Talking It Over - Julian Barnes

  

I don't have much to add to what I wrote about Love, etc. as, after all, they are ultimately one and the same. 

If anything, Talking It Over made me appreciate Love, etc. even more, as the sequel was so well-written that one could read just that as a stand-alone novel without missing out on any of the dynamics between the three main characters and one gets a really good idea of what had happened 10 years before anyway. 

Then again, I'm obviously very happy to have read Talking It Over too, for the obvious reasons, like the fact that Julian Barnes is an incredible writer whose wit always (or at the very least most of the times!) shines through his work.

The Bookshop - Penelope Fitzgerald

  

Well, this book was presented to me as a novel of female empowerment. For me, however, it was mostly about the hopelessness of the idea of setting up and running a bookshop (something that I was already largely aware of, thanks to Dylan Moran and Black Books) and the pettiness of people in a small village (something I had plenty of first-hand knowledge).

On the whole, though, I chiefly found it quite banal, and to the reviewer who, according to Wikipedia, talked about this book as coming out of "the Beryl Bainbridge school of anguished women's fiction" I'd tell that this novel has nothing to do with the best (or even the slightly above average) works of Bainbridge.

Girl, Woman, Other - Bernardine Evaristo

  

I'm definitely glad I've read this book. I most definitely enjoyed it. I also definitely didn't love it. 

I feel that there were many sections in which the theme of intersectionality was pushed in too academic a way. From that point of view, a number of other authors (academic and not strictly speaking so) would have been more appealing to me. 

On the other hand, when the characters are presented and interact in what feels - to me - like a more free-flowing way, then the book turns into the equivalent of a good (if not as humourous) Zadie Smith novel, and I'm definitely more captivated. 

Or at least I think so (a line that at the end of the day should precede every single post on this blog).

Due Vite - Emanuele Trevi

  

Yet another case in which I disagreed deeply with the jury of Italy's biggest literary award. 

I guess nothing but good should be said of dead people, so I won't speculate on the lives and merits of Trevi's departed friends. However, it felt as if this book was more about Trevi himself than a tribute to his lost friends. It's about the deep dissatisfactions of intellectual life and the small circles in which these people move, but at the end of the day it left me with very little besides the echo of the cries of an author who wants the world to validate his importance and that of his friends.

Il Fuoco Amico dei Ricordi - Alessandro Piperno

  

For once an Italian book (actually two, as Persecuzione and Inseparabili are also stand-alone novels) that I truly and unapologetically loved. And also, incredibly, one that I didn't find provincial in comparison to works of similar scope and goals by a number of great American writers. 

The troubles of the Pontecorvos are painfully plausible, the sort of thing that can destroy a family, but also the sort of thing that a group like theirs has the tools to potentially overcome. Except that they don't, and as the situation gets out of control in the first book and a number of issues remain unsolved in the second one, Piperno paints a family picture that reminds the reader of a Mike Leigh movie ("Secrets and lies! We're all in pain! Why can't we share our pain?"). 

A Jewish family saga was always going to be a hit with me, and to think that it took me years between illegally downloading a dodgy PDF of these books, and actually reading it (legally) with my Italian library subscription.

Nelle Mie Vene - Flavio Soriga

  

For once a "cool" (or "relatively cool" at least) Italian author who speaks to me. And actually writes to me, as I once sent him a message to tell him what I though about one of his books, and he replied rather courteously. 

Nelle Mie Vene is a story that feels unfinished, most likely like the story of Soriga and his native Sardinia remains unfinished. Of this book I appreciated its raw poetic prose and the fact that it felt less autobiographical than I was expecting. 

A good read. Not one that will leave a lasting mark on global literature, but a pleasant - and most likely fair - love letter from an author to his land.

Maicolgecson - Paola Soriga

  

This is a cute book about growing up, first loves, and omnipresent families and social obligations. It's a novel about Italy and the 1980s and 1990s. 

So are countless others, and I couldn't help but wonder whether this one was published by Mondadori for the potential of easy sales among casual nostalgic readers, or whether it was because Paola Soriga is Flavio's younger sister. Regardless, this is a book that I'd lazily read at the seaside, but nothing more.

East of Acre Lane - Alex Wheatle

  

Oh what pleasure it is to read Alex Wheatle! Much like with Brixton Rock, I loved the novel already from its title (only difference being that I had liked East of Eden much better than Brighton Rock). 

And again, this is clearly a novel about a good kid in the middle of a (hopelessly?) tricky situation. And Brixton is loud, dangerous, interesting, buzzing and musical. It's also sad to hear Wheatle talk in recent interviews about what the place has (in part) become, though it's people like me that have contributed to its transformation. 

I can think of movies that capture contemporary South London in the way in which Wheatle's books capture that of the 1980s (Attack the Block being the most obvious example), I just hope that with time we'll also find authors - and not just filmmakers - capable of doing the same for 21st century Brixton.

Una Relazione - Stefano Sardo & Valetina Gaia

  

Is baring your life - and the dynamics of a very significant relationship - in a book a brave move or the result of a scarcity of ideas? A sign of self-love or self-loathe? Someting therapeutic or something self-celebrating? Possibly all of the above. 

This is a book that I've read because its authors come from my hometown and I bumped into them a couple of times when I was a teenager and they were in their 30s. Without this very loose personal connection, I most likely wouldn't have picked it up. 

Obviously co-authoring a book is a titanic effort for any writer, but here the limitations are at times clear, with the two authors taking on alternate chapters with different and uneven tones, styles, and not even agreeing on whether to narrate the story in the first or second person, making it hard for the reader to really feel involved in this project.

Man's Search for Meaning - Viktor Frankl

  

One of the closest things to a history book that I've read over the last couple of years. Yes, I'm truly an excellent historian...

This book was given to me as a thank-you gift by a student I worked with as he was writing his dissertation (I wouldn't say supervised because I'm not allowed to do that, but man did I read some drafts!). Apparently, it was one of his go-to gifts to friends, and I can understand why. 

Given the subject-matter, this is obviously a very compelling read, though it's clearly written by someone with a sizeabale ego. Then again, if one survives the Holocaust I think s/he is entitled to have whatever kind of ego. 

I've also read plenty of reviews criticizing the author's idea that his attitude contributed to his survival. Yes, I highly doubt that attitude had much to do with survival in a concentration camp and think that many other factors - including pure chance! - had a more significant impact. Then again, if one survives the Holocaust I think s/he is entitled to believe whatever they want as a way to explain coming out of it alive.

Solar - Ian McEwan

  

I much prefer McEwan doing "science" (or thereabouts) like in this book than him doing sci-fi like in Machines Like Me, but that's not saying much. 

Solar wasn't a bad read, but I have the feeling it's already aged quite a bit over the span of a dozen years. The main driving force behind it shouldn't be the personal life of its main character (which is not as interesting as that of a number of his other characters), but rather its scientific approach, which in 2022/3 already feels quite dated. 

And the finale, with the chickens coming home to roost isn't really the most surprising.

Bel-Ami - Guy de Maupassant

  

Nope. Maybe I'm just inoculated against the decadence of late-19th century Paris, but I just didn't enjoy this novel (probably the fact that in my edition the front cover was actually the latest movie rendition of the story, and I found Robert Pattinson unconvincing in the role even in picture). 

The one positive, I guess, is that there are some very well-developed female characters, and they also have a fair bit of agency. Yet, the story of the scoundrel who climbs the social ladder by virtue of tricks and charm is as old as time, and I suspect that was already the case in the 1880s, so there is little to remark (or at least to positively remark) in terms of plot development.

The Untouchable - John Banville

  

Not original. Not just in that the story of Anthony Blunt (or whatever kind of pseudonym he is hidden behind) is relatively well-known, but in that even Alan Bennett had written a fictional portrait of him well before Banville did. 

And yet, for once, I'm thinking: who the hell cares? The story remains fascinating and one of the few things that occasionally make me feel a bit of nostalgia for Cambridge, and Banville is one of the greatest living authors. 

So yeah, I thought this book was great, and thinking that The God of Small Things won the Booker that year makes me cringe a bit.

A Room of One's Own - Virginia Woolf

  

I actually read an Italian edition of this book, left behind by a neighbour in London. Its cover page didn't have the moody blue tones of this Penguin Modern Classic. Instead, it was all very pink and flowery. How very fitting. 

Having previously read (or, more appropriately, struggled to read) To the Lighthouse, my expectations were suitably low, not out of dislike for Woolf, but rather out of my own problems following her prose. I'm happy to report that said low expectations were widely exceeded, chiefly because in this essay Woolf appears more accessible, self-aware and still relevant to today's contest than what I would have ever imagined.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

  

A book that I had clearly meant to read for a long, long time. Until one day I found a copy of it in our building's lobby...

It's a hauntingly beautiful, heartfelt and heartbreaking childhood tale that sadly still rings true in the context of 2023. A book that one can't put down and that can be finished in one intense sitting. 

Yet, after reading it I didn't feel the need to read the following six books in the series. I'd like to think that it's because I was intimidated by the size of the seven tomes put together and not becuase I'm a bad person who has no time for books that deal with racism, poverty and struggle, but I can't be sure.