The Antarctica of Love - Sara Stridsberg translated by Deborah Bragan Turner

  How many times do we read of the most barbaric murders and atrocities in the papers? It fills the media for a while until some kind of resolution is reached, arrest, conviction maybe and it soon becomes yesterday’s news. But how often do we ever go beneath the surface of the media stories to consider the life before death in any meaningful way?

‘ Inni is a rebellious teenager, a volatile young woman, a drug user, a sex worker, an unstable mother… She lives her life on the margins, but it is a life that is full, complex, filled with different shades of dark and light. Until it is brutally ended one summers day, on a lake shore at the heart of a distant, rainwashed forest.

But Inni’s story doesn’t end with her murder. We sit with her as she watches her children, parents and friends living on in the world without her, hoping, as time passes, that they will still remember her.’

I found this to be quite an extraordinary book. Very upsetting and harrowing on one level yet the quality of the poetic lyricism of the prose, so wonderfully translated by Deborah Bragan Turner, transcends the brutality of what has happened to Inni, the main character.

I suppose I can be forgiven for being reminded of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones which is the only other book I can currently think of that allows a deceased person to comment on what has happened to them. But whereas Sebold takes the innocence of a child Stridsberg’s character is not innocent but all too aware of the harshness of the world she’s inhabited, the nature of the life she’s lived, before her life is cruelly cut short.

Inni tells her story, without any pretension and without any real recrimination,  and our hearts break for her as we learn of her loves and her losses and her downward spiral into addiction, prostitution and despair. A life lived on the edge, eventful, emotional and signposted toward tragedy. A sense of hopelessness pervades her secular life. She considers the effects of both her life and her death on her parents, her children and her lovers and we are allowed glimpses into how they are dealing with their situations. Whether this can be categorised as a merely a novel is questionable for it enters the realm of literature, art, call it what you will. There is something sublime about the narrative and the construction of the book. And the most emotionally encompassing paradox; Inni’s almost tender gentleness as she tells her bleak history. And how perfectly expressed is that curious universal concern so many of us have just wondering whether we will be remembered after we’ve departed this soil. 

It’s not a comfortable read. And yet intertwined between the cruelty is beauty; the beauty of love, the beauty of life. This is one of those books that will probably never leave you.

My thanks to Katya Ellis at Quercus Books for a gifted proof.

The Leftovers - Cassandra Parkin

I’ve read a couple of Cassandra Parkin’s books and I have more waiting on my TBR shelves. I was fortunate enough to interview her a few years ago when Underwater Breathing was published and she remains firmly on my radar. I am always interested to see what she’s up to!  Her books are unusual and deceptive in her ability to take a situation and send it hurtling every which through your reader mind leaving you sometimes battered and bruised emotionally but with that satisfying feeling of  having read a book of substance.

The Leftovers is a challenging read in that it explores themes of ‘sexual power and consent’ together with notions of love and friendship, and making choices. Pertinent topically, too, there’s reference to the effects of lockdown on residents of institutions. Also of consideration is the treatment of mental illness and the wider reaching effects on both sufferer and family. It’s dark in places, hard hitting but the threads of love tie it all together.

Callie is the narrator, fragile and flawed, yet caring and loving. She cares for her brother and she has a client, Frey, who she cares for too. A tragic event is the catalyst for Callie to recount and examine her past and its impact on her present. Ms. Parkin seems to have an intuitive ability to understand and create characters that both fulfil a role in the narrative but also present as complete people who step off the page and into the readers’ hearts. Frey just broke my heart! But for him to do that he needed a writer who could articulate, so effectively and movingly, an autistic mind and bring him to life. The novel is very much character driven, Callie’s family and her colleague Josh are the cement which keep the narrative flowing through all its tribulations. Josh is a lovely character, aways seeming positive and upbeat and his treatment of Frey is delightful in his ability to care without making a big deal out of it.

The book is a little like a roller coaster ride with peaks and troughs of unspeakable harshness and whimsical sequences of harmony and tenderness. Ultimately in spite of all that Callie goes through the conclusion, like life, is ambiguous. Some readers may find that off-putting if they are the kind of reader who wants all their ends neatly tied up but for others there is much to resonate for some time after you’ve finished the story.

My thanks to Legend Press and NetGalley for a gifted copy.

 

on a distant ridgeline - Sam Reese

 Sam Reese may be a new name to many of you. He was to me! But he is no longer thank goodness! If there is any justice in the world his name should become well known with the publication of this short story collection.  

About Sam

Hailing from Aotearoa, Sam Reese is an award- winning writer, critic, and teacher. Currently a lecturer in creative writing at York St John University, he is the author of the short story collection Come the Tide and non-fiction books on jazz, literature and loneliness, American short fiction, and Cold War politics.

In his second collection, on a distant ridgeline, Sam Reese creates twelve vivid and tenderly drawn tales with moments and memories that linger just out of reach. Between the past and present and potential reconciliations —and with a keen eye on the subtle balance of human connection—relationships and their fractured qualities are central to this new gathering of stories.

I always feel the modern short story is an underrated literary genre. I have likened it in the past to a tennis Grand Slam tournament! The big players eschew the doubles so that they can focus on the singles. And yet the doubles matches are so entertaining and skilful, they can be delightful to watch. And so the “big” writers eschew the short story in favour of the novel. Of course I know that’s a sweeping generalisation, before you clamour to object and cite writers like Ishiguro and Margaret Atwood but you know what I mean? And whilst I’m sure that publishers would bite off their hands to get a collection of short story from a “big“ writer how difficult must it be for the lesser known writer to get a collection published? 

So I am always delighted when I get my grubby little mitts on a short story collection, particularly from a lesser-known writer. There is something so satisfying and so completist about being able to read a story in its entirety which it is so possible to do with a short story because obviously it’s of less duration than a full length novel. And yet in the hands of a competent author a short story can contain as much depth, emotion, comment and fulfilment as the aforementioned full-length novel.

And Sam Reese is a competent author! His collection offers twelve seemingly diverse stories and indeed they are diverse but somehow there is a common feel that runs through the entire collection giving a cohesion to the volume as a whole. Something that struck me so forcibly was the quality of the writing. There is a fusion here between poetry and prose. The language is vibrant and exciting, full of imagery and metaphor that gives the work a substance that might not exist were it “mere“ storytelling.  I did not feel they were plot driven stories, more language and character led. That’s not to say that the plots were uninteresting, they take the stuff of ordinary lives and just add a quirk or two here and there which allows the characters to run with that and the prose, to explore an idea or two. 

There is cooperation demanded from the reader for in several of the stories the conclusions are open-ended and it will be down to the imagination and the thought processes of each individual reader to ponder what might be, or even their own experiences of life. There are  coming of age stories, stories about filial love, friendship, the observations of children, and how we can misconstrue the past. My own  particular favourites were An Experience, Magpies, the titular on a distant ridgeline and the opening story - and the glow worms sing.

All in all a thoroughly edifying experience and my thanks to Isabel Kenyon of  Fly on the Wall Press for the opportunity to read this engaging collection of short stories.

A Single Rose - Muriel Barbery

  From the implications of the title to the final full stop this elegant novella almost had me lost for words. I knew nothing of this author when I picked this slender volume up. I was simply not prepared for the beauty of the prose and the composition of the narrative. Muriel Barbery is a French novelist but this fragile tale is set in Japan and somehow seems to have conjured that Japanese style of narrative writing and the nuances and customs of the country.

‘ When the Japanese father she never knew dies, Rose heads to Kyoto to hear the reading of his will. But before Haru’s last wishes are revealed, Rose’s tour of the city of temples will uncover his true legacy - and at last open her heart to love.‘

The story is beautifully structured. Each chapter is preceded by a fable, legend or allegorical tale and the last line of each of these forms the heading for the next chapter. There was something delightful about that. It offered a cohesion and completeness to the whole book. The prose was poetic and graceful and conjured a gently tormented Rose experiencing the gradual realisation that she was searching for something and was on the brink of finding it. 

Japan is palpably described; the temples and the cherry blossom and the restaurants and teahouses. I had a sense sometimes of being there, walking alongside Rose trying to understand her father’s wishes. I could almost taste the saki and smell the Japanese cuisine. 

Rose is an intriguing character. At the start of the book she seems so spiky, so disillusioned with life. She seems to be programmed to initially mistrust. It was quite beautiful to see how, like a rosebud, she blossomed and bloomed as the book unfolded. She is a fortysomething botanist so you know that flora and nature are an important part of her life and so the title of the book takes on a subtle and deeper significance.

It’s a book with few characters but those characters have such an impact; from Sayoko who seems to be a housekeeper, Beth, the English woman who knew Rose’s father and seems to elicit an air of disapproval from some of those around her. Even the driver, Kanto, who does nothing in the book but drive has some kind of serene, reliable presence throughout. And then there is Paul, gentle, reliable Paul, who has loved and lost, who understands loyalty and respect and guides Rose, according to her father’s wishes but in the truest sense of the word too. 

There’s something languorous about the progression of the narrative. It’s not a book to be rushed through. It’s a book to savour, the prose and the philosophies contained within, to shadow Rose and will her to see what’s right in front of her. 

Like so many good books this is a book about love. The search for love that was always there , the dealing with love that has been snatched away and the search for love that was simply waiting.

I was about 100 pages into this book, I guess you could say halfway, when I stopped. I ordered two more books by this writer because the beauty of her writing was just so moving. However such literary beauty cannot be conveyed to an English audience without the skill and empathic translation of Alison Anderson who, to me, has understood so well the intentions of the author. 

My thanks to Gallic books for a gifted proof of this wonderful novella plus the finished copy and a place upon the blog tour. 

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even the birds grow silent - Alex Nye

 I first became aware of Alex Nye when I read Arguing With the Dead, an historical novel for adults centred around the life of Mary Shelley. I was struck by Nye’s ability to really get into the head of Mary Shelley so convincingly. And this author now features on my list of ‘writers whose books I will always read’. And if ‘dead’ figured in the first book of Ms. Nye’s that I read then it surely dominates this one! For Death is the narrator of this collection of ‘fragments’ as the cover advises us. And whilst the personification of death is not a new one in the world of the arts this is, I believe, a unique take on her. Oh yes, Death is a woman. For here Death gets to give us her side of the story and we are taken though history from the early cave painters to the ‘baffled king’ Leonard Cohen. All your ‘favourites’ are here! Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf and Lady Jane Grey to name a few…. some notable events as well, the Great Fire of London, the village of Eyam, but hey, I must stop for I will not go down the spoiler route. (Gotta say, though, the George Harrison one is a killer! (No pun intended))!

Arguing With the Dead and the next book I read, When We Get to the Island, showed an ability for detailed and relevant research whether it be of an historical nature or, as with the latter, looking at more contemporary issues. That same skill is evident in this latest volume as, alongside the famous deaths, are some lesser known accounts. and the interesting thing is I am not certain whether they re fictional or based on real life events! I’ve googled some to find out and my results are inconclusive.  The stories all work alongside each other seamlessly. (The last fragment is a cracker, let me tell you!) There is a pleasing balance between the more sombre side of death and a sense of something lighter hearted, witty even, so that the end result is not as much of a downer as you might anticipate from a book where Death is the main theme.

Interesting, too, is the consideration of Death and her motives, she presents as an emotional and intelligent entity, and this could possibly spark some interesting spiritual discussions among book groups etc.

I think it is a unique book, very easy to read and relatively undemanding of your time since it weighs in at just over 200 pages but don't be deceived because it will make you think, it will elicit a smile or two and maybe even a tear or three….

Storyland - Amy Jeffs

The first thing that struck me whilst reading this book was how extensive my knowledge of Greek myths and legends is but how sparse and how little I know of the mesmerising legends from my own country. It made me wonder why? Did Homer have a better PR team than Geoffrey of Monmouth?! I am somewhat incredulous that it's taken until the 21st century for  inspired artist and art historian, Amy Jeffs, to redress the balance with her wonderful volume, Storyland. The second thing that struck me was what better way to thrust the mythology of our own fair isle into a wider consciousness than produce a book of this quality.

An elegant fusion of history, story telling and geographic commentary enhanced by the most exquisite linocuts (Oh, how I wish I could behold them in the flesh - especially Edward the Martyr) steers the willing reader through this country’s history from the Deluge to the Norman Conquest. It’s a wondrous achievement in itself - to have all this contained within one volume but the construction of the texts and the layout of the book is just so satisfying and complete. The presentation is superb. For me it was love at first sight and I am not easily seduced by the physical veneer of a book, it’s the words I’m attracted to usually.

We know that myths and legends, although fictional, were used to aid understanding of various phenomena within the cultural and sociological framework of the time. But I do believe that there is many a true word spoken in myth! And like the Mount Olympus of the Greeks locations like Stonehenge and Glastonbury Tor, which obviously feature in these tales,  have retained their mystical pull though the centuries.

Amy Jeffs has made all of this accessible to a wide audience. Her ability to retell and enhance these stories offer an appeal to people who ‘just’ love a good story as well as the history buffs thirsty for a cohesive account of the misdemeanours of our nation and enable, in part, to contextualise the current state of our land and how we arrived at this place politically and sociologically.

The author has a relaxed and flowing narrative style and the book is easy to read. But it’s not just the ability to create atmospheric art to accompany these stories but her perceptions as to the nature of them is pertinent.

‘Myths hold the echo of collective emotion whatever they reveal of events.’

How wonderful is that?

This is a book that I will treasure. I’ll dip in and out of it and explore these old stories over and over. It has me in its thrall. So much so that before I had even finished it I had sent off for a copy of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s The History of the Kings of Britain’!


 

Dear Reader - Cathy Rentzenbrink

 

I’m sure there’s many a reader of this book, like me, who has sat back in disbelief at the words they’ve just read because everything they’ve ever felt about books and reading has been expressed so eloquently. Then sat up with the belief that this is surely the book they could have, should have written. But the simple truth is they didn’t and I didn’t. But Cathy Rentzenbrink did though. And how!

Something I found fascinating was comparing my childhood diet of reading literature with the author’s. They were practically identical. Is this mix of books guaranteed to form somebody who will read for the rest of their lives? Or is it a certain kind of person who seeks out and responds to these books because they are and always have been, intrinsically, a reader?

Some people measure their lives with the music that triggers memories and emotions about certain periods in their lives, others do that with books. And this book tells the story of this writer’s life and the books that accompany it as a literary rather than a musical soundtrack. I love the eclectic mix of books covered. I love it that there was no one genre that the author restricted herself to. I loved it that there were classic and intellectual works alongside lighter, more frivolous books. The book is divided into various chapters detailing the author’s life and within those chapters are the books relevant to those sections. So be prepared to add an abundance of titles to your TBRs! 

This is such an uplifting book to read. There is no pretension. In places it’s funny, in spite of some challenging and harrowing periods in the author’s life.  Ms. Rentzenbrink has the ability to look at herself objectively and her self perception is so honest and real. Her experiences as a bookseller in both Harrods and Waterstones is fascinating. Envy isn’t a pretty emotion. But I did feel it from time to time! 

I think that anyone who finds a solace and an escape in books will relate to this so strongly. 

‘Reading has been a great source of comfort, knowledge, pleasure and joy. It is the most central aspect of my identity; the truest thing I could say about myself is, I am a reader.’

How perfect is that?! 

This is a book I shall dip into again and again for there’s a reassurance and a camaraderie to be felt from reading about a kindred spirit and their companionship with books 

My thanks to NB Magazine for a gifted copy.