Lord Jim - Joseph Conrad

 

One of the side-effects of relying so much on random collections of second-hand books is that I often find myself reading 19th century/early 20th century classics, and this book is obviously one of those. 

Classic, yes. But also, what an absolute struggle to get to the end of the book...

I did enjoy the opening sections, with the sinking ship that doesn't sink and the ethical/moral discussions that follow. But after that reading about Jim's colonial adventures was an obviously uncomfortable read, in part because of the implications of this fairly unlikeable and relatively unskilled white man teaching people how to leave, in part because it was just quite boring and at times hard to follow (or hard to follow with interest, at the very least). 

American Tabloid - James Ellroy

 

It had been more than ten years since I last read anything by Ellroy. It was probably a good move, as after three of his books in relatively quick succession I had reached a point of saturation. Last week though I was very much ready to get on with another one of his books and I'm glad I did. 

According to Wikipedia, for conspiracy theorists looking at the assassination of JFK "Common culprits include the FBI, the CIA, the U.S. military, the Mafia, the military-industrial complex, Vice President Johnson, Castro, the KGB, or some combination thereof". Predictably, Ellroy opts for blaming all of them. 

What comes out of this is a pretty gripping novel that just about anyone would be able to identify as an Ellroy one even without looking at the book's cover. The dialogue is (too?) sharp and (too?) irreverent, the plot intricate but somehow intelligible, and the real-life characters add enough verosimilitude that one is left wondering about the plausibility of some of these potential conspiracies. 

And the fact that, as often happens, there's enough Hollywood Golden Era glam in these pages is a marvellous thing for me and Rock Hudson's fake hookup with a female dancer to cover his homosexuality is an excellent plot device!

Bye Bye Benny - Francesco Filippi

 

I read this (e)book because I liked its exhuberant cover and the fact that it called the petty (and terrifingly reckless) dictator that defined the Italian 20th century "Benny". 

This book is obviously little more than a cute story for children (or at most young adults), still, in a continent that is experiencing some rather significant democratic backsliding and with a drought of readable books around, it still serves a purpose. 

It won't (and it really shouldn't) shake the world, but it might help a few people who read this think that perhaps we ought to defend democratic values and that strongmen (and women!) might not always be the best answer to socio-political stagnation. Actually, they are never the best answer to socio-political stagnation. 

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court - Mark Twain

 

Another one of those books left on the doorstep of a Rotherhithe apartment block. 

Of the three Mark Twain novels I read, this was by far the least interesting. Not as funny as Tom Sawyer, not as thoguht-provoking at Huckleberry Finn. 

And while Mark Twain also has problematic elements (race, colonialism, politics - you name it!) this one almost had me scream "stop patronizing the rest of the world and other eras, you self-indulgent, self-absorbed and self-centred American bore". 

Paradise Sky - Joe R. Lansdale

 

The first Lansdale book I read, and it was actually one of those great 30p buys from the Barbican Library overstock titles. 

Partly Cormac McCarthy, partly Little Big Man, partly self-aggrandising tall tale, this was a truly compelling read. 

It does, however, also raise a significant question: is it better for a great white writer to tell the story of a black cowboy, or should we wait for a black writer to do that, however long it might take (considering that there isn't a queue of black authors waiting to write about Nat Love, as far as I know)? I tend to prefer the first option, but I'd be very happy to be proven wrong. 

Sátántangó - László Krasznahorkai

 

Maybe my desire to read some Hungarian books became excessive. And maybe the Nobel committee goes out of its way to award prizes to authors that are simply too highbrow for even reasonably seasoned readers. 

But seriously, what was this?!? I understand that experimenting with literary forms can be a sign of genius, but I ultimately begin my writing advice sessions by jokingly telling my students that "sentence, paragraph and essay" should not be treated as synonyms (seriously, some of them love 800-word paragraphs on the Schlieffen Plan), and this is exactly what Krasznahorkai does. 

I honestly didn't understand anything of this book (and as a result, didn't understand its supposed greatness). It all blurred into one, interminable, sentence and I felt that I had to finish this only because the Nobel committee said so. 

Destinazione Errata - Domenico Starnone

 

A book by a reasonably popular Italian contemporary author that I was completely unfamiliar with. 

It's very well-written, and the self-destructive web of deceipts and half-truths that the main character weaves around himself as he tries to tell a colleague that he doesn't love her before trying to persuade himself that he does actually love her is, at the very least, fascinating. 

Still, all the characters in the novel are supposed to be highly educated and emotionally intelligent. How is it even remotely possible that a love declaration coming via text from a married man is not questioned at least a little bit more by the recipient?!?

The Time of the Hero - Mario Vargas Llosa

 

Another book that I got from Olio. Oh, how nice it would have been to get more than my "allocated" 10 books from that guy...

The Time of the Hero started off poorly for me. Very poorly. Life in army barracks and "boys will be boys" acts of violence and bullying are really not my idea of an interesting (let alone a pleasant) read. 

Still, after a few chapters, and when the drama truly unfolds (despite the fact that the book's cover already announced from the start what the drama would be...) the characters actually become well-rounded and one and I started to become invested in their lives. While not fully expecting complete justice, I would have still liked at least something more than "the army will take care of itself". 

Still, it remains a book about something that I find at best uninteresting, and at worst borderline repulsive. 

Sharon and My Mother-in-Law - Suad Amiry

 

This was a book that I stumbled upon by chance. And, I have to admit, I was attracted first of all by the title (and I might or might not have thought it was a reference to Sharon Stone) before reading what the book was about. 

Obviously, the titular Sharon was Ariel Sharon after all, and I thought this was a good book in "general" literary terms and an excellent one considering the topic and the viewpoint. It offers a very insightful overview of the Palestinian situation and life in Ramallah (and the borderline hopelessness of the idea of a two-state solution, even before the latest bouts of this never-ending conflict). 

And yet, as one reads this book one also has to remember that someone like Suad Amiry is (and she does recognize it herself) a privileged Palestinian - highly educated, living in Ramallah, with international links, financial stability, and an ability to find ways to get her voice heard. Millions of people are in even more precarious positions. 

The Short End of Sonnenallee - Thomas Brussig

 

Cute. In the same way that Goodbye, Lenin is cute. 

This book mixes a healthy element of nostalgia - for decades past, for lives past - with a predictable critique of the Soviet bloc. The one thing that I found particularly endearing is that it shows how the memories of a child, or a young adult (or perhaps anyone?!?) will always assume almost mythical traits. And it's also a demonstration of how children, in whatever kind of situation, are often able to find a positive spin in their microcosm even when the world of the grown-ups around them goes through seismic shifts. 

Mr Loverman - Bernardine Evaristo

 

The good times when I could use my job's yearly book allowance to buy novels I enjoy rather than boring books about study skills are probably gone, but with my last work-approved trip to Waterstones I did buy this beauty of a book. 

I loved reading how the novel's main character always finds ways to justify himself and his actions, and enjoyed his very belated but still somewhat plausible redemption arc. His take on English, and being allowed to experiment (and butcher) it once you have understood its rules is also something that I very much relate to. 

And once I finished it, it actually gave me and my wife a lovely excuse to watch a (mini) TV series together. 

What We Can Know - Ian McEwan

 

I feel like I should write about this book, which I've read more than a year ago, as my parents appear to misremember my impressions (they seem to think that I liked it a lot, when in reality my reaction was more muted) and my colleagues are now passing it among themselves. 

While the book does have a number of interesting takes (chief among all a dystopian future that feels rather realistic, in which humans have learned to adapt to changes and a number of technological developments of the late 20th/early 21st century have disappeared) it essentially deals with something (the construction and reconstruction of (hi)stories) that I unfortunately already have to deal with on a dialy basis as part of my job. 

So, while on the one hand I can see this being a very compelling read for many, for me it's just not quite interesting or novel enough. I know for a fact that, as a historian, most of my guesses about the past are wrong. I don't need McEwan to reiterate that for me. 

Hamnet - Maggie O'Farrell

 

Raise your hand up if you've heard of this book, or watched the movie. Yup, I thought so...

For me the pros are that Hamnet will have something for everyone - the Shakespeare lovers, those interested in family relations, those who want to explore how people elaborate loss, and those who want to be transported to the past qutie effortlessly (O' Farrell is a really remarkable writer). It will also appeal to those who like to smugly say "Nope, that's not a true account of the creation of Hamlet" (as if that was ever the point). 

Yet, for me the book does have one huge con: I couldn't help but feel that it exploited the suffering and grieving of a family, and I'm not quite sure how (or if) that could be addressed - after all, it's most likely better to talk about this kind of loss (even if it is in part to sell copies of a book) than not talk about it at all. 

Waiting for the Barbarians - J. M. Coetzee

 

One of the many books I picked up from a table on Rotherhithe Street a year or so ago. And like pretty much all of Coetzee's books I've read (minus perhaps the Jesus series) a really interesting read. 

Still, for much that it explored the futility of war and orders coming from above that are completely out of touch with reality, our lack of empathy and our inability to understand (and fight) a hypothetical enemy, I struggled to see this as an equal to the book it is quite openly inspired by (Buzzati's Il Deserto dei Tartari). 

The Confidential Agent - Graham Greene

 

A book that I found, alongside many that I'm currently reading, on Olio, the (mostly) food-sharing app. A local guy was trying to donate the books of his step-father, and I grabbed a few, though I wish the limit wasn't just 10 at a time as I would have most likely taken the whole lot!

The decision to pick this one up was partly determined by my passion for Greene, partly by the fact that I loved the old Penguin edition, partly by the assumption that it would have a kind of Third Man feeling. And I was unsurprisingly correct about the last assumption. 

The Confidential Agent is beautiful yet heartbreaking (regardless of whether you know the history of the Spanish Civil War or not, or even whether you associate this book with that particular conflict and not another unnamed one, you know from the start that the protagonist's cause is ultimately hopeless). Still, it is both compelling and, for want of a better term, inspirational to see someone fight for a lost - if morally irreprehebsible - cause. 

The environment the characters move in also reminded me of Simenon, though the one thing I could have done without (as I felt it was a move aimed at a movie adaptation, as the book ended up having) was the romantic love story on the fringes.