January has been
a really frantic month for me. It’s always a busy time of year in the day job
so I seem to have to admit to having felt as if I’ve been living at the office
for a good portion of the month. It’s therefore been a real challenge to stay
focused and keep motivated on my reading. Even for an avid book nerd like
myself, it is all too easy at the end of a stressful day to choose vegging out
in front of the TV or catching up with some Youtube videos over actively
engaging with a book. Fortunately, I’ve had some good books to keep me on track
and managed to keep my reading goals and resolutions at the forefront of my
mind – those 75 books aren’t going to read themselves! I was also boosted by
taking part in the #AYearAThon Readathon challenge, which ran from the 4th
– 10th January; the theme of which was ‘Benchwarmers’ (i.e. books
that had been sitting on your shelf for over a year) and, as a result, got two
books – both of which I’ve been meaning to read forever – finished in that week
alone. The first of which was…

Finally! I’ve
had this on my TBR for about 10 years now (since I first read ‘Northern
Lights’) and have picked it up and put it down again on countless occasions.
With the help of the absolutely gorgeous combined Everyman edition and the
#JenandHollyHDM readalong on Twitter and Booktube however, I have finally got
to the end of the second book in Pullman’s epic fantasy series. Having now
finished the book, I can see why I’ve previously found it so hard to get
through.
Following the dramatic climax at the end of ‘Northern Lights’, the
start of ‘The Subtle Knife’ seems slow and, if I’m being honest, just a little
bit dull in places. There’s a lot of world-building at work here, with Pullman
pulling together the many strands that are going to move the trilogy from just
being Lyra’s story (as it is in ‘Northern Lights’) into an epic adventure
encompassing many different characters across a number of different worlds. Get
over that initial shift of pace however and the story really gets going,
turning into a genuinely dangerous and complicated mixture of power, politics
and a fight to define the future.
By the end of ‘The Subtle Knife’ I was
absolutely gripped and I cannot wait to finish Lyra and Will’s adventures in
the concluding novel ‘The Amber Spyglass’.

I have long
admired Stephen Collins’ astute and amusing cartoons in The Guardian’s Weekend
magazine. His art style is simple and clean but very effective in getting
across a point, and he has an acute sense of the absurd that puts an extraordinary
spin onto ordinary events. So when I found out at that he had released a
graphic novel, I thought this would be a good place to start in my quest to
read more in this format through 2016. Plus it has the most amazing title ever
– who in their right mind wouldn’t buy a book about a gigantic evil beard?!
The
book is a beautiful chunky hardback filled with Collins’ fabulous black and
white pencil drawings. The story revolves around the inhabitants of a place
called Here. Here is neat, ordered, beardless. Everybody knows what is expected
of them and everyone does exactly that. Surrounding here is an unknown place
called There. There is the home of disorder, untidiness and unpredictability.
Everything that Here is not. Which is why it is so frightening when, one day,
ordinary resident of Here Dave, bald except for a single hair, is assailed by a
beard. A terrifying unstoppable beard. Where did it come from? What does it
want? As the residents of Here struggle with these questions, the reader is
invited to examine how we treat those who do not conform to social norms, the
right to free expression in society and the role of creativity in our lives.
Dark, unusual and unique, this is a Roald Dahl-esque fable for the modern
world. It’s also about a gigantic beard so, seriously, go out and read it
already.

It seems to have
taken me forever to listen to this audiobook. It is by no means long (having a
run time of 11 hours and 40 minutes) and is excellently narrated by Julia
Whelan, who brings out the wry humour and acerbic wit at the heart of the
novel. Similarly the story, which follows wife and mother-of-three Alice Pearce
as she moves from a job as a part-time books editor to a full-time publishing
professional with hipster startup Scroll, is, for the most part, light and easy
to follow. So, if I enjoyed it (which, ultimately, I did), why has it taken my nearly
three months to listen to this book?
I think it’s probably because I really
have to be in the right mood for this kind of book. Although well told,
Elizabeth Egan isn’t doing anything that hasn’t been done before with ‘A Window
Opens’. Woman gets new well-paid job and becomes major breadwinner. Woman
struggles with balancing work and home life. Woman becomes alienated from her
family and friends. Woman re-evaluates what is important to her. So far, so ‘I
Don’t Know How She Does It’, ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and countless others.
Which is not to say the book is without substance – it does raise some
genuinely interesting questions about the pressures of modern life, the
intricate juggling of marriage, parenthood and work and the increasing demands
that ever-connected modern businesses make on their employees. Alice is also,
for the most part, a likeable narrator – although her passivity and tolerance
towards her idiot husband Nicholas (who veers between supportive spouse,
emasculated doormat and grade-A jerk), did have me shouting at the audio from
time to time. I really loved the snide look at the modern workplace environment
that is Scroll, a workplace that is replete with a buzzword for everything
(‘carbon-based reading material’ anyone?), and the snarky take on some of the
more unusual modern publishing trends.
Ultimately, I am really glad I listened
to this – it’s a fun and witty novel with a bookish twist on a well-worn theme.
Interestingly, I’m not sure if I would have finished the book if I’d been reading
a physical (sorry, ‘carbon-based’) copy but the narrator really added to my
enjoyment and it was an easy audio to dip in and out of when the mood took me.

Another one that
has been on my TBR forever now finally finished thanks to the #AYearAThon
Readathon. So many people I know have raved about this book and, having finally
read it, I can completely see why it has won so many admirers and garnered such
acclaim. Healey inhabits the fractured and damaged mind of her mature
protagonist Maud, who is struggling with the onset of a degenerative mental
illness, with great skill and the bittersweet narrative voice is the real
crowning achievement of this novel.
Sadly, I just didn’t feel that the plot
lived up to the promise of the characterisation. The ‘twist’ became obvious to
me about a third of the way through the book and, whilst I understand that
modern-day Maud would struggle to put the pieces together – the nature of her
deterioration makes it increasingly hard for her to place her fragmented
memories in order - I really struggle to see how young Maud, her parents and
their lodger, failed to grasp exactly what had happened in the apparently
‘mysterious’ disappearance of Maud’s sister at the time. Whilst the post-war 1940s
setting felt otherwise very well-realised, I do find it hard to believe that
people were really quite that naïve or the police quite so incompetent. I also
found it frustrating that a number of actions from the past remain
tantalizingly out of reach or unexplained at the novel’s conclusion. Whilst
this may well be in an attempt to show the ever increasing fracturing of Maud’s
mind, it’s an annoyance in a novel where the plot was otherwise so apparent.
All in all, I am glad that I read this book. The amazing way that the narrative
viewpoint it handled makes it a worthwhile read and it is clear that Emma
Healey is a very talented writer.
Whilst I don’t think that ‘Elizabeth Is
Missing’ is a 100% success, it deserves praise for its use of a mature narrator,
its sensitive approach to mental deterioration and its well handled
characterisation and, as result, I look forward to reading what Emma Healey
comes up with next.

If I could make
any writer into a national treasure, it would quite probably be Bill Bryson. I
love most of his books, finding his writing to be a combination of gentle
grumbling, informative fact and laugh out loud absurd. He has a real gift for
capturing the surreal in a given situation and maximising the potential for
self-deprecation and amusement at every turn.
In ‘The Road to Little
Dribbling’, he turns his eye yet again on his adopted home country of Britain,
returning to the territory that won him so many fans in ‘Notes from a Small
Island’, first published some 20 years ago. As he takes another tour around
this sceptered isle, Bryson looks at how Britain has changed since he first
wrote about it (he thinks the NHS is undoubtedly better, a fact some may
disagree with him on, but that town high streets have become mired in
petty-minded saving cuts and chain stores, something most people wouldn’t!) in
his gentle, wry and occasionally grumpy way. As always, his witty insight into
the foibles of British life and character ring true and make the book an easy
and thoroughly enjoyable romp - a bit like taking an amble through familiar
territory with an old and trusted friend. There’s nothing here that Bryson
hasn’t done before but, when it is done as well as this, why change the
formula? Welcome back Bill, long may you observe us!

Diane Athill’s
previous memoir, the sublime ‘Somewhere Towards the End’, remains one of my
standout non-fiction books so I was delighted to learn she was releasing
another volume as she approaches her 100th year. Yet again, this is
a fascinating meditation on a life lived fully and the pleasures and perils of
aging.
What always stands out for me in Athill’s writing is her honesty –she
covers every subject from sex and death, to gardening and friendship, with such
refreshing clarity and her smooth, descriptive prose is a joy to read. Reading
one of her memoirs is like listening to an old friend recounting an excellent
story. If I ever get to be anywhere near 100 myself, I can only hope to be of a
similar outlook and mindset to Athill. A real piece of reading pleasure at its
best from an always fascinating woman.
So that was January, a busy month both on the reading and the non-reading front. It's been a great start to my reading year with some really excellent and varied books so I'm really looking forward to carrying on in a similar vein as I move into February. As always, I'd love to know what you are reading at the moment and your thoughts on any of the above if you have read them. You can drop me a comment below, find my on Twitter @amyinstaffs and also on Goodreads.I hope your January was a great start to 2016 and that your February reading is progressing nicely.
Happy Reading! x
No comments:
Post a Comment