Wednesday 27 December 2023

Taste - Stanley Tucci


 I love Stanley Tucci. Ever since I saw him in The Devil Wears Prada he's been one of those actors whose films I look out for. I enjoy the diversity of his roles and how he brings the required amount of warmth or chill to the parts he plays. I have a good friend who agrees with me and who I can rely on to accompany me to a viewing of his films when they are showing in the cinema. So I bought her a copy of this book when it was published in hardback for her birthday hoping that she would lend it to me when she had finished. She didn't! She went and lent it to somebody else and is still waiting for its return. So I had to buy the paperback!

But sometimes I cringe inwardly when an actor, musician or other takes to the page to regale us with the story of their life. Even if it's someone whom I admire in their chosen field I've found their attempts to match their career prowess with the written word disappointing. 

But not here. Mr. Tucci's story has depth and the inspired use of food to cement it all together is entertaining and informative in spite of the fact that it caused excessive salivation on the part of this reader. (I could murder a bowl of pasta right now. )😉 What shines through is how food can unify us and cement relationships on so many levels. The meals you eat in childhood can stay with you forever. I am vegetarian now ( I will admit some of the meat based recipes and anecdotes in the book didn't thrill me overmuch) but I can still remember my mum's steak and kidney pie, the smell and the taste of that short crust pastry soaked in the gravy. So I related to the tales of the Tucci family's mealtimes. Whilst Italy features strongly in the book cuisines from other countries are there to tantalise our taste buds too especially Iceland. 

The autobiographical narrative is interspersed with some detailed and mouth watering recipes which I tell myself I will try but I haven't so far. And as Stanley is an actor one would expect there to be some A-listers popping up from time to time. But there is never the sense that this is name dropping, it's someone telling us about his friends. The meal with Meryl Streep and the andouillette is little short of hilarious. 

I found it a very honest and real book in the sense that I could almost hear this actor speaking his words while I was reading them. His passion for food underpins the whole book and key moments of his life are interspersed, his marriages, the pandemic and his overcoming cancer. 

It has been a delightful read, warm and witty without shying away from the life's harsher realities. 

Sunday 17 December 2023

Literature and Longevity


 By the time you get to my age you’ve read a lot of books! Trust me! It turns into hundreds, thousands probably. And if you’re like me you‘ve covered many genres. You have books that you liked, books that you loved and books that maybe even changed your life and, hopefully less so, books you didn’t enjoy.

 

I know the books that mean a lot to me. But I often wonder which books will endure. Which books that we’re reading now will still be read in say fifty or even a hundred years’ time? I suppose it’s relevant to point out that I started my reading life in an age where there was no Internet, no social media. I found out about books from newspapers, magazines, word-of-mouth, displays in my library which was a bustling, heaving environment. And there were lots of independent book shops. I could easily go into a book shop with my pocket money. Now it’s a bus ride into the next town with my bus pass and my pension where there is a branch of Waterstone’s or I buy from some of the independent book shops online. And because of council cuts my local library is under threat of closure. So how I’ll end my reading life I’m not sure!

 

When you’ve been around for a bit you see fads and crazes in reading and in these days of social media it can become disproportionate particularly in the hands of the so called ‘influencers’. In fact, if I look back even just a couple of years books that were plastered all over Twitter and Instagram have all but been forgotten. No one mentions them even though folk were gushing over them at the time. I can remember a degree of FOMO on occasions, probably because I’ve never been good enough to receive oodles of book mail from publishers. But the mood online is often suggestive of ‘I’m cool because I’m reading this’ and then the sheep syndrome kicks in. But are those lauded books by every TikTokker, Bookstagrammer and Booktuber really worthy of the attention lavished upon them? Is it incumbent upon readers who wish to review and blog their thoughts to be proficient at reels and stories and videos? How many books are in the wider consciousness because of social media rather than the merits of the book itself? It’s a worrying thought because it must offer some writers a disproportionate sense of their own success and conversely damage the self-belief of those writers whose work has not been embraced by the ‘socials’. It doesn’t help determine which books might or might not endure. 

 

Remember the Dan Brown phenomenon? I think that on every bus, every train, in every café or coffee shop, on beaches, in parks you would find at least one person reading a Dan Brown book. And the Fifty Shades craze? It seemed you were considered an outcast if you hadn’t read at least one! Do you see them now? Rarely. Yet they are still considered to be among the best-selling books of all time. But are best-sellers necessarily bound for longevity? Maybe there are simply too many books being written and published in the 21st century for any to outshine others dramatically. 

 

 I’ve reached the stage now where if I receive a review copy, I’m lucky. Ecstatic. Yet it’s tinged with a sense of failure and inadequacy that the steady flow I used to receive is no more. It suggests I am a terrible reviewer which is very dispiriting (or I am not adept or conscientious enough about social media?). But it has meant I’ve had the opportunity to attack my TBR shelves and borrow more books from the library. I’ve borrowed some of the books that have been splashed over social media as the best thing since sliced bread and I’ve also borrowed some books shortlisted for awards. (I’m thinking of writing a separate post about Awards!) And I’m still not certain if any of these books will be read by future generations. That isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed them or that they aren’t well written. But I doubt their longevity. Are people writing classics anymore? 

 

If you consider the books that are called classics, they were written and published during times when the field was not as competitive as it is now. Many manuscripts were handwritten and then the typewriter came along. But now it’s all on computer. People have laptops with word processing programs on as a matter of routine.  I think there are authors out there who prefer to write longhand but is any agent or publisher going to look at them twice? More and more people are writing today. There are numerous writer groups, creative writing courses, writing competitions, writing magazines none of which existed even a few decades ago. It reminds me, too, of the music industry. There are fewer virtuoso musicians in the field of popular music because it can all be done on computers. Anyone can try and they do. The stereotypical, historical concept of a creative person starving in a garret, baring his or her soul to the world is passe. 

 

I witnessed an interesting exchange on social media recently where someone asked whether they should read War and Peace. There were a variety of responses, mine was ‘Only If you want to’. But the fact that the question was posed suggests the existing classics provoke a kind of need in people to read them regardless of there is any intrinsic desire to. I find this a little strange. Do you read a book because you think you should? Because of its reputation and, here, I guess, its longevity?

 

Writing has never been a rich person’s profession unless you strike lucky. How much does luck have to do with it today? Luck and skilful marketing maybe? But surely if the writing is supreme none of that should matter, should it? The quality should shine through, one might hope. 

 

Reading has always been subjective.  So maybe for a book to stand the test of time I guess we need a kind of mutual mass subjectivity?  Shakespeare had his critics. It doesn’t seem to have hurt him in the long term, though. Will people still read and revere Shakespeare a hundred years from now? Is it a given? The world is a volatile place and the obsessive need for change could well see a shift in the dynamic of literature. Take Jane Austen, for example, the poor woman would be as rich as JK Rowling if she were alive today but she sure as hell wasn’t a success in her own lifetime. Is that what will happen today? Are there writers out there not being splashed over social media but have work that might set the world alight in years to come? I have no answers just an insatiable curiosity.

 

As society changes and attitudes evolve that must be reflected in the literature written. But is it only literature that endures? And what is literature? I wrote a piece about that several years ago. Here’s the link - https://bookphace.blogspot.com/2019/04/what-is-literature.html

 

I’m curious as to what kind of books will last. I think there is danger today that the adage ‘quality not quantity’ has become reversed. The numbers seem to be more important. Again, one only has to look at social media where the focus is on numbers of followers rather than quality of posts. It’s very much a today attitude.  Appearance, too, can sometimes seem to be more dominant, the veneer captures the attention rather than what’s beneath it. People gush over some covers, the end papers, the speckled pages. An online book community I belong to are frequently throwing out surveys about which cover looks the best, which you like the best and why. I struggle with this because I don’t read the covers, I read the books. 

 

Maybe books simply won’t last. Maybe there will only be books of the moment, books of the now. In fashion one moment, dismissed the next to make way for the latest in thing. Pop-up books were a thing of my childhood! But maybe in this digital and transitory age books will be pop ups for other reasons. In vogue for a brief while and then consigned to obscurity to make way for the next wunderkind of words. 

 

I also wonder whether e-reading has an impact on the longevity of books. I’ve never made any secret of my antipathy towards kindles and the like. And in today’s world I know that is impractical in so many ways. Electronic books take up little space and are not dependent on the felling of tress. They must be cheaper to produce than physical books, they are instantly available. Yet I cannot read comfortably without the security of a physical book in my hands. If in the future there are no paper books can an electronic book become a classic?

 

I hope that reincarnation is a thing. Because I so badly want to return and see what books are about in 2123! I want to be thrilled that a book I love is still being read. I want to be surprised that an author I had dismissed is considered a classic writer. I want to be amazed that a book I didn't think had it is there amongst the modern classics that tomorrow's generations are reading.




Saturday 9 December 2023

Went to London, Took the Dog - Nina Stibbe

Oh my, what a delight this book has been for me. Living in a perpetual haze of down-spiritedness and winter doldrums every time I picked this up and read just a page or two I found myself chuckling, agreeing vehemently or even laughing out loud. I thought I'd forgotten how to laugh. I borrowed this from the library. Although it wasn't due back I returned it this morning as it has been reserved by several people and I know what it's like when you really want to read a book. While I was there I searched the biography/memoir section and found 'Love Nina'. and I can't wait to read it. 

Why did I enjoy this book so much? It's witty. It's clever. It's warm. It's perceptive. It's real. It's honest. There are some sad bits. But it's full of love. 

The premise is that Stibbe and her dog, Peggy, takes a year sabbatical from Cornwall and a stuttering marriage to lodge with Deborah Moggach in London. Her children and several friends are in London too and the book, or diary, chronicles that year with such well paced and salient detail. Nina is in her sixties and undergoing the trials of an ageing body, women of a certain age will relate to so much of this. It's all so piercingly true. 

But a writer hangs out with other writers so the cast list is impressive! I mean, can you imagine going to a pub quiz night with Nick Hornby?! When I first started the book and read the 'Cast, in order of appearance' I was puzzled but I ended up being very grateful for it and I referred back to it several times to confirm who is, indeed who. It's very much a writer's diary too with details of literary festivals and book related events that you get to see not from the punter's perspective but an author's. It's fascinating. 

I am a diarist and reading this has totally transformed the way I write mine. It's given me a good shake up and whilst I will never live as interesting a life as Nina Stibbe nor will I ever be as funny her book has made me write a more dynamic narrative in my daily scribblings. 


 

Wednesday 6 December 2023

The Island Child - Molly Aitken


 It's taken me a while to cement my thoughts about this book. It gave me such a lot to think about. The story was Canongate Book's November read-along. Usually when I take part in a read-along I get frustrated by having to stop reading but I found here that I didn't mind nearly so much as there was a deal to consider after I finished each section. 

Firstly I found it hard to believe that this is a debut novel. It felt like the work of a seasoned novelist. Also I thought it joins the impressive oeuvre of exciting fictions to come from Irish writers in recent years. Irish fiction could almost be a genre of its own. 

The prose is exquisite with a dual narrative, the story of Oona and an accompanying lyrical tale, part folk lore, part fairy tale, that mirrors the main narrative in intent. Thematically the novel examines identity, motherhood, growing up, perhaps nature and nurture too, none of which are original themes, indeed they've been covered probably throughout the enduring history of the novel! But it's how they are dealt with that makes the impact. 

Here we are treated to Oona, the girl and Oona, the woman, wife and mother. Born on the island of Inis, Oona the girl dreams of escaping the island which Oona, the woman, does  - or does she? I saw this as a metaphor, wondering if it was herself that Oona was trying to escape from. 

The story is complex emotionally and intellectually and so haunting. The characters are three dimensional and this author somehow manages to convey the essence of these people with economic perfection. No laboured or long winded descriptions - but an instinct for the right words for the right person. 

Oona is so real, so flawed as we all are. You want to hug her, slap her, shake her, soothe her, shout at her but in her flaws you can see some of your own. A victim of emotional neglect in childhood to a degree she does enjoy a solid relationship with her brother, Enda, another flawed character but I loved him. None of her relationships seem straightforward. 

Island life is claustrophobic and there is a sense of darkness and 'not quite rightness' about the place so the reader, too, along with Oona would like to escape. But the sense of relief when she appears to is short lived and it seems she exchanges one restrictive environment for another. 

Motherhood is key and the notion that such a state doesn't come with a book of instructions lays bare the mistakes that are made. It's actually quite heartbreaking. It made me think of my own mother who, in her later years, was so critical of her parenting and all but asked me for my forgiveness. 

So, it is isn't a feel-good read by any stretch but it is haunting and pervades your consciousness for a good while after you've finished it.