Title: Varjak Paw
Author: SF Said
Nationality: British
Year: 2003
Publisher: David Fickling Books
Length: 200+ pages
Rating: 9/10
Summary: If only grown-up books were this good
The outline
Pedigree cat Varjak Paw is the only one of his family who dreams of the great outdoors but the Mesopotamian Blues have never left the safety of the Contessa’s house. You can probably guess what happens next.
Sample
Varjak could see for miles and miles. There were no walls or trees to block his view any more. Just open space, rippling out ahead of him, beneath him, above him. He was standing in space, and it was a long way to fall.
He peered down the inside of the wall. He could see nothing through the trees. The Gentleman's cats and the Elder Paw were hidden by the tangled net of branches. There was no way back. He was truly on his own.
The verdict
I certainly wasn’t expecting this fairly obscure and underrated children’s book to be anywhere near as good as it is. Ignore the clichéd and pedestrian opening chapters – from there onwards the narrative opens up into a breathtaking and powerful coming-of-age story, by turns charming, sinister and exhilarating.
Said knows how to keep a narrative moving effortlessly and it’s a shame that few adult novels manage to be so frightening or uplifting. There are strong female characters, dastardly villains and glorious set pieces and it’s no insult to say that parts of this novel reminded me of both Watership Down and Kafka on the Shore. An added bonus were the atmospheric illustrations by Dave McKean, who really understands how cats move.
Personally, it impressed me far more than Harry Potter or His Dark Materials and would be my personal pick for best children’s story of recent years.
Friday, 25 March 2011
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Review: The Dresskeeper
Title: The Dresskeeper
Author: Mary Naylus
Nationality: British
Year: 2009
Publisher: Prospera Publishing
Length: 200+ pages
Rating: 7/10
Summary: Wickedly funny
The outline
Thoroughly modern teenager, Picky, is transported back in time to Restoration London when she tries on a old dress in her Gran’s attic. No, seriously.
Sample
'Get ya bets. Make a packet. Which hefty is heftier?'
There are three of us in the running but the odds on Edwina the wheelchair kid are so bad no one places a bet, so it is between me and this girl in Year 11, who brings a roast chicken, complete with chips and gravy, to school. Everyday.
The verdict
I loved the opening to The Dresskeeper so much that I bought the book before I’d even finished the first page of the Kindle sample. Despite its title and cover, which imply a fairly straight-laced historical romance, The Dresskeeper is for a large part a darkly comic look at such modern perils as dementia, body image and absent fathers. In fact, the scenes that are central to the plot where 21st century teenager, Picky, travels through time to the London of the 1600s rarely live up to the sheer wit and exuberance of the sections set in the modern day.
That’s not to say that the past sections don’t have their strong points. Naylus succeeds where many better-known authors have failed and makes the past a living and vibrant place. The past is also where the most moving and poignant sections of the novel take place.
However, despite being the funniest thing I’ve read in years, I wasn’t able to award The Dresskeeper top marks. The novel is littered with plot holes, anachronisms and implausibilities. Some leeway can be given because this is a comedy and a young-adult novel, but they were so numerous they did intrude on my enjoyment of the book. It’s easy to criticise Naylus for this, but her publishers should take some of the blame as they really should have pointed these out.
Author: Mary Naylus
Nationality: British
Year: 2009
Publisher: Prospera Publishing
Length: 200+ pages
Rating: 7/10
Summary: Wickedly funny
The outline
Thoroughly modern teenager, Picky, is transported back in time to Restoration London when she tries on a old dress in her Gran’s attic. No, seriously.
Sample
'Get ya bets. Make a packet. Which hefty is heftier?'
There are three of us in the running but the odds on Edwina the wheelchair kid are so bad no one places a bet, so it is between me and this girl in Year 11, who brings a roast chicken, complete with chips and gravy, to school. Everyday.
The verdict
I loved the opening to The Dresskeeper so much that I bought the book before I’d even finished the first page of the Kindle sample. Despite its title and cover, which imply a fairly straight-laced historical romance, The Dresskeeper is for a large part a darkly comic look at such modern perils as dementia, body image and absent fathers. In fact, the scenes that are central to the plot where 21st century teenager, Picky, travels through time to the London of the 1600s rarely live up to the sheer wit and exuberance of the sections set in the modern day.
That’s not to say that the past sections don’t have their strong points. Naylus succeeds where many better-known authors have failed and makes the past a living and vibrant place. The past is also where the most moving and poignant sections of the novel take place.
However, despite being the funniest thing I’ve read in years, I wasn’t able to award The Dresskeeper top marks. The novel is littered with plot holes, anachronisms and implausibilities. Some leeway can be given because this is a comedy and a young-adult novel, but they were so numerous they did intrude on my enjoyment of the book. It’s easy to criticise Naylus for this, but her publishers should take some of the blame as they really should have pointed these out.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Review: The Girl on the Swing
Title: The Girl on the Swing
Author: Ali Cooper
Nationality: British
Year: 2010
Publisher: Standing Stone Press
Rating: 9/10
Summary: Beautiful and emotive
The outline
A middle-aged doctor who has lost her son and lost her job is caught up in visions of what she believes are her past lives. But are they true or is there a more rational explanation?
Sample
I am standing on the seafront, on the southwest corner where the road meets the sea, where the steep ramshackle streets meet the crumbly cliff. A cold, brisk, sea breeze burns my skin, stings my cheeks with salt. The sunlight is piercing, icy blue, glaring on the water; it lacks the yellow fullness of summer. The salty fishy smell of the harbour penetrates my nostrils. I wrinkle my nose. I am counting. One. Two. Four. Six. It is a game. I count some more as I stare out towards the streak of purple which lines the horizon. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Seventeen. Do I not know my numbers or am I deliberately cheating? Mostly the latter, I think. Suddenly and unexpectedly I reach one hundred. I call out. 'Coming! Ready or not!' My voice has a lilt, an accent that surprises me, as though it is not my own.
The verdict
This is an absolutely wonderful novel and Ali Cooper’s lyrical and elegant writing will stay with you long after you’ve closed the final page. The story expertly mixes modern day tragedy with past life drama which results in a poignant and moving novel. It addresses big themes such as our relationship with the past, relationships across the class divide and the affects of loss and it never fails to hit the mark with them.
Cooper is particularly adept at creating a believable and multi-faceted central character. Every word is written exactly as you would expect it to be by the central character, Julia, a middle-aged doctor who has long self-censored her feelings and ideas in order to conform with her domineering husband and the society that she moves in. I found it extremely refreshing to read a book where a middle-aged woman was the central character.
This is the kind of novel which, if it had been published by one of the big publishers, would have been nominated for a string of awards. That it hasn’t been is undoubtedly the fault of the award-givers and not Ali Cooper.
Author: Ali Cooper
Nationality: British
Year: 2010
Publisher: Standing Stone Press
Rating: 9/10
Summary: Beautiful and emotive
The outline
A middle-aged doctor who has lost her son and lost her job is caught up in visions of what she believes are her past lives. But are they true or is there a more rational explanation?
Sample
I am standing on the seafront, on the southwest corner where the road meets the sea, where the steep ramshackle streets meet the crumbly cliff. A cold, brisk, sea breeze burns my skin, stings my cheeks with salt. The sunlight is piercing, icy blue, glaring on the water; it lacks the yellow fullness of summer. The salty fishy smell of the harbour penetrates my nostrils. I wrinkle my nose. I am counting. One. Two. Four. Six. It is a game. I count some more as I stare out towards the streak of purple which lines the horizon. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Seventeen. Do I not know my numbers or am I deliberately cheating? Mostly the latter, I think. Suddenly and unexpectedly I reach one hundred. I call out. 'Coming! Ready or not!' My voice has a lilt, an accent that surprises me, as though it is not my own.
The verdict
This is an absolutely wonderful novel and Ali Cooper’s lyrical and elegant writing will stay with you long after you’ve closed the final page. The story expertly mixes modern day tragedy with past life drama which results in a poignant and moving novel. It addresses big themes such as our relationship with the past, relationships across the class divide and the affects of loss and it never fails to hit the mark with them.
Cooper is particularly adept at creating a believable and multi-faceted central character. Every word is written exactly as you would expect it to be by the central character, Julia, a middle-aged doctor who has long self-censored her feelings and ideas in order to conform with her domineering husband and the society that she moves in. I found it extremely refreshing to read a book where a middle-aged woman was the central character.
This is the kind of novel which, if it had been published by one of the big publishers, would have been nominated for a string of awards. That it hasn’t been is undoubtedly the fault of the award-givers and not Ali Cooper.
James Frey turns to self publishing
A fairly significant story for the publishing industry on The Guardian's website today: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/mar/15/james-frey-new-book-published-art-gallery Best selling author James Frey is self-publishing his latest novel, The Final Testament of the Holy Bible, a story about the Second Coming taking place in the Bronx.
Just 10,000 leather-bound printed editions will be available at a cost of $150 each. Those who can't afford the steep price will be able to download the ebook version for a few quid.
Frey said that we are currently experiencing the "greatest revolution in publishing since the invention of the printing press. Everything about how we make and consume books is changing very dramatically."
Frey is the master of self promotion and it really is a significant turning point that a major author has decided to ditch his publisher. He will certainly not be the last.
Just 10,000 leather-bound printed editions will be available at a cost of $150 each. Those who can't afford the steep price will be able to download the ebook version for a few quid.
Frey said that we are currently experiencing the "greatest revolution in publishing since the invention of the printing press. Everything about how we make and consume books is changing very dramatically."
Frey is the master of self promotion and it really is a significant turning point that a major author has decided to ditch his publisher. He will certainly not be the last.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Do we need a literary prize for women?
The Orange Prize for Fiction longlist was announced yesterday to the usual fanfare. There are some great novels on the list, such as Emma Donaghue's Booker shortlisted Room and the National Book Critics Circle award winning A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. However, there are a great deal of good books that are not on the list because they were written by men.
Founded as recently as 1996, the Orange Prize is curiously anachronistic and, in my opinion, misguided. Fiction is one of the few areas where there is no trace of a glass ceiling and women can visibly and consistently compete and better men without the additional burden of having to overcome prejudices. The most successful author in the world is a woman, the world's most famous bookclub is run by a woman and even a casual reader would probably not struggle to name 10 female authors (try naming 10 female artists with the same ease).
Rather than supporting fiction written by women I would argue that by segregating it off like this the Orange Prize is harming it. It makes it look like the Olympic 100m final, implying that women's novels can't easily compete against those by men so need a category of their own. We should be celebrating women's writing by watching women win awards where men are also competing, not awards where only women can compete.
In my opinion, the only argument in favour of the Orange Prize is the curious failure by the Booker reward women as often as it should. Since the Orange Prize was founded in 1996, the Booker has been won by women on only five occasions. It's an issue that really needs addressing, but that should be the job of the Booker judges (who may have already started to address the balance as women have won in three out of the last five years) and not require a second prize.
I think that there is room for a women's fiction prize, but that it should be awarded to books about women not by women. If the Orange Prize was awarded to the novel which made the best contribution towards issues of women's rights and feminism, regardless of the gender of its author, I would feel much more comfortable with it.
Founded as recently as 1996, the Orange Prize is curiously anachronistic and, in my opinion, misguided. Fiction is one of the few areas where there is no trace of a glass ceiling and women can visibly and consistently compete and better men without the additional burden of having to overcome prejudices. The most successful author in the world is a woman, the world's most famous bookclub is run by a woman and even a casual reader would probably not struggle to name 10 female authors (try naming 10 female artists with the same ease).
Rather than supporting fiction written by women I would argue that by segregating it off like this the Orange Prize is harming it. It makes it look like the Olympic 100m final, implying that women's novels can't easily compete against those by men so need a category of their own. We should be celebrating women's writing by watching women win awards where men are also competing, not awards where only women can compete.
In my opinion, the only argument in favour of the Orange Prize is the curious failure by the Booker reward women as often as it should. Since the Orange Prize was founded in 1996, the Booker has been won by women on only five occasions. It's an issue that really needs addressing, but that should be the job of the Booker judges (who may have already started to address the balance as women have won in three out of the last five years) and not require a second prize.
I think that there is room for a women's fiction prize, but that it should be awarded to books about women not by women. If the Orange Prize was awarded to the novel which made the best contribution towards issues of women's rights and feminism, regardless of the gender of its author, I would feel much more comfortable with it.
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
When is a bestseller not a bestseller?
A very interesting post today on the blog of US thriller writer JA Konrath: http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/2011/03/lol-nyt.html He notes that although the famous New York Times Best Sellers list now includes ebooks in its sales calculations, it still excludes self-published writers, regardless of the number of sales. Konrath calculates that he has sold enough books to make the list, as have authors such as Amanda Hocking and John Locke. In fact on Amazon.com, Konrath's The List is currently outselling the Kindle version of the New York Times itself!
I can understand why the New York Times would want to exclude free books from its list of 'sellers' (many of these are self-published) or even why it might be sensible for it to exclude any book priced under a certain amount. But I can see no logical reason for excluding self-published authors. A sale is a sale, regardless of the book's publishing arrangements.
I can understand why the New York Times would want to exclude free books from its list of 'sellers' (many of these are self-published) or even why it might be sensible for it to exclude any book priced under a certain amount. But I can see no logical reason for excluding self-published authors. A sale is a sale, regardless of the book's publishing arrangements.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Review: Never Let Me Go
Title: Never Let Me Go
Author: Kazuo Ishiguro
Nationality: British
Year: 2005
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Rating: 8/10
Summary: Eerie and thought-provoking
The outline
This rare foray into sci-fi territory by an author of literary fiction relates the discomforting tale of three friends growing up in a dystopian alternative to the late twentieth century.
Sample
I can still see it now, the shudder she seemed to be suppressing, the real dread that one of us would accidentally brush against her. And though we just kept on walking, we all felt it; it was like we'd walked from the sun right into chilly shade. Ruth had been right: Madame was afraid of us. But she was afraid of us in the same way someone might be afraid of spiders. We hadn't been ready for that.
The verdict
Never Let Me Go is a haunting novel. Often mistakenly labelled as science-fiction, it keeps discussion of science to a minimum and instead focusses on the moral and philosophical issues that surround its central plot device.
The greatest example of Kazuo Ishiguro’s skill in Never Let Me Go is the way that he expertly crafts the voice of his narrator, Kathy. The language and style he uses is perfect for this young female character, inexpert and naïve but vivid and creative, and there was no occasion when the tone of a middle-aged male literary novelist intruded. Her banal descriptions of situations that the reader will find sinister are what create the eerie atmosphere of the novel and enable it to rise above standard dystopian fare.
Never Let Me go is an enigmatic novel. There’s plenty of sense that it’s an allegory for something much deeper than the mechanics of its plot. It’s up to the reader to puzzle it out. Is it about memory? Parenthood? Growing up? Life itself?
The only real problem with the novel is that it failed to engage me on an emotional as well as an intellectual level. Given its storyline, it should have moved me much more. However, overall this is a very powerful novel and one I would definitely recommend.
Author: Kazuo Ishiguro
Nationality: British
Year: 2005
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Rating: 8/10
Summary: Eerie and thought-provoking
The outline
This rare foray into sci-fi territory by an author of literary fiction relates the discomforting tale of three friends growing up in a dystopian alternative to the late twentieth century.
Sample
I can still see it now, the shudder she seemed to be suppressing, the real dread that one of us would accidentally brush against her. And though we just kept on walking, we all felt it; it was like we'd walked from the sun right into chilly shade. Ruth had been right: Madame was afraid of us. But she was afraid of us in the same way someone might be afraid of spiders. We hadn't been ready for that.
The verdict
Never Let Me Go is a haunting novel. Often mistakenly labelled as science-fiction, it keeps discussion of science to a minimum and instead focusses on the moral and philosophical issues that surround its central plot device.
The greatest example of Kazuo Ishiguro’s skill in Never Let Me Go is the way that he expertly crafts the voice of his narrator, Kathy. The language and style he uses is perfect for this young female character, inexpert and naïve but vivid and creative, and there was no occasion when the tone of a middle-aged male literary novelist intruded. Her banal descriptions of situations that the reader will find sinister are what create the eerie atmosphere of the novel and enable it to rise above standard dystopian fare.
Never Let Me go is an enigmatic novel. There’s plenty of sense that it’s an allegory for something much deeper than the mechanics of its plot. It’s up to the reader to puzzle it out. Is it about memory? Parenthood? Growing up? Life itself?
The only real problem with the novel is that it failed to engage me on an emotional as well as an intellectual level. Given its storyline, it should have moved me much more. However, overall this is a very powerful novel and one I would definitely recommend.
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