Silent Spring – Rachel Carson

Like The Communist Manifesto or On the Origin of Species this is one of those “books that changed the world” types. Published in 1962, at a time when the Cold War meant criticisms of government policy – no matter how justified – were seen as dangerous. In Silent Spring Carson envisages a world in which the uncontrolled use of pesticides has rendered all birds extinct and the land devoid of bird song. Having not studied anything scientific since my GCSEs I was worried that this book would be difficult for me to understand but Carson explains everything in an incredibly clear way. Ironically, according to Linda Lear in the afterword of this book, one of the criticisms that Carson faced (in addition to being the most shocking of all things – a childless “spinster”) was that the book was so easy to understand that it must be “unscientific”.

The widespread use of pesticides that Carson reports on, and the environmental damage she claims this caused is shocking. Also shocking is the way in which the American Government went about it. Carson writes that in 1959 planes flew low over the state of Michigan, including some towns and suburbs and dusted them with insecticides. Birds died in vast numbers, but so too did people’s pets and other people developed throat and chest problems. The book gave me a new found understanding of why some people are so distrustful of their government because the idea that they would organise your home to be covered in poison is absolutely insane. And the target of the spraying – the Japanese Beetle – was not even eradicated in the attempt.

Carson’s book helped pave the way to the worldwide ban of DDT but I know from watching The True Cost (which is an absolutely brilliant documentary on the fashion industry and the reason I haven’t bought any new clothes for nearly a year now) that in Texas the pesticides used for growing cotton are still causing brain tumours, and in India the pesticides involved with the GM cotton grown there causes birth defects that lead to physical and mental disabilities. It is over 50 years since Carson published this book but companies are still allowed to make, and farmers allowed to buy chemicals that (even if the environmental impact doesn’t bother you) are literally causing humans to die.

Carson was not trying to completely stop the use of pesticides with her book, but to make the reader aware of the significant dangers that they pose and argue that they should be used as infrequently and as responsibly as possible. I for one shall certainly never look at the supermarket aisle of weedkiller and insecticide in the same way again.

The five people you meet in Heaven – Mitch Albom

The Five People you Meet in Heaven follows what happens to ride maintenance worker Eddie after his death, as he meets 5 people his life touched and works out what the point of it all was.

I have previously read two of Albom’s memoir style books, Tuesdays with Morrie and Have a Little Faith, both of which I absolutely loved. Albom has an immensely readable writing style and so I was really interested in reading a fiction book by him.

I think the thing I found unsatisfying with this book is that Albom sets out to give the reader the answer to the meaning of life, and to show that all lives, no matter how mundane draw meaning from the way in which they interact with other people. Human lives are intrinsically meaningful because of the way in which they affect other human lives, which I thought was about as circular in your logic as you can get. I know that you can’t really expect to find the most satisfying answer to humanity’s biggest question in a 200 page work of fiction but because that is purported purpose of the book I was (rather unfairly) disappointed that the book didn’t change my life.

It was a lovely cosy read though and I was very moved by the ending. I love books about the meaning of life and although I don’t always completely agree with the conclusions the authors come to, one of the joys (and trials) of being human I suppose is trying to figure it out for yourself.

The Night Circus – Erin Morgenstern

I rather unfairly didn’t read this book for a long time just because it was described as being full of ‘magical realism’, and reading One Hundred Years of Solitude (accredited with popularising the writing style and to this day the least enjoyable book I have ever read) really put me off reading anything describe in that way ever again.

My (currently slightly sad) attempt at propagating some Basil.

It took me a while to get into the book, and I don’t think I ever became particularly fond of any of the characters. Marco in particular I thought was mostly just cruel. The plot itself also didn’t quite convince me, the reason for the competition between the two main characters was really explained, except that their teachers wanted it to happen. To my great surprise it was the magic that I loved most about the book, the way Morgenstern describes the circus is absolutely enchanting and like the rêveurs of the book I was happy to return to the circus again and again. I loved the rich descriptions of the clothes, the different performers and their incredible acts and just very much enjoyed reading a book that was a bit different from any other book I’ve ever read.

Dissolution – C.J Sansom

Dissolution is the first in the Shardlake Series, set after Henry VIII’s split with Rome and subsequent beheading of his second wife Anne Boleyn. All across England the dissolution of the monasteries is beginning and one of Cromwell’s commissioners has been murdered while visiting the abbot of Scarnsea’s monastery.

Who doesn’t love a good Tudor murder mystery?

I do love a good historical fiction because you can learn something without the hard work of non-fiction (and I say that as a very fond history graduate). Sansom I thought did a wonderful job of describing the time period. I really enjoyed the historical feel of the book, especially all the costumes (Shardlake’s assistant Mark has a very large codpiece), and I thought the murder mystery plot was very well done. I enjoyed seeing the time period as “history from below” and in the author’s note Sansom discusses how for those not part of the nobility, the dissolution was not so much about religion but the transference of power, land and wealth from one group to another.

You did get a small taste of the over arching series plot, of Shardlake’s struggle between his belief in the reformation and his horror in the way in which it is being carried out. A friend who has read all seven (!) tells me that this does grow within the books and his character develops. However, although I enjoyed this book very much I don’t feel an urge to immediately go out and buy the next in the series, there are just too many other books that I want to read!

The Cuckoo’s Calling – Robert Galbraith

I am so late to the party with this book, but my workplace has started a new book swap scheme, I had a lot of train travel coming up, and this looked like the perfect book. I really enjoyed The Cuckoo’s Calling, I spent a lot of my childhood reading Harry Potter so there was something comfortingly familiar about the writing style and although I wouldn’t say it adds anything particularly original to the murder mystery genre as a whole, it had a satisfying ending. All the loose ends were (to the best of my knowledge) tied up and the killer’s motives suitability explained – what more can you ask for from a whodunnit?

I fear the Turmeric latte (vegan of course) may have irrevocably dyed the inside of my travel mug yellow, but it was delicious #noregrets

I did not guess who the killer was, which is even more shameful when you consider that I am pretty sure I have seen that episode of the TV show. It did feel vaguely familiar when I read it but I am not sure. I only watched the show when I was visiting my parents so I sort of dipped in and out, but it is pretty good, starring the rather lovely Tom Burke as private detective Cormoran Strike.

I haven’t been left with any strong urges to read the next book in the series – although that is pretty usual for me, especially with stand alone mystery books. Still, I might try and re-watch the show before the forth series starts next year.

Dreamer’s Pool – Juliet Marillier

I think Marillier is a bit of a love her or hate her kind of author and its not like I disagree with people’s criticisms, the plot of the book is predictable, the opinions conservative and some of the characters are overly moralistic. But that just doesn’t bother me very much, especially the predictability. Being able to predict the plot accurately allows me to read the entire book with the smug feeling of being right.

This book is the first part in the Blackthorn and Grim series and their stories were by far the most compelling parts of the book. Blackthorn is a healer bound by her promise to a fairy (who admittedly only seemed to be in the book in order to push the plot along) to accept all requests for help and not to seek revenge against the man who imprisoned her and ruined her life. Grim is her rather wonderful protector and old prison mate, and I found their slowly growing friendship to make for a very enjoyable read, as they begin to build a life together after the trauma they have endured.

However, the third character in the story, Prince Oran, I thought was unbelievably insipid. A lot of other reviews I read accuse Marillier of let’s say “being overly conservative in her views surrounding sex” and to begin with I disagreed because I thought she was just portraying a different take on the usual power dynamic of the beginnings of an abusive relationship – with Lady Flidais pressuring the prince and separating him from his friends. But no, that definitely is not the case. Without giving away the central plot it is difficult to explain but ultimately an admittedly not particularly likeable character, is basically punished for trying to make the best of a bad situation, and liking sex, by being forced to remain trapped in the body of a dog forever. And as the audience I felt that we were supposed to think that that was fair. Personally though, I thought the concept was so hilariously absurd that although I don’t agree with the morals Marillier was espousing it didn’t particularly spoil my enjoyment of the book.

I enjoyed the central characters enough that if I can find a second hand copy of the sequel I’d probably give it a whirl. I may not agree with all of Marillier’s views but I have become very partial to her writing.

Wildwood Dancing – Juliet Marillier

Set in 16th century Transylvania, Wildwood Dancing tells the story of five girls who enter a portal each full moon and cross over to the Other Kingdom, where they spend the night dancing with various magical folk. It reads like a novel length fairytale, with witches and secret portals and magical frogs. Having had a look at her other books, Marillier clearly has a passion for traditional folklore which is really captured in this book. The book also clearly references more widely known European fairytales – most obviously the Brothers Grimm’s The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

I am currently in the process of creating my own Wildwood – and by that I mean I planted a sprouted potato just to see what would happen and it has gone absolutely mad.

When not frolicking in the Other Kingdom the girls (well really just Jena, the second oldest and main protagonist of the story) try to run the household and business of their absent sick father. The other girls are more background characters and I absolutely hated the oldest daughter, Tati, I thought she was a cross between Beth from Little Women and Bella from Twilight, she falls in love with one of the ‘Night People’ and then starts dying of patheticness (or a broken heart/consumption or whatever).

The book’s plot was not particularly original, but I quite enjoy a cliché every now and then, and I thought that the characters, Jena especially, did learn and grow throughout the book. I absolutely loved Marillier’s writing style and the world she created, so much so that I have ordered another one of her books. But not The Harp of Kings, I reserve the right to change my mind later, but for the moment at least, I could not spend money on any book whose summary starts with the sentence: “Eighteen-year-old Liobhan is a powerful singer and an expert whistle player“.

Neverwhere – Neil Gaiman

I absolutely loved Good Omens, both book and TV show, and I have vague memories of reading and enjoying Stardust years ago so I was really excited for Neverwhere. A novelisation of the 1996 TV series of the same name, Neverwhere follows the life of Richard Mayhew, a perfectly normal bloke who is just trying to go about his normal boring London life, when he gets sucked into the mysterious world of London Below. It reminded me a lot of Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London.

I didn’t hate the book, and I enjoy Gaiman’s sarcastic writing style. That being said, maybe because everyone in London Below was so horrible, it just didn’t really interest me that much. All the characters are constantly betraying each other and doing terrible and gruesome things. I didn’t particularly connect with any of the characters either, and while I was glad that there was no romance between Lady Door and Richard, especially as she is always being described as a young girl, sometimes it still felt like it was being set up that way.

In general I also tend to enjoy fantasy that is set in a completely different world more than ones about a hidden world within ours (Harry Potter being the massive exception to that rule). Ultimately I suppose I use fantasy as escapism and so it was just a bit too bleak for me. Life in London Above was mundane, boring and a pretty cynical depiction of an average person’s life, and London Below was cruel and dirty and miserable. I do understand why people like the book, it’s well written and there’s an exciting plot, I suppose it just wasn’t quite what I was hoping for.

Four Soldiers – Hubert Mingarelli (translated by Sam Taylor)

“Its simplicity lends it grandeur. One thinks of Maxim Gorky, or even the early sketches of Tolstoy.”
The Wall Street Journal

Fair warning, I am going to completely spoil the plot (such that it is) of this book – and be quite mean about the Man Booker prize.

As you can see from the classic library shiny cover I borrowed this from my work’s leisure reading collection. That means someone bothered to fill out a form requesting this book. That person is an idiot.

As a general rule, I am put off by books that say they have been shortlisted (or in this case longlisted) for the Man Booker (International) Prize. Objectively of course this is supposed to ensure that as readers we know that it is a “good book” – whatever that is supposed to mean, one that reflects on what it means to be human, chosen by a select few literary elites, a book that has been deemed worthy of reading. Or in short the kind of book I don’t usually enjoy.

Translated from French this very short book follows the story of four Russian soldiers, who are trapped together by the winter during the 1919 Russian Civil War (although really there was nothing in the book that tied it to a particular time or place). They talk together, they play dice for cigarettes, they make bad tea and then the winter ends, they are forced back into the fighting and some of them die. That’s it. That’s the book, you can read it in an afternoon, and it’s not terrible, I just thought it was quite meh, and the kind of book that people tell you has this incredibly deep meaningfulness. I enjoyed the scenes with Evdokim, a young boy who joins the group half way through the book and is constantly writing down their exploits in his journal – but I thought that his death, and the subsequent discovery that he was in fact illiterate too was very predictable and trying so hard to be heart-wrenching that I (cold-hearted person that I am) really felt nothing. As you can see from the above quote by the Wall Street Journal, this is obviously the kind of book that literary types enjoy (although some people claim to have actually read Finnegans Wake so there’s no accounting for taste) but I think there are far better books about the Russian Civil War out there.

The Return of the King – J.R.R. Tolkien

“It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule. “
J.R.R. Tolkien

Technically of course The Return of the King is not a book but merely the final volume of a single book, but who’s counting? I started re-reading The Lord of the Rings last summer, but stopped after I finished The Two Towers for no particular reason except that a different book was calling to me. However, I have recently had a couple of days trapped in my house with no Internet and this book just beckoned to me (I have also baked a cake and done some gardening – it turns out I am incredibly productive without the Internet). I last read the book when I was eleven and although I do remember enjoying it I know that I found it pretty heavy going and long-winded in parts – basically eleven year old me just had limited appreciation for great literature. Because of this I found the incredible beauty of Tolkien’s writing to be a wonderful surprise. The paragraph long descriptions that eleven year old me rushed over, on re-reading I thought were a treasure trove of beautiful sentences that were almost like poetry – the actual poetry on the other hand, I’m still not a big fan of, and Tom Bombadil was quite deservedly cut out of the films (I am prepared to die on that hill).

Although I know that Tolkien himself hated the idea of his book being turned into a film, I think the films are made with such a huge amount of love and respect for the source material,and that is a rare and precious thing for adaptations. All the great lines from the films are direct, if sometimes slightly adapted, quotes from the book. Personally, my enjoyment of the book is also greatly enriched from having seen the films if for no other reason than the knowledge of Howard Shore’s incredible score. After all who could read this passage:

‘Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake, fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!’

without hearing the “Rohan Fanfare”.

Maybe I’m just older and more emotional now too, but I found the book incredibly moving. Denethor’s casual cruelty towards Faramir, Merry and Pippin’s parting and reunion, Theoden’s death actually brought a tear to my eye. I think young me also didn’t really understand why Frodo couldn’t stay in the Shire. In the foreword to the second edition Tolkien writes, “by 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead”. Although I know Tolkien hated all forms of allegory and strongly denied it being an allegory for either the First World war, in which he fought, or the Second, during which he wrote a lot of The Lord of the Rings, I still think that within the character of Frodo he creates this poignant reflection of what it was like for the soldiers who, having given up so much of themselves, returned home to a place that no longer felt like home.

“But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.”

I have loved re-reading The Lord of the Rings and I have also really enjoyed discovering how much I have changed since I read it last, maybe in another ten years I’ll read it again and discover that Tom Bombadil is actually the best character in the book!