The Melancholy of Resistance by László Krasznahorkai (translated by George Szirtes)

I'm always keen to try reading something from the most recent winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature. This novel is a thoughtful exploration of a breakdown in society and the different philosophical positions people adopt to navigate through increasingly difficult circumstances. With its blocks of text, often confusing plot and unsettling atmosphere, this is most definitely a challenging read. But, given it was first published in the late 1980s, it also feels surprisingly relevant to disruptions we're seeing in the world today. It was written at a time when the author himself had witnessed the breakdown of communism in Hungary. There are parts of this book that are also filled with dark humour and a profound sense of wonder. I took a few hours to go to the Natural History Museum in London and spent time reading by a giant model of a whale to really add to the experience of this moody tale.

It took me a bit of time to get over the physical challenge of reading this novel. In order for my vision not to blur and keep my place I had to run my finger down the margins as I read. The run-on sentences and prose that flows like lava (as Szirtes has described it) requires a lot of attention and patience. It was difficult to know when I could take a break from the book and whenever I came to the end of a sentence at the start of a page it felt like I could finally exhale. I think the layout of this text is meant to reflect the sense of claustrophobia and overwhelming sense of doom felt by the citizens of this Hungarian town. I appreciate the effect the author is going for but personally I'm not convinced it's necessary. There are many instances where paragraph breaks could naturally be inserted and make the reading experience easier on a practical level. But, as it was, it certainly became a different kind of immersive experience and at times I felt hypnotised by the way it locked me into the details of these characters' increasing sense of dread and the chaos unfolding around them.

Though the format of the text was difficult, I was immediately compelled by the story as stuffy and snobbish Mrs Plauf has such an awful train ride being sexually pursued and struggles to make it home. I appreciated how we're gradually introduced to unsettling details occurring on the periphery giving a sense that things aren't quite right. I found the eeriest detail to be about the weather where it was freezing cold but it no longer snowed and the trees were uprooting as if the environment itself had died. The arrival of scheming Mrs Eszter brought a compelling dramatic element to the story though the full extent of her motives to acquire power and control only became clear to me as the novel went on. I did like the comically absurd scene in a bar as Janos assigned roles to the drunks to simulate planetary movements while the weary bartender waited for them to leave. However, as the narrative moved deeper into Janos Valuska and Gyorgy Eszter's stories it became increasingly unclear and hard to follow. I think this is intentional as the town descends into a state of lawlessness and all the characters were equally disorientated. But also these two central male characters had such strong idealistic values regarding the symmetry of the cosmos and the harmony found in a perfect piece of music that following their intense logic and philosophical positions was demanding.

I found the best way to read this novel was just to go with the flow and the overall atmosphere rather than getting bogged down in trying to understand the details of what was occurring. My favourite part was when Janos goes to see the stuffed whale from the travelling circus and the intense experience of being confronted with such an immense formerly-living creation. The writing here felt very beautiful and moving to me. It can be debated what the whale actually means or represents. Certainly there are religious, mythological and literary reference points for it. For me, it felt like an embodiment of how all life and every civilisation will eventually end no matter how enormous or seemingly indestructible.

Another striking element of the story was the Police Chief's two sons who start out as wannabe thugs when we're first introduced to them and then we meet them again later as crying children who have been completely overwhelmed by the chaos and abandoned by their drunken father which means their safety is no longer guaranteed. This felt poignant as it shows how impressionable young people can be so drawn to power but they desperately need help from others when they are left powerless. It makes me think of this notable line in the story: “there was ‘neither good nor evil’, and that there was one law and one law only, that of the strong which dictated that ‘the stronger power was absolute.’” This feeds into what I perceive to be a larger message of the novel which is that all systems of order, government and justice collapse when all sense of morality disappears. What is right and wrong no longer matters because life in its rawest form is about survival of the fittest.

I found it absolutely chilling reading the account from the mob which Janos discovers describing their rampage through the city and how they preyed upon cats and a random family trying to get home. The extended terror they subject this family to taps into a sense of the perverse pleasure the powerful take in dominating and controlling those who are vulnerable. I didn't find Gyorgy Eszter to be sympathetic because of his selfishness and misogynistic attitude toward his wife (though, of course, she is a horrible individual.) However, it was touching how he realises his platonic love for his friend Janos and develops a deep concern for this wellbeing. Given his complete inability to protect Janos, I found it moving how Gyorgy resigns himself and takes solace in the music he loves. No matter how much he tried to block out the rest of the world (literally boarding up his windows and staying in bed as much as possible) his need for human contact and a connection with beauty took precedence. I wonder if this is a thin sliver of hope or a sense of humanity which the story offers amidst so much destruction. Nevertheless, the final section is one of the most sombre endings to a novel I've ever read.

I found the majority of this book alternately frustrating and intriguingly bizarre to follow. But mostly it gives this unsettling sense of the city and society breaking down on every level so I found it to be an intensely atmospheric experience. I'm sure it touches upon many philosophical ideas and concepts I haven't quite grasped or couldn't entirely follow. “The Melancholy of Resistance” felt to me like a cross between Cartarescu's “Solenoid” and Paul Lynch's “Prophet Song”. This is all extremely weighty and complex fiction, but I think they are books worth reading and taking the time to meditate on. Personally, I'm glad I read this novel though I realise it's not for everyone or, maybe, not the right kind of read for someone if they're not in the mood for it. I'd like to read more by Krasznahorkai but I need to take a break from him for a while.

The Women's Prize for Non-Fiction 2026 longlist

Here are the 16 titles on the 2026 Women's Prize for Non-Fiction longlist! Have you read any of the books from this group? A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these titles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CDYPDYC-1c

I'm thrilled that “Mother Mary Comes To Me” has been nominated as it was one of my favourite books I read last year. The way in which Roy discusses navigating her difficult family circumstances, not letting them defeat her and living a productive existence is truly inspiring! “Daughters of the Bamboo Grove” is an engaging and informative story looking at the final years and aftermath of China's one child policy. I also just finished reading “Death of an Ordinary Man” which is such a touching meditation on losing a family member, honouring his life and the mourning process. I'd highly recommend all three of these books!

I love that these titles cover such a wide variety of subject matter: art, history, health care, law, nature, politics, relationships and... surprisingly... there are even two books about the history of specific hotels! It's especially interesting how many books seem to offer different perspectives on overlapping topics.

What are you most interested in reading from the list?

Glyph by Ali Smith

Ali Smith's writing has always been centred around the playfulness of language, its elasticity and surprising meanings. There is the mischievous way it alternately creates connections and misunderstandings between humans. Only Ali would conceive of a pair of novels whose titles are similar sounding words and each word has multiple definitions. “Glyph” is the second after her previous novel “Gliff”. Though there are some thematic links and both revel in the inventive glory of story telling, one of the strongest links between these books is how two characters have read the novel “Gliff” and disagree about its quality. Of course, Ali's two novel can be read independent of one another and it'd give a new meaning if you read them in an order separate to when they were published - like in her brilliant previous novel “How to Be Both” where the two sections can be read in different orders to give surprisingly different experiences.

This new book is filled with puns, the struggles of family life and the challenges of living in the world today (some of which are unique and others feel like the same old story felt through human history.) Adult sisters Petra and Patricia have been estranged for many years, but they had a strong connection to each other in childhood. They survived through living with an abusive father and the grief of losing their mother by conjuring or inventing the story of a special ghost. Now a certain spectre has made its presence felt in the present. This gives them the chance to reunite alongside Patricia's teen daughter Bill (Billie) who questions everything in a way which often unsettles adults. This novel is right up to date as it's set in 2026 and references many contemporary issues from debates over AI, whether flying certain flags is patriotic and waving other flags is criminal and the UK protests outside of asylum hotels. But it also looks back at history with stories of those who were lost in previous wars. There are individuals who resisted following the pack or simply showed their humanity by helping a disabled animal in need. Their voices were silenced by being executed by their fellow troops or they were literally flattened and left in the road. So many of these stories don't make it into the dominant narrative of history. In this novel they rise as spectres whose restlessness and indomitable spirits speak to the creative power of individuals.

There's an insightful passage in this book uttered by Bill which feels so relevant to what we're grappling with now: “there's this huge mechanism and it's acting on everybody. It is such a simple mechanism it is actually stealthy brilliance. You just say something that's the truth is a lie. Or that something that's a lie is the truth. Then the matter of something being true or not stops being about truth or lies and becomes about choosing a side and it drops itself like a blanket over everything, a blanket the size of the sky – no, maybe more like a net, like a gigantic fishing net, or the kind they use to drop over people on game shows on TV, something quite difficult to get untangled from so you have to struggle against it just to get yourself to the place where truth is.” I'm sure anyone who has been watching the news lately or feeling despair about the tone of current discourse can relate!

I was drawn to the lively personalities at the centre of this novel, but also some peripheral characters such as Glyph's longing for his lost lover and the sister's kindly uncle who was ignored at their mother's funeral. It takes real skill to make characters live on in a reader's imagination though only a slight bit of their experience is presented in the narrative. Smith is also brilliant at showing how though there may be tensions between relatives each family creates its own lexicon where words such as “stanchion” or “rubble” will take on their own meanings through being frequently used in their conversations. Most of all this book is a testament to the power of storytelling and how everyone will take their own meaning from those stories which are reinvented in their retelling - springing up like ghosts to tease, delight and provoke people to question the story about the world those in power want us to believe.

12 Classics to Read in 2026

At the beginning of every New Year I like to set myself the challenge of reading 12 classic books over the course of the year. Many of these titles I want to get to in 2026 have a special anniversary attached to them based on their initial publication or the author's birth or there is a new film version of the book coming out soon. Have you read any of these classics or are you keen on joining me in reading them? Or are there any other classics you'd like to immerse yourself in this year?

Watch me discuss these titles and why I’m eager to read them in 2026: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UMxKmokYa8

Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift (1726)

This is a book often thought to be for children because of its many fantasy elements, but it was originally written as a political satire. It follows Lemuel Gulliver who travels to many distant and strange lands meeting tiny people, giants, civilized horses and other strange beings. The groups he encounters represent different forms of human nature and society. In doing so Swift explores issues such as government corruption, ineffective religious dogma and human pettiness. He shows that no form of government is ideal and that even bad societies contain good individuals.

The Last Man by Mary Shelley (1826)

I only first read “Frankenstein” a few years ago and think it is one of the most brilliant novels ever created. So I've been very keen to read more by Shelley and this book is considered one of the first dystopian novels. It begins in 2073 at a time when an apocalyptic plague has resulted in the near extinction of the human race. The story engages with new scientific ideas of the time concerning electromagnetism, chemistry and materialism. But it's also an extremely personal book as it contains a thinly veiled fictional depiction of Mary's late husband Percy who died in a shipwreck and their close friend Lord Byron who also died before this book's publication. I'm especially interested in reading this book because recently I read some of Muriel Spark's novels and a biography of her which describes her deep sense of kinship with Mary Shelley and fascination with this novel.

The Castle by Kafka (1926)

This was Kafka's final novel. It was incomplete at the time of his death and it was published posthumously. The story follows a character only known as “K” who arrives in a village and struggles to get access to the mysterious authorities who govern the region from a castle he's not allowed to enter. It's a tale about bureaucracy in government and religion, but it's also about solitude and the need for companionship. Kafka began writing this book in 1922 when he arrived in a snowy mountain resort that resembles the setting of the novel (Kafka can be seen in the far right of this picture.) He died two years later due to tuberculosis. I'm really keen to read this book after recently interviewing Mircea Cartarescu in the Penguin Classics library where he described how The Castle has been one of the most influential books in his life. If you want to watch my talk with Mircea I'll put a link to it below.

Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner (1926)

This satirical novel is considered an early feminist classic. It's set in the early 20th century and follows a middle aged spinster named Laura Willowes who moves away from her controlling relatives to take up the practice of witchcraft. In doing so it considers the social restrictions placed upon women at the time and the uneasy position women held in society following WWI. This was Warner's first published novel and she was a fascinating writer who spent most of her adult life in a romantic relationship with a woman. She had a long and varied writing career and I've previously read her historical novel “Summer Will Show”.

Sherwood Anderson (born 1876)

Born 150 years ago in September 1876, Anderson was a self-educated American novelist most famous for the short story cycle “Winesburg, Ohio”. This is set in a small fictional town where each story follows the personal dramas and inner turmoil a different citizen. But the book centres around the life of a character named George from his childhood to adulthood and ultimate decision to leave Winesburg. These stories are about the difficulty of communicating with others and the isolation of small town life. Some have described this book as gloomy but that sounds very much like my vibe. One of my favourite novels from last year was Buckeye and this book's style has been frequently compared to Sherwood Anderson's so it's made me even more keen to read this earlier book.

Jack London (born 1876)

Another great American writer born 150 years ago was Jack London. He was a journalist and activist who felt passionately about animal welfare, workers' rights and socialism. One of his most famous books is “White Fang” which follows the perspective of a wolf-dog in the harsh environment of the Yukon and the violent world of humans. However, he also wrote a semi-autobiographical novel “Martin Eden” which follows a seaman who is desperate to become a literary success. Many young writers consider this a kind of guide to getting published as its protagonist continuously sends out his manuscripts, but London intended this as a criticism of ambition. I read it when I was a teenager and loved it, so I'm keen to see how my views of it might have changed. A few years ago I visited Jack London's ranch which he desperately tried to make a success but it was an economic failure and it's where he's buried having died at age 40.

Harper Lee (born 1926)

Harper Lee was born 100 years ago in April, 1926. They seem to keep publishing more books by Harper Lee though she's really famous for her Pulitzer Prize winning novel “To Kill a Mockingbird”. This Southern Gothic classic about racial injustice, class, gender roles and the courage to stand up for what's right. Its girl narrator Scout is an irrepressible force of nature and it's so compelling viewing the world through her point of view. I loved reading this book as a teenager so I'm keen to revisit it now – especially after reading Truman Capote's novel “Other Voices, Other Rooms” recently. Capote and Harper Lee were childhood friends and Capote's debut includes a fictionalised version of Harper Lee as a tomboy girl.

Allen Ginsberg (born 1926)

Poet and activist Allen Ginsberg was also born 100 years ago in June 1926. He was famously one of the core members of the Beat Generation who held strong views on drugs, sex, Eastern religion and who were strongly opposed to bureaucracy. His most well known poem is 'Howl' which embodies the values and history of the Beats but he wrote many more which draw upon a wide range of knowledge and ideas. I've always been slightly intimidated about approaching his poetry for some reason (maybe because his collected work is so long) but I think it'll be a pleasure dipping into reading a few poems during some mornings over the course of the year. This is also another book that Mircea Cartarescu cited as a primary influence in my talk with him.

Iliad (because of Yann Martel’s upcoming new novel Son of a Nobody)

This is one of the oldest works of literature that's still widely read and is thought to have been composed in the 8th century BC. It's a Greek epic poem set towards the end of the Trojan war and a 10 year siege of the city of Troy by the Myceneans. It also details the fierce quarrel between the warrior Achilles and King Agamemnon following the death of Achilles' beloved prince Patroclus. Of course I was a huge fan of Madeline Miller's novel “The Song of Achilles” and loved going to the Punchdrunk immersive theatre experience ‘The Burning City’ which is set within the fall of Troy. So it'll be fascinating to read this epic which has been so influential throughout all of Western culture.

The Odyssey

Then there is Homer's other great epic “The Odyssey”. One of the biggest film releases of 2026 will be Christopher Nolan's version of this story with an incredibly starry cast including Anne Hathaway, Matt Damon, Tom Holland, Zendaya and the fabulous Mia Goth. This book is one of the greatest adventure stories of all time as it traces Odysseus' journey home after the Trojan War which takes ten years while his wife Penelope waits at home weaving away. It'll be so exciting and satisfying to completely immerse myself in this equally influential tale. And this is a book I tried reading as a teenager but didn't get much out of so I'm hoping the fact that I'm older now and that I'll be reading this more recent translation by Daniel Mendelsohn will mean I get more out of it.

Wuthering Heights

Another film coming out in 2026 which is already infamous is the latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights by Emerald Fennell. Many booktubers and booktokers have already trashed this latest film starring Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi just based on its trailer. It's made me perversely even more eager to watch this movie to see what I make of it. But I read this novel for the first time several years ago and found it so strange and intriguing. It's considered by many to be one of the greatest romances ever but it's also an anti-romance. It's poet Emily Bronte's only novel. Set on the wily windy Yorkshire moors it relates the story of Cathy and Heathcliff's turbulent affair. This story is so complicated and odd I think it can be reread countless times and there will always be new meaning found in it.

East of Eden

I really love a good family saga and one of the greats is by Nobel Prize winner John Steinbeck. He considers it one of his best books as he once said "It has everything in it I have been able to learn about my craft or profession in all these years" and "I think everything else I have written has been, in a sense, practice for this." The story follows the intertwined destinies of two families in California from the beginning of the 20th century to the end of the WWI. There are many religious references woven into the novel, but it also captures something quintessential about American life. I've read a couple of novels by Steinbeck but not this one and I love the humanity in his characters and stories. This book has also been turned into a new miniseries starring Florence Pugh and Martha Plimpton. Of course, I want to read the book before watching the series.

My Top Books of 2025

I read over a hundred books this year and many of them were excellent but here are my 10 favourite titles from 2025! A new video is on my YouTube channel discussing why I found these titles so impactful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fxo-sp64lW8

These books have inspired me, linger in my imagination and I keep recommending them to other readers. From a profound tale connecting three literary figures from the past in “The Book of Records” to the secrets held by two couples for decades in “Buckeye” to the life of an idiosyncratic girl growing up in an artistic family in “Days of Light” to a creative young man caught in a small town in “Seascraper” to a murder mystery that reveals the dark truth within a community in “Fox” to a historic-set story about a toxic sibling rivalry that spreads to the whole town in “The Adversary” to an imaginative tale that gives a radical new view on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in “The Book of Disappearance” to hilariously wild and moving stories of trans experience in “Stag Dance” to a rare love story between two artists that was nearly forgotten in “The Two Roberts” to Arundhati Roy's brilliantly inspiring memoir “Mother Mary Comes To Me”.

In addition to reading these memorable books I had the privilege of interviewing some of their authors such as Benjamin Wood, Joyce Carol Oates and Michael Crummey. It was thrilling speaking at length with author Mircea Cartarescu at the Penguin offices as well. I wasn’t paid for doing any of these interviews; I just did them because I’m so passionate about these authors’ work. I went on some great literary trips this year including to the Edinburgh Book Festival and to Bath where I visited William Beckford's Tower. It was also thrilling to attend a number of book prize ceremonies such as The Dublin Literary Award, The Women's Prizes, The Orwell Prizes, The Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize, The International Booker and The Booker Prize.

It's been wonderful engaging in lengthy discussions about books with members of the LonesomeReader Bookclub. We've read some fantastic books including “The Empusium”, “Under the Eye of the Big Bird”, “On the Calculation of Volume”, “Audition”, “The Emperor of Gladness”, “Endling”, “Love Forms” and the classics “Tess of the D'Urbervilles” and “Snow Country”. Thank you for chatting about books with me over the year; it's made reading a much richer and more rewarding experience!

Have you read any of my top books of 2025 or are you keen to? What are some of the best books you read this past year?

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata (translated by Edward G Seidensticker)

This is the first book I've read by Kawabata who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1968 and died four years later (probably from suicide although that isn't certain.) Despite its being only 121 pages long it took me longer than usual to read “Snow Country” as the style demanded a lot of concentration. It took some time to become accustomed to its extreme attention to detail, ambiguous meaning and odd manner of storytelling. I think there are a couple of reasons why reading this novel felt challenging. Firstly, Kawabata melded his narrative with characteristics of haiku poetry which includes minimalism, a juxtaposition of imagery and a focus on fleeting moments. I found it so odd in the beginning of the novel that Shimamura focuses on the reflection in the train's window so intensely and for an extended length of time. However, this sense of perspective where the landscape is overlaid with a woman's image introduces the way in which the protagonist desires to only experience beauty and life at a remove, elevating aesthetic admiration over true engagement.

Secondly, it also felt like there are some cultural references points in this novel which made it challenging to understand – especially to do with the function and role of geisha. There's a lot of misconceptions about geisha in the West which (especially after WWII) often equates their practice with that of courtesans or prostitutes. Traditionally geisha don't perform sexual services for their clients but rather deliver highly developed forms of entertainment and artistic practices. Certainly Shimamura is attracted to Komako, but do they have sex? I don't think it's ever explicitly stated and many responses to this novel have assumed that Shimamura is an older man who simply employs Komako for sex. I'm not defending Shimamura who comes across to me as a very entitled and negligent individual. And, of course, as is described in the novel, sometimes clients do become romantically involved with geisha and help them to move onto different professions. This seems especially true in this rural region where opportunities and treatment of geisha seem different than that in the city. So perhaps in this area they are treated more as escorts. As with so many things about this novel it's ambiguous what emotional and sexual relationships form between the geisha and clients.

The tension between Shimamura and Komako is at the heart of the story. I felt there was a real affection between them, but it couldn't ever develop into a true romance. Shimamura is married and has a family but also only wants to admire beauty at a distance. There are many things about his character which seem contradictory and ridiculous – such as considering himself a ballet expert though he's never actually witnessed one. This seems to emphasise his tragic remove from life where he goes off to this spa whenever he feels like it. Here he doesn't have to deal with the reality of his family and he's under no obligation or commitment to Komako. From what I remember the only mention we get of his wife is her concern about his clothes potentially being ruined by moths so we have no idea about her real state of mind but I wonder if she's glad to be left in peace while Shimamura is away. Though he seems to realise this lifestyle can only be temporary he keeps extending his stays at the spa and wants to persist in this odd limbo. Alternatively, Komako doesn't have the freedom of wealthy Shimamura. Something I found endearing about her are her notebooks where she records everything she's read in her life – I found Shimamura's snobbishness about the notes she keeps to be so off-putting. Komako has debts and obligations she's working to overcome. Meanwhile, her youth is quickly draining away. Her frustration about this seems to express itself in her erratic behaviour and frequently getting drunk. She treats Shimamura with a lot more familiarity than a client, but doesn't seem to be able to fully trust or rely on him either.

I did find it a struggle to get a grasp on their relationship. Shimamura idealises Komako as he frequently describes her cleanliness and that she's a “good girl” (eventually this changes to a “good woman” which offends Komako.) However, this seems to deny the complexity and simplify the messiness of the young woman's life. Komako herself runs hot and cold in her affection for Shimamura. Speaking of temperature, the imagery of snow and fire repeat in the book in a way which seems to express something about the inner lives of the characters. There are beautiful descriptions of the landscape being covered in snow. This seems to reflect Shimamura's cold detachment. As a contrast to that Komako is often described as feeling extremely hot and, at one point, it describes her being on fire. This all seems to be reflective of the shifting stasis or passion which the characters feel. Of course, the climax of the novel is a life-threatening conflagration witnessed by Shimamura and Komako. They witness something shocking regarding another character named Yoko. Rather than concern for Yoko or Komako, Shimamura is focused on the night sky and the beauty of the Milky Way. I'm inclined to believe he'll simply return to his family and Komako will continue to get more jaded and frustrated with her limited options in life.

Overall, I grew to appreciate the subtleness and moodiness of this strange little novel but it's not an experience I found easy or entirely enjoyable. This transcription of a lecture by translator Edward G Seidensticker is very interesting as it comments upon the special challenges of translating “Snow Country” in particular: https://swet.jp/articles/article/my_sort_of_translating/_C30 In particular, I found this line from his lecture funny: "when I was working on Yukiguni, which was the first long Kawabata I translated, I would ask him about things and he was no help at all. I would say “Isn’t this a rather ambiguous passage, Sensei?” He would look at it and nod and say, “Yes, it’s ambiguous,” but he wouldn’t give me any interpretation of it whatsoever. I stopped asking." It sounds like the translator had to make some difficult decisions and tried to preserve the ambiguity of Kawabata's text. But I think that makes it especially challenging for English-speaking readers to get into as its a very different sort of narrative style.

I'm glad to have read this lauded Japanese author's work and it's seasonally appropriate. Though this book captures the atmosphere of winter it's definitely not very festive. Nevertheless, it's a text where I admired the beauty of detail and the state of reflection which the author creates.

Electric Spark: The Enigma of Muriel Spark by Frances Wilson

“Electric Spark: The Enigma of Muriel Spark” by Frances Wilson was recently shortlisted for the Baillie Gifford Prize for Non-Fiction but missed out on the trophy (which went to Helen Garner's published diaries.) This book felt extremely promising as it primarily focuses on the dramatic and varied events of Spark's early life leading to her impressive career as a novelist. Certainly Spark had an interesting life (writer, editor, critic, Jewish Gentile, Catholic convert, divorcee, mother and probably a spy) and she went through many transformations. However, I frequently found the compelling events of her life swallowed up by Frances Wilson's digressions, some of the critical analysis of Spark's novels, the convolutions of infighting between literary circles who have now been mostly forgotten and a preoccupation with the difficulty of writing a biography about an author who already published a memoir and who was the subject of other biographies (which Spark denounced.) It's understandable that Frances Wilson wrote about these things but the way she went about it frequently confused me. Writing about Spark is a considerable challenge – especially given that Spark seemingly wanted her life to be well documented but she also did not want to be criticised or subjected to scrutiny.

A review of this book in the Washington Independent summarised Spark's attitude well: “she wanted accolades rather than critical evaluation of either her life or her work... The author comes alive in these pages as self-absorbed, self-aggrandizing, self-mythologizing, and hypersensitive to slight. Like Miss Brodie, Spark is a fascinating, unsympathetic character whose wounding arrogance covers vulnerability. Her fraught and disappointing relationships often end with perceived betrayal. Family bonds are only distant background. Episodes of mental distress approaching psychosis seem exacerbated rather than helped by the treatment of the day. Given Spark’s many difficulties, her prolific literary output is even more remarkable.” In regards to the later point, I think Frances Wilson gave a good sense of Spark's intense discipline creating working environments for herself where she was disturbed as little as possible and this seems to be what ensured she could write so many books despite the multitude of personal problems she faced.

A big issue I had with the book was the framing device Frances Wilson chose with the four different historical women named Mary who influenced Spark in different ways. It seems a somewhat random choice given that Mary is a very common name. I guess Wilson chose this as a way of describing how different figures fed into Spark's creative imagination and gave support to the many coincidences strewn throughout Spark's life. However, the biographical bits about these different Marys felt more like a distraction. Certainly they are interesting in themselves, but often don't have much to do with illuminating the actual events or career of the primary subject of this biography. I felt there were also digressions which go into a bit too much detail about some additional literary figures and people Spark knew in real life. This caused Wilson to frequently jump backwards and forwards in time which left me longing for a more straightforward account of Spark's life. Funnily enough, I felt the biography was more coherent and at its most successful in the pages of its Afterward as it briefly describes the bulk of Spark's professional and later life – as well as the peculiar difficulties of writing a biography about Spark. Frances Wilson conveys information about the events in Spark's life and the sequence of her publications in a much more straightforward way in this final section (rather than weaving them through her elaborate frame of Spark's influences.)

There were some other sections of the main text that I also found impactful. For instance, I was compelled by Spark's life in Rhodesia (her disastrous marriage, the pain of having custody of her son given to her mentally unstable husband, the suffocatingly racist colonial atmosphere of the place at that time and the connection she found with Doris Lessing's fiction.) The emotional rift between Spark and her son which continued throughout their lives was especially sad. Spark's professional difficulties in the Poetry Society which was rife with misogyny made me angry that she had to deal with that. Also it was intriguing to learn about Spark's time working to generate propaganda during the war to confuse the enemy. There's a whole history behind this I'd like to learn more about but it also sheds light on the way Spark often seemed to be writing in code within her novels. There's a tension between appearances and truth which is frequently explored in her fiction. I felt knowing about this professional aspect of her life alongside what seemed to be an inherent paranoia and need to control gave a good sense about why Spark wrote in her own unique style. It was also interesting to learn how she began as a poet and thought of her novels as kinds of poems which also gives a sense for why she used language and imagery in the way she did throughout her fiction.

Something else I found discomfiting was a quasi-mystical idea running throughout the book that Spark seemed to possess some special powers of predicting the future or that what she wrote would eventually come to pass. I guess she had this aura or maybe she created it herself and maybe there were a number of coincidences in her life. But I felt like Frances Wilson bought into this eerie idea and tried to support it through numerous examples of Spark playing matchmaker or writing about something in a story which then actually happened. This almost supernatural sense about Spark's abilities felt alienating to me and made me question the validity of Wilson's point of view. I much preferred the descriptions of certain moments which felt significant in Spark's life like spontaneously staying at a poet's house for a night and how perusing the contents of that abode strangely inspired her.

Part of me feels interested in reading Spark's own memoir or Martin Stannard's biography about her, but knowing about all the gaps Spark left in her account and the objections she had about Stannard's take makes me hesitant to enter into the full mess of trying to understand her further. Frances Wilson must have felt compelled to structure this biography of Spark in a unique way to help navigate through the mire of Spark's considerable records and other biographical accounts. However, I felt the technique she's employed has hindered casual readers from more easily accessing the meaning and impact of Spark's life and her work as a writer. So I'm more compelled to just read Spark's fiction itself.

Alongside this biography, I really enjoyed reading “The Girls of Slender Means” for the first time which creates such an intriguing atmosphere of dread (as well as often being humorous) and it has a thrilling ending. I also recently read “A Far Cry From Kensington” which has a dark twist to it as it skewers the publishing industry and investigates a character being anonymously harassed. If this novel came out today Spark's representation of body image would be severely questioned but having read the biography and knowing Spark went through periods of being heavier and thinner it's easy to see how she filtered this into the narrator's point of view. I'm eager to read more of Spark's novels. My favourite book by Spark continues to be “Momento Mori”. However, I also really admire “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie”, “The Public Image” and “The Driver's Seat”. I actually read “The Finishing School” when it came out in 2004 and unfortunately I thought it was terrible but it might be interesting to revisit knowing more about Spark now. I also went to see her talk about this novel at the time but unfortunately I don't remember anything about her interview since it was so long ago.

Writing a biography must be extremely difficult so I sympathise with the challenge Frances Wilson took on creating an account of Spark's life, but I'm afraid this approach didn't entirely work for me.

Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

Several versions of this novel exist as it was published in a serialised form and numerous subsequent book form editions of the novel contained many different revisions. I read the Penguin Classics edition which is based on the three-volume first edition, published in December 1891. This is considered to be the closest text to what Hardy originally intended and what the first readers of the book experienced. From what I understand the earlier serialised edition contained many edits based on censorship and later editions contained revisions to align the novel within the fictional geography of Hardy's Wessex.

I first read this novel over 20 years ago. While I appreciated the story at that young age, I think a lot of things about it went over my head. Even though I found reading it now a very solemn experience (poor Tess couldn't ever catch a break!) I did find it mostly engaging following the melodrama of this story. I felt for Tess in the pressure she gets from her parents to ingratiate herself with their D'Urberville “relatives”, the guilt she feels falling asleep which leads to the horse's accidental death and the terror/trauma of Alec's unwanted advances. I wish there was more of Mrs D'Urberville in the story as she was really sweet with her love for birds and acknowledging that her son is a louse! Because the section where Alec actually had sex with Tess is famously omitted, there's been a historic debate about whether Tess was raped or seduced. I think that's nonsense and personally consider it rape. Regardless of how it's defined, the fact is that she was sexually taken advantage of by a wealthy man in a position of power. Whether she grudgingly submitted to Alec's advances, was drugged or taken by force while she was asleep – it was abuse! I know that's probably a modern interpretation but I consider the nature of uneven power relationships to be a constant and Alec is a serial stalker/sex pest who assumes that because Tess is a poor peasant she'd want to be his possession. I found the subsequent section where there's the death of Tess' baby and the priest's refusal to baptize the child heartbreaking.

Even though I knew there'd be a tragic ending (though I couldn't recall all its specific details) I felt a glimmer of hope in the Spring when Tess becomes a milkmaid and has a simmering romance with Angel. However, I became frustrated by the extended amount of time taken with their courtship and Tess' dilemma about whether to confess to Angel what happened in her past. Parts made me wonder if this was padding which came from the book's initial serialisation. Angel actually fooled me into thinking he might be a good dude, but of course on their wedding night he's revealed to be a hypocrite since she instantly forgives his having sex with another woman but doesn't forgive Tess for having non-consensual sex. Then there's the disturbingly weird and ridiculous scene of Angel sleep walking with Tess and carrying her to a grave declaring that she's dead. All he wanted was an idealised version of her and a country virgin with whom he could start a farm. To make matters even worse, he propositions one of the other milk maids to go to Brazil with him though she confesses she could never love him as much as Tess. Angel is such a coward and it's cruelly satisfying reading how he has such a hard time in Brazil.

The subsequent sections of Tess arduously working the fields and trying to scratch out a living also felt tediously long to me. There is the character of Farmer Groby who is cruelly driven to torture Tess making her perform hard labour and remind her of her shameful past. He makes a contrast to kindly Mr Crick, her former employer at the dairy. I was struck by the scene where Tess defaces herself, cutting off her eyebrows and wrapping her head in a scarf to try to discourage the unwanted advances of men. Over this long period of time Tess' attitude does seem to change. We see through her letters to Angel that she gradually comes to accept that she's not to blame and he should have been more sympathetic to her plight. It felt like a ridiculous coincidence that when Tess finally goes to Angel's family for help that she overhears Angel's bitchy brothers talking dismissively about Angel and Tess. All the while she is continuously pestered by Alec who seems to pop up behind her at every turn after his weak religious conversion has crumbled. In fact he blames Tess for his conversion “backsliding” because of that tempting mouth of hers which no man can seem to resist. But since her family are literally turned out onto the street with all their belongings after the death of Tess' father it makes sense that Alec is her only option because otherwise her siblings would starve. Even though Alec is disgusting at least he's not hypocritical like Angel – he simply wants Tess as a possession and still wants to marry her though she's married already.

It's so interesting how the perspective shifts after Angel returns and Tess tells him it's too late. Rather than portraying the murder we simply observe the blood soaking through the ceiling as observed by the householder, Mrs Brooks. It's such a creepy scene and interesting how the novel suddenly becomes like a thriller with Tess and Angel on the run. I felt this was a welcome relief after the tedium of Tess' gruelling life in the fields. Of course, it doesn't last long with them bizarrely happening upon Stonehenge and Tess having a good nap before the police take her away. It seems apt the section is titled “Fulfilment” as Tess seems to fulfil her role as a martyr by declaring about her impending arrest “I am almost glad – yes, glad! This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much. I have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!” That Tess would suggest to Angel that once she's gone he should marry her sister Liza Lu seems totally perverse. This actually happens at the end as Angel and Liza Lu watch on as the black flag declares that Tess has been hanged for her crime. The couple is far from romantic and it's infuriating Tess has been punished for her only crime while all the people in her life who have wronged her have not faced any justice (except Alec.) I assume this is the sentiment Hardy wanted to evoke in readers to drive home the injustice of what someone like Tess goes through.

I felt this book fell into the category of fiction where the author seems to over-manipulate events to evoke sympathy for a tragic character. As such it was hard for me to feel fully invested in a figure whose life is artificially packed with misery and tragedy. I understand the grander symbolic reasons for Hardy constructing the story in this way which I'll discuss shortly, but I think it's partly why this book is such a hard sell with modern readers. I kept thinking about the contemporary example of “A Little Life” where readers commonly criticise the way the author never allowed the character of Jude to get better or find a sustained happiness and that she seemed intent on perversely torturing a character whose life she wanted readers to care about. Hardy's depiction of Tess feels all the more disturbing knowing he was partly inspired to write the novel from the memory of witnessing a beautiful woman's (Elizabeth Martha Brown) execution when he was a teenager. I feel like this says a lot about how Hardy portrays Tess as an irresistibly attractive but fated figure, but maybe I'm reading into it too much.

Despite being designed for tragedy, I did appreciate how Tess is imbued with an ability to dream beyond her circumstances. A scene I really enjoyed is early on when Tess and her brother Abraham are driving the horse and they have a conversation about the night sky and stars. It's remarked how each star is a world and there are “splendid” or “blighted” worlds and Tess remarks that they live on a blighted world. Later on there's a scene where Tess describes how she likes to “lie on the grass at night and look straight up at some big bright star; and, by fixing your mind upon it, you will soon find that you are hundreds and hundreds o' miles away from your body, which you don't seem to want at all.” There's a sense that she knows she's been dealt a bad hand with her family's petty striving for an aristocratic ancestry, being raped by Alec, losing her child and a life of manual labour having been abandoned by her husband. Nevertheless, she maintains a sense of integrity and tries to do what's right (until the end when she commits murder.)

This makes me ponder the meaning behind the novel's subtitle “A Pure Woman”. Tess is “pure” in the sense that she has done nothing wrong to cause so much hardship in her life and only acted in the best way she can given the circumstances. Alec sees her as “pure” in the sense she is an impoverished peasant available for purchase and Angel sees her as a “pure” virginal country girl. Because they have these idealised notions of her they can't recognise Tess for who she really is (someone who is simply not attracted to Alec and Angel doesn't see she is a victim of rape.) So I think the subtitle has a layered meaning. However, I also think it's a limitation of the novel that Hardy has designed Tess to be so relentlessly “pure”. Would Tess be any less worthy of sympathy if she had flirted with Alec before he raped her? Or married Alec after the violation purely for financial gain? Or kept her past a secret from Angel? Or insisted on financial assistance from Angel's family because she's his abandoned wife? Or left her many siblings to the responsibility of her parents to establish an entirely independent life elsewhere? Personally I prefer reading about characters who make morally dubious choices which are nonetheless logical and understandable rather than following a compulsively “good” or “pure” character who is a tragic victim of circumstance. Of course, Hardy was being progressive at the time showing why it's inhumane to blame a victim of rape as any woman who had a child out of wedlock at that time (regardless of the reason for her pregnancy) would have been widely condemned. Certainly such misogyny still exists today but the wretchedness of Tess' plight doesn't make it as satisfying a read today.

It's interesting that Hardy was drawn more to writing poetry (as I understand it, he wrote novels more for financial reasons than artistic satisfaction which is why he returned to poetry in the later years of his life.) Parts of the book did feel beautifully written to me, especially the descriptions of agricultural life which is detailed as being both tranquil and very difficult. Unsurprisingly Hardy was influenced by Whitman and I think that can be seen in the writing (Whitman is even referenced at one point.) However, as some have noted, there are numerous lines which are over-complicated. Reading them and unpacking their full meaning can be somewhat laborious. But overall I found it fairly easy to read despite its antiquated style and structure. I felt much of the dialogue yielded a lot of humour (whether it was intentional or not.) And, speaking of rare funny moments in the story, I did find the scene where Angel carries the milkmaids over a body of water while they all swoon in his arms to be hilarious.

All that I've discussed so far refers more to my personal reaction to this novel. However, I appreciate there's a lot more in this book which has a historic and symbolic significance. I found it interesting frequently flipping to the notes at the back of the novel to understand the literary/religious/historical references. In both the story and its structure Hardy explores the tension between Fate/Freedom, Christianity/Paganism, Nature/Civilisation and old world/modern world. The seasons during which events take place relate strongly to cycles of rejuvenation/fertility vs deterioration/death. Tess' reasons for turning her back on Christianity are much different from the intellectual reasons which draw Angel to a rural life separate from his father's beliefs. Of course, there's a lot more to consider from a scholarly perspective and I know I've just dipped my toe in reading/listening to a few discussions. Even after doing so, it still puzzles me somewhat why it's considered such an established classic that is often taught in schools (my husband recounted to me how he had to spend multiple months studying this novel.) I'm not saying it's without artistry or depth, but I find the work of other Victorian authors such as Dickens, the Brontes, George Eliot, Anthony Trollope, Elizabeth Gaskell and Wilkie Collins to be much richer and more enjoyable.

The Booker Prize 2025 Winner

And just like that, another season of the Booker Prize comes to an end! It's been so enjoyable reading and discussing all the books listed for this year's prize. There were a few duds for me in the group but also many excellent novels that I'm not sure I'd have got around to reading otherwise. I'm very happy that the winner is “Flesh” by David Szalay!

This novel follows the life of Istvan from his teenage years in Hungary and a disastrous first affair to his later years. But rather than a complete account of his life this novel moves sequentially between islands of his experience. Usually there are years which pass between chapters but it gradually builds to form a portrait of what it means to him to be a man: to inhabit a man's body, to channel his masculine desires and to live with the expectations placed upon him as a son/husband/father/soldier/bouncer/businessman. The prose style is very stripped down in its dialogue and there are few descriptions of his emotions and yet it conveys something so essential about his nature and being. I think it's an incredible portrait of a certain form of masculinity. When I read Szalay's Booker shortlisted book “All That Man” Is I felt any one of its stories could have been a full novel and that's what we get with this book, a complete and brilliant picture of a man's life. I loved it!

It was wonderful attending the Booker ceremony in London. What a buzz to be surrounded by so many authors and people from the publishing world! I had a lot of fun meeting other instagrammers and friends. Benjamin Wood told me he was obviously disappointed about “Seascraper” not being shortlisted but it made attending the ceremony less stressful since there wasn't the pressure of possibly winning. It was great meeting Susan Choi since I also loved “Flashlight” and we have a mutual friend. It was also excellent to chat with Claire Adam about how moving and impactful my bookclub found reading her novel “Love Forms” together. I also got to meet David Ebershoff (author of “The Danish Girl” and other books) but also he is Joyce Carol Oates' editor. So we geeked out about JCO for quite a while. It was lovely catching up with Chetna Maroo, author of the excellent previous shortlistee “Western Lane”.

Of course, there was also the thrill of meeting Sarah Jessica Parker! I was so flattered she immediately recognised me and turned to her friend saying “This is the guy I was telling you about.” This is an actress I've watched all my life from 'Flight of the Navigator' as a child to my early years in London watching 'Sex and the City' with my flatmates to the annual Christmas tradition of watching 'The Family Stone' with friends. Knowing that she's watched and appreciated my videos is wild! She was so lovely and we had a great discussion about books during which she indicated that she's regretful the competition necessarily means there can only be one winner. When I talked about my passion for “Seascraper” she clutched her chest and agreed she loved it too. I was very happy to see “Flesh” win but the real pleasure of following the Booker is discovering all the books and comparing notes with other readers.

I've made a vlog about my experience of the evening (including the announcement and speeches from Samantha Harvey, Penelope Lively and winner David Szalay) which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJ05mayaISU

Thanks for joining me in all the discussion and fun of this Booker Prize season! What do you think of the winner? Have you read it yet or are you keen to read it?

The Two Roberts by Damian Barr

I enjoy it when immersive historical fiction introduces me to fascinating individuals from the past. It inspires me to want to find out more about them. Damian Barr's new novel “The Two Roberts” recreates the lives of Bobby MacBryde and Robert Colquhoun, two working class gay Scottish artists who came of age in the mid 20th century. They climbed the heights of British society and moved in the artistic circles of the time before disappearing into relative obscurity. This is a deeply-involving, thought-provoking and sexy tale! I was a big fan of Barr's debut novel “You Will Be Safe Here” so it was great to discover that this new book explores a different corner of queer history.

A slight concern I had before starting this novel was whether I'd confuse the central characters since they are both called Robert. But the distinctions between Bobby and Robert are made very clear from the beginning. Though there are superficial similarities between them there are many differences regarding their personalities, artistic subjects, religious backgrounds and erm... sexual preferences. I got so involved following the tensions of their relationship, painterly aspirations and immersion in their society. Despite having to live under the persistent fear of potential arrest just from having gay sex it didn't stop them collecting buttons from their heated encounters with many different men. They were deeply devoted to each other as a couple but there was also a lot of messiness and broken crockery in their entwined lives. Amorous letters and sketches of each other needed to be destroyed because they could have been used as evidence against them. So it's poignant how the vanished intimate details of their lives are reimagined in the story. This novel gives a multi-layered look at the challenges as well as the vibrancy and excitement of queer life at this time.

Naturally, I loved how Bobby discovers a deep passion for reading in his local library. His enthralment with studying paintings in books makes his and Robert's first journey to a London gallery to see some of these artworks in person all the more thrilling. It inspired me to take a trip to The National Gallery in London to see for myself Van Gogh's Sunflowers which this pair once examined together. I show footage from my solo expedition in a video I've made about this novel. It's interesting how their artistic development and collaboration is shown in the novel as well as their acquaintance with figures such as Lucian Freud and Elizabeth Smart (as well as tensions they had with Vanessa Bell and the Bloomsbury Group.) Damian Barr has also curated a new exhibition of MacBryde and Colquhoun's paintings at Charleston in Lewes so I hope to see that at some point before it closes in April.

On the Calculation of Volume II by Solvej Balle (translated by Barbara J Haveland)

I was a big fan of the first book in Balle's ambitious planned series of “On the Calculation of Volume”. I'm compelled by the immediacy of Tara's plight being caught in a time loop where November 18 repeats endlessly for her while she continues to age and the rest of the world wakes up experiencing this day for the first time. But, even more than the plot, I find it fascinating to consider the larger ideas and questions this story raises concerning human relationships, subjective experience and our temporal relationship to the material world. So it was exciting to read this second book which continues Tara's notes after a full year has passed living in November 18th.

Just to note, I think it would be quite disorientating entering into this second book without having read the first. It picks up where the previous book left off and only briefly explains the overall circumstances and nature of her predicament. Though Tara still hopes to find a way to escape her time loop there's a more resigned meditative tone in this continuation of her story. Since she's been denied the regular annual traditions of the year from holidays to changes in the seasons, Tara dedicates herself to recreating these events by visiting family (who a bit too conveniently believe that she is caught in a time loop) and travelling to parts of Europe where the climates more closely replicate the season she feels she ought to be experiencing. Thus she gains a wider view of what the world experiences on November 18th from late-year lambing to football matches.

I enjoyed how this made me think more about how reliant we become on cycles of the year and changes in life. Without the holiday festivities Tara has come to expect there's a marked absence in her life: “traditions don't need to harmonise, they simply have to be there. They have to be there as a sort of safety net, to give one something to land on. When the world falls apart. When time fractures.” Far from going through the motions, the traditions which are part of family and community life form a touchstone. It's moving how Tara fastidiously goes about recreating Christmas with her family and then immersing herself in a Northern European snowy landscape to simulate the experience and sensibility which comes with winter.

A fascinating distinction is drawn between the weather and the seasons. A woman Tara meets in a hospital after she's injured herself remarks that “Temperature and precipitation were meteorological phenomena, she said. Cold and heat, cloudbursts and drought. But seasons? She saw them more as psychological phenomena.” I've noticed how something that often unites people (especially the British) is discussing the weather. It most often comes up when the weather that we're experiencing doesn't conform to what we expect the weather to be within the season we're currently inhabiting. This reminds me of Ali Smith's Seasonal Quartet (“Autumn”, “Winter”, “Spring” and “Summer”) and how many of the characters discuss or long for future seasons – as if the anticipation of the season to come is more enticing than appreciating the season one is inhabiting. Tara's plan to follow and record the seasons becomes like performance art where she immerses herself in the stereotypical sensations of a season to satisfy her psychological needs. Of course, this isn't always satisfying because there are indications which remind her it's not actually that season.

Being on the move also means that Tara doesn't use up all the resources of her local area. Any food she consumes doesn't appear again the next day so over time she drains the resources of local food outlets or restaurants. Consequently, she has the recurring feeling that she's a kind of monster: “I am devouring my world. That I have to move on, to avoid eating up my world. That I am a monster on the move, a winter monster.” Her condition creates a hyper-awareness of the environmental impact of her presence in a way we don't often think about in our normal lives because usually any resources we use can be easily replaced. I like how this factor creates an added layer of considering existence when thrown outside of the normal flow of time.

Our lives are so often consumed with the daily obligations of work and leisure time spent with partners, family and friends. I read this novel while suffering from a cold so I was less active than usual and absented myself from ordinary daily activities. So I enjoy how Tara's peculiar predicament simulates that experience of being thrown out of the normal flow of life. As I said with the first book, I don't think the how and why of this occurrence is as interesting as the larger questions her condition raises about existence. She's driven into a much more interior and ruminative space – eventually going on a tangent researching Roman civilization inspired by the sestertius she continues to carry with her. I enjoyed how this mimics the sense of becoming obsessed with a certain subject or book where time seems to disappear.

Tara also seems to come to a place where she can partly accept her fate and live in this eternal present: “my time is not a circle and it is not a line, it is not a wheel and it is not a river. It is a space, a room, a pool, a vessel, a container. It is a backyard with a medlar tree and autumn sunshine.” Since we're so accustomed to thinking about our personal and collective histories on timelines I like that her unique sense of existence forces me to consider another way of conceptualising a relationship to time. I'm very curious about where the series will go next (especially as this book ends with quite a cliffhanger.) I do worry that the author feels the need to work in twists which will keep the reader compelled to pick up the next book but, for the moment at least, I'm still hooked.

Daughters of the Bamboo Grove by Barbara Demick

“Daughters of the Bamboo Grove” is journalist Barbara Demick's account of a particular pair of twin girls who were born in China in the year 2000. When they were very young one of the girls was taken by a family planning official, trafficked to an orphanage and adopted by an American couple who thought they were rescuing the girl from China's oppressive one child policy. The book recounts the girls' separate journeys being raised in America and China as well as giving a wider picture of how the one child laws created a corrupt system where children were forcibly seized from a huge number of families. This displacement was obviously heartbreaking for many involved and now with genealogical tests being more widespread difficult reunions can sometimes take place. It was enlightening getting a clearer view of this recent Chinese history and it was moving following the stories of these twin girls.

I enjoyed the way Demick weaves a clear-sighted view of Chinese politics, history and the tragic effects of the one child policy into snapshots into the lives of ordinary citizens and how their families have been personally impacted by these larger issues. In particular, I found it fascinating learning about some brave citizens who stood up to local authorities and demanded answers about what happened to their children. In one section Demick goes off on a tangent about twins and psychological studies about “twinness” which didn't feel necessary. However, the rest of the book is extremely compelling as an exploration of modern Chinese life and the deleterious effects and continuing impact of policing procreation. Moreover, it was emotional and impactful following the story of these twin girls' lives and Demick's surprisingly personal involvement in them.

The Booker Prize 2025 Shortlist

Here is the 2025 Booker shortlist! I had a fun evening at the very first public Booker shortlist announcement and it was so interesting to get an insight into the judging process from the panel. It was endearing how judge Sarah Jessica Parker seemed nervous but she spoke so articulately. What really came across was the judges' passion and excitement to discuss these six novels. You can watch some clips from the evening and my reaction to the shortlist here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJf8AozuctA

It's a strong list overall with 3 of my favourites (“Flesh”, “Flashlight” and “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny”) and 2 I highly admire (“The Land in Winter” and “Audition”). The only book I found a bit tedious to read was “The Rest of Our Lives”, but I was encouraged by how the judges said it develops so much more with a reread so I might go back to it. I was very disappointed “Seascraper” and “Endling” didn't make the shortlist, but hey ho; I still love them. Kiran Desai's publisher must be thrilled that the publication of her novel coincides with it making the shortlist!

What do you think of the shortlist? Have you read some or all of the books? Do you have a favourite or one you're excited to read next?

Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li

It's a strange experience following an author's semi-autobiographical publications for years. Unexpected tragedies which occur in reality are honed into books with meaning which is both personal and universal. I've read and been extremely moved by Li's previous books “Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life” in which she alludes to her own suicide attempt and “Where Reasons End” in which she creates fictional conversations with her teenage son Vincent who committed suicide. It's difficult to imagine that there could be any experiences which are more heartbreaking than what Li already lived through. But last year her second son James also committed suicide. Li acknowledges in this new book about James that if this were fiction it would strain belief and that enduring such tragedy is unimaginable until it actually occurs. Nevertheless, this is her reality. In this book she doesn't so much ponder how or why James died, but the experience of still being a mother though both her children are deceased and persisting after such an agonising loss has occurred. The fact of what has happened must be faced and she records her process of “radical acceptance” because “If an abyss is where I shall be for the rest of my life, the abyss is my habitat. One should not waste energy fighting one's habitat.”

Reading about such a personal tragedy might feel too morbid and achingly difficult for many readers, but I'm glad to have read this book for its quiet wisdom, practical approach to dealing with bereavement and people's awkwardness around death. Li describes both invaluable support and callous reactions she's received from different people since being informed about James' suicide. Some people offer a valuable perspective to Li and there are small acts of kindness which assist in the practicalities of daily life. However, it staggers belief how some individuals feel compelled to make one person's tragedy more about themselves. Equally, since Li is a writer and public figure, commentary from the media (especially Chinese news outlets) has been insensitive and cruel in their assumptions and speculations. There's a satisfaction in reading how Li settles the score in this memoir and lays bare the worst side of how humanity can respond to such a tragedy. It's also surprising and horrifying how Li recounts the physical and mental abuse she received at an early age from her mother; this contrasts sharply with the understanding and respect she gave to her own sons. This book also offers a new way of understanding loss – not as a process of grieving, a notion which Li refutes because it suggests there will be an endpoint when the grief will end and normal life will resume: “What is grief but a word, a shortcut, a simplification of something much larger than that word?” There is no normality after such a monumental loss and if reality is to be accepted it must be faced in all its ruthless complexity.

Death wasn't discussed much when I was growing up (I think this is common for many Americans) so whenever I experience the loss of a loved one I feel somewhat unequipped to know how to respond. I'm stupefied and uncomfortable with death, as if the fact of it should be simply acknowledged and then we should all swiftly move on. So I'm grateful for the rational way Li details and discusses surviving through something which feels so irrational and overwhelming. It's also a beautiful testament to the unique qualities of both her sons. She explains that the form her book “Where Reasons End” took was particular to Vincent and the form this book takes is unique for James: “A book is a placeholder, no more, no less. This book for James – what does it hold? All the words that have come to me: many of them fall short; some are kept because they are needed to hold a place for James.” I feel grateful to have got to know a bit about this intelligent young man through Li's recollections. More than that I feel I have a better point of view about the process of bereavement and facing such unimaginable loss – because it's sadly inevitable we will all lose loved ones at some point. As Li states, “There is no real salvation from one's own life; books, however, offer the approximation of it.”

Love Forms by Claire Adam

Dawn is a middle aged woman who was born and raised in Trinidad but has spent her entire adult life living in England. When she was a teenager she gave up her newborn daughter for adoption. Now she's been contacted by a woman who claims to be her lost daughter. This story is an account of her life and the search for the daughter she's never known. I read this novel with my online book club and there were very mixed responses from different members. Some found it very emotional to read and others felt it fell flat. Personally, I did find the story emotionally involving – especially Dawn's harrowing experience when she was only 16 being smuggled into Venezuela to give birth in secret and the very poignant end of the novel. To me these events set the tone of the book so that all the details she relates about her life in between (from mundane observations to poignant memories) have an emotional charge to them where Dawn is trying to set the record straight about her past/identity and reconcile the trauma and loss she experienced as a teenager. The time she spends late at night looking through her ipad to look at maps of Venezuela and copy pictures of women who might look like her daughter show her deep yearning for connection and understanding. I also found it very powerful how she imagines different forms her daughter's life might have taken and potential conversations they might have. While the story is obviously set within a specific context I think it prompts self reflections about an individual's relationship to their parents or child (if they are a parent.)

I found it interesting how Claire Adam stated in an interview that the yearning a mother and child have to be together (even if they've never met) seems to “defy rational explanation”. I enjoyed how the story steadily explores this question probing how the connection might be instinctual, biological, emotional or a combination of these. Is this bond imagined or real? There's the immediate tension throughout this tale about whether or not the woman in Italy who has contacted Dawn is her daughter or not. But apart from the genetic answer to this question there is obviously a longing for a mother/daughter relationship which never occurred and it's poignant how the story explores the dynamics of this. I appreciated the way the novel questions the meaning and role of parenthood – especially how family can take on different forms – especially if certain family members have been (potentially) irretrievably lost.

I'd say the story takes quite a leisurely pace as it moves backwards and forwards between Dawn's present and the past. Not all of the details may seem entirely relevant but it came across to me like Dawn was trying to compose a memoir or portrait of her own life so her lost daughter can understand her. So her way of explaining aspect of Trinidadian ways of speaking and mannerisms felt intended to help her daughter understand what life is like in the country of Dawn's birth because her unknown daughter has probably never visited it and isn't familiar with the culture. Similarly, Dawn explains the workings and lifestyle of Britain and London where she's made her home for her entire adult life. Personally, I enjoyed mentions of a number of south London locations I'm familiar with since I've also lived in these areas for my entire adult life. It also felt like this surplus of detail and Dawn's manner of explaining things was also a way for her to affirm her own sense of identity since she has lived away from her homeland for so long. I certainly feel this myself as an expat. Nevertheless, the story does seem to drag a bit and becomes a little too meandering in the middle.

I felt one of the most striking sections of the novel was when Dawn confronts her father trying to explain why she longs to reconnect with her unknown daughter and holding him to account for putting her in such a terrifying/dangerous situation when she was pregnant at 16. The “You were the lion” line packs quite a punch! But I like how this is further complicated as we learn things which have been hidden about her father's past. While the father's attitude toward Dawn is undoubtably influenced by a patriarchal sense regarding the stigma and class shame about an unwed pregnant daughter, it shows how he might have also been motivated by a sense of shame about his own past and a potential suppressed longing for an unknown family connection. It partly shows why he is so motivated to consign children given up for adoption to the past and focus purely on the present and the family formed within the sanctity of marriage and the “legitimate” children who are socially accepted. Alternatively, Dawn's mother softens her point of view and I found the uneasy new connection she makes with her to be very poignant. This change in her mother's stance made sense to me given the amount of time that has passed, the way social norms have changed slightly over the decades and since the father has died Dawn's mother might feel less need to side with him.

I've enjoyed thinking about this novel in comparison to some other recent fiction which differently explores parent/child relationships – especially in relation to young mothers. For instance, in “Seascraper” by Benjamin Wood, Thomas' mother became pregnant with him when she was a teenager. She had to make compromises in her life in order to care for him at a young age yet she doesn't regret her decision. In addition to parental/social pressure, Dawn was motivated to give her daughter up for adoption because she didn't want to miss out on life's opportunities. Now in her 50s she has a good life and loves her adult sons but she's not achieved her professional aspirations in being a doctor. I've found it interesting to consider to what degree compromises are an inevitable part of parenthood – regardless of whether a child is kept or given up for adoption. Another example is the recent novel “Ripeness” by Sarah Moss where the protagonist's sister gives her newborn up for adoption and is staunch in her conviction that she wants no emotional or physical connection with the baby because she is focused on her dance career. I've been mulling over these different characters and the different techniques these authors have used to explore the complicated questions surrounding parent/child connections.

Having also read Claire Adam's previous novel “Golden Child”, I think the author has a special talent for conveying complex emotions in her narratives and exploring the teeming (perhaps unanswerable) questions which induce such conflicted feelings.