Strange Horizons has begun the new year with its traditional retrospective, in which SH’s reviewrs say a little about their favourites from the previous year. There’s some overlap between my contribution there and the Top 12 of 2013 that I posted on here; but it also includes some books that were bubbling under my main list. So, if you want to find out my favourite speculative fiction from last year (and to see what others have picked), take a look here.
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Literary advent calendars
Here are the links to a couple of interesting literary advent calendars which you may like to follow this month.
Booktrust have asked various writers to each recommend a short story collection. The Short Story Advent Calendar began yesterday, with Joanna Trollope on Stefan Zweig; today, Miroslav Penkov talks about Nathan Englander.
Kim from Reading Matters is hosting an advent calendar of book bloggers’ recommendations. Simon of Stuck in a Book kicked things off yesterday, recommending Diana Athill’s Stet. My recommendation is featured today; I doubt that anyone who’s followed this blog in the last few months will be surprised at what I chose…
(By the way, if you’ve come here from Kim’s blog and are visiting for the first time: welcome! Have a look around, and I hope you find something of interest.)
Granta Best Young British Novelists 2013: Xiaolu Guo
It is National Short Story Week, so this week’s posts are all about short fiction. This includes finishing off my story-by-story blog of Granta’s Best of Young British Novelists 4 anthology, which I’ve let fall by the wayside these last few months. I have fives entries left, so let’s get back to it…
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‘Interim Zone’ is an extract from Xiaolu Guo‘s forthcoming novel I Am China; on the basis of this, the new book is set to be rather different from Guo’s previous novel, UFO in Her Eyes. We meet Kublai Jian, a Chinese refugee in France, and see the contrast between his boyhood in Beijing, and his current life learning French. This piece is the shortest in the Granta anthology, perhaps a little too short for what it’s doing. Still, there’s an effective sense that Jian is in an ‘interim zone’ emotionally as well as physically; and the juxtaposition of past and present sets up an interesting theme that I imagine is explored further in the novel.
This is part of a series of posts on Granta 123: Best of Young British Novelists 4. Click here to read the rest.
And Other Stories giveaway winners
I know it has been a few weeks, but I’m now able to announce the winners of my And Other Stories giveaway:
- 1st prize: Jessica wins Swimming Home by Deborah Levy
- 2nd prize: Matt wins Quesadillas by Juan Pablo Villalobos
- 3rd prize: Lindy SMBSLT wins Zbinden’s Progress by Christoph Simon
Congratulations to all three winners – I hope you enjoy the books!
(By the way, if you are expecting a Sunday Story Society post here today, I’ve been away and have not had time to write it this week – so i’m putting it back to next Sunday.)
Luminaries links
I like to link to other blogs when I review a book, especially so when it’s a book I love. It wasn’t easy to do that with The Luminaries, because the novel was so recent at the time I reviewed it that blog posts weren’t so widespread (no doubt its length also played a part!). Now that has started to change, I want to highlight some other people’s thoughts:
Anna of A Case for Books was another early admirer of The Luminaries; we were both invited to Granta’s party celebrating Eleanor Catton’s Booker shortlisting (which in due course became a much greater celebration; Anna recorded the reaction as Catton’s win was announced, which was quite something to experience). She’s now posted her review of The Luminaries; I especially love her insights on the part gold plays in the novel, and the way that Catton turned the golden ratio into the book’s central relationship.
Claire of Word by Word talks about how the novel folds back in on itself rather than ‘beginning’ and ‘ending’ as such. That takes me straight back to the experience of reading The Luminaries.
Naomi of The Writes of Woman had a similar experience to me, of the novel speeding up in its second half. (I think of it as a catapult, which needs to be stretched out into the long opening section, before it is released with greater force.)
Dan Hartland would have put Colm Tóibín’s book ahead of Catton’s for the Booker (I was the other way around), but he liked The Luminaries nevertheless. He has some interesting things to say about agency and causality in the book.
What all these reviews now make me want to do is go back and re-read The Luminaries to see what else I can find in it. I’m sure I will do that at some point, but not quite yet; it’s something to save for a special occasion, because this is a book that needs – and deserves, and repays – time.
We Love This Book reviews: Jamie Mason and Tom Standage
In my latest pair of reviews for We Love This Book, I’m looking at a darkly comic thriller that launches the new ONE imprint from Pushkin Press; and a history of social media that finds its subject’s roots to stretch further back than you might suppose.
Jamie Mason, Three Graves Full (2012)
“There is very little peace for a man with a body buried in his backyard.”
In Jamie Mason‘s Three Graves Full, the man with the corpse in his garden is Jason Getty, who killed a conman named Gary Harris in the heat of the moment and hastily buried the evidence. We meet Jason as he is hoping the gardeners won’t come across Harris’s body. They don’t – but they do uncover two more bodies that Getty knew nothing about. These are the remains of Katielynn Montgomery and her lover Reid Tamblin, who were killed by Katielynn’s husband Boyd when he found them in bed together when the Montgomerys occupied Getty’s home. Now the police investigation will bring old and new players back to the house.
Three Graves Full can be divided into two parts: the first manoeuvres the main characters into place and reveals the broad extent of what has happened – even when the book is at its most amusing, Mason never allows us to forget the underlying gravity of the situation. The novel then turns into a breakneck chase which is as thrilling as one could wish; overlapping views of the same scene underline that there are partial perspectives all the way down. Mason explores what may happen when people seek to keep the deepest secrets, in a novel that deftly balances humour, action and contemplation.
(Read the original review here.)
Tom Standage, Writing on the Wall (2013)
According to Tom Standage, digital editor at the Economist, ‘social media’ has been around for a lot longer than you might think.
For most of human history, Standage argues in Writing on the Wall, information has mainly been shared between individuals, through personal networks. From this viewpoint, the 20th century’s centralised broadcast media, transmitting information to large numbers of people at once, are a historical anomaly.
I’ll admit I was sceptical about this book at first, concerned that Standage’s approach might be too anachronistic. In the event, I found it quite persuasive. The author goes chronologically through a number of examples, mostly from Western Europe, highlighting the similarities with contemporary social media. The Romans exchanged information through letters which could be intended for wider circulation; comments may literally be written on walls, and sometimes attracted replies.
Individuals at the Tudor court compiled interesting texts into their own commonplace books, rather like someone today adding content to a social media profile. The coffeehouses of 17th century London served as hubs for debate and the exchange of ideas. Even when the facts are familiar, Standage’s interpretation encourages us to look at the past in a new light.
Perhaps inevitably, Writing on the Wall loses a little of its interest when it reaches the development of the internet, because here Standage is narrating history more conventionally, rather than making those unexpected connections between past and present. But the book ends with a salutary reminder that information-sharing does not stand still, and we don’t know where its fascinating story will turn next.
(Read the original review here.)
Singularity
I started this blog in 2009, and began to explore some of the new fiction that was being published. The highlight of my reading year was an obscure debut novel by a young New Zealand writer, which had just been released in the UK. I read it on a whim and thought it was terrific, one of those rare instances of a book embodying the very essence of what speaks to you as an individual reader. I wished everyone could discover what I had found in this book, and was frustrated when, though it got some attention, it seemed a novel destined to remain in relative obscurity.
Four years on, that same writer published her second novel, and I loved it as much as her first. But the circumstances are very different: there’s no obscurity for Eleanor Catton now, because she has won the Man Booker Prize with The Luminaries. I’ve already written about why I love The Luminaries so much, so I won’t go over that again here. Instead, I’ll say a few words on why I’m so pleased with the Booker result.
For the past few years, it has felt to me that the Booker was stuck in something of a rut; whatever the merits of the individual winning titles, it was starting to seem like a lifetime achievement award for English novelists. Not this time. This year, the Booker has recognised a writer at the start of her career – and what a career it could be.
The Luminaries is a joyous, stubbornly idiosyncratic novel (‘a publisher’s nightmare’, as Catton put it in her acceptance speech) that celebrates and interrogates its own project in equal measure, and it deserves as wide an audience as possible. I want writers to have visions as compelling and individual as Catton’s, and to be able to make a success of them. I can only see the Booker result as a clear signal that this can be done.
On a personal level, of course it’s very pleasing to see my own tastes align so squarely with the Booker jury’s. But Catton’s win also makes me feel that my generation is really starting to make its mark on the literary world (at 28, Catton is the youngest-ever winner of the Booker Prize) – and that’s a good feeling. As long as there are writers like (and yet completely unlike) Catton around, the future of literature looks bright; and I’m confident that she will continue to be a vital voice in it.
Adam Roberts, The Soddit (2003): Vector review
The latest issue of the BSFA critical journal Vector has landed, and it contains my review of The Soddit by Adam Roberts. The Soddit was the first of the parodies that Roberts has produced alongside his ‘canonical’ novels; originally published in 2003, it was reissued last year. I started out imagining that the review would be just a bit of fun; as I went along, though, I found myself thinking more about the playful side of Roberts’s work, and what it is that draws me to his writing. Interestingly, Dan Hartland writes about similar qualities in his review of the story collection Adam Robots in the same issue. It seems we’re on the same page as regards Roberts’s “wilfulness and idiosyncrasy”.
Anyway, on to The Soddit…
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Anyone who follows Adam Roberts on Twitter will know of his penchant for puns, which are always excellent, and never induce groans at all – honest, guv. (Thought I’d indulge in some irony, there.) And anyone who’s followed Roberts’s bibliography over the years will know that his sense of humour has found a home in his fiction, most obviously in the series of parodies he has written alongside his more serious SF novels. The first of these parodies, The Soddit, has recently been reissued (there was even a film to mark the occasion, or something), and I agreed to review it. What did I let myself in for?
You’ll have some idea of how The Soddit goes purely from knowing how The Hobbit goes, so I won’t rehearse the plot too much: a Soddit named Bingo Grabbings is cajoled by a group of dwarfs and the wizard Gandef to join them on an expedition to the Only Mountain, home of the dragon Smug; they are at pains to emphasise to Bingo that this quest is all about taking the dragon’s gold – honest, guv. An episodic narrative of various encounters then follows, until the group reaches its destination.
The humour of The Soddit typically starts with a pun on the name of a character from Tolkien’s work, and extends outwards from there. Some of Roberts’s ideas work better than others: for example, the shape-shifter Biorn is an inconsistent mishmash of Scandinavian stereotypes – he speaks in Abba lyrics occasionally, and likes his flat-pack furniture – that I found too broad-brush to be truly amusing. But I loved the translation of Gollum’s riddles in the dark into a philosophical contest with ‘Sollum’.
Beyond the humour, what comes through time and again in the book is a trait that Roberts shares with Tolkien (though it manifests in very different ways in the authors’ respective work): a love of language. In The Soddit, it’s not just about puns: there are passages where Roberts is clearly revelling in the possibilities of prose, the pure rhythm and flow of writing. If you like that in a work of fiction (and I do), it is a joy to read.
But The Soddit is not all about play; there are elements of a straightforward, serious novel here, and they work rather well. Instead of a Ring that makes him invisible, Bingo finds a Thing (complete with registered trademark) which makes true the opposite of whatever someone speaks through it. Cue the classic fantasy trope of ‘be careful what you wish for’, which Roberts uses very neatly. And I must admit to being surprised by the twist in the nature of the group’s quest, a twist that succeeds on its own terms even as one senses that Roberts is deliberately making the gears of narrative grind noisily. The Soddit is a showcase for Roberts’s sense of humour, yes; but his skill as a storyteller is also firmly on display.
Book giveaway: Three years of And Other Stories
Today is the third birthday of that fine publisher And Other Stories. I enjoy their books (see what I thought of Down the Rabbit Hole, Lightning Rods, All Dogs are Blue, and Quesadillas), and I love what they stand for as a publisher: they have a strong and distinctive editorial vision; they champion fiction in translation; they care about the design of their books. So when they asked if I’d like to host a giveaway to mark the anniversary, I was only too happy to say yes.
I wanted to choose a book from each of And Other Stories’ years, so the following titles are up for grabs:
Swimming Home by Deborah Levy
Shortlisted for the 2012 Man Booker Prize
As he arrives with his family at the villa in the hills above Nice, Joe sees a body in the swimming pool. But the girl is very much alive. She is Kitty Finch: a self-proclaimed botanist with green-painted fingernails, walking naked out of the water and into the heart of their holiday. Why is she there? What does she want from them all? And why does Joe’s enigmatic wife allow her to remain?
Profound and thrilling, Swimming Home reveals how the most devastating secrets are the ones we keep from ourselves.
Zbinden’s Progress by Christoph Simon
Translated by Donal McLaughlin
Lukas Zbinden leans on the arm of Kâzim, as they walk slowly down the stairway towards the door of his old people’s home. Step by step, the irrepressible Lukas recounts the life he shared with his wife Emilie and his son. Different in so many ways, what was the secret of their life-long love? And why is it so hard for him to talk to his son?
Gradually we get to know a man with a twinkle in his eye and learn his captivating story. Zbinden’s Progress is heart-rending, heart-warming and hilarious.
Quesadillas by Juan Pablo Villalobos
Translated by Rosalind Harvey
Anarchy in Mexico – a comic novel about screwed-up politics and families from the author of Down the Rabbit Hole.
Orestes’ mother prepares hundreds of quesadillas for Orestes and the rest of their brood. After another fraudulent election and the disappearance of his younger brothers Castor and Pollux, he takes to the road. With Quesadillas, Juan Pablo Villalobos serves up a madcap satire of politics, big families, and what it means to be middle class.
Here is how the giveaway will work:
- To enter, leave a comment on this post, listing the three books in your order of preference.
- Entries will be accepted up to 23.59 UK time on Saturday 12 October. Multiple entries will not be accepted. Sorry, but the giveaway is UK only.
- After that time, I will use a random number generator to select three winning entries. The first winner automatically gets their first choice of book. The second winner will receive whichever of the two remaining titles is higher in their order of preference. The third winner will get the last remaining book.
- If you are a winner, I will contact you via the e-mail address you leave with your comment, and ask for your postal address. I will then give your details to And Other Stories, who will send your prize to you directly. Your details will not be used for any other purpose.
- I will publish the winners’ names, and the books they receive, on the blog.
Sound good? Then leave a comment and try your luck!
Sunday Story Society preview: October 2013
Next Sunday, I’ll have a new Sunday Story Society post up on the blog, so here’s a quick notification if you want to join in. The story I’ve chosen is ‘No Translation‘ by Mona Awad, from the Fall 2013 issue of Carve Magazine. It’s a story about an Egyptian fruit-seller, which explores issues of identity and the extent to which that can be translated. I think there’s potential for some really interesting discussion of this piece, and I’d love it if you could join me, from Sunday 6 October.
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