I have been on a reading roll lately. For once my reading ambition is meeting up with the time I actually spend reading. Not quite at the half-way point, I’m already at almost 49 books for the year. Normally this would have me worried about a reading slump, but for reasons I will discuss in a future blog post, I’m not every remotely worried about that. Just the opposite. I can’t get enough. So, all this reading means reviewlets.

The Safety of Objects by A.M. Homes
This collection of short stories was fantastic. I also enjoyed Homes’ novel May We Be Forgiven, but her short stories do what good short stories do, they pack a lot of punch in a few pages. And happily, none of them left me scratching my head wondering what the hell just happened, but they did provide plenty for me to mull over. Like MWBF, Homes writes characters who don’t always have their sh*t together but are likable (or even lovable) anyway. The description of the film adaptation of this collection sounds awful–like a hot Hollywood mess.

Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson
I’ve read a lot of books recently with awesome covers and this one might be the awesomest. Even after reading this memoir I only have a vague notion of what blogger Jenny Lawson does, but I feel like I have a really good sense of who she is: funny and quirky and pretty darn delightful, with side orders of mental illness (her words). I’m not sure how much I would have enjoyed reading this, but I had a ton of fun listening to her read it. I also learned a boatload about mental issues and how the world needs to quit being so judgmental and expecting everyone to fit a particular mold. It has a certain Lena Dunham quality to it but from a less millennial standpoint and more from someone my own age (GenX in the house!). I look forward to listening to her other book.

The Portable Veblen by Elizabeth McKenzie
Kind of funny to follow the taxidermy-laden Furiously Happy and it’s mental health medicine-taking narrator with a squirrel-obsessed, mental health medicine-taking narrator in The Portable Veblen. The similarity ends there, but it did seem kind of funny at the time. This Bailey’s Prize short listed novel follows Veblen as she courts, and becomes engaged. Sometimes I fear book prize short lists because they seem to reward hard-to-read, too-clever books, so I approached this one with hesitation. The reference to economist/sociologist Thorstein Veblen also had me worried this was going to be a case of an author trying too hard. But, much like the influential squirrels in the novel, the squirrel on the cover won me over, and I am glad he did. The potential mismatch between Veblen and her research-scientist boyfriend as they hurdle toward marriage reminded me a tiny bit of Margaret Atwood’s first novel The Edible Woman. But, as with my Furiously Happy connection, that is where the similarity ends. McKenzie’s tale is much funnier and not as deep–but it does seem to have more to say, at least on more topics.

The Spare Room by Helen Garner
A 60-something woman stays with a 60-something friend of hers so that she can undergo three weeks of alternative medicine to treat her untreatable cancer. Not surprisingly, it is kind of dark and sad and made me think a lot not just about dying and how I would face dying, but also how I would handle someone else dying. The former in philosophical terms, the latter in practical terms. I suppose the book is not for everyone but it has me wondering if I would like other books by Garner. Maybe something without cancer.

The Partners by Louis Auchincloss
I’ve read two novels by Auchincloss now. The first, The Book Class, was about women of his mother’s generation and the places they held in upper class social circles in Manhattan. It didn’t necessarily go anywhere but it was interesting and funny at times, and was a great look at a slice of New York society. The Partners kind of falls into that same category. This time, the cast of characters, and slice of New York Society, centers on the goings on at an old, establishment, white-shoe law firm. It deals mainly with partnership issues and administration of the firm, but that uncovers a lot of fascinating characters and relationships along the way. It’s kind of like L.A. Law meets Trollope.

The Lonely by Paul Gallico
After reading 4 or 5 books by Gallico, the lesson I have learned is: Stop buying books by Gallico. Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris may be one of my favorite books, but the rest of his stuff (so far) is boring and predictable. I could spot the end of this one a mile away.

The Vintage Caper by Peter Mayle
If you are looking for a lighthearted, quasi-thriller, focused on wine collecting, then this is the book for you. It will take you about 10 minutes to read and leave your mind relatively free of thought both during and after. Mayle’s depiction of Americans is not clever or insightful, but more like the American characters on As Time Goes By. And let’s not even mention the role of women in his books—nothing incendiary, just the fantasies of an old white man who fancies himself a catch.

Housefrau by Jill Alexander Essbaum
When I first saw this book popping up on social media I loved cover design with its juxtaposition of the floral bouquet with sans serif font. I was inclined to buy it, but then I started seeing it everywhere and my inner grouch got the best of me and decided against it. But recently I’ve been doing two things that are slightly uncharacteristic for me: 1) using the public library again; and 2) looking at the new arrivals shelves. In the process, I picked up Housefrau and thought “why not?” and “why didn’t I want to read this?”.

This novel absolutely begs to be discussed. American housewife Anna is living in Zurich with her Swiss husband and she is bored, and depressed, and can’t quite figure out what she wants out of life. One could get into all kinds of heated discussions about Anna’s actions and there are also plenty of plot points that beg to be discussed both at face value and in terms of their literary value. I found parts of it moving and worth the read, but I’m not running around wanting to tell people about it. (Like I guess I just did.)

I don’t really have hard and fast rules about what I keep on my shelves. I know some people keep only books they have loved. Others only keep books they know they want to re-read. (Some don’t keep any, but they are just sick in the head.) This edition of Shelf by Shelf brings me to a situation where I weeded one unread book (The Finkler Question) because I decided it fell into the “life is too short to bother” category. The shelf also has an author (Hesse) who falls into the “life is too short and I want to read this author again as I approach the end of my life” category. Until I just wrote that, I didn’t even know I had that category. But it is amazing how true it is. There are some books I might re-read one day but I find Hesse so comforting and life affirming and full of universal truths. At least as Hermann and I see them.

 

SHELF TWELVE: 48 books, 30 unread, 18 read, 37.5% completed

Hemingway, Ernest – The Sun Also Rises (completed)
Hemingway, Ernest – The Old Man and the Sea (completed)
Hemingway, Ernest – The Garden of Eden (completed)
Hemingway, Ernest – In Our Time
I think I may actually be a fan of Hemingway. If I had had to read The Old Man and the Sea in high school like my niece did, I am sure I would not have liked it. But as a 40-something I really liked it.

Hesse, Hermann – Klingsor’s Last Summer (completed)
Hesse, Hermann – Strange News from Another Star
Hesse, Hermann – Narcissus and Goldmund (completed)
Hesse, Hermann – Knulp (completed)
Hesse, Hermann – Peter Camenzind (completed)
Hesse, Hermann – Beneath the Wheel (completed)
For a while I thought that my Hermann Hesse obsession, spawned in high school, may have been a young gay boy’s affection for an author who seemed to have invented the bromance. But I have done a fair amount of re-reading in the past few years and I find I love him just as much now and for better, more substantive reasons.

Hocking, Mary – The Winter City (completed)
Hocking, Mary – Visitors to the Crescent 
Hocking, Mary – The Sparrow
Hocking, Mary – The Young Spaniard
Hocking, Mary – A Time of War
Hocking, Mary – Ask No Question
Hocking, Mary – Checkmate
Hocking, Mary – The Hopeful Traveller
Hocking, Mary – The Climbing Frame
Hocking, Mary – Indifferent Heroes
Hocking, Mary – Welcome Strangers
Hocking, Mary – Good Daughters
As I’ve written about recently, I bought all 12 of these reissues because I couldn’t resist. Even though I hadn’t read anything by the author. My first experience was good, but the jury is out on how much I will appreciate this author overall. I certainly have plenty to choose from.

Holtby, Winifred – Poor Caroline
Holtby, Winifred – South Riding

Holleran, Andrew – The Beauty of Men
I read a bunch of Holleran in my youth. I’ve been rereading gay fiction from my formative years and am finding with some of it that I am not impressed with it in terms of the limited point of view of gay authors in the 1980s. Definitely over represented by well to do, ivy league types living NYC lives. Blanket statement I know, but kind of true.

Homes, A.M. – May We Be Forgiven (completed)
I really enjoyed this novel. Funny and touching and a little nerve-wracking (in a good way). I have since read her short story collection The Safety of Objects and thought they were brilliant.

Hosain, Attia – Sunlight on a Broken Column

Houellebecq, Michel – Atomised

Household, Geoffrey – Rogue Male (completed)
I’ve written about his one many times. The hero of the book tries to assassinate the unnamed Hitler and spends the hole book on the run.

Howells, William Dean – The Landlord at Lion’s Head

Huxley, Aldous – Brave New World (completed)
Huxley, Aldous – Point Counter Point (completed)
Huxley, Aldous – Those Barren Leaves
Huxley, Aldous – Chrome Yellow (completed)
Aldous Huxley has a read able side and a more “Modern” side (with a capital M). I prefer the former. Brave New World is dystopian but highly readable. I believe Chrome Yellow is the novel that made Barbara Pym want to be a writer.

Hyland M.J. – How the Light Gets In
I bought this purely for the fact that the title is a line from a Leonard Cohen song that I love.

Isherwood, Christopher – Lions and Shadows
Isherwood, Christopher – A Meeting by the River (completed)
I really love A Meeting by the River. Not only my favorite Isherwood, but also makes my list of favorite books. Maybe.

Ishiguro, Kazuo – A Pale View of the Hills

Jackson, Shirley – We Have Always Lived at the Castle (completed)
I really enjoyed this rather spooky tale. The Haunting of Hill House, not so much. Didn’t like the premise, so I didn’t even finish it.

James, Henry – A London Life
James, Henry – The Europeans
Although I kind of liked The Portrait of a Lady, I find James a bit impenetrable. But not ready to totally write him off. (But it’s close.)

Jacobson, Howard – The Finkler Question
Since I took this picture a few months ago, I have weeded this book out and put it in the donate pile. A Booker-winner that I have never read. After listening to a bit of the audio book I decided I wouldn’t be upset if I never read it.

Jameson, Storm – None Turn Back

Jansson, Tove – Travelling Light (completed)
Jansson, Tove – Fair Play
Jansson, Tove – The True Deceiver
Jansson, Tove – The Summer Book (completed)
I loved the stories in Travelling Light, but was less enthusiastic about The Summer Book.

NEXT TIME: Jenkins to Koch

The soon to be departed Books on the Nightstand podcast is again conducting their summer book bingo. Between now and Labor Day, readers are invited to download a unique bingo card and then fill in the blanks with books read over the summer. These bingo cards are tons of fun. Even if you do as badly as I did last year, they have tons of fun book categories that provide good inspiration for what to read next.

You can find the link to get your own bingo card here. Just make sure you refresh the screen once you get there. And if you are like me, you will keep refreshing until you get one you like.

You can listen to me and Simon talk about our cards on the most recent episode of The Readers.

You can see my card below.

[6/3/16 UPDATE: I was going to make this the subject of a future blog/podcast, but based on early comments about my bingo card I think I need to ‘fess up sooner rather than later. I totally edited my card. The categories were still randomly assigned, but there were fewer of them for the computer to pick from. So I miss out on trying new things like Steampunk and Manga, but the chance of me trying to find and read either was zero. I didn’t want to mention my manipulation of the card, not because I’m afraid to admit I totally cheat or change the rules when it comes to reading challenges, but because I didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag that one could do that. But some people are tweeting about how you do it, so I figure I’m not really holding a secret. Having made this confession, I will say that there are still plenty of squares that are off my normal reading path (Western, book that scares me, science fiction, a book everyone has read, etc.). So am I committing a crime against book bingo? Probably.]

And here is one that I made up as a joke. The funny thing is, Anita Brookner wrote 24 novels and there are 24 squares, so I could actually do this. Of course it would mean reading nothing but Brookner over the summer. I love her work to bits, but that might be a bit much even for me.

Remember when I came out against un-curated Little Free Libraries?

The giant bound volume of an academic journal from 1961. Really? After I took the picture–without really noting the title of the bound periodicals–I thought “Hmm, maybe they would be kind of cool magazines from 1961 and would be cool for the advertising alone.” Then I went back and saw the title again. No chance of that being fun to look through.

A book in French because that won’t sit there forever.

Hacky Sack? Do people read when they are stoned?

Nothing against the Lee and Bob Woodruff book, but it is so typical of what shows up on DC bookshelves.

Didn’t know the Utne Reader still existed.

Time and Navigation. The kind of book you buy at the Smithsonian when intrigued by something. Best case scenario, it ends up by the toilet. Who wants a free toilet book?

Last time I talked about picking one shelf and reading from end to end. I think if I ever tried that I would have to find a shelf that had the fewest author collections. That is, a shelf with only one or two by any one given author. Otherwise I  could get buried under an author I don’t like or read one I love too quickly. We will see at the end of this if any shelf looks like it could be a possibility.

Studying my shelves in this way does open up all kinds of reading games that I could play. I could find five books by different authors in a row and then read them in order. That might be kind of fun. One that seems even more likely to try out would be to start with Shelf 1 and choose one book from each shelf. That would force me into picking up things I might be ignoring while maintaining a lot of variety. Or I could make a list of the top 10 books most likely to be culled and then give them all fair crack–that is, the Nancy Pearl Rule of 50. The possibilities are truly endless.

Like Shelf 10, Shelf 11 has a fairly low completion rate. Hmm, that sounds like the basis for another reading game …

SHELF ELEVEN: 37 books, 27 unread, 10 read, 27% completed

Goudge, Elizabeth – Green Dolphin Street
When I bought this I had no idea it was turned into a film with Lana Turner. I’ve read one other  Goudge novel that I didn’t like as much as I thought I should.

Gould, John – Farmer Takes a Wife

Grady, James – Six Days of the Condor (completed)
1970s spy thriller. Looooved this movie with Robert Redford and Faye Dunaway when I stumbled across it on Netflix. And I really looooooooooved the book after I found an old battered copy of it. And then I watched the film again for good measure and still loved it.

Grand, Sarah – The Beth Book

Green, Henry – Loving
Green, Henry – Living
Green, Henry – Party Going
I failed to get into Green when some bloggers held a reading week a few years ago. I am determined, however, to give him another go. This spac- economizing omnibus edition will save it from any culls in the near future.

Grossman, Vassily – Everything Flows
Grossman, Vassily – Life and Fate
Picked these up purely because they were NYRB Classics on a remainder shelf. I’m assuming it will have to be a pretty cold day before I pick up the enormous Life and Fate.

Grossmith, George and Weedon – The Diary of a Nobody
Got this at Powell’s last summer because I liked the illustrations. Have heard from many of you that it is a fun book.

Greene, Graham – Travels with My Aunt (completed)
Greene, Graham – The Lawless Roads
Greene, Graham – The Human Factor (completed)
Greene, Graham – The Shipwrecked
Greene, Graham – The End of the Affair (completed)
Greene, Graham – The Power and the Glory
Greene, Graham – Brighton Rock
Greene, Graham – The Comedians
Greene, Graham – A Burnt-out Case (completed)
Greene, Graham – Monsignor Quixote
Years ago my first Graham Greene was Our Man in Havana. I liked it, but found it a bit too whimsical for my tastes. I recently listened to Jeremy Northam read it and ended up enjoying it more than the first time. Travels with My Aunt was my second Greene and I liked it much better. It wasn’t until I read The End of the Affair that I realized just how amazing Graham Greene can be. Gosh I love that book. Also quite liked The Human Factor and to a lesser degree A Burnt-out Case.

Grumbach, Doris – Fifty Days of Solitude (completed)
Grumbach, Doris – The Pleasure of Their Company
Grumbach, Doris – The Book of Knowledge
Grumbach, Doris – Life in a Day
Grumbach, Doris – The Missing Person
Grumbach, Doris – Coming into the End Zone
Grumbach, Doris – Chamber Music (completed)
I took a chance on Doris Grumbach at Powell’s last summer. I picked up Chamber Music and thought it sounded good, but then thought I might be missing something if I didn’t buy the other Grumbach’s on the shelf. Turned out I loved Chamber Music and liked the memoir Fifty Days of Solitude about half as much. I should note that this a is a case where I have lumped an author’s memoirs in with her novels. You will see that later with May Sarton and perhaps a few others.

Hall, Radclyffe – The Well of Loneliness (completed)
Some of Hall’s prose is definitely awkward, but overall I really loved this 1920s tale of Lesbian love. It is amazing how much of what Hall wrote was progressive and how much still rings true today.

Handke, Peter – Slow Homecoming
Handke, Peter – Short Letter, Long Farewell

Harrison, Melissa – At Hawthorne Time (completed)
Simon Savidge gave me this novel last year when we went on our road trip to Booktopia in Petoskey. I really liked this novel. It was longlisted for the Bailey’s Prize.

Harrower, Elizabeth – The Watch Tower

de Hartog, Jan – The Little Ark

Hawkesworth, John – Upstairs, Downstairs
A novelization of the amazing 1970s TV series of the same name.

Hegi, Ursala – Hotel of the Saints (completed)

Hemingway, Ernest – A Moveable Feast
Hemingway, Ernest – For Whom the Bell Tolls
You will have to wait for my next shelf to see what Hemingway I have read. While he isn’t a favorite of mine, I never quite understand the blanket criticism of his work.

NEXT TIME: Hemingway to Jansson

 

Over the past couple of years I have noticed the gradual disappearance of strawberry ice cream at the grocery stores in my area. At first I put it down to the awful, fantastically out-of-date, cramped, mismanaged Safeways that surround us. But then I noticed that other stores in the metro area were similarly devoid of strawberry. The other morning I was in a Harris Teeter near my office and I saw the Edy’s delivery guy. I took a quick look at their freezer case and sure enough, no strawberry. So I asked the delivery man what was up with strawberry. He told me that Edy’s still makes it but that no one on his route orders it anymore.

That. Is. So. Sad.

Now, before you think I am loony toons, let me just say that strawberry ice cream is not necessarily my favorite flavor. But sometimes I get a crazy craving for it and all other flavors pale in comparison. I should also note that not just any ice cream will do. I crave the kind that is so perfectly melty by the time you get it home from the store that the top layer under the lid is sheer perfection. Premium brands will not work–not enough air. No Ben and Jerry’s, no Haagen-Dazs. Mid market Breyer’s (not to be confused with Edy’s sister brand Dreyer’s) is just god awful in any flavor. Its mouth feel and lack of creaminess is just the worst. Some store brands can do in a pinch, but they lean too much to the artificial side. Although I haven’t had it for a long time, my guess is the Kemp’s of my Minnesota childhood would probably still fit the bill as would home-delivered (in some markets) Schwann’s. But none of those are feasible on a regular basis.

Even if I didn’t have a brand preference I’ve noticed lately that I can’t find strawberry at the grocery store at all. Not premium, not store brand, not any brand. So these days I am pretty much limited to getting the occasional scoop at an actual ice cream shop. This can work, but it isn’t quite the same thing (see above, re: melty bit under the lid).

Tonight I went to pick up a sandwich for dinner. (John’s out of town, the kitchen counters were sealed today and can’t be used until tomorrow.) The place I go for sammies has ice cream and lo and behold they had strawberry. So while I waited for them to make my order I sat down outside and had double scoop. (Yes, before dinner.) Today was the first day we haven’t had rain in about a bazillion days so it was really nice to kick back and enjoy some strawberry ice cream in the early evening sunshine. The product itself was just so-so It is a local brand that isn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite right. As I sat there eating it I began thinking about the Trickling Springs Dairy shop at Union Market in DC. It’s a great food venue with lots of great outlets but it is nowhere near our house and kind of a big pain in the butt to get to. I was fantasizing about someone opening a Trickling Springs shop in our neck of the woods which led to me fantasizing about some of the other Union Market offerings moving up here as well, none of which will happen.

Even though it wasn’t perfect, the cup of strawberry hit the spot and cheered me up to no end. Then I began to walk back to my car and was passing our neighborhood cinema when I noticed that their little coffee shop/concession stand had a sign that said “TRICKLING SPRINGS ICE CREAM”! My first thought was “Damn, I just had inferior ice cream.” My second thought was “Who the hell cares, this is Trickling Springs.” So I went inside and got a cup of cookies and cream. Again, all prior to having dinner.

The irony of the situation is that I didn’t even notice if they had strawberry. I had already scratched that itch I guess. There’s always next time. So I guess the moral of the story is so what if my childhood has disappeared from the giant, chain, grocery stores. As long as mom and pop are still making ice cream there is a pretty good chance I will still be able to get what I need. And I probably don’t need half gallon tubs of it in my home anyway.

I have read 16 novels by Iris Murdoch. I used to count her as one of my favorite authors, but after re-reading The Italian Girl last week, I’m not so sure I like her much anymore. I’ve always felt like her novels were a bit soap opera-esque. Lots of educated, upper class folks hopping around from bed to bed in somewhat unsavory or unlikely combinations. They always seemed like intellectual bodice rippers.

Prior to re-reading it, I didn’t remember much of anything about The Italian Girl. The result this time was that I found it somewhat tedious and the characters insufferable–but not in an interesting way. Have my tastes changed that much? When I first read it in 2003 I gave it an 8 out of 10. I think now I would give it a 4. On my 10-point scale that would take it from “almost loved” to “almost disliked”. Have I been wrong about all of my other Murdoch experiences? The first one I read was Under the Net in 1999 and I gave it a 10 which translates to “all time favorite”. What would I think of that one I wonder?

In addition to the 16 I have already read, I have quite a few more on my shelf that I haven’t gotten to yet. I have a tendency to burn bridges, clean house, etc. and in this case I am looking at all the real estate Murdoch takes up on my shelves and am feeling the urge to do something radical. I would probably end up living to regret that. I think I probably need to re-read Under the Net to see if I can rekindle my interest. I know I also really kind of liked The Sea, The Sea, and The Bell, and I also remember meeting two wonderful women at the Barbara Pym conference in 2013 who are best book pals because of their shared love of A Severed Head, which I haven’t read. I guess I must resist the urge to clear my Murdoch shelf. On the other hand, I should probably also resist buying any more of her work until I can figure out how I really feel.

It has only been two days since my last shelf by shelf, but I was in the mood to do another one, so why wait. The near constant rain we have been having for the last three weeks is also conducive to blogging.

Taking a quick glance at this shelf I think it may be the exact opposite of shelf 9 in regard to how many I have completed. Maybe I should take a lesson from Phyllis Rose and read the whole shelf from end to end. I know I don’t have that kind of discipline but I like to toy with ideas like that. I was also wondering the other day what it would be like if I got paid to do nothing but read. Each morning at a set time I would have to sit down and pick up a novel and just read until it was time for a break or lunch. No internet, no switching books, just one book, read it until it was done, move on the to the next one. Eight hours a day for a week or two. Would I like that I wonder? Would I actually get much read? Would I eventually stop falling asleep? Would I end up hating reading? I’m sure I will never find out.

Without further ado, I give you, Shelf 10.

SHELF TEN: 33 books, 27 unread, 6 read, 18% completed

Galgut, Damon – Arctic Summer
A fictional account of E.M. Forsters time in India. The premise of this book is fantastic and I have it on good authority from Eric at Lonesome Reader that the book is well worth the read. I have read about 50 pages in it, but that was about a year ago, so I will be starting from the beginning when I pick it up again.

Gallant, Mavis – The Cost of Living
Gallant, Mavis – Paris Stories
I like her name, I like NYRB Classics, and I like the promise of stories about Paris. Only thing is, I have never read a word Gallant has written.

Gallico, Paul – Flower for Mrs. Harris (completed)
Easily one of my favorite books of all time. Your heart has to be made of stone to not fall in love with Mrs. Harris. I dream about a really fantastic period film being made of this book with lots of 1950s Dior fashions.

Galsworthy, John – The Forsyte Saga
I have read some of this and enjoyed it immensely. Just put it down for some reason. I loved the TV adaptation made of it in 2002.

Gardam, Jane – Old Filth (completed)
Gardam, Jane – The Man in the Wooden Hat
Gardam, Jane – God on the Rocks
Gardam, Jane – The Queen of the Tambourine (completed)
Gardam, Jane – Lost Friends

Gaskell, Elizabeth – The Cranford Chronicles (completed)
Gaskell, Elizabeth – North and South

Gellhorn, Martha – A Stricken Field
Gellhorn, Martha – Liana

Gibbons, Stella – The Matchmaker
I am really no fan of Cold Comfort Farm so I am not sure how I will feel about this one.

Gibson, William – The Cobweb

Gide, Andre – Corydon

Gilbert, David – & Sons

Giono, Jean – The Man Who Planted Trees (completed)

Gill, Brenden – The Day the Money Stopped

Gilliatt, Penelope – A State of Change

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins – The Yellow Wallpaper etc.

Gissing, George – In the Year of Jubilee

Glaspell, Susan- The Morning is Near Us
Glaspell, Susan- Brook Evans
Glaspell, Susan- The Clock of the Conquest
Glaspell is a Persephone author but I have never read anything by her. For some reason I am compelled to buy her stuff when I come across it. Hoping I love her I guess.

Goldsmith, Oliver – The Vicar of Wakefield
Such a short book, yet I got sidetracked before I got even half way through. I will return to it one day.

Gomez-Arcos, Augustin – The Carnivorous Lamb (completed)
This was one of my favorite books in the late teens and early twenties. I am pretty sure someone important in my life introduced me to it, and it was a big part of my young gay persona, but now I don’t remember the details of how I came upon it. I really need to read it again to see if it is brilliant or embarrassing or somewhere in between.

Gordimer, Nadine – The House Gun
Gordimer, Nadine – None to Accompany Me

Gordon, Mary – The love of My Youth
Gordon, Mary – Pearl
Gordon, Mary – The Other Side

NEXT TIME: Goudge to Hemingway

I am a big fan of books where people walk. Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods about hiking the Appalachian Trail. Almost every Anita Brookner novel there is. Leonard Bast in Howard’s End. I’m sure there are others as well. I once walked 10 miles home from work just because I felt like it. From Old Town Alexandria, Virginia to our apartment in Adams Morgan in DC. My hands got puffy and I got caught in a lightening storm and tropical downpour, but it was nice to say that I had done it. I’m not necessarily a walking fanatic, but I do like the healthful, emotionally restorative benefits that walking long distances offers.

And then came Harold Fry.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce
I could’ve really hated this book. Instead I really, I mean really, loved it. Newly retired Harold Fry gets a letter from Queenie, a former co-worker he hasn’t seen in 20 years that she has inoperable cancer and is living in a hospice in Berwick-upon-Tweed in the very north of England. Harold is touched by the letter but doesn’t quite know now to answer it. He feels that his reply is less than adequate and hesitates to put it in the first mailbox he comes to. He walks on until he finds another one but keeps walking past that one as well. Then he is inspired by the words of a clerk at a gas station and decides to go see Queenie. But he decides to walk. From Kingsbridge in the very south of England. And he doesn’t even go home to get proper walking shoes or his mobile phone, or any other thing that could make his 452-mile trek a little more plausible.

This was the first point I thought I might put the book down. My literal, logical mind would not accept this approach. But happily, I kept going. When his walk turns into a media circus I also got a bit annoyed, but only a little. And by that time I liked Harold so much I didn’t want to leave him. As he goes on his journey Harold meets all kinds of people and we learn bit by bit what his back story is with Queenie and with his wife Maureen.

The thing I so liked about this book was that most of the characters seem to transform for the reader. They don’t necessarily transform in their own lives, but how the reader views them is transformed. The young woman working in the garage–I thought I had her pegged as being an awful, uncaring Catherine Tate character, yet she ends up being the catalyst for the whole story. And then there are those that do transform and shift their way of thinking. And there is Harold’s patience and ability to see the good where others can’t. And there is the fact that there are so many people who are nice to him along the way. I literally walked around with a smile on my face because of this book. It also had me crying at my desk one day at lunch.

So many ways it could have gone wrong. Instead, a total joy to read. Not great art, but such a lovely book.

[Number 9 in my chronological re-read of all of Brookner’s 24 novels.]

When people ask me where they should start with Brookner, I never know quite what to tell them. Part of the problem is that after having read all 24 or them over the course of about a decade, I didn’t really remember enough detail about any of them to really provide a recommendation. I would often default to Hotel du Lac merely because it was her best known and had won the Booker Prize.

Now that I am nine books into my re-reading of all of Brookner’s novels I can say I am much more aware of the differences in the stories and much more appreciative of the variety and depth of her output. And perhaps no more so than with Lewis Percy. And I think, out of her first nine novels, Lewis Percy is a fantastic place to start. Slightly more plot driven than her other novels and with a much younger protagonist.

Our eponymous hero is a 20-something scholar working on his doctoral thesis in Paris. Not long after Lewis returns to London from his year in France, his mother dies and he finds himself a bit untethered. Perhaps having read too much of his mother’s kind of fiction he comes up with a romantic, heroic, and ultimately misguided, notion that he is going to transform Patricia “Tissy” Harper, a young, virginal, agoraphobic librarian, into something much greater by marrying her. I don’t have to tell you that things don’t really work out that way.

Acting the part of the perfect Edwardian wife–albeit in the 1960s–Tissy achieves an outward transformation with updated clothes and hair befitting her age and the era, but it doesn’t translate much beyond that. Not necessarily aware of the paternalistic idiocy of his plan Lewis senses the failure of his marriage but figures he has made his bed and needs to be faithful. Despite falling in love with Emmy, his gay best friend’s actress sister, he repels her advances only to have Tissy believe he was unfaithful. She flees back to her mother’s house, Lewis tries to be a responsible absent father, and no one is happy. Eventually Tissy finds her emotional feet, Emmy and Lewis realize they can’t be together, and Lewis gets a generous academic job offer in the U.S.

And that, my friends, is a lot of action for a Brookner novel. Although her characters are fabulously old fashioned, I also loved Brookner taking on younger characters and nodding to the swinging 60s. In Lewis Percy the reader gets the opportunity to experience a hopeful ending while getting lashings of introspective, complacent, ennui typical of Brookner’s characters. This could be the gateway drug of Brookner novels.

(On a completely unrelated note and apropos of nothing, I also loved the advent of the computer at the library where Lewis worked for years on an index (of what I don’t recall). Lewis is unsure if he wants to stick around to learn the new technology. In trying to convince Lewis to embrace the future and the future of the index, his boss makes this fabulous statement:

‘But my dear fellow!’ exclaimed Goldsborough. ‘This will be the index’s finest hour!’

As with Pym’s No Fond Return of Love, I do love an index in a novel.)

[For more on Brookner and an ongoing guide to Brookner’s London, check out the website for International Anita Brookner Day.]