Author: David Hebblethwaite

Strange Horizons: 2012 in Review

2nd January 2013 / / 0 Comments

I have a little piece in today’s 2012 in Review feature on Strange Horizons, talking about my speculative fiction highlights of the past year. The books I chose to talk about won’t come as much of a surprise to anyone who’s seen my favourite reads of 2012 list; but I have tried to tie everything together in a way that makes a larger point:

…the key opposition in the field right now is not between genre and mainstream, but between texts that play into genre conventions and those that go their own way.

I’ll be looking for more of those works that “go their own way” over the months ahead.

(Incidentally, I was especially surprised – and pleased! – to see three other mentions for Hawthorn & Child: not bad going for a novel that isn’t, technically, speculative fiction.)

January in Japan

2nd January 2013 / / 6 Comments

jj

So here is the first blogosphere event I’m taking part in this year. I’m not very familiar with Japanese literature, but I’ve wanted to read more for some time; so when I heard about this themed month being hosted by Tony’s Reading List, it seemed an ideal pretext. I’ve scoured the local library and my own shelves for some reading material, and I’ll be linking to all of my posts from here as and when they appear. (If you want a sneak preview, keep an eye on the new ‘Read in 2013’ page above.)

1. Piercing by Ryu Murakami & Out by Natsuo Kirino

2. Harmony by Project Itoh

3. Hotel Iris by Yoko Ogawa & The Goddess Chronicle by Natsuo Kirino

Into 2013

1st January 2013 / / 1 Comment

Happy New Year! For my first post of 2013, I just want to talk about a few changes in direction that I’m planning. My default way of blogging over the last couple of years has been to mix longer reviews with sets of 250-word “book notes” pieces, as a way of covering as many of the books I read as possible. This year, I expect to have less time for blogging; so I want to be more selective and focus on the books I most want to write about.

I’ll still do longer reviews as before, but I don’t want the book notes pieces just to group together the last two or three titles that I’ve read. I want to try to forge stronger links within multi-book posts, even if that means not blogging about one book until several months after I’ve read it. To catch everything else, I’m planning round-up posts which will treat books more briefly; and I’ll keep a dynamic list of everything I read in the year on a separate page linked at the top of the blog.

I’m also going to look out for more things to join in with in the wider blogosphere, starting with January in Japan, an event hosted by Tony from Tony’s Reading List. More on that shortly.

My favourite reads of 2012

20th December 2012 / / 16 Comments

It’s that time of year again, for looking back over what I’ve read and picking out the highlights. In previous years, I’ve limited my list to books published in the year in question, or split it equally between old and new titles. For 2012, I’m just doing a straightforward list of my favourite twelve reads of the year, regardless of when they were first published.

So, in alphabetical order of author surname, here they are:

Adrian Barnes, Nod

Telling of a battle of words and perceptions in contemporary Vancouver, this is a dystopian novel with the nervous energy of a new world still being negotiated, and a keen sense of its own precariousness. It never feels as though it’s about to settle.

M. John Harrison, Viriconium

Possibly the ultimate anti-escapist fantasy (and almost certainly the only major work of fantastic literature to be set partly in my home town of Huddersfield). In this collection of novels and stories, it’s fantasy that does the escaping, leaving readers and characters alike scrabbling at mirrors.

Katie Kitamura, The Longshot

The tale of a mixed martial artist heading for one last shot at glory. This short novel is as taut and focused as a winning fighter; it’s a brilliant unity of form and subject.

Jonathan Lee, Joy

A fine character study of a successful young lawyer who attempts to take her own life in front of her work colleagues, and of other key figures in her life. Lee has superb control of voice and tone, and the whole novel is a great pleasure to read.

Simon Lelic, The Child Who

Here, by coincidence, is another incisive  character study focusing on a lawyer – this time the solicitor defending a twelve-year-old accused of murder  whom he (and everyone else) knows is guilty. This unusual angle enables Lelic to give certain key scenes an unexpected texture, and to give a complex picture of the issues he raises.

Karen Lord, Redemption in Indigo

A Senegalese folktale spliced with quantum physics. A morality tale whose only moral is that the reader should decide on one for herself. An examination of choice wrapped up in a glorious piece of storytelling that knows just when to turn on itself.

Julie Otsuka, The Buddha in the Attic

A chorus of narrators tells the story (and stories) of a group of Japanese ‘picture brides’ who go to the US at the start of the last century, and their descendants. Otsuka’s short novel is a beautiful composition whose focus shifts elegantly back and forth between a wider and more individual view.

Keith Ridgway, Hawthorn & Child

An anti-detective novel in which any semblance of narrative or coherence dissipates as soon as you look. Its pieces are brought together into a whole by superb writing and Ridgway’s distinctive aesthetic.

Adam Roberts, Jack Glass

Read during my ongoing semi-hiatus, this novel brings together Golden Age detective fiction and science fiction, and interrogates them. It is very much alive to the limitations and shortcomings of those types of fiction, but still plays fair with the reader. (See Jonathan McCalmont’s masterful review for more on the book.)

Zadie Smith, NW

A collage of a novel that examines the connections between several characters’ lives in north-west London. Smith goes through several different styles and approaches in NW, but all combine successfully in this insightful read.

Muriel Spark, The Driver’s Seat

A deeply unsettling piece of work that turns the concept of the murder mystery on its head and – perhaps even more effectively – puts a dark twist on the notion of a character study. This is the sort of novel that makes me want to explore the rest of its author’s œuvre.

Lucy Wood, Diving Belles

My favourite debut of the year, this collection brings Cornish folklore into the present day. These stories are  by turns amusing, mysterious and evocative; I can’t wait to see what Wood writes next.

***

This will be my last blog post of 2012. Wherever you are, I’d like to thank you for reading and wish you well for the coming year. See you again in 2013.

What I’ve been reading lately

13th December 2012 / / 0 Comments

I don’t have proper internet access in my new flat yet, and won’t have until mid-January; so blogging here will still be intermittent for the time being. But I have still been reading: this post is a quick catch-up of the last few weeks.

Lavie Tidhar, Osama (2011). The latest novel to win the World Fantasy Award, this details a private detective’s search for the author of a series of pulp novels featuring “Osama Bin Laden: Vigilante”, in a version of history without global terrorism. Tidhar makes a comparison between ‘real-world’ terrorism and pulp fiction, which I found to be very powerful; but I suspect I’m not familiar enough with the other works with which Osama is in dialogue to fully appreciate the book.

M. John Harrison, Light (2002). I’m planning to read all of Harrison’s Kefahuchi Tract trilogy before Empty Space makes its likely appearance on next year’s Clarke Award shortlist. I actually find myself unsure what to say about this first volume in isolation, and feeling that I’ll get more from it once I’ve read the whole series. I am struck, though, by Light‘s general movement towards possibilities being realised and mysteries starting to be solved, which stands in marked opposition to what I’ve come to expect from Harrison’s work. Of course, that movement may yet be subverted – we shall see.

Helen FitzGerald, The Donor (2011). A father faces the dilemma of being the only suitable organ match when both his daughters suffer kidney failure. I read this for Fiction Uncovered, so a longer review is forthcoming.

Samit Basu, Turbulence (2012). The passengers on a flight from London to Delhi wake from a dream to find that they each have a super-power based on what they most desire. A few of them try to make a difference to the world, but others have their own agendas. Turbulence starts out well, with a sharp wit and a welcome suggestion that powerful individuals may not find it as easy to change the world as they imagine. But then a sense of spectacle comes to dominate, and the novel as a whole ends up too frothy.

Stendhal, Roman Tales (2012). A new translation (by Susan Ashe), of three of Stendhal’s later works, all based on trials from the 16th and 17th centuries. I suspect that readers who already know Stendhal’s work and style will get more from this book than I did. Sometimes I found the detail engaging; at other times, it came across as a little dry.

Christopher Brookmyre, Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks (2007). Sceptical journalist Jack Parlabane may have met his match in the person of Gabriel Lafayette, a conduit for apparently incontrovertible paranormal phenomena. Certainly more is going on than meets the eye, as Parbalane is narrating while dead. This was my first Brookmyre novel, and I gather it’s less humorous than is his typical style. The book took a while to get going, but I did appreciate its twists and turns. I do want to sample Brookmyre’s more typical work, though.

Kate Atkinson, Human Croquet (1997). The tale of the present and past of the Fairfax family, seen mainly through the eyes of sixteen-year-old Isobel, who finds herself occasionally slipping through time. The timeslip aspect of the book  is what works best for me, with Atkinson giving it a wonderfully matter-of-fact quality. But I found the family drama side of Human Croquet less engaging, which left me unsatisfied with the novel as a whole.

K.T. Davies, The Red Knight (2012). This  first novel from small publisher Anachron Press is a fantasy set in a kingdom facing civil war, centring particularly on the character of Captain Alyda Stenna, who returns from a successful campaign to find that her battles are far from over. Though the plotting isn’t always as clear as it might be, there’s a real exuberance to Davies’s storytelling which keeps things interesting.

Laurent Binet, HHhH (2009/12). A novel about a real-life plot to assassinate Reinard Heydrich in 1942, interwoven with the author’s reflections on writing fiction from history. I read this for Bookmunch, so once again, there’s a longer review in the works.

2013 books to look forward to, part two: debuts and unfamiliar writers

10th December 2012 / / 1 Comment

Following on from my last post. here are some more 2013 titles that have caught my eye. This time, I’m looking at debuts and books by authors whose work is unfamiliar to me.

Petite Mort by Beatrice Hitchman (March). A tale set amongst the glamour of French cinema in the early 20th century, promising a twist that the publisher pleads readers not to divulge. This sounds right up my street.

The City of Devi by Manil Suri (March). The third novel by Suri (though his name is new to me), this India-set dystopia with mythic overtones sounds intriguing.

Hunters in the Snow by Daisy Hildyard (April). A novel about history, and ‘great’ and ‘ordinary’ lives jostling for attention. The blurb makes this novel sound as though it encompasses so much; I can’t wait to see.

A Teaspoon of Earth and Sea by Dina Nayeri (April). A girl growing up in 1980s Iran imagines a life for her missing mother and twin sister in America. This sounds thematically similar to Rana Dasgupta’s Solo, which is no bad thing at all.

The Sea Change by Joanna Rossiter (April). The novel’s about an estranged mother and daughter separated by half the world. But the real reason I want to read it is that I’ve seen some very incisive reviews by Rossiter (sadly no longer available online, it seems), and that makes me interested in her fiction.

Chaplin and Company by Mave Fellowes (May). A novel about a young woman obsessed with Charlie Chaplin, and her ambitions to become a mime artist. Sounds like the kind of offbeat subject matter that I enjoy in a novel.

***

Even more: They’re not new, but Nicola Griffith’s Slow River joins the SF Masterworks series in February, and Jeff Noon’s Vurt gets a new edition in April for its 20th anniversary – both works I’d like to read, by authors I haven’t read before (I know, I know…)writer, so I’m mentioning them here. Though its contributors look mostly familiar to me, Salt Publishing’s Best  British Fantasy Stories 2013 (April) is the first anthology in a new series which I’ll be interested to read. Among actual debuts, Rebecca Wait’s family drama The View on the Way Down (April) catches my eye, as does Matt Hill’s near-future satire The Folded Man (May).

2013 books to look forward to, part one: familiar names

6th December 2012 / / 3 Comments

Hello, I’m back. As I usually do at this time of year, I’ve been browsing publishers’ spring catalogues for interesting new titles, and I thought I’d share some that I’m most looking forward to. Taking a leaf out of Jackie’s book, I’m going to split it into books by writers I already know, and debuts.

So, here are some of the 2013 titles by familiar authors which have caught my eye:

Adam Robots by Adam Roberts (January). Some of the best and most enjoyable novels I’ve read over the last few years have been by Roberts, so a comprehensive collection of his short fiction is going straight on my to-read list. What a great title and cover it has, too.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord (February). Lord’s canny debut, Redemption in Indigo, is on my “best reads of 2012” list. She turns to science fiction for her second novel, for which I have high hopes.

Orkney by Amy Sackville (February). I loved Sackville’s debut, The Still Point, for its sense of place and examination of relationships. This follow-up, about a couple living on an Orkney island, looks set to combine the two again.

The Humans by Matt Haig (May). Haig’s previous novel, The Radleys, stood out for what seemed to me a fresh take on a well-worn trope (vampires). The new novel sounds as though it balances grand cosmic themes with ordinary lives – count me interested in that.

Strange Bodies by Marcel Theroux (June). I’d have given Theroux the Clarke Award for Far North, and it seems he may have returned to speculative territory for his new book. A tale of identity and a possible return from the dead… I’m fascinated to see what Theroux will do with that material.

All the Birds, Singing by Evie Wyld (June).  The tale of an Australian sheep farmer trying to rebuild his life on a remote British island, though still dwelling on his past. If Wyld’s debut, After the Fire, a Still Small Voice, is anything to go by, this will be a treat.

***

Bubbling under: Nicholas Royle’s First Novel (January) is far from being its author’s first novel, but it sounds like great metafictional fun. Rupert Thomson returns with Secrecy (March), his first novel in six years. Also in March, Hassan Blasim follows up The Madman of Freedom Square with a new collection, The Iraqi Christ. Chaos Walking author Patrick Ness has a new adult novel out, The Crane Wife (May). I enjoyed The Financial Lives of the Poets by Jess Walter, so I’m intrigued to read his follow-up, Beautiful Ruins (May). Ever since I read Mr Chartwell, I’ve been wondering where Rebecca Hunt would go next; June sees my chance to find out, with the publication of Everland. June also sees a UK edition of Billy Lynn author Ben Fountain’s story collection, Brief Encounters with Che Guevara. I’ve enjoyed Alison MacLeod’s short fiction in the past; in July, she’ll have a new novel out, Unexploded. Later in the year, I’ll also be looking forward to Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries, Christopher Priest’s The Adjacent, and Katie Kitamura’s Gone to the Forest.

And those are just the authors I’ve read before. I’ll talk about the writers who are new to me in a few days.

A short intermission… and my day in books

23rd November 2012 / / 0 Comments

It’s time for a short break in blogging, as I’m now in the process of moving house. I won’t have regular internet access for the next few weeks, but I hope to be back to regular blogging in December, or January at the latest.

Before I sign off, here’s a meme from Cornflower Books in which you have to complete the statements with the titles of books you’ve read this year. The links lead to my reviews of each book. Thanks for reading, and see you later!

***

I began the day by Touching the Void

before breakfasting on Sweets

and admiring The Longshot.

On my way to work I saw Viriconium

and walked by Hawthorn & Child

to avoid The Sisters Brothers,

but I made sure to stop at A Novel Bookstore.

In the office, my boss said, Everyone’s Just So So Special,

and sent me to research The Evolution of Inanimate Objects.

At lunch with Agnes Grey

I noticed Monkeys with Typewriters

in NW

greatly enjoying The Bellwether Revivals.

Then on the journey home, I contemplated The Quiddity of Will Self

because I have Fascination

and am drawn to Joy.

Settling down for the evening in The Apartment,

I studied The Panda Theory,

by The Remains of the Day

before saying goodnight Still.

Adrian Barnes, Nod (2012): Strange Horizons review

21st November 2012 / / 0 Comments

I have a new review up at Strange Horizons today, of Adrian Barnes’s superb debut novel, Nod. I read it shortly after contributing to the debate on freshness in works of the fantastic, and it struck me as just the sort of thing I wanted to see.

In Nod, most of the world’s population loses the ability to sleep, which leads to psychosis within a few days – to the point where people’s perceptions can be manipulated with a word. Barnes tells of the power plays – the literal war or words – that goes on in a corner of Vancouver.

What interests me most about this novel is its pervading sense of unease at a situation which is all-consuming for its characters, yet is explicitly temporary. It makes for a fascinating read.

Click here to read my review of Nod in full.

This book has been shortlisted for the 2013 Arthur C. Clarke Award. Click here to read my other posts on this year’s Award.

Sunjeev Sahota, Ours are the Streets (2011)

19th November 2012 / / 4 Comments

Sunjeev Sahota’s first novel, Ours are the Streets, is presented as the last testimony of Imtiaz Raina, a young British Muslim about to become a suicide bomber; it’s his attempt to explain himself to the people he loves. We follow Imtiaz from his time at university in Sheffield, where he falls in love with Becka, the white girl he marries and has a daughter with (and who then willingly converts to Islam). After his father dies, Imtiaz goes to Pakistan for the first time, where he falls in with a group of radicals – which eventually leads him to the present moment, and the account we are reading.

Imtiaz experiences life at a junction of cultures, and the novel really brings home the complexity of his feelings. As a student, he seems quite comfortable in his Western lifestyle, and finds points of disagreement with his parents’ attitudes (‘What’s the point in dragging your life across entire continents if by the time it’s worth it you’re already at the end?’ he wonders, not really considering that his parents might have been thinking of his future when they came to England).

At the same time as this, however, Imtiaz wants his family to be happy – hence he’s keen for Becka to convert. One also sees that he feels something is missing from his life, though he’s not sure what. In Lahore, Imtiaz finds what he never knew he wanted: a sense of deep connection and heritage, though his family wouldn’t approve of the source. But, as his narrative voice (peppered with Yorkshire dialect, Urdu and Punjabi alike) indicates, Imtiaz has roots in East and West, and can’t truly leave either behind.

Ours are the Streets is a fine character study of Imtiaz. We see how and why he’s discontent with life in England; how his relationship with Becka deteriorates; and how his time in Pakistan changes him. The last steps on Imtiaz’s path between disaffection and radicalisation don’t have quite the same psychological clarity, which is perhaps the novel’s greatest weakness. But, overall, this is a strong debut from Sahota, who’s clearly a writer to watch.

(This review also appears at Fiction Uncovered.)

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