This maintains the atmosphere, interest and intrigue of the first in the series, which should certainly be read before this. If you enjoyed the first,This maintains the atmosphere, interest and intrigue of the first in the series, which should certainly be read before this. If you enjoyed the first, you will enjoy the second. Described as 'cosy crime' in the cover blurb, it benefits enormously from Richard Coles' musical and ecclesiastical knowledge, and his experience as a parish priest. Indeed, it seems that we also get insights into Coles' own life and attitudes; while he is generally sympathetic to and understanding of his parishioners, he seems to take a very dim view of evangelical christians....more
Don’t let the characterisation of this book as teenage or young adult fiction (it won the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize) put you off reading it. TDon’t let the characterisation of this book as teenage or young adult fiction (it won the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize) put you off reading it. True, it is, broadly, about three teenagers ‘having an adventure’ and learning something valuable about themselves in the process, and it is certainly ‘low fantasy’ (as explained in the useful introduction by Phillip Pullman), but there is a lot of perceptive observation of people: it treats its subjects and readers with a respect that demands close reading.
An English family comes on holiday to an old house in a rather wild valley in mid-Wales. The father, Clive, and mother, Margaret, are newly married, each for the second time and each already with a teenage child, respectively Roger and Alison. The family employs a Welsh woman, Nancy, who is newly returned from ‘Aber’ (presumably Aberystwyth) to the valley where she once lived, as a cook-housekeeper: her teenage son, Gwyn, comes along as a general help. An older man, Huw, seems to come with the house for gardening and general maintenance.
The house, which had been given to Alison by her father before he died in order to avoid death duties, is near a lake, the site of some elements of the Mabinogion. Following the arrival of the two families and the discovery by Gwyn and Alison of an old dinner service with an abstract floral pattern, which can be construed as depicting parts of an owl, the teenagers notice various supernatural presences, in both the house and the valley.
As with three of the characters of the Mabinogion (Blodeuedd, Lleu Llaw Gyffes and Gronw Pebyr), the three teenagers each try to find their place in the story and in the world, and to understand the peculiar ‘happenings’, in the process getting to know each other, and themselves, a bit better. Theirs is a complex triangle of relationships, with plausible attractions and tensions, that they each negotiate in their own way, an analogue to the corresponding protagonist’s triangle in the Mabinogion. They also deal with their respective parents in their own way: there are elements of teenage rebellion tempered with the recognised need to appease, placate and allay parental irritation, frustration and need. In particular, Alison seems torn between the demands of the supernatural Blodeuedd and those of her mother, neither of whom appear on the page but who are both major drivers behind the story.
The adults are secondary characters but are all very well drawn as distinct individuals, even Margaret, who is always elsewhere, never appearing in person, although she keeps a close eye on Alison, eventually forbidding her to speak with Gwyn. In turn, Nancy discourages Gwyn from speaking with Huw. Although the rather hapless Clive tries to keep the peace, and to become friends with his step-daughter Alison, he and Roger are both prey to common English prejudices about the Welsh. In particular they view Huw, with his limited spoken English, as at best peculiar and probably rather dim-witted – although the other local people, who all seem to know a great deal about the significance of the supernatural goings-on, regard him with much respect.
This is a good tale, well told, although after a very dramatic build-up, the ending comes rather abruptly and the resolution is perhaps a little too simple. But one can see in this fine novel some precursors of the excellent Thursbitch, not least the concept of an enchanted, sentient landscape....more
An elegantly-constructed series of four semi-autobiographical short stories, or novellas, each describing successive generations of a rural Cheshire fAn elegantly-constructed series of four semi-autobiographical short stories, or novellas, each describing successive generations of a rural Cheshire family from a child’s point of view. The child in the first becomes a parent in the second, and so on.
This is perhaps the most beautifully written of any of Garner’s books. The prose is poetic, the tone somewhat elegiac, in respect of lost ways of life, and the characterisation and dialogue well-observed. It describes elements of ways of life that would have been familier to many in rural communities in the 19th and early 20th centuries: stone mason, smith (blacksmith, whitesmith and locksmith), soldier, weaver, farmer. At the same time, it explores the timeless experiences of children growing up, developing familial relationships across the generations, finding their place in a community, and coming to recognise the direction of their own life’s path. ...more
For Garner fans, this is certainly one to read. If not yet a Garner fan, read Weirdstone and the Moon of Gomrath - and maybe others as well - first.
TFor Garner fans, this is certainly one to read. If not yet a Garner fan, read Weirdstone and the Moon of Gomrath - and maybe others as well - first.
This is a fairly straightforward fantasy tale based around exploration of the ways that a magical world, such as Elidor, can interface with that in which 'ordinary' people live. It also explores the ways that four siblings, especially the three brothers, react to contact with Elidor and how they interact with each other. Written in the mid-1960s, some elements are rather dated - we are still in the time when large areas of post-war Manchester were being redeveloped, for example. Also, we see remarkably little of Elidor - most of the action takes place in the 'real' world.
This book is a wonderful read, especially for the wintertime. It is a many-layered love story like no other I have read, and a ghost story of a kind, This book is a wonderful read, especially for the wintertime. It is a many-layered love story like no other I have read, and a ghost story of a kind, set in wild country where (for some) time behaves in an unusual way and where the land seemingly has a kind of sentience, hosting ancient wisdom and, perhaps, divinity. The novel has two partly interwoven strands, one set in modern times, the other in the early 18th century.
The older tale is told in (what I take to be) Cheshire vernacular language, here expressed by the use of arcane vocabulary (much of which is possible to understand through internet searches, if not from context), spelling and syntax. Garner does this very well, and consistently, although wisely not attempting to express the sound of the old country dialect. Nevertheless, this style calls for some very close reading. Jack Turner, whose story is being told, is a foundling who now works as a travelling packman. He has inherited, or acquired, ancient knowledge, so becoming a kind of shaman in his own community, who can intercede with the gods and spirits who haunt the local moors, and who ultimately rescue him from his madness, calling him home.
In the modern story, we meet Sal and her friend Ian. Sal is an expert geologist – she must be an expert, to be able to identify Upper Carboniferous ammonoids (goniatites) to species level in the hand. Initially, she views the landscape where Jack once lived, and the network of standing stones within it, with an analytical eye. But she rapidly also detects something special there: a kind of sentience in the land, something with which she feels an affinity. (Feelings with which, as a geologist, I can relate). When illness brings loss of memory and infirmity, her feeling of connectedness with the area remains. By the way, on page 89 Sal would be well aware that the fluorite of which Blue John is made is composed of calcium fluoride, not ‘carbon fluoride’. Also, Sal would know the ammonoids found near Thursbitch (on p. 39) as Reticuloceras, not Reticulosus – she probably also knows that this taxon has been renamed since it was used to label some subdivisions of the Millstone Grit.
In his memoir ‘Powsels and Thrums: A Tapestry of a Creative Life' Garner explains how the stories of Thursbitch are rooted in real places in Cheshire. Reading Thursbitch, I was often tempted to find a map on which to trace the steps of the protagonists, but always resisted – the imagination is sufficient, I found, given Garner’s expert depiction of place. However, I did find it very worthwhile to re-read Chapter 15 (The Valley of the Demon) of that fascinating book. This provides valuable background to how Garner came to write Thursbitch, and explains some things (such as ‘Thoon’) within it....more
To be clear, notwithstanding what follows, I enjoyed this book. It is an engaging read and effectively provides a new and welcome opportunity to immerTo be clear, notwithstanding what follows, I enjoyed this book. It is an engaging read and effectively provides a new and welcome opportunity to immerse oneself in George Smiley’s world.
Beyond that, my reactions are more nuanced, and vary depending on how the book is regarded. This could be as just another ordinary spy thriller, or as an addition to the Smiley stories, or (as described on the cover of the edition that I read) as another ‘John le Carré novel’. And one’s reaction also depends on the degree to which the reader’s scepticism can be suspended.
Taking it all on its own terms, Karla’s Choice works very well as the first of these: it is well-structured and well-paced, readable and diverting. This is the first of Harkaway’s books I have read; clearly, he can write well. As an addition to the Smiley stories, however, it serves mainly to provide further detail to Karla’s back story, and, secondarily, to explore Smiley’s feelings about the death of Alec Leamas in ‘The Spy who came in from the Cold’, and his human scruples more generally. So far as I am concerned, none of this is really needed, and that is probably why John le Carré hadn’t already written this book.
As the third category of book, a ‘John le Carré novel’, it is reasonably successful. Mostly, Harkaway shows us the characters and catches the mood pretty well. In many places, this could be the master writing. But there are differences, some for the better, others not. On the positive side, Harkaway gives us much more of some characters, such as the excellent Millie McCraig, a character well worth developing, and does it very well. Also, we are given useful snippets that help describe Control more fully: ‘Behind the spectacles, the nasty, knowing eyes looked direct into hers’; the old cardigan over a Jermyn Street shirt, and so on. Here Harkaway correctly follows his father’s example, giving us just enough, even erring on the side of understatement.
In general, though, Harkaway’s writing is rather more verbose than le Carré’s: we are given more discussion, more detail. In some ways this is better than the original, for example Harkaway pays more attention to the sense of smell than I recall from le Carré’s writing. Elsewhere, he falls into the temptation of providing too much; for example, we get an explanation of the ‘scalphunters’ that le Carré realised that we just don’t need. Also, while in general Harkaway does a good job maintaining the well-known characters from the older books, there are a few jarring moments. For example, when Smiley and Esterhase visit Vishwakarma, Esterhase confronts a group of hostile men that have arrived to attack the premises. While I don’t doubt Esterhase’s street-fighting skills, this seems uncharacteristically risky, either of being injured or, worse, of attracting attention. And why, if Esterhase knows about the behaviour of banknote paper in ultraviolet light, would he be surprised that Smiley did also? This comes over to me as the author appearing on the page, parading his own knowledge.
Worse than this, however, is that there are many plot elements that are too implausible, or that don’t really work. And once you notice one, then more become apparent, until at last credibility is over-stretched.
(Much of the following might be regarded as ‘spoilers’). Most obviously, can we accept, in the first few pages, that a Moscow centre assassin would ‘get religion’ en route to an assignment, to the extent that he simply arrives at the target address and confesses his orders? If this hadn’t happened, then the whole book fails. Then, when Susanna turns to her friends in a secretarial agency, what are the chances that the agency just happens to be one with a hot line to Special Branch and the Circus? Why does Control then immediately turn to Smiley, knowing that he has retired? And why does Control accept Susanna as what she says she is, with no apparent consideration of the possibility that she has some link to the enemy? After all, it is recognised that she has acted with unusual presence of mind in reacting to the situation, so far. Why, in contrast to the conscious trouble that Smiley takes to avoid, or at least to be aware of, a possible tail on his return to the Circus, is Susanna invited into the building, rather than being interviewed elsewhere? Much later in the book, in Vienna, why is Susanna allowed to walk about the city without any kind of ‘babysitting’, if only to watch her back? And how does Vishwakarma feel able to provide her with a passport – specifically, how does he get a photograph of her? In Budapest, in Iren’s flat, it is reasonable for both women to expect that the knock on the door is from the Hungarian police – but when Susanna goes to attack the man who comes in, surely she would recognise who it is, even as she runs past Iren?
Finally, the choice that Karla makes turns out to be less of a choice for him than an artefact of Smiley’s wishful thinking. Given Karla’s motivation, as explained in various passages – and the evidence that the British Secret Service is actively looking for him, it was obvious that Karla would kill Roka, or have him killed. I doubt that Karla would have recognised any choice in this matter. Likewise, he evidently decided to get rid of Bogdan for good measure, seemingly to avoid the risk of someone else approaching him. So, to me, overall this does not work as a new ‘John le Carré’ novel. ...more
Jacobson is a fine writer: he draws his characters consistently well. But not only did I not find this rather sad story at all funny, I couldn't see wJacobson is a fine writer: he draws his characters consistently well. But not only did I not find this rather sad story at all funny, I couldn't see where it was supposed to be funny....more
A very mixed bag of stories, as cleverly-written as one expects from Rushdie. Some are very much to my taste but others not at all, to the extent thatA very mixed bag of stories, as cleverly-written as one expects from Rushdie. Some are very much to my taste but others not at all, to the extent that I skipped through them....more
Here is poetry of place and time, well-observed and imagined with originality, expressed with precision, flair, symbolism and abstraction. The style aHere is poetry of place and time, well-observed and imagined with originality, expressed with precision, flair, symbolism and abstraction. The style and the use of a broad vocabulary are familiar from Macfarlane’s splendid earlier works (he does like the word ‘coccolithophores’, it seems, this microscopic principle constituent of chalk possibly here standing symbolically for radioactive fallout). The place is an abandoned human construction that is being reclaimed and replaced by nature; the time encompasses geological time and also recent history, moving through the present to an envisioned future. Darkly atmospheric monochrome drawings by Stanley Dodwood punctuate and nicely complement the text.
The cryptic dedication, or preamble, comprising three strings of letters and numbers with a few other keyboard symbols, yields easily to an internet search. It then becomes apparent that the book would perhaps be best read during, or following, an exploration of Orford Ness – maybe sitting near the Martello tower at Aldeburgh.
Nature is here represented by five ‘entities’. As an example of the striking, economical descriptions Macfarlane employs, here is part of what might, for convenience, be referred to as ‘the Green Man’, (although that is just my characterisation of what is written): ‘his bones are in willow & he sings in birds … By day from his throat fly finch & fire-crest & in anger he speaks in swifts’. Wow! Macfarlane introduces four other mythological ‘entities’, together presenting highly original and ingenious complements to the concept of the Green Man, each of which has an influence on the existence and nature of the ‘ness’.
Hagstones (stones that are penetrated by a hole that can be looked through), which can be found in the shingle beaches of Orford Ness, appear in a series of illustrations, and in the descriptions. Tradition has it that looking through a hagstone enables one to see what might not otherwise be visible. In this case, perhaps, what is being revealed is the consequences of the experimental work once carried out on the ‘ness’.
As stated at the end of the piece: ‘It was all sea once, in a long unbroken line’. And it will be again, eventually, but in the meantime there is ‘ness’, which can refer both to a physical place (the Ness) and an existential nature (-ness). This has greater persistence than anything made by humans, although, it seems, the humans’ ghosts remain, perhaps because of the encapsulated power that they once controlled. ...more
A book within a book, together two gentle tales about life in modern Japan. One is about a Westerner living in Tokyo, working as a translator of JapanA book within a book, together two gentle tales about life in modern Japan. One is about a Westerner living in Tokyo, working as a translator of Japanese literature. The other is a book that she is translating. Both give valuable insights to what it is like to live in Japan....more
