Our Man in Havana - Graham Greene (1958)

 

Rating: Excellent

Graham Greene was a prolific writer, with many significant novels to his name, such as Brighton Rock (1938), The Quiet American (1955) and the screenplay to The Third Man (1949), a brilliant film that has aged extremely well. Greene also gets a pivotal reference in one of my favourite films, Donny Darko (2001), when a Greene novel that is censored by the high school gives Donny gnostic guidance. Due to his significant cultural presence and the fact that Greene is considered one of the finest novelists of the twentieth century, I've long known about him, but I had never managed to get around to reading his work. Apparently (according to Wikipedia) Greene divided his works into two genres, thrillers, which he referred to as 'entertainments' and the others as 'literary works'. I'm uncertain as how Our Man in Havana should be regarded, being a black comedy of sorts with a light humorous tone; ostensibly it's not a thriller, but I have a feeling that Greene perhaps regarded it as one of his 'entertainments'. The novel is genuinely funny, following the adventures of vacuum cleaner salesman, James Wormold, a world weary man who's wife left him to be the sole parent of his teenage daughter, Milly, who has a extravagant lifestyle to maintain. When Wormold is approached by the mysterious MI6 plant, Hawthorne, to spy for MI6 he reluctantly takes up the offer in order to help cover the cost of his daughter's many worldly desires. There begins a series of tricky situations, faked reports and run-ins with shady characters who threaten his life. Greene himself actually was recruited into the MI6 in 1941, where he encountered information about a character call Garbo, who was based in Portugal and filed fictitious reports in order to gain bonuses and keep his espionage career going. 

Greene, contemplating his 'entertainments'

Published four years before the Cuban Missile Crisis, which took the world to the brink of nuclear war, the novel is eerily prescient. Wormold uses the fittings from one of the vacuum cleaners he sells as inspiration for faked drawings of military structures in the mountainous areas of Cuba, and of course MI6 are very concerned. Wormold nominates a range of informants, some of whom he knows of, but does not know in person. Reality and falsehood collide when weird things start to happen to his informants, leading to some very tricky situations indeed. There's some romance too, when love interest Beatrice Severn is sent from MI6 to assist Wormold. There's also the comedic, yet pathetic character of Dr. Hasselbacher, an elderly German expat who is Wormold's only real friend in Havana. He also has to deal with the sinister threat of Captain Segura, a military thug and the owner of a wallet supposedly made from human skin, who has romantic designs on Milly. Such characters, on paper, could seem like caricatures, however Greene really brings them alive and imbues them with complex motives and human foibles. Greene's prose is concise and snappy, providing a propulsive edge to the narrative. It's a clever and classy novel and one gets the sense that, well, they just don't write them like this any more. If Our Man in Havana is typical of Greene's oeuvre then I'm keen to explore further novels. Greene was certainly prolific, with some 26 novels, numerous short stories, plays and screenplays published. Our Man in Havana was also adapted for a movie in 1959, starring Alec Guinness and Noel Coward and was critically acclaimed at the time, although hasn't had the same afterlife as The Third Man, but if it is any where near as fine as the novel it would be worth watching.

Our Evenings - Alan Hollinghurst (2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

Another book club read, the second by Alan Hollinghurst, with the first being The Stranger's Child (2011), which was the follow-up to the Man Booker Prize winner, The Line of Beauty (2004). I enjoyed Our Evenings a great deal more than The Stranger's Child, which, looking back at my review, I ultimately found 'turgid'. Our Evenings is character driven, told via the first person point of view of David Win, beginning when he is a fourteen-year old student at one of England's well to do private schools; he is also the beneficiary of financial support from Mark Hadlow, the philanthropist plutocrat patriarch, who's son, Giles Hadlow, is Win's frenemy and a future political force in the UK. Win is an outsider, is of mixed race (part Burmese), from a single parent family (his mother, Arvil, has her own significant role in the novel) and is gay. Despite Win's outsider status he thrives at school, at university (Oxford) and despite some setbacks, goes on to become a successful actor. Our Evenings is the story of his life and the story of the changing attitude to homosexual relationships over the decades, as well as the rise of a new era of intolerance as personified by Giles Hadlow, who goes on to be a right-wing Tory politician who campaigns to remove the UK from the European Union (Brexit). There's some serious themes at play, both personal and universal, but the novel proceeds at a languid pace as we follow the episodic narrative of David Win's life, rather than ratcheting up the tension. At first the novel appears too passively reflective, however as Win grows up and faces the challenges of adulthood the narrative becomes absorbing and fascinating. It draws you into Win's world of theatre, love and friendship, all narrated via his wry observational voice.

One of the strengths of Our Evenings is Hollinghurst's elegant style, there are plentiful beautiful passages throughout. The novel rewards close reading, revealing a narrative dense with sophisticated descriptive power. I rarely quote from books, but I just have to share my favourite passage in which Win is enduring a speech from Giles Hadlow: "I blanked out what he said, tipped my head back and gazed up at the great glass dome. Beyond it, in slow transition of dusk, silver planes could be seen escaping, bright in the last sun above the darkening city." It's so evocative and beautiful, but also it shows a character in opposition to the mainstream attitudes as personified by Hadlow, of conservative righteousness and philistinism. This opposition between Win and Hadlow's lives, and what it represents, is not laboured by Hollinghurst, but it is palpably felt throughout the novel, even during lengthy periods in which Hadlow is absent, but not forgotten. Our Evenings is both a very personal exploration of what it meant to be gay and an artist in the era since the middle of last century and an exploration of where we've ended up politically and culturally. It's subtle, clever and close to brilliant. In the great novelistic tradition of showing, but not telling, Hollinghurst sums up the era of the likes of Trump and Boris Johnson (whom Hadlow mostly resembles) with a great scene in which Hadlow, now the Minister for the Arts, leaves early during a performance involving Win in a helicopter, which completely drowns out the performance in a show of ugly egotistical distain. Although some readers may find the novel's slow pace and character driven narrative too much of a slog, Our Evenings really is worth the time and stands as a beautiful, topical and touching literary work.

Leviathan - Paul Auster (1992)

 

Rating: Excellent

I'd long wanted to read a Paul Auster novel, having seen his books on shelves for many years, without really knowing that much about him, other than he seemed to be a typical 'New York' writer. That phrase could be taken as a compliment, or a put down, in Autser's case it's definitely a compliment, as Leviathan is a cut above the typical narratives about kooky New Yorkers getting into scrapes. The critical opinion of Auster is that he was a significant post-modern author, using multilayered narratives, and typically exploring themes of identity, chance, the nature of truth and identity. His childhood directly influenced his writing, having witnessed a lightening strike that killed a teenager while they were on a school camp, Auster became obsessed with the role of chance in life. Leviathan explores chance through the lives of various characters, most notably the friends, Peter Aaron and Benjamin Sachs, who are both writers (Auster's protagonists are typically writers apparently). Chance events and chance meetings with other characters drives Sachs to take some radical directions in his life, all told from the perspective of the narrator, his friend Aaron. Sachs struggles with self-worth and the nature of purpose, and being a novelist ends up being viewed by him as a trite manner in which to engage with the world, instead Sachs takes a more radical path. Sachs' journey is compelling, maddening and, ultimately, tragic. 

Auster, contemplating the nature of chance

Auster's writing is dense, layered and full of tension and mystery, which makes for compelling reading. This novel really gets under your skin, you begin to live it. The unravelling of the mystery of just how Sachs ends up at the point of his ultimate fate is engaging and fascinating. Auster could really write believable and complex characters, including the female characters, such as Sachs wife, Fanny, who is also a romantic interest for Aaron. Another brilliant female character is Maria Turner, a photographer who is based on French conceptual artist, Sophie Calle. Turner is the fulcrum around which the other characters move through the complex plot, in particular Sachs, who is strongly influenced by Turner's experiments with art, chance and lifestyle. Aaron's narrative voice draws in the reader, like a story-teller around a camp fire, you want to stay with him and be pulled further into the story (or even the fire). The plotting is circular in nature, with Sachs' fate revealed at the beginning, and the path that led him there is then fleshed out by Aaron's musings and investigations. It's like a detective story with political and cultural leanings, piecing together fragments of the complex life of Sachs and his search for meaning within the context of America and its place in the world. The novel's title is a direct reference to Thomas Hobbes exploration of society and the nature of government, Leviathan (1651); some familiarity with its themes would help decipher Auster's Leviathan, although it's not essential. Appropriately the novel begins with a dedication to DonDello, one of the twentieth century's greatest writers, who is also another 'New York' writer who transcends that label. Auster and DeLillo were friends, but on the evidence of this novel, they were certainly also equals. It's such a pity that Auster passed away in 2024, but at least there's his rich body of work, of which I'll be reading more of in the coming years, and so should you.

Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke (1953)

 

Rating: Excellent

It's been some twenty five years since I last read Arthur C. Clarke's work. As a teenager and beyond I must have read at least a dozen of his novels, but I never got around to reading Childhood's End. Somehow I even missed out on encountering any hint regarding its plot or themes, and for that I am grateful. It has long been regarded as a true science fiction masterpiece, despite many of its tropes becoming science fiction cliches in the ensuing decades. Essentially an alien invasion narrative, Childhood's End begins with the space race, but not that one, instead it begins with an opening chapter that Clarke rewrote in 1990, replacing a competitive cold war race to land on the moon, with a united effort to reach Mars in the twenty-first century; until it is interrupted by the arrival of massive alien spacecraft that hover over the major cities of the world. Sounds familiar? Such a scenario has been played out countless times, particularly in the TV series V (1983, 1984-85) and the godawful movie, Independence Day (1996). Fortunately Clarke's approach is far more subtle, intelligent, philosophical and powerful. The aliens remain hidden for the first third of the novel, instead they direct humanity from behind the scenes into a utopian age in which all suffering ceases and world peace endures. I'd forgotten just how good Clarke's writing was, he was certainly stylistically sound, but more significantly he really knew how to build suspense and create an expectation that the secrets that are bubbling away under the surface would be worth the wait. This is exactly how it played out for me, not knowing the true nature of the aliens, dubbed the 'Overlords' by humanity, the reveal that arrives a third of the way through the novel was impactful and satisfying. 

Arthur C. Clarke - master of suspense

Childhood's End contains themes that Clarke would explore later in his career, but here the notion of a transcendent higher power comes with definite uncertainty as to just how benevolent it really is, unlike 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), in which there seems to be a no stings attached evolutionary assist from higher powers. The Overlords themselves appear consistently benevolent throughout, however Clarke gives subtle hints as to what is really going on throughout the novel. When an Overlord known as Rashaverak attends a party at the residence of a man called Rupert Boyce and is found to be perusing his large collection of books on the paranormal, you can't help but be intrigued as to what is really going on. Clarke takes his time to let the reader in on the secret, something some modern readers can get impatient about, perhaps confirmed by some of the comments on Goodreads, with a couple of readers remarking that the novel is "tedious to get through". Actually the novel is perfectly paced, with the reveals regarding the Overlord's planet of origin, their ultimate role in Earth's fate and the nature of that fate itself, coming as well timed rewards for a little bit of patience. Childhood's End is an almost perfect science fiction novel and is rightly regarded as Clarke's best, it was also the moment when Clarke broke through as a novelist, both critically and commercially. On completion I was left with feelings of both wonder, and a nameless dread. Despite the unscientific paranormal elements Clarke utilises in the novel, the hard science aspects are sound, and given what we now know about the nature of the universe (that most of what is going on in the cosmos is a total mystery), the notion that we could at some stage be ultimately confronted by the shocking truth of the true nature of existence is not beyond the realms of possibility. 

Annihilation - Michel Houellebecq (2022, English translation, 2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

I first read Houellebecq way back in the early twenty-first century, when I discovered his novel Atomised (1998) at an airport bookstore and read it on my holiday; not exactly holiday reading, but it was compelling nonetheless. Bleakly existential and darkly funny, it was also very sexy, and also, like the first time I read Murakimi (Dance Dance Dance, 1994), so startlingly fresh that I couldn't help but became an instant fan. Annihilation still contains elements of the in your face controversy and freshness of Houellebecq's earlier work, but here it is somewhat toned down, resulting in a work that comes across as serious, adult writing, focussing on universal Existential themes of what it is to be human. Annihilation reminds me of John Fowles writing, in particular his novel Daniel Martin (1977), both in terms of quality and thematic complexity. Annihilation has three main narrative strands, one focusing on the principal protagonist, Paul Raison and his family life, the second dealing with a terrorist group that posts gnomic videos and messages online, and the third dealing with the mysterious workings of French politics. All three are interrelated, with Raison working as an advisor to the French minister of finance, Bruno Juge. Juge is one of the targets of the terrorist group, who depict him as being decapitated with a guillotine in a disturbing deepfake video. Raison has personal problems related to his ailing father, his siblings and his fading marriage to his wife Prudence (she's revealed to be a vegan, a pagan and the owner of at least three pairs of hot-pants). It's an unusual blend of themes, but Houellebecq makes it work and the novel is oddly compelling, despite the prose sometimes coming across as rather flat, which may be a stylistic choice unto itself, or the translation.

Within the scope of Raison's family life Houellebecq explores the problematic moral and practical concerns of the care given to the aged and infirm, with his retired father having suffered a major stroke that leaves him paralysed. Houellebecq critiques the West's flawed attitudes to age and death, both in terms of how the State deals with it, and how individuals deal with it within the West's spiritual and religious vacuum. Raison's sister, Cecile, is a Christian, and her beliefs and coping mechanisms are used to highlight the opposing secular attitudes of her brother (in the end, Christianity is shown as not really being of much use...). Raison's relationship with his wife is at the heart of some of the novel's most positive and heartwarming moments. Houellebecq, it seems, is fully prepared to explore redemption within a romantic relationship, which, given what usually happens in his other novels, comes as somewhat of a shock. Indeed, the terms positive and heartwarming would not have been used in any reviews as descriptors of his previous work. But within the novel's narrative framework it works well and you can't help but be happy for the married couple, although, of course they are eventually confronted with some of life's most bleakest and inevitable outcomes. Paul and Prudence's relationship also contains some of Houellebecq's trademark sexual frankness, with Prudence being described in one extended scene as being almost permanently up for it, while also administering sexual favours that last for hours. It almost makes one long to be married. Meanwhile the matter of the terrorists is not fully resolved, which surprised me, but perhaps it is just like the other events in the novel, both the personal and the political - just another thing that happens in the black theatre of life, running along in the background, oblivious to the triumphs and tragedies of human life. Annihilation of one of Houellebecq's most satisfying and fascinating novels', if you are new to his writing it is perhaps best to start elsewhere, but ultimately it stands as one of his best.

Table for Two - Amor Towles (2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

The Subiaco Library Book Club ended 2024 on a high with this fine collection of six short stories and one novella. Since emerging in 2011 with the successful novel, Rules of Civility, which was written across twenty years on weekends as Towles worked in investment banking, he has become one the era's most successful novelists. Table for Two has a direct connection with Rules of Civility, revisiting the character of Evelyn Ross, who, by the end of that novel had endured a car accident, the end of an engagement and had diverted her trip home to end up in Los Angeles. The novella Eve in Hollywood follows her adventures in late 1930s Hollywood, where she befriends actress Olivia de Havilland and, with the help of assorted characters, helps fend off those that would do her harm. The novella encompasses half of Table for Two and reads like a homage, but not a satire of, noir crime novels from that era. It is a fine novella, however it is slightly over-plotted and suffers in comparison with the six short stories that proceed it, which are beautifully written and succinct. Eve in Hollywood is well worth reading, but the short stories, which are among the finest I've ever read, are at the heart of this collection.

The short stories, grouped under the heading, New York, begin with The Line, set during the Communist Revolution in Russia circa 1917, with a married couple journeying from their farm to the heart of the revolution in Moscow. It's a clever story of finding one's place in the scheme of things by adapting in ways that are counter to the prevailing politic environment. The Line is funny and very clever, and, like many of these stories, dovetails nicely to a conclusion that brings delight. The Ballad of Timothy Touchett is perhaps my favourite. Touchett is young struggling writer who is befriended by an older gentlemen in the library, whilst he is practicing the signatures of some of history's greatest writers. The gentleman offers him a job in his book shop, which is filled with first editions, and Touchett is soon put to work forging signatures of long dead authors for profit, but it is the authors who still live that you need to watch out for. Once again the writing is humorous and very clever. Towles' prose is elegant and spacious, uncluttered of extranious detail, allowing the narrative to flow beautifully to its natural conclusion. All of the short stories have this in common, with many of them containing subtle irony and emotional poignancy. The characters are fully realised, even the ones who are described in just a few sentences, and scenes are acutely visual in their descriptive power. Table for Two really is a masterclass in short form writing and Towles' prose is literary fiction that elevates popular fiction to where it should be, quality but pleasurable reading.

10,000 Light-Years from Home - James Tiptree Jr. (1973)

 

Rating: Excellent

James Tiptree was actually a female writer using a male pen name to help her work be accepted in the male dominated world of science fiction. Her name was Alice Sheldon and judging from the fascinating and imaginative short stories found in this volume she was one of the best science fiction authors of the 1970s and 1980s. I grabbed 10,000 Light-Years from Home off the shelf because it presented a very different proposition to the heavy tomes I've been reading lately. It didn't disappoint. Tiptree's writing style and thematic bent reminds me of the short work of Walter Tevis. The stories are written in a vivid, almost hip style that pops out of the page with its inventiveness and intelligence. The unusual story titles reveal just how clever and snappy her writing is, the first being And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side. Even after reading the story I'm not sure what it means, but the story slyly inverts the usual alien/human relationship, with the hapless humans totally addicted to the unique pleasures aliens provide. The Snows are Melted, the Snows are Gone drops the reader into an unfamiliar world with no explanation offered. The story is a vivid vignette involving an armless girl and her wolf, who trick a primitive human into capture. That's it basically, but Tiptree makes it very exciting and also leaves you wanting more. This story reminded me of the concepts found in the artwork of Moebius (Jean Giraud). In a similar fashion to Mobeius, Tiptree's stories are the kind that you just have to go with and not expect everything to be fully explained. The Peacefulness of Vivyan is the perfect example, an idiot savant who just wants to swim in an alien ocean is taken in by freaky seal-man creatures. All becomes apparent, kind of, but the writing is so good it doesn't matter either way, a big part of the reward is the narrative journey itself.

Alice Sheldon

One of the best stories in this collection is Painwise. A human starship pilot is along for the ride as his ship explores the galaxy, investigating worlds and the various freaky life-forms. He can't feel any pain, so when he is deposited on a planet it doesn't matter what happens to him, he'll survive and be patched up by the ship. Unfortunately he's had enough and tries many different ways to end his life, whilst also begging to be taken home. This is just the premise, what happens to him is ingenious and wild, you'll have to read the book to find out. Not every story has aged well, Birth of a Salesman is rooted in hip madmen style corporate argot that doesn't translate well for the current time, also the twist in the tale is just too obscure. However there's some great time travel stories, The Man Who Walked Home is brilliant and ingenious, as is Forever to a Hudson Bay Blanket, a tragic love story played out over a closed time loop. My favourite two stories are Mamma Come Home and Help. As with some of the stories in the Walter Tevis collection, Far From Home (1981), these stories feature reoccurring characters, in this case they work for NASA and are heavily involved when aliens, in the form of giant women, turn up. Tiptree has some fun satirising pulpy fantasies of giant sexy women, these women literally kill men by having sex with them, but not all is lost, as the clever ending reveals. In Help more aliens turn up and the crew have to try and deal with their religious fanaticism. Once again the satire is turned up to eleven and religion in general is the loser. These stories deal with some serious themes in fun and inventive ways, making you think a bit more deeply than you realise. Having finished 10,000 Light-Years from Home I'm not surprised that Alice Sheldon had a background in experimental psychology, worked for the CIA and was also a major in the US Air Force during WWII. Like her life, her fiction is a multifaceted and intelligent adventure. Recommended for those who want to be challenged, or who just love weird science fiction.

The Painter's Daughters - Emily Howes (2024)

 

Rating: Excellent

Another book club read, another historical fiction novel, but The Painter's Daughters is a quality example of this sometimes maligned genre. Thomas Gainsborough was an excellent landscape portrait artist, pretty much inventing the form due to his love of landscapes combining with the need to produce portraits to earn enough money to keep his family going. Married to Margaret, the illegitimate child of the union between a commoner (see below) and the Duke of Beaufort, they had two daughters, Mary (Molly) and Margaret (Peggy). As the novel's name suggests, this is about the lives of Molly and Peggy, as told through Peggy's voice, who, although the youngest of the two, spent her life looking after Molly. Molly suffered from an unnamed mental illness that led her to take flights of fancy and risked being sent to an asylum, a terrible fate in the eighteenth century. The historical aspects of The Painter's Daughters are fascinating and, from the research I undertook, stays true to what is know about the Gainsborough family. The novel follows the family from country Ipswich in Suffolk, to Bath and then onto London. As the daughters get older the pressure to fit into normal polite society mounts, and so does the narrative tension as Peggy attempts to keep Molly in check and navigate the demands and mounting frustration of their mother, who is alarmed by Molly's mental illness and their inability to fit in. There are also chapters involving said commoner, Meg, whose unfortunate story is told via past flashbacks and brings the present world of the Gainsboroughs into sharp relief.

Howes is a skilled writer, and considering that The Painter's Daughters is her debut novel, it is remarkably assured. Howes descriptive powers are such that scenes are vivid and encompass all the senses, in particular those set in the bustling streets of Bath. Although sometimes relegated to the background, Thomas Gainsborough comes to life as the affable and eccentric painter of renown. The scenes involving him painting in his studio are fascinating, atmospheric and beautifully written. The Meg chapters build in tension, despite the prior knowledge that everything does work out, Howe's makes you worry and care about her eventual fate. Peggy and Molly's story is tragic, yet contains many moments of tenderness and hope. They are extremely sympathetic characters and in Howes skilled hands they come to life. All of the characters are well developed, from the daughters themselves, through to Thomas, Margaret and the array of minor characters, such as Gainsborough's patron, the humorously named Thicknesse, his eventual wife Ann Ford and finally the bounder, (the operator of the playboy type*) of the story, Johann Fischer, an oboist of dubious renown. Fisher's presence in the Gainsborough house-hold is insidious, flirting with both sisters without compunction. That the sisters' story ends in tragedy lends a melancholic tone to The Painter's Daughters denouement, however the novel is still satisfying. Most of the book club members enjoyed the novel, finding it easy to read and replete with fascinating historical detail. It was remarked that The Painter's Daughters would be a great holiday read, although one with some substance and emotional clout. Recommended, whether you are on holiday or at home with a cup of tea and a cat on your lap.

* See Whit Stillman's film Damsels in Distress (2011)

In the Approaches - Nicola Barker (2014)

 

Rating: Excellent

First of all, In the Approaches is a very strange novel. Secondly, only an English author could write such a novel. In the Approaches is a multifaceted beast, a romantic comedy, of sorts, a surreal tale of eccentric characters being very odd in the English country-side in the 1980s, a metafictional narrative, a rumination on faith and, also, terribly chaffed and inflamed buttocks (yes, you read that correctly). The narrative unfolds in alternating first person chapters, mostly swinging between the two main protagonists, Franklin D. Huff and Carla Hahn. Hahn is a resident of the sea-side village of Pett Level in the UK and Huff is a visitor, on a quest to try and discover what happened many years prior when his wife lived and worked there, before she was horrifically burnt in a bomb blast. Stylistically it is a difficult novel to get used to, Barker loves to leave sentences unfinished, the thoughts of the characters are left there hanging as they try and make sense of the situation and how they feel about it all. She also loves parentheses (apparently this is a hallmark of Barker's writing), so much so it is made fun of throughout the novel, particularly by one of the minor characters, Clifford Bickerton. Bickerton is a thoroughly post-modern character, complaining about having to be part of the story, raging against the author (referred to as 'she') and undergoing an existential crisis due to his self awareness about just being a minor character in a novel. At one point printed words stream out of his mouth as he has a breakdown, trying to deal with the awfulness of it all. It is, in actual fact, all quite entertaining.

Once I got used to Barker's idiosyncratic style and settled into the characters and the story-arc, In the Approaches shaped up to be a satisfying read. The characters are potentially irritating, in particular Franklin D. Huff, but Barker manages to make them endearing and their continued perplexed state of being becomes a plus, rather than a minus. Just how Barker manages to do this is somewhat of a mystery, as the seperate ingredients seem like a recipe for irritation, rather than satisfaction. Perhaps it's Carla Hahn's propensity to continually flick her hair behind her ear with her hand, or her tendency to take no heed of feminine gender norms. Perhaps it's the chapters entirely given over to a parrot called Baldo (or is that Teobaldo?) who shrieks and scratches its way through what seem like entirely too long chapters (yet somehow, in the end this works). Or perhaps it's the mystery of the thalidomide child, Orla, who became saint-like in her obsession with Christianity before her death and who went on to influence proceedings in gnostic ways that perplex many of the characters who inhabit In the Approaches. Perhaps it is the romantic pull and push between Huff and Hahn, which involves a dead and rotting shark under a bed, a tiny sauna perched on a clifftop about to fall into the sea, and the strange smell of eucalyptus that surrounds them both. Intrigued? Then maybe this is the novel for you. The novel's denouement is oblique and perhaps a tad disappointing because of it, but then Barker is not a typical author prone to cliches used to wrap things up neatly, after all, the novel is aptly named, as in the end, the reader, like the characters who populate the novel, is also trapped in the approaches. 

The Bee Sting - Paul Murray (2023)

 

Rating: Excellent 

Paul Murray is an Irish writer and fittingly in the long tradition of Irish literature The Bee Sting is an epic literary work filled with weighty themes and experimentation with form. Essentially a novel about family dysfunction, it also deals with wider themes, such as climate change. The Bee Sting weaves a tapestry of alternating perspectives into a whole that is, at times, overwhelming and demanding to an almost maddening extent. The Barnes are a wealthy family living in a town just outside of Dublin, with the patriarch, Dickie, running a car dealership that has run into financial trouble. This appears to upend the family dynamic, with his wife, Imelda, and their two teenagers, Cass and PJ at odds with each other and themselves. However, there is far more going on under the surface due to a dysfunctional past that has led the Barnes family to an inflection point of crisis. Murray reveals the inner perspective of each character in turn, piecing together a narrative jigsaw puzzle that eventually leads to an understanding of both past and current events. The reader is granted direct access into the mind of Imelda via Murray’s use of stream of consciousness for all her sections. An old Modernist technique, it causes the reader the tumble over her thoughts and actions, as if you are inside her traumatised and harried mind. As a technique it is a risky move, as the lack of punctuation makes it difficult to read, but you do get used to it and ultimately it is totally appropriate for Imelda, as her experiences form the backbone of the narrative. In the latter stages of the novel Murray utilises second person intermittently, which, once again, takes a bit of getting used to, but it effectively places the reader right in the shoes of the characters.

The Bee Sting has been critically successful and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize for 2023, however once I finished it, I realised that, for me at least, it is a novel to admire, rather than one to enjoy, at least in a conventional way. Strangely, however, despite my misgivings, that The Bee Sting is far too long, has too many unsympathetic characters and forces you to relent to the overwhelming urge to speed-read large sections, I did enjoy it in a weird, almost perverse kind of way. The novel is a challenge to read, which brings its own level of enjoyment, depending on what you want from a novel. The plot presents a host of surprises, most that were already lingering in the background, but not visible enough for the reader to guess (except for the actual bee sting, that was obvious). As the plot twists and turns, it propels the reader on through a sea of words that often present a real drowning threat. It doesn’t help that all the main protagonists are dysfunctional, which makes for bleak reading, even the humour is darkly ironic. Despite these challenges The Bee Sting is a fine novel, and I can’t help admiring Murray’s literary bravery with his liberal use of narrative techniques that challenge the reader. There’s also the shear bulk of the book to consider, coming in at over 650 pages, which places unrelenting pressure on the modern reader’s attention span. Read The Bee Sting, give it a chance, but be prepared to be pushed beyond the boundaries of literary endurance. Many of the book club members hated the novel with a passion, but the few that did admire it, also hinted at some enjoyment, or at least satisfaction that they finished reading it.

The In-Between - Christos Tsiolkas (2023)

 

Rating: Excellent

The In-Between, the first book club book after a long break of five months, is the latest novel by Christos Tsiolkas, infamous author of such around the water cooler conversation starters as The Slap (2008) and Damascus (2019), (actually, not a around the water cooler for this one, more like around the pulpit). The In-Between follows too middle-age gay men, Ivan and Perry, as they first date and then embark on a relationship that causes both to have to come to terms with prior significant romantic disappointments. As usual for Tsiolkas the sex scenes are explicit and detailed, especially the initial one between the two main protagonists; Tsiolkas does not hold back, and this may be too much for some readers. There are several such sex scenes throughout the novel, and, after a while, they do come across as a tad performative and become slightly tedious. Far more interesting, however, is the psychological intensity of both men’s attempts to come to terms with their past and to move on into the kind of functional relationship they both really want. In the end it is insightful and tender writing, coming across as very believable and relatable to anyone who’s ever loved and lost and loved again, regardless of sexual orientation. Despite the eye-opening sex scenes and the focus on relationships, the main thematic thrust of The In-Between is really class, as explored in the extended dinner party scene (see below) and also in the stark cultural and societal difference between Perry and Ivan’s worlds. The other major theme is generational change, as explored in depictions of how older gay men had to live, in comparison to contemporary Australia, in which marriage between gay couples is legal and there exists an increased level of acceptance within the community. 

Around the middle of The In-Between Tsiolkas produces the best dinner-party scene I have ever read. Perry is university educated, has travelled widely, and works as a translator, whilst Ivan is a landscape gardener and has barely travelled. At the dinner party, with some of Perry’s old university friends, Ivan is subjected to a thinly veiled, class conscious, ‘friendly’ grilling about his background and worldview. It’s cringeworthy stuff, with the portrayal of Perry’s friends, who on the surface project left-wing acceptance, as judgemental and reactionary. Another interesting aspect to the novel is the device of using minor characters, often ones with no significant presence in the narrative, as a means to observe and comment on the main protagonists. It’s a clever way of thinking about the characters from a perspective outside that of the reader’s, and Tsiolkas uses it to great effect several times. After the brilliant dinner party scene the novel loses some of its focus and tension, in particular when the setting moves to Greece and focusses on another gay couple, however this is a minor quibble, as ultimately The In-Between ends poignantly and effectively with a scene that would touch even the most cynical among readers.

Sound Man - Glyn Johns (2014)

 

Rating: Excellent

When Peter Jackson’s long-awaited re-fashioning of The Beatles Let It Be footage emerged in 2021, retitled Get Back, it was a revelation. The three-part documentary totally recontextualized the original film, featuring hours of unseen footage. Glyn Johns had worked on the sound recording part of the project and he remarks in Sound Man that when Allen Klein become The Beatles manager, he wanted only The Beatles to feature in the film, which Johns reflects was a pity, as it meant that he wouldn't feature. One of the highlights of Let It Be was seeing Johns working with the Beatles and parading around in sartorial splendour, out doing even The Beatles themselves for elegant cool. Sound Man details working with The Beatles during this era, and it is fascinating stuff, but it was only a small part of Johns career, which saw him working with some of the most significant artists of the 60s and 70s, such as The Rolling Stones, The Small Faces, The Faces, Led Zeppelin, The Eagles and The Who. Sound Man is both Johns story, beginning from his early years and how he managed to get into the cloistered world of English sound production in the early 60s, and a cultural history of one of the most amazing periods in musical history. It's worth reading for this fact alone. 

Johns at work, circa late 60s

Johns writing style is economical and to the point, but with a light touch that is highly readable. He is also honest about the lows of his career and certainly does not come across as an egotist. The book is chronological, yet also moves back and forth in time when needed, as Johns worked with many of the artists over a span of decades. There’s plenty of great stories among the making of many significant albums. One that comes to mind was when Johns suggests to Keith Moon that he gives up drinking so he can manage demanding drum parts and he fires back to Johns that he was just as bad, smoking cigarettes constantly. So Johns suggest that they both give up their vices, which Johns duly did, but, of course Moon did not and went on the cause more chaos with his drink fuelled capers, many of which Johns details in Sound Man. Engineers and producers like Johns don’t really exist in today’s world of digital and fragmented recording techniques. Johns recorded many of the bands playing together in a room, with overdubs later to correct or flesh out the songs. Johns does lament the passing of his type of recording and producing (as does the likes of Tony Visconti, who when asked what modern producers he admired a few years ago replied, “None”), however he does still work occasionally and as evidenced by this book, he will be remembered as part of musical history due to the sheer number of amazing albums he worked on. I recommend Sound Man to any reader interested in the great music of the 60s and 70s and musical history in general. Sound Man is a classy book, well written and is absolutely fascinating. Makes for good holiday reading, or for when you are recovering from Covid, as I was when I read the bulk of it. The book also made me want to listen to the albums in question again, many of which have been done to death, which can only be a good thing, as I really think that the 1970s was the greatest decade in modern musical history.

Bee Gees: Children of the World - Bob Stanley (2023)

 

Rating: Excellent

Many years ago I became a casual fan of the Bee Gees, specifically their 1969 album Odessa, a double album that is eccentric, over the top, fascinating and, as I concluded after a while, pure genius. Over the years I've bought quite a number of their albums second hand and have become a big appreciator of the Bee Gees unique musical world. Their albums are still cheap to buy, despite second-hand vinyl prices rising in general due to the demand generated by a new generation of collectors and vinyl lovers, because, well, the Bee Gees are still pretty uncool. They may be uncool, but the reality is that they were song-writing geniuses. Children of the World delves deeply into both the Bee Gees personal lives and their music, with the emphasis on their music. Somehow Bob Stanley has managed to give the reader a well rounded sense of the Bee Gees as people, whilst mostly being concerned about their music. Stanley notes that the three Gibb brothers, Maurice, Robin and Barry, were basically outsiders, despite their stellar commercial successes. They lived in their own hermetically sealed world, for example, he points out, that even their version of disco was very different to that of other acts disco; in one of Stanley's many great lines, he compares Bee Gees disco to a wafting summer night's breeze, as opposed other acts disco, which he describes as like stepping into the oversaturated perfume section of a department store. In telling the Bee Gees musical story, from the Isle of Mann, through to their decades of both slumps and global dominance, Stanley writes supremely well about music. To convey both the technical aspects of music and its intangible magic, is a very difficult thing to do without resorting to cliches, but Stanley manages it. Essentially Children of the World is perhaps the best music book I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

Odessa - eccentric brilliance

One of the things that Stanley does best is make you want to hear the music he's talking about, so be prepared to be listening to the Bee Gees a great deal whilst reading. It is double the pleasure basically. Stanley also begins each chapter with a rundown of either the US top ten chart, or the UK top ten chart, which gives the reader great context regarding the musical world the Bee Gee's were existing within. The thing that Stanley convey's really well is just how unique the Bee Gee's were, there is nothing else like them in the history of popular music really. It is best to read this book, as it is difficult to explain this adequately within a few words, however, to give it a go, the Bee Gees were kind of kooky, eccentric and unhindered by the kind of restraint that rendered many other commercial acts of their era banal. Actually to understand the Bee Gees unique appeal it is best to start listening to them properly, not just their many hits; albums like Idea(1968), Odessa (1969), Cucumber Castle (1970), To Whom it May Concern (1972), Trafalgar (1971) and Main Course (1975) would be good starts. The story of the Bee Gees is one of true graft, they worked really hard, sheer musical talent and also personal and family troubles and tragedies (no pun intended). Andy Gibb's story is also included, which is both inspiring and very sad. Like Brain Wilson, Barry Gibb has ended up being the last brother left in the family, with the premature deaths of Maurice and Robin. Stanley has been criticised for paying scant attention to their deaths in the book, but he deals with their deaths with taste, and besides, it's mostly all about their lives and their music. Another criticism is that there are no photos included, however this is barely noticed, as Stanley's writing is so good images are rendered unnecessary, besides, that's what the internet is for. Essentially Children of the World is a must for Bee Gees fans, and if you are a casual admirer of their music, reading the book will turn you into a big fan, which is one of the best things that could happen to you frankly, just make sure you don't care about being cool.

The Bee Gees in action, circa the late 1960's

David Bowie: Rock 'N' Roll With Me - A Memoir - Geoff McCormack (2023)

 

Rating: Excellent

Imagine growing up as a close friend of a man who would become the most influential rock star ever, well Geoff McCormack was lucky enough to be a close friend to David Bowie for most of his life. Luckier still McCormack had some talent as a singer and percussionist, which gave Bowie the opportunity to invite him along on tours as both a buddy and a band member. For this reason core Bowie fans have long known about McCormack and this makes the book a welcome edition to the huge amount of Bowie books out there, rather than just yet another product of the Bowie economy. Originally published quite a number of years ago in a deluxe, autographed edition, this is one for the masses. Essentially McCormack's memoir, from childhood to now, Rock 'N' Roll With Me comes across with lots of charm, but not as much detail as one would think, at least in terms of the professional workings of Bowie and his music. The book reads more like a travelogue, more impressionistic than detailed oriented. However the content is still fascinating and unique, with plenty of great stories about travelling with Bowie, being a touring musician and having lots of fun along side the great man. Although McCormack was, as mentioned, lucky enough to both work with Bowie and be his close friend, you come away with the impression that Bowie was actually the lucky one, with McCormack being a very good friend indeed.

Bowie and McCormack in Russia

Perhaps the main draw of Rock 'N' Roll With Me is the amazing array of photos taken by McCormack himself, having taken up photography in parallel with traveling with Bowie. There's many not seen before, taken while traveling through the former Soviet Union via the Trans-Siberian Express, on several American tours, the making of The Man Who Fell to Earth (1975) and the Station to Station (1976) album. McCormack is a natural when it comes to photography, the photos are not merely snapshots, but are professionally executed. Bowie and McCormack remained friends until Bowie's untimely death in 2016, so there's chapters about Bowie and Iman's wedding, Bowie's fiftieth birthday gig at Madison Square Garden in 1997, hanging out at Bowie's apartment in New York with he likes of Lou Reed; and finally, an account of their last communications, which is both touching and sad. The book ends with an afterward written by Bowie in 2007, during a period when he had mostly retired from public view, in which he asks "Will you actually be able to get this stuff published do you think?". For Bowie fans Rock 'N' Roll With Me is an essential book and it is presented beautifully in a hard-back format with quality photographic reproductions. 

From the Station to Station sessions

Other People: A Mystery Story - Martin Amis (1981)

 

Rating: Excellent

Other People is the fourth novel published by Martin Amis and was the first after he had quit journalism to become a full time writer. It certainly shows, as the novel is a significant step up from the prior three, as good as they were. This is serious literary fiction, featuring particuarly dark themes, a unique narrative structure and surreal perspective that tests the readers' abilities. J.G.Ballard described the novel as a metaphysical thriller, which is an apt description. The narrative's main protagonist is Mary Lamb, an amnesiac whose memory is so far gone that she doesn't even know what people, clouds, cars and other such ordinary phenomena are. We are given the impression that she's received some sort of medical treatment and has been released back into the community without much thought of the consequences. Mary's subsequent adventures involve becoming mixed up some with dubious individuals, such as alcoholics and criminals. The quality of character building is such that you feel genuinely concerned about what might happen to Mary, a concern that becomes wrapped up in the mystery of what has happened to her and why. There is also a second narrator who seems to know the answers to these questions, but is not letting on. This narrator interjects every so often to comment on what's happening to Mary, who as the novel progresses manages to attract misogynistic trouble wherever she goes, including being sexually harassed and obsessed over by various men. Mary is very attractive, and she slowly realises the power of this fact as she finds out more about who she really is, encouraged by the mysterious character of a policeman named Prince, who turns out to be an important character with nebulous motivations.

I say, old chap, what the fuck is Other People about?

Other People reads like a David Lynch narrative, with a disturbing dark mystery at its heart and a plot that seems to twist in on itself with little regard for the reader. I had to think long and hard about just what was going on and ended up looking online for answers; if you really want to know, here's a great cogent synopsis. The writing is absolutely superb, featuring a narrative voice that could only be that of Amis. His turn of phrase is uniquely suffused with irony and dark amusement. Within a plot that is like a möbius strip, Mary's amnesia becomes a great device for Amis to render the world as bizarre and alien. Via this device the world is revealed be a darkly surreal realm inhabited by deeply flawed, dysfunctional and, on the whole, dangerous humans. Mary, like Little Red Riding Hood, ventures forth into danger with apparent innocence, until she discovers the power of who she really is. The ending is mysterious, intense and ultimately satisfying, even though it is difficult to fully understand. A deep think about what has gone on in the novel and the nature of Mary's predicament is called for, but even then, like David Lynch's best films, it is a slippery thing to contend with. Other People is a strange little beast of a novel, it's both realism in terms of its social satire, but also surreal in its metaphysical themes and overall structure. It's an easy novel to admire and as various critics have duly noted over the years, it is undoubtably where Amis really hit his straps. Now, onto Money (1984), eventually, that is... 

The Hand-Reared Boy - Brian Aldiss (1970)

 

Rating: Excellent

The Hand-Reared Boy was given to me by a close friend with the words - 'This is filthy, you must read it!' It is, indeed, filthy, but also a fascinating examination of what it was like to be young and sexually experimenting in the 1930's. It is also written in a readable, yet never trite style, which I'm sure helped the novel to be retrospectively nominated for the Lost Booker Prize for 1970 in 2010, although it was not short-listed. The novel follows Horatio Stubbs from childhood and into his late teens, chronicling his sexual experiences with, wait for it, himself, his brother and sister, the family maid, girls of his own age and a little older, boys of his own age and then an older woman at his boarding school just before the outbreak of WWII. It is an unrelenting cavalcade of sex, I'm not even sure that everything I just referenced is an exhaustive account. There's plenty of masturbation, both solitary and mutual (hence the novel's title), but then as Horatio gets a bit older and meets Sister Virginia Traven, who works at the boarding school he attends, he is initiated into the adult games of sexual pleasure, and then to its eventual darker aspects.

Aldiss, a very naughty boy?

The Hand-Reared Boy is certainly no Helliconia Trilogy and would come as a surprise to fans of Aldiss's fine science fiction. There's not much information to be found online, in fact there isn't even a Wikipedia entry for the novel. Apparently it is based on Aldiss's own childhood experiences, which somewhat goes against his appearance as a fairly strait-laced looking English gentleman. The novel is the first part of a trilogy, based on his experiences in the army during WWII, A Soldier Erect emerged in 1972, followed by A Rude Awakening in 1978. Despite the sexual nature of The Hand-Reared Boy, it should be taken as a serious account of growing up and exploring burgeoning desires. My only real worry is regarding the part of the novel set in Horatio's public boarding school, during which the boys basically experimented on each other sexually in the most caviler way. Was it really like that I wonder? Were English public school boys really at it most nights in each other's beds? If so there would have been a lot of visits to the nurse for RSI injuries!   

Success - Martin Amis (1978)

 

Rating: Excellent

As every literature lover should know, Martin Amis passed away in May of this year. It came as very bad news indeed, as Amis certainly was one of the best and most interesting writers in the English language of the last fifty years or so. Success was his third novel and is stylistically in the same vein as his first two novels, The Rachel Papers (1973) and Dead Babies (1975). Amis once described Dead Babies as a 'young persons' novel and initially Success reads as though it could fit that description as well, however it ultimately manifests as representing something more; it does not seem to be trying as hard to impress and its grotesqueries are dialled down marginally. There are some typical Amis tropes here however, men named Keith, class snobbery, grotesque sex and lots of drinking; the tone is satirical, witty and biting, featuring dozens of brilliant sentences that pop off the page, but there's also more emotional connection and character depth. Brothers Terence Service and Gregory Riding share a flat in London. They have an interesting history, as Terence was adopted by Gregory's eccentric father when he read about Terence's tragic background. Terence's adopted family are wealthy, as in old-school wealth and Gregory certainly acts the part, with the interaction between the two allowing for some satirical skewering of class conscious England. 

Success has a clever structure, covering a whole year from January to December. Each month is divided into a chapter and within each chapter there are two sections, one each from the perspective of Terence and Gregory. Gregory boasts about his successful life, his money, his cushy job, his good looks, his sex life, you name it, he's the man. Gregory comes across as insecure, a mess, poorly dressed, a loser with the ladies and only just holding on after his traumatic and weird upbringing. Amis completely nails each character, although neither of them come across as the finest of humanity, you can't help but get drawn in to their world view and the little hints they both give about what is really going on. All, of course, is not what it seems, and as the novel progresses the reality of the situation becomes clearer and the notion of success begins to shift. During the course of the novel we are also introduced to the brothers' sister, Ursula, and through their interactions with her we begin to get a real idea of just how on the nose everything is. Success is such an enjoyable novel and although the perception is that Amis's work would go on to mature in terms of thematic heft and writing quality, there's nothing wrong with his early work based on the evidence of his first three novels. Now, onto Other People (1981), a book The Guardian's John Self refers to as Amis's 'first good one,' but surely that was The Rachel Papers, a book I love and want to read again, such was its irresistible qualities.

Madouc: Lyonesse III - Jack Vance (1989)

 

Rating: Excellent

Madouc won the World Fantasy Award for best novel in 1990, and deservedly so, as it is, overall, a pleasing novel. The third in the Lyonesse trilogy, it has the job of resolving the multitude of narrative threads raised in the the first two - Suldren's Garden (1983) and The Green Pearl (1985). Madouc, unsurprisingly, explores what happened to Madouc, the mysterious fairy child mischievously switched for the human baby, Dhrun. Once again, the fate of the Elder Isles hangs in the balance, both in terms of the magical activities of evil wizard Tamurello, imprisoned at the end of the last novel, and King Casmir, forever plotting for control over the Elder Isles. The world building is particularly rich, and Vance's prose style is lucidly descriptive, without being too convoluted, which is also a hallmark of the trilogy and Vance's work in general. 

Jack Vance, future sailor

Despite the qualities of Madouc, there are some flaws, in particular there is too much narrative space given to Madouc while she grows up in Lyonesse Town under the watchful eye of King Casmir. The fact that she is a difficult child and disobeys her elders is shown again and again in multiple ways, some more entertaining than others, however it becomes a bit tedious after a while. Madouc does develop as a character, but far more interesting is her encounters with her fairy mother, Twisk and then the fairy realm within Tantravalles forest, where the fairy king gives another entertaining turn. Also the adventures that follow, where she seeks the holy grail, is far more entertaining than her merely being a truculent child. Shimrod, the wizard, is underused in this novel compared to the first two, however he is still an entertaining presence. Ultimately, Madouc, although excellent, suffers what most third parts of trilogies suffer from, overfamiliarity and therefore a sense that it is not quite as good and what came before. Nonetheless, Lyonesse is a quality fantasy trilogy and well worth reading for Vance's quality prose, engaging characters and vivid imagination. Jack Vance really was one of those brilliant writers who, despite churning out novels, kept to a high standard. He really should be more heralded for both his science fiction and fantasy.

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde (1890)

 

Rating: Excellent

This is the second time I've read The Picture of Dorian Gray. The first was at university for a unit called 'Ideas of Modernity', and the novel greatly impressed the twenty-three-year-old me. Reading it again after twenty years, this time for the library book club, is a different experience. Wilde's only novel is brilliant. Most people interested in culture and literature know the story, but to read it is a different thing altogether. Wilde's descriptive abilities were exceptional, one only needs to read the opening chapters, which sets the scene in the house and garden of artist Basil Hallward, with the summer garden through the open French doors redolent of flower scents and opulent foliage. It's here where Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton and wishes that he could stay as young as his portrait Hallward is applying some finishing touches to. Lord Henry holds forth with endless epigrams of the kind that Wilde made famous during his short and tragic life. The Picture of Dorian Gray is structured beautifully, with its plot flowing along with a modern sense of economy and vim. It is still a wonder to read, to admire Wilde's beautiful writing and skilful execution of a story that dovetails towards its memorable gothic conclusion.

The reason why it was a different experience after twenty years is partly due to the fact that I do not remember being so aware of the novel's racist and misogynistic content. The description of the Jewish theatre owner that Dorian encounters when he attends a shabby theatre to witness Sybil Vane for the first time, with whom he falls in love, is outrageously racist. Lord Henry talks about his wife and women in general with disdain, in a witty manner, of course, that makes his upper-class chums chortle. A member of the library book club voiced the opinion that the novel should be, to paraphrase, left in the dustbin of history as an example of past damaging attitudes. Such thoughts are indicative of the current reactionary practice of altering or banning narratives from the past that do not fit into our culture of moralistic self awareness. Firstly, it is a mistake to ascribe words and attitude of characters to that of the author, unless the author has displayed such attitudes in interviews or autobiographical writings. As far as I can ascertain Wilde was not a racist, nor a misogynist. Wilde, however, would have been well aware of the attitudes of the upper classes and the novel reflects those attitudes. Novels like The Picture of Dorian Gray are immensely valuable in showing us what the past was like and telling us how far we've come, or, indeed, how far we've slipped back. They shouldn't be censored or wilfully misunderstood. Wilde's novel is also prescient of the extreme narcissistic culture of our times and, in Dorian, presents a forerunner of celebrity culture that has dominated for decades. Perhaps some of the multitudes of Dorian Grays who exist online in their all narcissistic glory, forever young and forever influencing, should read the novel, it may well be a mirror that reveals their tormented souls.