fairytale happy ending - but they are real and honest, a criticism of the time in which she lived. She was a rare literary beauty, and I am glad she was an exception of her generation and lived long enough to give us such a vast and entertaining collection of writing.  

The Taming of the Shrew

The Taming of the Shrew
William Shakespeare
London, Penguin, 1974


Yesterday evening, I was lucky to get to see the Globe Theatre on tour at the Bodleian Library Quad, performing The Taming of the Shrew.

The Taming of the Shrew is controversially my favourite Shakespeare play. I say it is controversial because, in theory, it goes against all my feminist beliefs. It is a story about two sisters, Katherina and Bianca. Thier father insists that the eldest must be married before the youngest; but Katherina is a shrew: angry, stubborn and difficult. Bianca's suitors are relieved when they stumble upon Petruchio, an eccentric gentleman who is determined he can take her.

In theory, I have a real problem with this play: i.e. the idea that a woman can be tamed. We cannot. And yet, I find this to be an intelligent, witty, moving story about relationships between the sexes. Katherina is a headstrong heroine, loud and feisty, and Petrichio is a ridiculous pedant. In my humble opinion, both are tamed: they come fo realise they must manage their behaviour and inhibitions in the company of others. As such, Katherina appears "tamed", but I consider Petruchio to also be somewhat more sedate.

I found it a strange contrast to read a play with so little stage direction. Other than telling the characters when to enter and exeunt, Shakespeare leaves the play in the hands of the director. This means every performance is different and adaptation is flexible. I think this is why there have been so many interpretations and modernisations of his plays.

Before seeing the play last night, I went to a pre-show talk, in which I found two subjects discussed to be of particular interest. First, the repeated references to possessions throughout the story. Money is key: it breeds friendships, supports marriages, and defines relationships. On several occasions, Bianca's suitors debate who has the most right to her hand, arguing over their wealth and land. Elsewhere, Petruchio calls Katherina his possession, and Katherina later declares one's husband is "thy lord, thy king, thy governor". Yet, given the contemporary society, this is understandable. This is a story about bourgeois families vying to out-bid each other for the "love" of a beautiful woman. And this is why Petruchio and Katherina's love seems so much more valid: they are both rich and crazy but they don't need anything from each other. They are whole as individuals, and their union makes them a strong team. (Or maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic.)

The other thing I was particularly interested in was the concept of performance. The Taming of the Shrew is a play within a play. At the beginning, a lord plays a trick on a drunk, dressing him in finery and pretending he is a lord. He employs a passing troupe to put on a play, and hence the well-known story begins. As such, it has been argued that the play can be seen as a farce, a comic commentary on gender roles and a criticism of the bourgeois values that dictate society (and hence, a misogynist tale it is not. Hurrah!).

And so, I hope I have been able to justify my love of The Taming of the Shrew. And if not, no one can deny the appeal of Shakespeare performed outside on a warm summer's evening.

Arcadia

Arcadia
Tom Stoppard
London, Faber, 1993, 97p


On leaving work yesterday, I was overwhelmed by the desire to read a play. I don't read plays often, preferring prose, but I have read some weight novels recently and was in need for something light and clever. So inevitably, I ended up with Stoppard.

Arcadia is a perfect demonstration of why I love Tom Stoppard. It is a story that spans two hundred years, with a small cast and perfectly formed dialogue. In 1809, Thomasina sits at her desk with her tutor, Septimus. She is an intelligent girl, quick witted and curious, and Septimus treats her much older than her thirteen years. They are discussing complex algebra, when they are interrupted by Mr Chater, challenging Septimus to a fight.

Meanwhile, in the modern day, Bernard Nightingale arrives at the same house, eager to learn more about it's history, believing Lord Byron once visited. Bernard finds himself up against Hannah, a feisty scholar of botany who is reluctant to help the arrogant Nightingale.

It is an intelligent comedy for intellectuals. Stoppard's characters discuss classical philosophy, Newtonian theory, and Romantic poetry like it is general knowledge. Sometimes it is hard to keep up, but Stoppard has a brilliant way of explaining complicated subjects through his characters discussions. He is brilliant at producing these fully-formed beings, with no need to provide background information through contrived conversation. They just appear on the page (or on the stage) as everyday people, and we are lucky to observe their interactions.

Arcadia is set in Derbyshire, in a stately home. The house becomes a significant part of the story, bringing the two stories together. The contemporary characters are researching the earlier characters, using materials such as diaries and hunting records. They create their own stories about 1809, piecing together snippets of history to make their own truths. Only we, the audience, really know what happened, and it is equally comic and fascinating to see where the historians go wrong. 

I massively regret missing the opportunity to see this play in London a few years ago, but I am so excited it is coming to Oxford in October (see link here). Anyone fancy joining me?

Cloud Atlas

Cloud Atlas
David Mitchell
London, Sceptre (Flipbacks), 2011, 854p

Flipbacks are my new favourite thing. For those who don't want to lug around a hefty novel whilst travelling, but don't want to succumb to the new technological era, these small, lightweight publications are a perfect alternative. Who would have thought I could carry Cloud Atlas in my pocket!?

Cloud Atlas is a tome of genius and creativity - an 800 page novel narrating six different interlocking lives, across many centuries. With each story, the style, tone and pace changes, keeping the reader on their toes. The stories are split, so the narrative is disjointed and, sometimes, I struggled to remember the smaller details, especially as I have been reading it over a long period of time.

But I love the unique nature of each of the lives - it is incredible that Mitchell is so flexible and creative, offering such variety whilst maintaining a narrative flow. For example, the first story is written in the form of a diary, as Adam Erving tells of his adventures at sea; then it is the correspondence of a young composer, Robert Frobisher, writing to his friend Sixsmith whilst lodging in Bruges (my personal favourite). There are movie scripts and interviews, as well as a section that is written like spoken word - as Zachry tells his story to a listening crowd. In the first few pages of each section, you have to take a moment to readjust, but soon you begin to drown in the language and imagery, and most significantly, the characters. 

Throughout, the characters are linked by memory, mythology, and a comet-shaped birthmark. Frobisher tells Sixmith that he is reading the diary of Erving; and later, Luisa Rey seeks out Frobisher's Cloud Atlas Sextet, after meeting Sixmith and embroiling herself in a dangerous mystery. Elsewhere, Somni 451 (a clone, who draws suspicion for being more intelligent than she was manufactured to be) becomes a deity in the distant future, after the Fall of civilisation. In this way, each character keeps the memory of the previous character alive. 

The overarching theme of greed and power, leading to destruction, subtly seeps into the reader's subconscious. Unfortunately, I felt the novel lacked the big ending I felt it deserved. But each narrative highlights the evil of greed, and the consequences of power structures - from the feminist undertones in Luisa Rey's story, to overt slavery, both in Erving's historical narrative about colonisation and Somni 451's experience as a clone in the future. In the distant future is a dystopia in which man has reverted to an ancient state, living like cavemen, due to the internal combustion of the greedy civilised world. 

I cannot recommend this book enough, both in terms of it's originality and literary beauty. It's length might seem put some people off, but it is definitely worth it to escape into these incredible worlds and fascinating lives. And with Flipbacks, you don't even have to carry around a huge copy! 

(I should really be getting paid to say these things.)

Lilliput

Lilliput
Sam Gayton
London, Andersen, 2013, 268p

In terms of appearance, this is one of the cutest books I have read in a while. The illustrations are beautiful, the cover is a heavy hardback, and it was more than enough to entice me to read more. 

Lilliput is inspired by the adventures of Jonathan Swift's Gulliver, who, in this book, returns to the island of Lilliput to gather evidence of the miniature people living there. He steals Lily right off the beach, and takes her back to London, where he plans to reveal her to the public as scientific proof. 

Locked in a birdcage, Lily dreams of escape, but struggles to see any of her plans all the way through. She is on Escape Plan Thirty Three when Gulliver suddenly slips into unconsciousness, and with the help of a clock apprentice boy, gets out of Gulliver's attic. Unfortunately, it is not quite to simple to get out of London, and she has no idea where Lilliput actually is in relation to England.

This is an adorable adventure story - a brilliant fantasy that takes inspiration from one of the greatest fantasy novels of all time. The characters are incredible - from the Gothic villain of Mr Plinker, to the eccentric chocolate shop owner, Mr Ozinda. Gayton does not sugar coat the drama of the escape - there is danger at every turn for tiny Lily - but he provides oodles of excitement. 

I wish there were more novels like this - rooted in literary royalty, produced by creative genius, and full of innocent entertainment. 

Some Kids

Some Kids
An Anthology by the First Story Group at Oxford Spires Academy
ed. Kate Clanchy
London, First Story, 2010, 64p

At last, I got my mitts on a copy of the first anthology created by Kate Clanchy and the students of Oxford Spires Academy. Some Kids is the product of an Inclusion Project run by some incredibly members of staff, and with the support of the charity First Story.

The students behind this anthology are those who, for a variety of reasons, are excluded from everyday schooling. They share experiences that, for some, are completely unimaginable. Perhaps we would rather not hear what these young people have to say, but in these pages, their voices scream out with frustration, anger and sadness.

Of course, there are glimmers of hope that seem through. They share their love for their friends and their appreciation for these teachers who have taken the time to help them. The language and formulation of some of these pieces of work are incredible, especially considering many of these kids do not do very well in conventional classes. Reading them, you might think the students were top of their class.

Oxford Spires is about to launch it's fourth anthology in June. We have seen great success from these students recently, including prestigious prizes and coffee & cake with the Duchess of Cornwall. It is wonderful to see where it all started, with Some Kids, and it is clear that, thanks to the hard work of Kate Clanchy and the talent of our students, we still have a bright future ahead. 

The Book Thief

The Book Thief
Markus Zusak
London, Black Swan, 2007, 552p

Words can be incredibly powerful, but often they are wasted. It is a rare thing when a book really draws on the power of words, and creates something wonderful. 

In The Book Thief, Death narrates the story of Liesel, a young girl with a habit of stealing books. It all begins on the day of her brother's death, as Death collects the young boy's soul, and Liesel steals a handbook dropped by a gravedigger. In Nazi Germany, Death is kept busy by the product of war, whilst Liesel learns the power of words. 

Few books are as beautifully written as this. Zusak is like a poet, offering language in a way it is never used. He has such a unique way of looking at the world. Colour and meaning is everywhere; one of my favourite lines describes

"Rain like grey pencil shavings."

It is incredible how such a tragic setting lends itself to such awe-inspiring imagery. Zusak does not sugar-coat the Second World War. Sometimes, the darkest subjects produce the brightest inspiration. As narrator, Death details the pain and suffering, the loss and anger; but he parallels it with the kindness of humanity. People come together to do great things, from the smallest acts of good will to the bravest of self-sacrifices. In this novel, Death is not dark or evil. He does not carry a scythe. He recognises the light within mankind. He admires it. 

Words are an important motif throughout this novel. Zusak uses language in the most original way to articulate this story. But also, words are a source of power for the characters. The Führer uses words to gain power over the German people; Liesel uses words to overcome her nightmares, reading books through the night; and Max uses words to share his story. Death offers meaning to the reader, by translating German phrases, giving definitions of difficult words, and using metaphors and similes to bring to life a little street in the poor part of Munich. 

Liesel's love of words is infections. For me, the benefits of reading are obvious - so much so, I sometimes find it difficult to articulate. This book perfectly demonstrates the importance of words - we too easily and too often take them for granted, but we must remember that words give us power.

Lost in a Good Book

Lost in a Good Book
Jasper Fforde
London, Hodder and Stoughton, 2002, 372p

What an appropriate title. I felt the need for something really literary and clever, and found just the thing in Jasper Fforde's novel, the second of the Thursday Next series.

Following on from The Eyre Affair, Thursday Next finds herself having to deal with being a celebrity, trying to represent the truth of what happened inside Jane Eyre, whilst being censored by Goliath Industries, SpecOps and the Bronte Society. Things go from bad to worse when Goliath eradicate her husband, handsome war hero Landen Parke-Laine. In Lost in a Good Book, Next must quickly learn how to jump in and out of books, in the hope of rescuing her lovely man. 

I love the way Fforde writes. He is clever and well-read, with literary references seeping through every page. For instance, Miss Havisham features significantly in this novel, as Next's guide in jumping through books. This world has created is a strange sideways version of our world - where the Crimea war is only coming to an end in 1985, where mammoths migrate across England annually, and where fiction is the most popular form of culture. It is a dream. 

Fforde plays with the idea that a good book can be an escape from the everyday - but, for his lucky characters, the escape is literal, as they drop right into the world they are reading about. In his world, novels are policed by Jurisfiction Agents, who stop deviant plot changers and rebellious characters. 

Characters can also play with coincidences, as Thursday discovers. Strange things keep happening to her, leading her into near-death situations. She is lucky to have a time-travelling father watching over her, always stepping in at the last possible moment. 

I'm a bit in love with Jasper Fforde; but mostly I am in love with his romantic lead, Landen Park-Laine, who is unfortunately absent from most of this novel. Thursday Next is a brilliant hero - clever, quick witted and brave, and as she becomes increasingly smitten with Landen, so do I. 

As it's International Women's Day, I'd like to add Thursday Next to the list of fictional women I admire and wish were real.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making
Catherynne M Valente
London, Constable & Robinson, 2012, 328p

How is any lover of literature meant to be able to resist a book with a title like this? It has the word "circumnavigated" in it!!!

This is the tale of September, a young girl who escapes the boredom of her lonely house, and is carried off by the Green Wind on the back of a Leopard. The Green Wind helps her through customs into Fairyland, but cannot escort her through the mysterious world. Instead, he tells her the rules of this strange land, and leaves her to make her own friends and adventures. 

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her Own Making is not a light-hearted romp of a fantasy. It takes inspiration from a plethora of resources - fairy tales, classic literature, modern culture - and brings them all together to make one of the most surreal worlds I have ever had the joy to explore. If it had been written badly, this could have been one of the most cliched novels in literary history; but Valente has such passion and knowledge that she creates a world that few others could have even dreamed of.

My favourite character is a sort-of dragon, a Wyvern, called A-Through-L. His father is a Library, and he has an encyclopedic knowledge of anything beginning with letters A to L. September finds many friends along her journey, and is loyal and loving towards them all. Although she is only twelve years old, she is wise and generous, and incredibly brave.

I say the book is not light-hearted because it is very dark in places. September suffers, separated from her friends, attacked by strange creatures. At one point she even turns into a tree. Life in Fairyland is far from easy, under the difficult rule of the Marquess. 

With any fantasy literature, the reader must suspend their disbelief, at least to some extent. In reading this brilliant novel, it is a pleasure to step into September's world, and sometimes it is a struggle to come back to reality. Everything in Fairyland is so unusual and wonderful, and created with such love, that it comes to life in a way no other fantasy world ever has.

In the Orchard, the Swallows

In the Orchard, the Swallows
Peter Hobbs
London, Faber, 2012, 139p

This week, I had the honour of meeting some incredibly brilliant young people at the First Story Arvon Residential Week. If they are the future of literature, I cannot wait!

I also had the priviledge of meeting Peter Hobbs and Salena Godon, who were the tutors for the young writers. During the week, they inspired and supported the students, bringing out their best work. They also shared their work, and I was lucky enough to borrow Pete's own copy for a quick read.

In the Orchard, the Swallows is a beautiful short novel about a romantic encounter between a young couple. Later, the young man recalls the night they spent together in the orchard, and the tragedy they faced when they awoke the next morning. Their love is forbidden, and he suffers, disappears, and is imprisoned.

The opening of the novel is intriguing. The young narrator does not give everything away at one, but promises his reader to reveal more "in time". He swaps between past and present, building the readers' intrigue. The style is like a diary or a letter, talking to the reader, who we later discover is intended to be his love. His memory of her is so strong, it is powerful enough to help him overcome any suffering. 

Beneath the romance, political elements seep through the words. The story, set in Pakistan, highlights the potential of disillusioned men turning angry and violent. Our young narrator is lucky - his love pulls him through the torture of imprisonment - but he acknowledges that need for a release, and the dangerous lure of the Taliban.

My favourite part was the description of a sunrise. Hobbs' language is so beautiful. As the sun comes up over the city, it is like removing a veil of the night. The imagery is so powerful and visual, and the moment is one of shared love.