In My Mailbox: Holiday Edition

Hello all, and apologies for my prolonged absence, aside from my little pop-up appearances on 12 Books 12 Months, which I'd like to thank Ali for again. Things have been a littllleee stressful, shall we say, and unfortunately all interest of sitting at my computer after hours just fell away into the ether, and all I wanted to do with my downtime was watch Mad Men and read books completely unaccountably in the darling little cafe that opened up a month or two ago just down the road from my flat. It was a little scary, after angling all my efforts towards the words on my computer screen an' all, but I think I'm over the worst of it now, which is no bad thing because, at the last count, I have eight books hanging around for review (!) and perhaps need to get them done before I forget the main plot points and the protagonist's name.

Anyway, I thought I'd make a start with an In My Mailbox post, hosted as ever by The Story Siren, detailing the books I devoured on a blissful stress-bursting holiday to Croatia, from whence I returned yesterday. Reviews of all to follow the inevitably epic Union Jack-waving, bunting-laced, Coronation chicken-flavoured Jubilee weekend which starts tomorrow in the UK. Yay for the Queen! And now to the books:

 I picked up 'Eugenie Grandet' by Honore de Balzac at my local library quite impulsively whilst looking for Croatian travel guides in the week before I was off on my hols. This is a book that I've been meaning to read for about a year now, after hearing Rose Tremain endorse it as 'the book she'd most like to pass onto the next generation' at the Vintage Classics Day at Foyle's on Charing Cross Rd back in May last year. Apparently, she's also done the TV adaptation for this book, which is currently in development with Lime Pictures.

I changed tack a bit for the next book I read:'Deadlocked: A True Blood Novel' by Charlaine Harris.  This is the twelfth of thirteen planned Sookie Stackhouse novels (that the thirteenth one is the final one was confirmed the other day) and since becoming a bit obsessed with True Blood the HBO TV show, I've bought them all as soon as they've been released. I suppose it's my happy concession to the vampire craze :)


 


Then came 'The Sisters Brothers' by Patrick Dewitt, a stunningly-covered book that was sent to me as part of the last round of books from the More4 TV Book Club. What a book. Really looking forward to reviewing this one.  

 

 

I then arrived to the party about 3 years after the main players left it by finally reading 'One Day' by David Nicholls, although unfortunately after my husband had been somewhat destroyed by it, so the spoiler for everyone else was not a spoiler for me. Ho hum. FYI, I did not find it hard to relate to Emma.

Then, shock horror, I was out of books! (At least, until Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy became free.) This, 'Frenchman's Creek' by Daphne du Maurier, was hanging around the hotel lobby, waiting to be borrowed, and from amongst the stiff competition posed by German translations of the Scandinavian crime classics and Jackie Collins' 'The Stud', I picked up this as 'Rebecca' is such a fave (it was actually a fairly close run thing).

Thanks to this book, I realise now that what everyone needs in their life is a French philosopher-pirate.




And to the last! I'm still reading John le Carre's 'Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy' as I write this, and I think I know what's going on. I think. (Cough.)


Look for reviews of all of these, plus a few more, in the next few weeks.  





'Ashenden' by W. Somerset Maugham

'I'll tell you an incident that occurred only the other day and I can vouch for its truth. I thought at the time it would make a damn good story. One of the French ministers went down to Nice to recover from a cold and he had some very important documents with him that he kept in a dispatch-case. They were very important indeed. Well, a day or two after he arrived he picked up a yellow-haired lady at some restaurant or other where there was dancing, and he got very friendly with her. To cut a long story short, he took her back to his hotel - of course it was a very imprudent thing to do - and when he came to himself in the morning the lady and the dispatch-case had disappeared. They had one or two drinks up in his room and his theory is that when his back was turned the woman slipped a drug into his glass.'

R. finished and looked at Ashenden with a gleam in his close-set eyes.
'Dramatic, isn't it?' he asked.
'Do you mean to say that happened the other day?'
'The week before last.'
'Impossible,' cried Ashenden. 'Why, we've been putting that incident on the stage for sixty years, we've written it in a thousand novels. Do you mean to say that life has only just caught up with us?'

'Ashenden, or, The British Agent' by W. Somerset Maugham, is a book based upon Somerset Maugham's own experiences as a spy in Switzerland during WWI, which is remarkable for being the first collection of published spy stories written by someone who has actually done the job. Already a celebrated writer in 1914, Somerset Maugham's cover as a writer who was in various European locales for research and relaxation was inspired, but I do wonder at the logic of dispatching a writer on your most secret missions, and then expecting them to stay entirely secret. This collection was first published in 1928, so I do wonder if a little 10-years-of-silence deal was done before he was made privy to the establishment's inner workings.






Review: 'The Death of the Adversary' by Hans Keilson

"His death is enough. Tell!"

"He will fall, Father, like a dead thing, a rotten branch, bare and desiccated, whihc a mountain stream sweeps down into the abyss. Or like a stone, cold and hardened against the perils of a fall through the blind night, leaving no luminous trail that could one day light torches in the memory, before it buries itself in the soil of the steppes which no human or animal foot will ever tread. Such will be his death: bare and unfruitful, like the avalanche of stones under which he lies anonymously buried, the refuse of extinct planets, and there is nothing more to tell."

Hans Keilson's 'The Death of the Adversary' is a very strange book. 

Throughout its 208 page, the narrator remains vague and nameless, cities are known only by initials, the country is never referred to and the adversary is never given an identity beyond that. It's a mysterious book strangely lacking in Proper Nouns or concrete ties, that might lock it down to a country, an era, a place.

If you didn't know better, you'd think it was some kind of dystophian coming-of-age story in which the young man pits himself against some kind of Big Brother, where the adversary is a known person and the narrator is one of a persecuted mass. Of course, though, we all do know better - we have all heard of WWII, after all - and then it becomes a bleak and horrifying look at the diabolical relationship between Hitler and the Jews of Germany, of which Hans Keilson was one.







The Christmas Gift Picker

Stuck for ideas for presents? I know, get them books! Seeing as that is not the kind of information you normally get from me (ha), you know to take it seriously and oblige.

This might help: The Vintage Book's Gift Picker.

And failing that, get them 'A Christmas Carol' (no-one can resist Tiny Tim - what a bummer that I didn't manage to get to that before Christmas. Look forward to an unseasonable review in February!) or Jilly Cooper's 'How to Survive Christmas'(I remember seeing this on my mum's bedstand when I was younger and being like 'Mum? Are you ok?')

I imagine most families fit into the mould of one or another or these.

My other contribution to Christmas this year is the addition of green to my usual red blog theme. I did doctor the Tolstoy is my Cat logo in Paint, adding a Christmas hat and some holly, but it looked so naff that I won't be uploading it here. I was also a little concerned that the logo designer, who's a friend on facebook, might see that I'd destroyed her logo with lame makeshiftness, so out of respect for her, I have abstained :)

I so wish it would snow! Snow always makes me want to take my delicious copy of Dr. Zhivago off the shelf and waft around looking pale in furs. Of course, in reality, it's exciting for a day or two, or for as long as you don't have to spend much time outdoors, and then it becomes the most annoying thing since unsliced bread. 

Some for Christmas would be nice though, wouldn't it?  





Book Quote Friday: The Happy Ending

      Sometimes, at the end of a rough day, all you want is food, bath and the miraculous good fortune of a happy ending in your bedtime read. 

     I know there’s been a bit of a Rose Tremain love in on this blog lately (I most recently talked abut her short story, Moth), but after seeing her speak at the Vintage events I’ve worked my way back through a fair part of her back catalogue. As a general conclusion, it rocks. If you haven’t read much of hers, you should probably stop reading now as seeing the name of the book will tell you the ending of said book (tis tricky to write a post about a happy ending without revealing the ending, of course) and these books are so good that I wouldn’t want to do anything that would discourage you from reading any of them.







Book Quote Friday: Bohane

You know, sometimes you come across a book that shatters your concept of what a book could, or should, be with a new hook, a fresh turn or a incredible imagination stretch. You lay it down halfway through and exhale deeply, incredulously, not wanted to let it go from your hands but needing to take a break to come to terms with the onslaught. The magical and spell-binding onslaught. You’ve had that, right? This book is one of those. 







Vintage Classics Day

     On Saturday I attended my second event of the Vintage Book's 21st birthday celebrations (the first being the Vintage Open Day; read my account here), the Vintage Classics Day, at Foyles on Charing Cross Rd. It was a star-studded event that sold out days in advance and served very well to illustrate the beauty and depth of the Vintage backlist and our own literary heritage, the idea being that we were ‘celebrating classics with the writers who will be the classics of the future’. These writers were, namely, Sebastian Faulks, Lionel Shriver, Mark Haddon, Sadie Jones, Jake Arnott and Rose Tremain.







Book Quote Friday: Kew Gardens

     Today's post comes from a short story that entered my life long ago, but recently re-entered it thanks to the swag obtained from the Vintage Open Day: ‘Kew Gardens’ by Virginia Woolf. It is an ecstatic account of a sunny afternoon spent amongst the flowers, which sings with lyricism, colour and life. It is stunning, as hopefully the quote below, the first paragraph of the story, will demonstrate:







Book Quote Friday: Searching for the Apolitical

     Whilst involved in the conversation about whether writing needs to be political to matter on this blog a few weeks ago, I tried to think of a novel that, rather than engaging with the politics of its era or setting, shunned any discussion of them, and was all the the richer for it. So often the personal struggles of characters are wider political commentary, and on occasion, if they is no political feeling in a novel, it can be unclear whether they were shunning involvement in it or whether there was just nothing going on at the time.

     A thought then came to me, a whisper of a memory of a review, which turned out to be this:







The Ten Commandments of Reading, Writing and Publishing

       Back in the dark depths of last year (well, November) Vintage Books ran a competition on Twitter that asked their followers to define the 10 commandments of reading, writing and publishing, and there'd be a prize (books, obv.) for the suggestions that made the final cut. A surprisingly hard thing to do, as it turns out, especially when combined with the obligatory 140 character limit that is the Twitter standard. I came up with numbers 1, 3, 5 and 10 at the time, but have been musing on the others since then. So, here we go (still sticking to the 140 character limit):