Moon Tiger

by Penelope Lively

There is really little – well, no – point in my reviewing a novel which won the Booker Prize when I was an infant 1987. Needless to say, it has been done (probably better). But why let that stop me? This blog is about books I would recommend and I recommend this one. Perhaps I should stop there. I would, but for the fact I have already written the phrase ‘Booker Prize’ at which, perhaps, you recoil.

Lively’s novel (I’d love at this point to do some weak pun about the book being lively, which it is, but I won’t) is many things which put us less confident (but nonetheless still avid) readers off of Booker Prize winners and nominees. It’s clever; existential; arrogant; uses words I had to look up in a dictionary. But – I loved it.

As its narrator Claudia – the self confessed source of Moon Tiger’s arrogance – lies, aged 76, dying and patronised in a hospital the book subtly highlights the indignity of old age and death, never becoming depressingly entrenched in the issue. Instead it evokes times and places, showing how they’re recalled and forgotten in equal measure. At the start, historian Claudia promises to write ‘a history of the world... and in the process, my own.’ And in 205 pages (at least in my edition) she does. She weaves her own experience as a war correspondent in Cairo in World War Two seamlessly alongside the Hungarian Civil War, the Journals of Cook’s Voyages, the history of the Pyramids and the Cold War. Writing of wars she saw and wars she didn’t, her place and everyone’s in history Claudia delivers a memoir which is both personal and universal, factual and opinionated, funny and moving. Commenting on the power of language she reminds us:

‘We open our mouths and out flow words whose ancestries we do not even know. We are walking lexicons. In a single sentence of idle chatter we preserve Latin, Anglo-Saxon, Norse; we carry a museum inside our heads, each day we commemorate peoples of whom we have never heard.’

Into Claudia’s narrative enter the voices of her significant others – her brother, lovers, daughter, friends and critics. Predictably, the term critic is not mutually exclusive to each of the others, and each voice offers a different perspective of Claudia, prompting her to observe that:

‘I shall survive – appallingly misrepresented... As a historian, I know only too well that there is nothing I can do about the misrepresentation so I don’t care. Perhaps for those who do, who struggle against it, this is the secular form of hell – to be preserved in forms we do not like in the recollections of others.’

However, while every other narrative has its rightful place in Claudia’s history of the world, it is her witty and lyrical one that resonates long after you’ve put Moon Tiger down. As a history, it is charming. As a novel, it is beautiful. It teaches you, it touches you, it whispers truths you never knew you knew.

How to be Good

by Nick Hornby

To describe a novel as ‘sparkling with irony’ may seem a little oxymoronic, because one doesn’t think of irony of something which sparkles. Irony droops; irony is lethargic and sometimes mocking; irony is often funny but it is not sparkly. And yet, ‘How to be Good’ positively twinkles with satire. In an utterly plausible twist of real meets surreal, Hornby tells the story of Katie Carr & her family as they strive and struggle to be, as the title suggests, Good People. To label the book as ‘thought provoking’ would actually be an insult: because its charm lies in the honest way in which it depicts the thoughts and feelings common to so many people of a certain background and generation. While it is about how to treat other people, it seems that the ultimate (and bittersweet) moral of the story is to be kind to oneself. However, the main reason I urge you (even if you don’t like reading) to read 'How to be Good' is that its profoundness and poignancy is punctuated on every page with dry and hilarious, laugh-out-loud(-on-the-tube) witticisms, insights and humour.

The Brightest Star in the Sky

by Marian Keyes

In celebration of Marian Keyes' partial return, I have decided to post an old Facebook book review I wrote. I shall have to re - read the others before I can do them justice. Bummer ;-)

In a surreal and optimistic blend of fantasy and realism, Marian (I feel I can call her Marian, I know I should write 'Keyes') tells the story of the residents of 66 Star Street, Dublin. As ever with her novels, I was very sad to finish it: she writes with such warmth and humour, not to mention the most enviable word - power. Just like 'This Charming Man' (another must - read) it is a book which deals with heartbreaking issues with both sensitivity and wit: no mean feat.

'The Brightest Star in the Sky' is a real page turner which contains charmingly drawn characters, and I really cared about what happened to all of them. Thank you Marian Keyes for brightening my Christmas.

A Partisan's Daughter

by Louis de Bernieres

Lyrical and gorgeous. After Captain Corelli's Mandolin and Birds Without Wings, this novel had a lot to live up to. Yet de Bernieres never ceases to stun me with his command of language and his sad and unusual love stories. He takes nuances of human behaviour and offers insights into the human psyche to make unbelievable characters seem believable and challenge ideas of love, politics, history and society.

Whatever Love Means

by David Baddiel

"Whatever Love Means" is a hilarious tragicomedy of a novel. Exploring the concept of shame, and explicitly the relationship between sex and death, Baddiel's novel is intelligently written and engaging to the end.

The story is set against the backdrop of a recent time in history: the death of Princess Diana. Baddiel writes refreshingly about this time, without being sentimental or lachrymose. Instead his observational and ironic style examines how tragedy and catastrophe can be exploited, romanticised and obfuscated.

The characters are masterfully drawn: real, interesting, and engaging. Vic in particular is a modern tragic hero whose fatal flaw drives the plot to its conclusion, which is as sad as it is shocking.

Finally, it is a book to be recommended to people everywhere. Its final social message is crucial, and comes so unexpectedly that I've never known it to be made more effectively.

Addition

by Toni Jordan

I thoroughly enjoyed this little novel. It gave a unique and refreshing insight into living with an anxiety disorder, and later the effect of anti-depressants, without ever becoming too heavy or depressingly entrenched in the issue. The protagonist who narrates the story is charming, funny, self aware and completely believable and likeable. Her ironic way of describing her problems had me giggling throughout.

Though told light - heartedly, 'Addition' is a bittersweet story of the human condition, which questions throughout the notion of 'normal'. If I felt I had the gravitas to give such labels, I would call this 'a triumph of a novel!' Instead, I shall stick with, 'it was a brilliant read and I loved it.'

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

by Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows


It goes against the proverb to judge a book by its cover, but with such a title as 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society' I was in no doubt that I would love this epistolary novel, which takes as its subject matter the Nazi occupation of the Channel Islands.

There really are not enough adjectives to do justice to this book which sparkles with charm and erudition. It had me laughing from the offset and also caused a lump to rise in my throat on more than one occasion. It combines fact with sensitivity, is simultaneously tragic and hilarious, and I cannot think of a booklover I would not recommend it to. The setting was vividly drawn and captivating, the characters became my imaginary friends, and from start to finish I wanted to meet its authors so that I could thank them for writing it.