Tag Archives: Norman Lindsay

Some 2022 Reading Superlatives

Longest book read this year: To Paradise by Hanya Yanagihara (720 pages)

Shortest book read this year: Everything’s Changing by Chelsea Stickle (37 pages)

Authors I read the most by this year: Nicola Colton (4), Jakob Wegelius (3), Tove Jansson and Sarah Ruhl (2)

 

Publishers I read the most from: (Besides the ubiquitous Penguin and its many imprints) Canongate, Carcanet and Picador – which is part of the Pan Macmillan group.

 

An author I ‘discovered’ and now want to read everything by: Matthew Vollmer

 

My overall top discovery of the year: The Murderer’s Ape by Jakob Wegelius

My proudest non-bookish achievement: Giving a eulogy at my mom’s funeral (and even getting some laughs).

 

The books that made me laugh the most: Revenge of the Librarians by Tom Gauld, Undoctored by Adam Kay, Forget Me Not by Sophie Pavelle, Blurb Your Enthusiasm by Louise Willder

 

The books that made me cry the most: Foster by Claire Keegan, The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken

Most useful fact gleaned from a book: To convert a Celsius temperature to Fahrenheit, double it and add 30. It’s a rough estimate, but it generally works! I learned this from, of all places, The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken.

 

Best book club selections: The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown, Falling Angels by Tracy Chevalier, Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

Best first line encountered this year: “First, I got myself born.” (Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver)

 

Best last lines encountered this year:

  • “Darling, that’s what life’s for – to take risks.” (Up at the Villa, W. Somerset Maugham)
  • “The defiant soul of the city doesn’t die. It stays alive, right below the surface, pressing up against the boot heels, crouched like the life inside an egg, the force that drives the flower, forever reaching for its next breath.” (Feral City, Jeremiah Moss)
  • “Until the future, whatever it was going to be.” (This Time Tomorrow, Emma Straub)

 

A book that put a song in my head every time I picked it up: Heaven Is a Place on Earth by Adrian Shirk

Shortest book title encountered: O (a poetry collection by Zeina Hashem Beck), followed by XO (a memoir by Sara Rauch)

 

Best 2022 book title: I Want to Die But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki by Baek Se-hee (No, I haven’t read it and I’m unlikely to, not having had great luck with recent translations of work by Japanese and Korean women.)

 

Favourite title and cover combo of the year: Briefly, A Delicious Life by Nell Stevens

Most fun cover serendipity: Two books I read in 2022 featured Matisse cut-outs.

Biggest disappointment: The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki ( for me)

 

Two 2022 books that everyone was in raptures about but me: Trust by Hernan Diaz and Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (both for me)

A 2022 book that everyone was reading but I decided not to: The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell – since I thought Hamnet her weakest work, I’m not eager to try more historical fiction by her.

 

A 2022 book I can’t read: (No matter how good the reviews might be, because of the title) I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy

 

The worst books I read this year: The Reactor by Nick Blackburn, Treacle Walker by Alan Garner, Anthropology by Dan Rhodes, Bonsai by Alejandro Zambra (1-star ratings are extremely rare from me; these were this year’s four)

 

The downright strangest book I read this year: The Magic Pudding by Norman Lindsay

Miscellaneous Novellas: Jungle Nama, The Magic Pudding, Tree Glee (#NovNov22)

Here’s a random trio of short books I read earlier and haven’t managed to review until now. Novellas in November is a deliberately wide-ranging challenge, taking in almost any genre you care to read – here I have a retold fable, a bizarre children’s classic, and a self-help work celebrating our connection with trees. I’ll do a couple more of these miscellaneous round-ups before the end of the month.

 

Jungle Nama: A Story of the Sunderban by Amitav Ghosh (2021)

My first from Ghosh. It’s a retelling in verse of a local Indian legend about Dhona, a greedy merchant who arrives in the mangrove swamps to exploit their resources. To gain wealth he is willing to sacrifice his destitute cousin, Dhukey, to placate Dokkhin Rai, a jungle-dwelling demon that takes the form of a man-eating tiger.

However, Dhukey’s mother, distrustful of their cousin, prepared her son for trouble, telling him that if he calls on the goddess Bon Bibi in dwipodi-poyar (rhyming couplets of 24 syllables), she will rescue him. I loved this idea of poetry itself saving the day.

The legend is told, then, in that very Bengali verse style. The insistence on rhyme sometimes necessitates slightly silly word choices, but the text feels very musical. Beyond the fairly obvious messages of forgiveness—

But you must forgive him, rascal though he is;

to hate forever is to fall into an abyss.

—and not grasping for more than you need—

All you need do, is be content with what you’ve got;

to be always craving more, is a demon’s lot.

—I appreciated the idea of ordered verse replicating, or even creating, the order of nature:

Thus did Bon Bibi create a dispensation,

that brought peace to the beings of the Sundarban;

every creature had a place, every want was met,

all needs were balanced, like the lines of a couplet.

With illustrations by Salman Toor. (Public library) [79 pages]

 

The Magic Pudding by Norman Lindsay (1918)

This is one of the stranger books I’ve ever read. I happened to see it on Project Gutenberg and downloaded it pretty much for the title alone, without knowing anything about it. It’s an obscure Australian children’s chapter book peopled largely by talking animals. Bill Barnacle (a human), Bunyip Bluegum (a koala bear) and Sam Sawnoff (a penguin) come into possession of a magical pudding by the name of Albert. Cut into the puddin’ as often as you like for servings of steak and kidney pudding and apple dumpling – or your choice from a limited range of other comforting savoury and sweet dishes – and he simply regenerates.

Naturally, others want to get their hands on this handy source of bounteous food, and the characters have to fend off would-be puddin’-snatchers such as a possum and a wombat and even take their case before a judge. The four chapters are called “Slices,” there are lots of songs reminiscent of Edward Lear, and the dialogue often veers into the farcical:

“‘You can’t wear hats that high, without there’s puddin’s under them,’ said Bill. ‘That’s not puddin’s,’ said the Possum; ‘that’s ventilation. He wears his hat like that to keep his brain cool.’”

I did find it all amusing, but also inane, such that I don’t necessarily think it earns its place as a rediscovered classic. It didn’t help that I then borrowed a copy of the book from the library and found that it was a terribly reproduced “Alpha Editions” version in Comic Sans with distorted illustrations and no line breaks in the songs. (Public library) [169 pages]

 

Tree Glee: How and Why Trees Make Us Feel Better by Cheryl Rickman (2022)

This is a small-format coffee table self-help book for nature lovers. It affirms something that many of us know intuitively: being around trees improves our mood and our health. Rickman looks at this from a psychological and a cultural perspective, and talks about her own love of trees and how it helped her get through difficult times in life such as when she lost her mum when she was a teenager. She includes some practical ideas for how to spend more time in nature and how we can fight to preserve trees. Unfortunately, a lot of the information was very familiar to me from books such as Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt and Losing Eden by Lucy Jones – for a long time, forest bathing was one of the themes that kept recurring across my reading – such that this felt like an unnecessary rehashing, illustrated with stock photographs that are nice enough to look at but don’t add anything. [182 pages]

With thanks to Welbeck for the free copy for review.