Tag: relationships

Book Review: This Strange Eventful History by Claire Messud – a novel about displacement, diaspora and a family through three generations

~ Judith ~ Leave a comment

If you’ve ever had a scroll through the Booker Prize website, you’ll discover it’s full of all kinds of interesting information for readers. Here I discovered a quiz that helped you decide which book to start with from this year’s long-list, based on your reading preferences. I could’t resist having a go, and was prompted to try This Strange Eventful History.

The book is described as being of ‘breathtaking historical sweep and vivid psychological intimacy’, which certainly whetted my appetite. It begins in Greece 1940, as the Nazis have captured Paris, leaving French naval officer, Gaston Cassar afraid for his family. So he packs them all up for the arduous journey across Europe in wartime to the old family home of Algiers. That’s his very dear wife, Lucienne, her frail older sister, and his two children, François and Denise, with Gaston returning to the navy.

The family have been moved around before, but home is always Algiers. Until it’s not. With the Algerian Revolution in the 1950s and the country’s eventual independence, the Cassars try to resettle in France, but they are not easily accepted as French, and they miss the beauty of Algeria. Francois moves to Amherst to study and meets Canadian Barbara. The two make a life together, but nowhere seems quite like home. Throwing in the promise of an academic future Francois decides on a business career to better support his family – long hours and work that takes him around the world. His family moves to Australia at one point, try Canada and Switzerland.

But just when her heart was tempted to harden against him, she recalled the letter of the previous fall, the one she felt made her heart literally ache. He’d been replying to one of hers, in which she’d tried to make light of that whisper of truth and had told him he couldn’t know what it felt like for her to be at home for a while – simply to love to be at home! – because he didn’t have a home. Which was true – his parents and sister were living in Buenos Aires, and had been for years, and he’d never even set foot there, neither of them had. The Cassars came to live with them in Paris instead, and because there wasn’t room enough for all of them in the flat on the Avenue Franco-Russe (even though they owned it; but François and Barbara had been living there), they stayed at the Madison Hotel, in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, where Monsieur Cassar had apparently lived for several months near the end of the war, and maybe that was for them the closest thing at that point to home?

Francois seems a perpetually unhappy man. He longs for the intense devotion in his marriage that his own parents experience. But it’s not just his story. We also have Denise’s time in Argentina as a young woman, where she settles with her parents following a breakdown. We get to know the next generation through young Chloe, who also settles somewhere different from where she was born. We see Barbara’s own misery, the issues of having a family and a career, and being responsible for the home. It’s the 1970s and women “can have it all”, but it’s not easy..

As the characters take you around the world, you are not so much shown what happens, but let into their minds at moments of reflection – waiting for a guest to arrive, getting ready for a family event. It is very much an introspective sort of story. As the chapters jump through time, it’s a way of catching up with what has brought them to this point. But it means the story is often less immediate than it might be. More “told” than “shown”. If you’re used to a more plot-driven story, you might find this frustrating. Then, at the end, there is a startling revelation – so don’t whatever you do think, I might just skip the epilogue, or flip to the back to see where you’re headed.

I am certainly glad I read This Strange Eventful History as it evocatively describes the effects of losing your homeland, of dislocation and the importance of somewhere you call home. It’s cleverly written, threads going back to the past that have you thinking, “so that’s what happened”, rather like real life. And the characters are certainly interesting and well rounded, if at times not all that likeable. But overall I found the book a bit of a slog. I’ll certainly go back to the Booker Prize website for more reading advice, and I don’t mind the occasional slog of a read. This one’s a three-and-a-half star read from me.


Book Review: Confessions by Catherine Airey – a compelling story of three generations of Irish women, their secrets and their choices

~ Judith ~ 4 Comments

I couldn’t stop reading this accomplished debut novel. Confessions gets off to a dramatic beginning – New York, September 2001, the day the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre were attacked. And that’s where teenage Cora’s father works. There’s her slow realisation that he won’t be coming home. Help comes from an unexpected quarter – an Aunt Roísín she didn’t know she had, and it’s away to Ireland and a new life.

Rather than following Cora’s fresh start in Ireland, the story switches back to describe two sisters growing up and struggling with the sudden loss of their father. Their mother takes to her bed and the sisters, Maire and Roísín, do their best. Maire is a brilliant artist but has mental health issues. Fortunately there’s Michael who adores her and is like a brother to Roísín. We’re also with Maire when she earns a scholarship to New York and her struggles to fit in with a narrative shift told interestingly in the second person.

Almost like a character in itself is the big old mansion outside the village, once a stately home, that has become a refuge for women seeking an alternative lifestyle. Known as The Screamers, it offers a new chance first to Maire, and later the home for Roísín and the returning young Cora. It is where Cora’s daughter, Lyca, digs into the past and finds some long buried secrets.

On the walk home from midnight mass you go inside a phone box. Shutting yourself in reminds you of being inside the confessional booth back home. Your first confession, when you wanted to tell Father Peter about Jesus winking at you from the cross over the altar. Your mother had told you that this was a false image, that you were imaging things. But it didn’t feel fair to count this as a sin when you weren’t the one doing the winking. Instead, said you sometimes wished your sister was dead. This seemed to satisfy the priest, who sent you off to pray the rosary.

In Confessions we have the repeated themes of girls growing up without a father, teen pregnancies, too much freedom or too much restraint. These young women are all smart enough to do well in a world that accepts them for who they are, but it’s going to take more recent generations – Cora, and then Lyca – for that to happen, and a more modern Ireland. But it’s the long buried secrets that keep the reader on their toes to the end. How will they disturb the fragile memories Cora in particular has of her parents?

And the writing is wonderful, finely tuned to each character and allowing them to tell their story, vivid and at times very intense. The setting of New York in particular is an interesting highlight – it comes through as a walker’s city, shown from the ground up, as well as a place of surprising vistas when seen from a high-rise building. The contrast with a small Irish town couldn’t be more stark – the closed-in feel of the early interiors, then Screamers with its warren of rooms.

This is a well put-together story, the threads of the different characters carefully woven in and, at the same time, written from the heart. I was glad to receive this advance reader copy thanks to Netgalley, in return for an honest review. Confessions is due for release late January and a four-and-a-half star read from me.

Book Review: The Long Water by Stef Penney – an enthralling Nordic mystery with dark echoes from the past

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I’m always excited to see a new novel by Stef Penney. Her new novel, The Long Water, takes its name from a river in a rugged part of Norway within the Arctic Circle, where there’s a string of lakes and rivers, guarded by “mountains that rise out of the water like teeth”. It’s a remote area that once fostered mining, but with most mines now closed, the economy is now more reliant on tourism.

In the town of Fauske, senior high school students are enjoying “russ”, a kind of spring break, taking part in dares, general mayhem and partying all night before the hard work of exams begins. In the middle of this, a popular boy goes missing. Daniel was one of a group of friends who called themselves the Hellraisers and who are admired by everyone for their general coolness. A police search that goes on for days and then weeks yields not the missing boy, but a body in a mine that dates back to 1968, when the mine was closed.

The story draws you in through the eyes of several characters beginning with Svea, an elderly woman living on the outskirts of town with her dog who likes to keep to herself. Her one good friend is Odd Emil, a widower who is also Daniel’s grandfather. Svea has fallen out with her daughter, but is in contact with a granddaughter, Elin, who lives with her father, a rather conservative vicar. Now sixteen, Elin has just come out as gender fluid which at first perplexes her father, but fortunately Svea lends a sympathetic ear.

As well as being a mystery, this is also the story of Svea’s family and ongoing damage from their horrific upbringing. Svea has become strong in spite of this – the father she never knew was a German soldier stationed in Norway during the war, and her mother’s one true love. Her violent drunk of a stepfather taunted her with her doubtful parentage, but at least she had the love of her two sisters.

Elin worries that her being neurodiverse is what drove her mother away, but Svea thinks it’s more likely that her daughter has been troubled by her family’s mental health problems, in particular, an alcoholic grandmother and a fey aunt who disappeared some years ago.

My name is Svea. That’s an unusual name, you might think, for a Norwegian of my vintage. Basically, it means ‘Swedish’, although I could argue that it is a version of the masculine Sverre, from the Old Norse sverrir, meaning ‘wild, swinging’. That’s rather more exciting, but take your pick: swinging, or Swedish; I don’t care. Svea Hustoft. In town, I get called both Miss Hustoft and Mrs Hustoft. Both are equally meaningless. At one point in my life, I was called Svea Ovegaard, but I didn’t like that. Not that Hustoft is any great shakes, but at least it doesn’t have such unpleasant associations. Anyway – what is my vintage? I’m seventy-nine, if you must know, although I think it’s rather rude of you to ask. No, I don’t look it, do I? Don’t think you can get around me with flattery. It’s too late for that. Really, people these days – no manners at all.

The story also follows Benny, Elin’s friend who gets inadvertently caught up as a witness to events on the night of Daniel’s disappearance, while doing something he probably shouldn’t. And then there’s Daniel’s teacher, Marylen, who has a troubled home life and a secret attraction to Elin’s father. They are all interesting characters, well-drawn, who throw different lights onto the central mystery.

So there’s plenty of story threads. How the town deals with the disappearance of Daniel, as well as the discovery of a body pushes the plot along nicely. Elin and Svea can’t help but ask questions while hints of what happened decades ago make you whip through the pages. On top of which, Fauske is such an interesting place for a reader to visit – Stef Penney is brilliant at creating evocative settings – and you have the feeling that there are darker undercurrents that need to be brought to light, particularly around misogyny and prejudice.

While all the characters are easy to sympathise with, Svea is a particularly brilliant creation. She’s crusty and plain-spoken, loves her dog but has secrets too. Her story is slowly revealed, while we wonder if it isn’t too late for her to find peace with the past, reconnection with her family, even love. Stef Penney, who wrote the Costa Award winning: The Tenderness of Wolves, is always worth waiting for and her new book didn’t disappoint. The Long Water is a four and a half star read from me.

Book Review: The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O’Farrell – a disturbing story about family secrets and the spectre of madness

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I’ve had this book on my bedside table for what seems like forever – a ‘just in case’ sort of book for when I’d run out of anything else that begged me to pick it up. I knew it would be good – Maggie O’Farrell is always good, but the subject matter sounded sobering.

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox follows an Edinburgh family. Iris receives a letter from a solicitor about a relative she didn’t know she had, the sister of her grandmother, about to be released from care. Esme Lennox has been in a mental hospital for sixty odd years and now needs to be rehoused. Her name has been put down for a rest home, but there’s not a bed available for some weeks. Can Iris look after her in the meantime?

Iris assumes Esme must be unsafe, or unable to care for herself, or both, and with a shop to run and a busy life, is not confident she can take her aunt on. Her initial impulse is to agree to a temporary solution in a hostel. She collects Esme, a woman in her seventies, but the hostel is unwelcoming, peopled with drug addicts and volatile personalities. What can she do but put Esme up in her spare room and explore other options.

In the meantime we get Iris’s story – her close bond with step-brother Alex; the father who died young; her mother in Brisbane; her affair with a married man. Her little shop selling gorgeous pre-loved clothes and accessories. But the bulk of story is about Esme – her childhood in India with an older sister and baby brother. Her quirky personality, her stuffy, unloving parents and the terrible tragedy before the family’s return to Edinburgh. Esme is bright and rebellious, not sensible and manageable like her sister, Kitty. We follow her growing up and the events that tip her over the edge.

Iris waits for Esme to open the door but nothing happens. She puts her hand on the doorknob and turns it slowly. ‘Good morning,’ she says, as she does so, hoping she sounds more upbeat than she feels. She has no idea what she will see behind the door.
Esme is standing in the middle of the room. She is fully dressed, her hair brushed and neatly clipped to one side. She is wearing her coat, for some reason, buttoned up to the neck. There is an armchair next to her and Iris realises that she must have been pushing it across the floor. The expression on her face, Iris is astonished to see, is one of absolute, abject terror. She is looking at her, Iris thinks, as if she is expecting Iris to strike her.

It’s not a happy story, not at all, but it casts a light on the way women with mental health problems, or even if they were just a bit unruly, could be sent away to asylums. All was needed was a determined, usually male relative, and the signing off a doctor. Maggie O’Farrell imagines how a young woman like Iris would feel on discovering that her grandmother had a sister she’d never mentioned, and that that sister had been never been out of her mental facility for sixty years. Just how do you deal with that?

The two discover more about each other as secrets emerge, and in facing up to the truth, Iris also faces up to the truth of her own life, in particular her own relationships. It’s a compelling read and I was not in the least disappointed, in spite of the tragedy of Esme’s situation, as the story surges on to an attention-grabbing finale. I was hooked – I am always hooked with Maggie O’Farrell. I’m not sure if it’s her crisp writing style, or her immensely interesting and empathetically drawn characters, but her books are just so satisfying. As is this one. The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox is a five star read from me.

Book Review: The Night in Question by Susan Fletcher – a wheelchair-bound octogenarian on the trail of a killer

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Novels set in assisted living facilities are becoming quite a trend. I love the way authors such as Joanna Nell and Richard Osman create active and determined elderly protagonists, giving them a new lease of life when everyone else seems to think they ought to be taking things easy.

And you can say that about The Night in Question, which is partly a murder mystery, but a lot more besides. I was soon happily engrossed in an engaging story, but also impressed by the beautifully crafted writing. Of course I should have known I was in safe hands when I saw a recommendation on the cover from Clare Chambers.

The Night in Question is told from the point of view of Florrie Butterfield, eighty-seven and because of a mishap with some mulled wine, has to get around in a wheelchair. She has a comfy flat in Babbington Hall, a former stately home now with various levels of care for the elderly. A cheery, friendly sort, her plump form swathed in pastels, Florrie doesn’t look all that sharp, but appearances can be deceptive. For when two events take place – the first resulting in a death, the second written off as an attempted suicide – Florrie is convinced that someone else is to blame.

Teaming up with Stanhope Jones, another resident she’s got to know chatting about Shakespeare near the compost heap, Florrie is determined to get to the bottom of it. The story will unmask events that are long past, a tragedy that can’t be forgotten or it seems forgiven. But in doing so, Florrie’s own personal tragedy begins to surface, an event that has dogged her since she was seventeen.

As Florrie and Stanhope hunt down clues, research online and interview the Babbington Hall staff and residents, we slowly learn Florrie’s past. Delving into an old cheese box full of mementoes, she remembers the people she has loved. These include her parents, Bobs her brother, best friend Pinky, who was as tall as Florrie was round, and the six men who each almost captured her heart.

Florrie opens her eyes. It feels a small, quiet thought; she merely notes it, at first – there it is – as if a bird has landed inside her, preens a little, settles and closes its wings. But she continues to stare in the darkness.
Can this be true? Is it possible? And she thinks, Yes – for no other reason than it feels easy and right. It feels to fit, just so – like a good shoe. And she remembers Sergeant Butterfield at the kitchen table, saying, ‘A good policeman will listen to this, Florrie’ – tapping his chest with his middle finger. This.
Pushed. She was pushed.

Bobs was the one who probably had the most influence on how Florrie would lead her life, returning from a tank regiment in World War II, badly burned. Always yearning to see the world, Bobs implores Florrie to travel for both of them and do everything they had planned as youngsters. So while Pinky married and had a family, Florrie answered adverts in the paper for jobs in France, then Africa. With each there’s a certain someone she remembers fondly. There’s more travel and more mementoes, new relationships – but no one she dares trust with the truth of her past.

We’ll have to wait until the present day crimes are solved before we find out what it was that happened to Florrie as a girl, the tragedy only Pinky and her great-aunt every knew about. In the meantime, Stanhope does the physical things Florrie can’t – the illicit searches and foraging in the recycling skip – while Florrie chats to people. The two become closer, and the reader can’t but wonder if one day Florrie will tell Stanhope her story.

The Night in Question is a brilliant read, well paced and peppered with terrific characters. Stanhope is charming, a quiet former Latin teacher with a gentle wit. There’s Magda, young and tattooed with a heartbreak of her own, and Reverend Joe with his massive beard, ACDC T-shirts and a tendency to let out the odd swear word during church services. There’s an interesting cast among the other residents, nosy ones and gossipy ones, people Florrie tries to avoid in the dining hall, and others she feels sorry for. It all adds to a rich and entertaining story.

In finishing the novel, I can’t help feeling I’ve discovered a wonderful new author. Susan Fletcher has written seven previous books so I’ll look forward to hunting through her backlist. Her first novel, Eve Green, won the Whitbread First Novel award, and there have been other award nominations. This one’s definitely a nicely fresh take on the rest-home murder mystery and I can’t wait to see what she does next. The Night in Question is a four-and-a-half star read from me.

Book Review: Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop by Huang Bo-Reum – a novel about new beginnings, friendship and reading

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There seems to be a never ending supply of novels set around bookshops and libraries. Many are about a lot of other stuff as well, such as relationships, social issues and even war. Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is set in Seoul and as such promised a different kind of read. It follows the story of Yeongju who has turned the corner on an unsatisfactory phase in her life in order to fulfil a dream – to open her own bookshop. I’m sure many readers can relate to that idea.

It is here that Yeongju slowly comes out of her shell. She has to learn not only about business side of things, but she’s going to have to talk to people. This is difficult for someone who has a lingering sense of sadness – it’s a while before the reader discovers why. To start with her bookshop is a kind of haven – she can read when there are no customers or think about new stock or write her blog.

Then there are the connections she makes through coffee. I must say I like the idea of bookshops where there’s coffee and comfy chairs to sit and enjoy it. Yeongju finds she can’t do everything and employs Minjun as barrista. He has felt like a failure after his promising university education didn’t lead to a great career. But he finds his feet in his love for good coffee, enjoying meeting up with Yoengju’s coffee roaster friend Jimi who runs Goat Beans.

Other characters appear, including Jungsuh who just sits and knits, wondering how often she needs to buy a coffee to be allowed to stay. There’s Mincheol, a boy whose mother wants him to find something to get passionate about, hopefully books, and Seungwoo, the author who arrives to give a talk on writing. They’re all characters who are dealing with life, happiness or the lack of it, and finding their way. Running through it all are references to books, and the philosophical conversations they inspire.

Yeongju was usually a pragmatic person but when she was deeply engrossed in a story, she was like a person trying to grasp at moving clouds. Minjun found the juxtaposition interesting, as if she had one eye on reality while the other gazed at some faraway dreamland. Just the other day, she’d asked him another question about life.
‘Do you think there’s any meaning to life?’
‘Huh?’
‘I don’t think there is.’ Her proclamation was met with silence. ‘That’s why people try to make sense of their own. In the end, everyone’s life is different, according to the meaning they find.’
‘…I see.’
‘But I don’t think I can find it.’
‘Find what?’
‘Meaning. Where can you find meaning? In love? Friendship, books, bookshops? It’s not easy.’

Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is a charming, gentle story – one that won’t keep you up at night, but will quietly amuse and give you something to think about. I enjoy the odd book about people’s workplaces, and this book delivers on that, not only the bookshop, but the coffee roasting business, as well as the rat-race of people’s previous careers. It’s a fitting book for the time, with Covid lockdowns having shown us other ways to work and possibly also to think about what’s really important in life.

For the most part this was an interesting read, but for me the plot seemed to lag a little. The indecisiveness of the characters could be somewhat frustrating. Another minor issue I had was with the dialogue – I sometimes had to work to figure out who was speaking. This may well be because in Korean there are indicators such as word endings to show gender, that we don’t have in English – and which didn’t come through in the translation. Or maybe it was just me.

On the other hand, in spite of finding the book a bit slow at times, I have been left thinking about some of the ideas it presents. I am certainly glad to have read it. Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is a three-star read from me.

Book Review: Shy Creatures by Clare Chambers – a remarkable story, engrossing and heart-warming

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I bought Shy Creatures as soon as it came out as an ebook, and unlike many previously purchased novels, it didn’t sit on my bedside table languishing while I was distracted by other books passing by. It beckoned to me and I was soon engrossed – and gosh, what a satisfying read it is.

Shy Creatures is set for the most part in 1964. Helen Hansford is an art therapist at Westbury Park, a facility for mental health patients. She has been having an affair with Gil Rudden, one of the doctors, which is complicated by his wife being a distant cousin of her mother’s. Gil has promised Helen that as soon as his children are old enough to leave home, he will divorce his wife and marry her. Helen accepts the status quo and muddles on with a less than satisfactory home life, a nagging mother, and a job where she doesn’t feel she makes a lot of difference.

For all that, Helen is passionate about her work and the way Westbury Park is run. The gates are always open, and while some therapy involves dulling the patients’s minds with drugs, doctors like Gil have more modern ideas, which is one of the reasons Helen fell for him. An incident at a nearby house leads Helen and Gil to discover a man who has been shut up indoors for at least ten years along with his only relative, a frail and elderly aunt.

William Tapping, now in his late thirties, has been found in a bad way, in a state of undress, a beard down to his stomach and apparently mute. The house is in a state of disrepair, filthy windows letting in no light, the garden a jungle. When social services intervene, William and his aunt are whisked away to Westbury Park. Here Aunt Louisa implores Helen to find a container hidden in the flour bin that no one else should see, but while she’s at the house, Helen also discovers some drawings in William’s room that display the work of a talented artist.

At the discovery of this cache, Helen’s pulse quickened and she felt a tingle of excitement. No one who had passed through the art therapy room during her residency had shown anything approaching this level of talent. Of all the professionals at Westbury Park, she was uniquely placed to help this hidden man emerge from his place of silence. Even Gil did not have her advantage.

The story follows Helen’s efforts to make a connection with William through art as well as her tracking down some old acquaintances – people he knew at school – in an attempt to find out more about him. We have the ups and downs of Helen’s relationships with Gil, as well as her family, particularly with a teenage niece who has a kind of breakdown. Woven into all of this is William’s story, going back steadily in time until we get to the day when his life changed dramatically, putting in place the kind of house arrest his family imposed on him.

It’s a fascinating story with Clare Chambers’s usual wit and brilliantly evoked characterisation – one of the things that puts her books on my must-read list. And it’s a sad story too, as we consider William’s wasted years. The author recreates the era of the sixties – the music and clothes as well as social attitudes to women, to the mentally frail. The limited choices for girls once they leave school – particularly if they want to please their mothers. We also have the war years, and the privations of rationing, the nightly fear of air raids.

If there’s a theme that often appears in books by this Clare Chambers, it is about finding a place in society when you’re not a natural fit. Many of her characters are on the quirky side and with William, we have someone who quite possibly never will find a suitable niche in the world – particularly a world like Britain in 1964. This, plus Helen’s relationship woes pulls you through the story, along with the eventual revelation of a terrible secret. It’s another brilliant read from Clare Chambers – I can’t recommend it enough – a five-star read from me.

Book Review: 33 Place Brugman by Alice Austin – an engrossing read set in WWII Brussells

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

Some stories are so much about the setting that it is like a main character. This is the case for 33 Place Brugman, an apartment building in Brussels whose residents are adjusting to life during World War II. As we know, German forces invaded Belgium in 1940 and began an occupation that would last another four years. In this novel, we are treated to a glimpse of normal life before that, and how that changed with the Occupation. The fear and the pressure to conform, to dob people in or risk your life, or else to take courage and resist – to say nothing of food shortages and loss of work.

On the fourth floor of Number 33 are two families: Francois Sauvin, an architect and his daughter Charlotte, and their neighbours the Raphaëls. Leo Raphaël is an art dealer who lives with his wife Sophia, and their children, Esther and Julian. Losing his wife in childbirth, has left Francois to raise his daughter alone, but he’s been lucky to have support from the Raphaëls, particularly Sophia, who has her nanny help out with Charlotte’s care so that Francois can work and sleep.

The children all grow up together, and the two families dine together regularly. So when the Raphaëls disappear one night, without word to anybody, it’s a bolt from the blue. They are a Jewish family, and with stories about Nazi atrocities and the likelihood of another war, the Raphaëls have been lucky to get out when they could.

The Raphaëls leave in the middle of the night, and they leave everything behind.
The sofas and chairs and beds and lamps and heavy carpets and the dining table. The films we made are in a box together with the projector, a set of oil paints, and a blank canvas. On it is a note that reads, For Charlotte. I gasp, the air coming in tight and sharp. I might have thought I was dreaming, but for that note. When I see it, I know the Raphaëls are truly gone.
In their wake, rumours swirl through the building. The Raphaëls haven’t left everything. They took their silver. And the paintings? The paintings simply disappear.

The novel follows the first years of the war and how it affects both the Raphaëls and those that remain at Number 33 – not just Francois and Charlotte, but also Masha, the Russian emigré who lives in the attic, making a living as a seamstress. There’s an elderly widowed Colonel with his dog Zipper, and nosy and unlikeable Miss Hobert – both live below the Sauvins. Next floor down are the DeBaerres whose son Dirk is an old school friend of Julian’s. Each has a part to play in the story as each has to examine their conscience and decide what is the right thing to do.

And this is what the story is so good at. It throws unheard of challenges at its characters, who are complex enough for their decisions to be difficult ones. To keep in the good books of your oppressor, to look out for your neighbour, or to fight back? How to feed your family and to keep them safe.

The novel is also a love story. Firstly, there’s Charlotte, who meets Philippe at art school, where she’s talented and able to see the world in a different way, being quite colourblind. But then there’s Julian, who has always loved Charlotte, which worries his mother. The story also brings in the work of the French Resistance in Paris, through the nefarious Harry, a friend of the Colonel, as well as the war in the air, with Julian signing up for the RAF. This gives the novel plenty of strands, and adds some excitement to balance out the quietly tense periods of the plot, as pressure slowly builds.

For me, 33 Place Brugman was an engaging novel and I was soon swept up in the lives of Charlotte, Julian and their families. It’s quite nail-biting at times, when the reader knows more about the danger around the corner than the characters. The story is also threaded with philosophy, particularly that of Wittgenstein, who is discussed quite a lot – but not knowing a lot about him, I found these references somewhat beguiling. The writing is beautiful though; the characters come to life on the page, as do the settings.

I would have loved to learn what happens to the characters by the end of the war, as the story finishes even before D-Day. An epilogue, maybe? But overall I really enjoyed this original view of the war, and its splendidly evoked setting – so it’s four-stars from me. 33 Place Brugman is to be published on 11 March, 2025 . This advance copy was provided by Netgalley in return for an honest review.

Book Review: Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld – a warm and witty novel that explores the affairs of the heart

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I loved Eligible, Curtis Sittenfeld’s modern interpretation of Pride and Prejudice, written for The Austen Project and published in 2016. It was smart, funny and romantic, and a very clever update. So I was expecting a similar vibe with Romantic Comedy, a novel about a sketch writer for a late night TV show and an unexpected romance.

Sally Milz has been writing comedy sketches for The Night Owls for almost ten years and has seen a lot of talent come and go. When fellow writer Danny starts dating Annabel, a beautiful actress who is also super talented and bright, Sally is peeved. Why is it that fairly ordinary guys like Danny can date and even plan a future with women who are way out of their league, when it never happens the other way around? There have been several Danny/Annabel type matches at the studio alone but you never see an ordinary-looking woman, or even a mildly pretty one, catching the eye of handsome star in his prime.

The arrival of Noah Brewster, a hugely successful and drop-dead gorgeous music star, as a guest host on the show gives Sally the perfect opportunity for a sketch to highlight this anomaly. The Danny Horst Rule would star Noah as the gorgeous guy who tries to date an average girl. Sally gets more of her skits voted in for the show that week, and so gets to spend more time with Noah at rehearsals. She finds him surprisingly nice, and what’s more, he apparently likes her. He’s easy to talk to and seems to seek her out.

The story follows their interactions and Sally’s growing attraction to Noah, a relationship that she discounts, because there’s no way a guy like that would ever think of her romantically, is there? We meet other people on The Night Owls, particularly fellow actors like Viv and Henrietta, who are Sally’s friends and sounding boards, whose advice is sometimes helpful, and often hilarious. Viv herself has met an eye doctor she’s attracted to so there’s advice going both ways. And we get a bit of Sally’s backstory – a failed marriage, the colleague who broke her heart.

Working on The Night Owls, Sally works excruciatingly long days, and nights, taking naps in her office, but then she’s a perfectionist and gives her work her all. She has decided never again to date a colleague, and has no time for more than an occasional night spent with someone she doesn’t care about. When Noah upsets the applecart of her carefully managed feelings, she doesn’t know what to do.

I heard someone say my name, but at first I was so deeply asleep that I incorporated the voice into my dream. I thought it was Bernard, the janitor, coming to empty my trash can, and, seamlessly, I mumbled, “You can leave the molluscs.” I felt a hand lightly pat my shoulder, and the person said, “Sally, I’m really sorry to bother you” – not a commonly uttered phrase at TNO – and I pulled the T-shrit off my eyes and the earplugs from my ears, sat straight up, and said, “What do you want?”
Hunched over the couch at such an angle that my sitting up had brought our faces within a few inches of each other was Noah Brewster.

This was a fun read for the most part. I found the look behind the scenes of a television show fascinating and Sittenfeld peoples it with plenty of interesting characters and scenarios. Danny’s and Annabel’s relationship has its ups and downs and so there’s plenty going on. There are ups and downs for Sally and Noah too, and a lot of the story has the reader wondering: will they or won’t they? There’s Covid and the lock-downs, long-distance communication and a lot of soul searching. So while this is in many ways a romantic comedy, it’s also at times a serious look at love and life.

Curtis Sittenfeld has written a smart, thoughtful and very romantic novel which has moments of laugh-out-loud humour. My only quibble is that Sally can be difficult company at times, with a tendency to shoot herself in the foot to make a point. Sometimes I wanted to give her a good telling off. So while I didn’t enjoy Romantic Comedy quite as much as Eligible, it’s still entertaining and clever – and a three-and-a-half-star read from me.

Book Review: Back Trouble by Clare Chambers – an oldie but a goodie from a favourite author

~ Judith ~ Leave a comment

If you enjoyed Clare Chambers’s last book, Small Pleasures, as much as I did, you’ll be pleased to know her new book, Shy Creatures, is out soon. I’ve always loved this author’s particular way with empathy and humour, so when I found an earlier book by Chambers at a second-hand bookshop, I was delighted, in spite of having read it years before.

Back Trouble, first published in 1994, is about Philip, who is about to turn forty, and his life for the most part seems to have gone to custard. We first catch up with him at an awkward family New Year’s celebration. His insurance broker brother Raymond is over from Canada with a new batch of photos of his children, recounting their successes (the football and the gymnastics), while Philip has never felt less like celebrating. With the failure of his publishing company he is in debt up to his eyeballs and the love of his life having gone home to New Zealand, life couldn’t get any worse, could it?

A cold chip from an overflowing municipal bin sends Philip head over tail and the ensuing back injury leaves him bedridden. There’s nothing to do but to fish out the notebook and pens from under his bed and begin to write the story of his childhood – a New Year’s challenge flung out by Raymond, to be completed in three months – just a thousand words a day – no probs. We are reminded that this is the 1990s and the Internet is in its infancy, although probably a more modern-day Philip wouldn’t be diverted by technology as he’d be out of data anyway – he’s that strapped for cash.

The story alternates between scenes of Philip’s growing up in a working class home in London – baths once a week in a tin tub in the kitchen and gristly stew for dinner – with the year he spends falling in love with Kate. Kate’s a health worker from New Zealand on a limited working visa and a breath of fresh air for Philip and the problems. Each chapter concerns a pivotal point – a bit like a short story – a visit with Kate to Philip’s father’s sheltered flat by the sea; a childhood family holiday by the sea; a wedding; home improvements – ordinary things in themselves, but with significance to the whole.

The kitchen was the first room to be tackled. One of the men from the building site had given Dad and industrial-sized drum of bottle green paint from the batch which his brother, who worked for the Council, had been using to paint the park railings. Cost was Dad’s only criterion in selecting materials. This meant garish rolls of wallpaper from the bargain bucket outside the DIY shop, the top six inches of every roll faded by the sun, and brushes which moulted into the paint. He had an idiosyncratic way of decorating. Being both nervous and impatient he didn’t believe in preparing surfaces, always fearing that something terrible might be lurking beneath a layer of bubbly paper or flaking paint. So instead of stripping paintwork, or even washing it, he would set straight to work, brushing gloss over old gloss, dust, mould and even, in one instance, a dead spider which lay preserved like a Pompeian relic in its shell of green paint.

Philip is such a self-deprecating narrator – he has no illusions about where he’s at as he approaches forty – and his story is warmly humorous as it rattles along to a nicely surprising ending. There are some poignant moments too, particularly in Philip’s childhood, with adults not behaving as they ought to and the weight of knowledge that falls on a young boy growing up. It is easy to blame Philip’s careless yet penny-pinching father, but other adults also turn out to be unreliable or even predatory.

Odd allusions to Great Expectations add an interesting twist. There are a raft of curious characters, quirky, helpful or otherwise, which may be another nod to Dickens, particularly the scene at Philip’s grandmother’s house – the blind matriarch and hoarder of useless furniture, including four unplayable pianos, terrifying in her fierceness; the black-toothed Auntie Florrie smoking her woodbines; Punnet the obese black labrador. It’s like stepping back in time.

For a small book, Clare Chambers packs quite a lot in and it’s hugely entertaining. I know she can always be relied upon for an original and big-hearted read so I am so looking forward to Shy Creatures, released on Amazon at the end of the month. Back Trouble is a four-star read from me.