Reading Snapshot for Mid-January
As I said in my last post, I’m in the middle of a bunch of books but hardly finishing anything, so consider this another placeholder until my Love Your Library and January releases posts next week. People often ask how I read so much. One of the answers is that I generally read 20–30 books at once, bouncing between them as the mood takes me and making steady progress in most. A frequent follow-up question is how I keep so many books straight in my head. I maintain a variety of genres and topics in the stack and alternate between fiction, nonfiction and poetry in any reading session. If I’m going to be reviewing something, particularly for pay, I tend to make notes. Here’s a peek at my current stacks, with a line or two on each book and why I’m reading it.
- Myself & Other Animals by Gerald Durrell [public library] – This is a posthumous collection of excerpts from his published work, including newspaper articles, plus mini essays that he wrote towards an autobiography. We own/have read most of his animal-collecting and zoo-keeping memoirs and this is just as delightful, even in unconnected pieces. His conservationist zeal was ahead of his time.
- The God of the Woods by Liz Moore [public library] – It’s rare for me to borrow something from the Crime section, but this came highly lauded by Laila. Set in upstate New York in 1975, it’s a page-turning missing-girl mystery with a literary focus on character backstory, and it’s reminding me of Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll and When the Stars Go Dark by Paula McLain.
- Gold by Elaine Feinstein [secondhand purchase] – I’ve enjoyed Feinstein’s poetry before so snapped this up on our second trip to Bridport. The first long poem was a monologue from the perspective of a collaborator of Mozart; I think I’ll engage more with the discrete poems to follow.
- Understorey by Anna Chapman Parker [review copy] – Catching up on one I was sent last year. It’s a one-year diary through ‘weeds’ (wild plants!) she observes and sketches near her home of Berwick upon Tweed, where we vacationed in September. I am enjoying reading a few peaceful entries per sitting.
- A God at the Door by Tishani Doshi [secondhand purchase] – Her Girls Are Coming out of the Woods was a favourite of mine a few years ago when I reviewed it for Wasafiri literary magazine. I found this on my last trip to Hay-on-Wye, and it is just as rich in long, forthright, feminist and political poems.
- The Secret Life of Snow by Giles Whittell [secondhand purchase] – I picked up a few snowy titles when we got a dusting the other week, in case it was the only snow of the year. This is so much like The Snow Tourist by Charlie English it’s uncanny; to my memory it’s more meteorological, though still accessible. The science is interspersed with travels and fun trivia about Norway’s Olympic skiers and so on.
- Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice [gift] – Probably my first book by an Indigenous Canadian, which was reason enough to read it. I’m about 50 pages in and so far it’s a plodding story of mysterious power outages which could just be part of the onset of winter but I suspect will turn out to be sinister and dystopian instead.
- Knead to Know by Neil Buttery [review copy] – Another 2024 book to catch up on. It’s a history of baking via mini-essays on loads of different breads, cakes, pies and pastries, many of them traditional English ones that you will never have heard of but will now want to cram. Lots of intriguing titbits.
- Invisible by Paul Auster [secondhand purchase] – Getting ready for Annabel’s second Paul Auster Reading Week in early February. A young (and Auster-like) would-be poet gets entangled with a thirtysomething professor who wants to fund a start-up literary magazine – and his French girlfriend. Highly readable and sure to get weirder.
- While the Earth Holds Its Breath by Helen Moat [review copy] – Yet another 2024 book to catch up on. Authors are still jumping on the Wintering bandwagon. This is composed of short autobiographical pieces about winter walks near home or further afield, many of them samey; the trip to Lapland has been a highlight so far.
- The Blindfold by Siri Hustvedt [review copy] – Also part of my preparation for Paul Auster Reading Week, and boy can you see his influence on her first novel! Iris Vegan is employed by Mr. Morning to record audio descriptions of relics left behind by a possibly murdered woman. Odd and enticing.
- Uneven by Sam Mills [review copy] – A group biography of nine bisexuals – make that 10, as there’s plenty of memoir fragments from Mills, too. I’ve read the chapters on Oscar Wilde, Colette & Bessie Smith, and Marlene Dietrich so far. It is particularly enlightening to think of Wilde as bi rather than a closeted homosexual.
- Unexpected Lessons in Love by Bernardine Bishop [secondhand purchase] – Every year I pick up at least a few “love” or “heart” titles in advance of Valentine’s Day. Bishop was one of my top discoveries last year (via The Street) and this Costa Award-nominated posthumous novel is equally engaging, even after just 50 pages.
- My Judy Garland Life by Susie Boyt [secondhand purchase] – After Loved and Missed, I was keen to try more from Boyt and this Ackerley Prize-shortlisted memoir sounded fascinating. I love The Wizard of Oz as much as the next person. Boyt, however, is a Garland mega-fan and blends biography and memoir as she writes about addiction, mental health, celebrity and the search for love.
- Poetry Unbound by Pádraig Ó Tuama [public library] – I’m gradually making my way through this set of 50 poems and his critical/personal responses to them. Most of the poets have been unfamiliar to me. Marie Howe has been my top discovery.
- The Shutter of Snow by Emily Holmes Coleman [secondhand purchase] – Another incidental ‘snow’ title; this is autofiction about postpartum psychosis, written in a stream-of-consciousness style with no speech marks or apostrophes. It’s hard to believe it was written in the 1930s because it feels like it could have been yesterday.
- Ravens in Winter by Bernd Heinrich [secondhand purchase] – I’ve long meant to read more by Heinrich, who’s better known in the USA, after Winter World. This was a lucky find at Regent Books in Wantage. It’s a granular scientific study of bird behaviour, so I will likely read it very slowly, maybe even over two winters.
- The Book of George by Kate Greathead [review copy] – Linked short stories about an Everyman schmuck (and my exact contemporary) from adolescence up to today. He’s indecisive, lazy, an underachiever. Life keeps happening around him; will he make something happen? (George, c’est moi?) The deadpan tone is great.
- Stowaway by Joe Shute [public library] – I’ve been reading this off and on since, er, June, which is not to say that it’s not interesting but that it’s never been a priority. Like his book on ravens, it’s intended to rehabilitate the reputation of a species often considered to be a pest. He gets pet rats, too!
- The Black Bird Oracle by Deborah Harkness [public library] – It’s even rarer for me to borrow from the Science Fiction & Fantasy section of the library, but I’ve been following the series since A Discovery of Witches came out in 2011. I’m halfway through and enjoying Diana’s embrace of her witch heritage in the Salem area.
That’s not all, folks! There’s also the e-books.
- Dirty Kitchen by Jill Damatac [Edelweiss] – I’ll be reviewing this May release early for Shelf Awareness. The author’s Filipino family were undocumented immigrants in the USA and as a child she was occasionally abandoned and frequently physically abused. Recipes and legends offer a break from the tough subject matter (reminiscent of Educated or What My Bones Know).
- My Marriage Sabbatical by Leah Fisher [from publicist] – She Writes Press is a reliable source of women’s life writing. I’ve only just started this but will try to review it this month. Fisher, a psychotherapist, was sick of her psychiatrist husband’s workaholism and wanted to try living differently, starting with a house share.
- I’ll Come to You by Rebecca Kauffman [from publicist] – Another American linked short story collection, moving month by month through 1995 (does that count as historical fiction?!), cycling through the members of an extended family as they navigate illnesses and fraught parenting journeys. I’m getting J. Ryan Stradal vibes.
- Constructing a Witch by Helen Ivory [Edelweiss] – This feminist take on the historical persecution and stereotypes of witches is a good match for the Harkness! I just keep forgetting to open it up on my Kindle.
According to Goodreads, I’m reading 28 books at the moment, so I haven’t even covered all of them. (The rest include library books that would more honestly be classified as “set aside.”)
Whew. It somehow seems like even more when I write them all up like this…
Back to the reading!
Short Stories in September, II: Willie Davis, Gerald Durrell, Sue Mell and Lore Segal
Four more collections down. Two of them blend fictional and autobiographical modes. Two are set primarily in New York City, with another hanging out in Kentucky and the fourth touring Europe. Three of the authors were new to me and one is an old favourite. I’m borrowing Marcie’s five-sentence review format to keep things simple.
I Can Outdance Jesus by Willie Davis (2024)
I don’t often take a look at unsolicited review copies, but I couldn’t resist the title of this and I’m glad I gave it a try. Davis’s 10 stories, several of flash length, take place in small-town Kentucky and feature a lovable cast of pranksters, drunks, and spinners of tall tales. The title phrase comes from one of the controversial songs the devil-may-care narrator of “Battle Hymn” writes. My two favourites were “Kid in a Well,” about one-upmanship and storytelling in a local bar, and “The Peddlers,” which has two rogues masquerading as Mormon missionaries. I got vague Denis Johnson vibes from this sassy, gritty but funny collection; Davis is a talent!
Published by Cowboy Jamboree Press. With thanks to publicist Lori Hettler for the free e-copy for review.
The Picnic and Suchlike Pandemonium by Gerald Durrell (1979)
If you’ve read his autobiographical trilogy or seen The Durrells, you’ll be familiar with the quirky, chaotic family atmosphere that reigns in the first two pieces: “The Picnic,” about a luckless excursion in Dorset, and “The Maiden Voyage,” set on a similarly disastrous sailing in Greece (“Basically, the rule in Greece is to expect everything to go wrong and to try to enjoy it whether it does or not”). No doubt there’s some comic exaggeration at work here, especially in “The Public School Education,” about running into a malapropism-prone ex-girlfriend in Venice, and “The Havoc of Havelock,” in which Durrell, like an agony uncle, lends volumes of the sexologist’s work to curious hotel staff in Bournemouth. The final two France-set stories, however, feel like pure fiction even though they involve the factual framing device of hearing a story from a restaurateur or reading a historical manuscript that friends inherited from a French doctor. “The Michelin Man” is a cheeky foodie one with a surprisingly gruesome ending; “The Entrance” is a full-on dose of horror worthy of R.I.P. I wouldn’t say this is essential reading for Durrell fans, but it was a pleasant way of passing the time. (Secondhand – Lions Bookshop, Alnwick, 2021)
A New Day by Sue Mell (2024)
Three suites of linked stories focus on young women whose choices in the 1980s have ramifications decades later. Chance meetings, addictions, ill-considered affairs, and random events all take their toll. Emma house-sits and waitresses while hoping in vain for her acting career to take off; “all she felt was a low-grade mourning for what she’d lost and hadn’t attained.” My favourite pair was about Nina, who is a photographer’s assistant in “Single Lens Reflex” and 13 years later, in “Photo Finish,” bumps into the photographer again in Central Park. With wistful character studies and nostalgic snapshots of changing cities, this is a stylish and accomplished collection.
Published by She Writes Press on September 3. With thanks to publicist Caitlin Hamilton Summie for the free e-copy for review.
Ladies’ Lunch and Other Stories by Lore Segal (2023)
The first section contains nine linked stories about a group of five elderly female friends. Bessie jokes that “wakes and funerals are the cocktail parties of the old,” and Ruth indeed mistakes a shivah for a party and meets a potential beau who never quite successfully invites her on a date. One of their members leaves the City for a nursing home; “Sans Teeth, Sans Taste” is a good example of the morbid sense of humour. A few unrelated stories draw on Segal’s experience being evacuated from Vienna to London by Kindertransport; “Pneumonia Chronicles” is one of several autobiographical essays that bring events right up to the Covid era – closing with the bonus story “Ladies’ Zoom.” The ladies’ stories are quite amusing, but the book as a whole feels like an assortment of minor scraps; it was published when Segal, a New Yorker contributor, was 95. (Secondhand – National Trust bookshop, 2023)
Postscript: Segal died on 7 October 2024, aged 96.
I’ll have a couple more reviews roundups between now and early October.
Currently reading: The Lone-Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie, The Skeleton in the Cupboard by Lilija Berzinska; The Woman Who Gave Birth to Rabbits by Emma Donoghue; The Best Short Stories 2023: The O. Henry Prize Winners, ed. Lauren Groff; Waltzing the Cat by Pam Houston; Dreams of Dead Women’s Handbags by Shena Mackay; How to Disappear by Tara Masih; The Souvenir Museum by Elizabeth McCracken; Like Life by Lorrie Moore; The Long Swim by Teresa Svoboda; In Love and Trouble by Alice Walker
Recommended June Releases
I have an all-female line-up for you this time, with selections ranging from a YA romance in verse to a memoir by a spiritual recording artist. There’s a very random detail that connects two of these books – look out for it!
In Paris with You by Clémentine Beauvais
[Faber & Faber, 7th]
I don’t know the source material Beauvais was working with (Eugene Onegin, 1837), but still enjoyed this YA romance in verse. Eugene and Tatiana meet by chance in Paris in 2016 and the attraction between them is as strong as ever, but a possible relationship is threatened by memories of a tragic event from 10 years ago involving Lensky, Eugene’s friend and the boyfriend of Tatiana’s older sister Olga. I’m in awe at how translator Sam Taylor has taken the French of her Songe à la douceur and turned it into English poetry with the occasional rhyme. This is a sweet book that would appeal to John Green’s readers, but it’s more sexually explicit than a lot of American YA, so is probably only suitable for older teens. (Proof copy from Faber Spring Party)
Favorite lines:
“Her heart takes the lift / up to her larynx, / where it gets stuck / hammering against the walls of her neck.”
“an adult with a miniature attention span, / like everyone else, refreshing, updating, / nibbling at time like a ham baguette.”
“helium balloons in the shape of spermatozoa straining towards the dark sky.”
My rating: 
Implosion: A Memoir of an Architect’s Daughter by Elizabeth W. Garber
[She Writes Press, 12th]
The author grew up in a glass house designed by her father, Modernist architect Woodie Garber, outside Cincinnati in the 1960s–70s. This and his other most notable design, Sander Hall, a controversial tower-style dorm at the University of Cincinnati that was later destroyed in a controlled explosion, serve as powerful metaphors for her dysfunctional family life. Woodie is such a fascinating, flawed figure. Manic depression meant he had periods of great productivity but also weeks when he couldn’t get out of bed. He and Elizabeth connected over architecture, like when he helped her make a scale model of Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye for a school project, but it was hard for a man born in the 1910s to understand his daughter’s generation or his wife’s desire to go back to school and have her own career.
Mixed feelings towards a charismatic creative genius who made home life a torment and the way their fractured family kept going are reasons enough to read this book. But another is just that Garber’s life has been so interesting: she witnessed the 1968 race riots and had a black boyfriend when interracial relationships were frowned upon; she was briefly the librarian for the Oceanics School, whose boat was taken hostage in Panama; and she dropped out of mythology studies at Harvard to become an acupuncturist. Don’t assume this will be a boring tome only for architecture buffs. It’s a masterful memoir for everyone. (Read via NetGalley on Nook)
My rating: 
Florida by Lauren Groff
[William Heinemann (UK), 7th / Riverhead (USA), 5th]
My review is in today’s “Book Wars” column in Stylist magazine. Two major, connected threads in this superb story collection are ambivalence about Florida, and ambivalence about motherhood. The narrator of “The Midnight Zone,” staying with her sons in a hunting camp 20 miles from civilization, ponders the cruelty of time and her failure to be sufficiently maternal, while the woman in “Flower Hunters” is so lost in an eighteenth-century naturalist’s book that she forgets to get Halloween costumes for her kids. A few favorites of mine were “Ghosts and Empties,” in which the narrator goes for long walks at twilight and watches time passing through the unwitting tableaux of the neighbors’ windows; “Eyewall,” a matter-of-fact ghost story; and “Above and Below,” in which a woman slips into homelessness – it’s terrifying how precarious her life is at every step. (Proof copy)
Favorite lines:
“What had been built to seem so solid was fragile in the face of time because time is impassive, more animal than human. Time would not care if you fell out of it. It would continue on without you.” (from “The Midnight Zone”)
“The wind played the chimney until the whole place wheezed like a bagpipe.” (from “Eyewall”)
“How lonely it would be, the mother thinks, looking at her children, to live in this dark world without them.” (from “Yport”)
My rating:
The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Seen: Opening Your Eyes to Wonder by Lisa Gungor
[Zondervan, 26th]
You’re most likely to pick this up if you enjoy Gungor’s music, but it’s by no means a band tell-all. The big theme of this memoir is moving beyond the strictures of religion to find an all-encompassing spirituality. Like many Gungor listeners, Lisa grew up in, and soon outgrew, a fundamentalist Christian setting. She bases the book around a key set of metaphors: the dot, the line, and the circle. The dot was the confining theology she was raised with; the line was the pilgrimage she and Michael Gungor embarked on after they married at 19; the circle was the more inclusive spirituality she developed after their second daughter, Lucie, was born with Down syndrome and required urgent heart surgery. Being mothered, becoming a mother and accepting God as Mother: together these experiences bring the book full circle. Barring the too-frequent nerdy-cool posturing (seven mentions of “dance parties,” and so on), this is a likable memoir for readers of spiritual writing by the likes of Sue Monk Kidd, Mary Oliver and Terry Tempest Williams. (Read via NetGalley on Kindle)
My rating:
Orchid & the Wasp by Caoilinn Hughes
[Oneworld, 7th] – see my full review. 
Ok, Mr Field by Katharine Kilalea
[Faber & Faber, 7th]
Mr. Field is a concert pianist whose wrist was shattered in a train crash. With his career temporarily derailed, there’s little for him to do apart from wander his Cape Town house, a replica of Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye, and the nearby coastal path. He also drives over to spy on his architect’s widow, with whom he’s obsessed. He’s an aimless voyeur who’s more engaged with other people’s lives than with his own – until a dog follows him home from a graveyard. This is a strangely detached little novel in which little seems to happen. Like Asunder by Chloe Aridjis and Leaving the Atocha Station by Ben Lerner, it’s about someone who’s been coasting unfeelingly through life and has to stop to ask what’s gone wrong and what’s worth pursuing. It’s so brilliantly written, with the pages flowing effortlessly on, that I admired Kilalea’s skill. Her descriptions of scenery and music are particularly good. In terms of the style, I was reminded of books I’ve read by Katie Kitamura and Henrietta Rose-Innes. (Proof copy from Faber Spring Party)
My rating:
This came out in the States (from Riverhead) back in early April, but releases here in the UK soon, so I’ve added it in as a bonus.
The Female Persuasion by Meg Wolitzer
[Chatto & Windus, 7th]
An enjoyable story of twentysomethings looking for purpose and trying to be good feminists. To start with it’s a fairly familiar campus novel in the vein of The Art of Fielding and The Marriage Plot, but we follow Greer, her high school sweetheart Cory and her new friend Zee for the next 10+ years to see the compromises they make as ideals bend to reality. Faith Frank is Greer’s feminist idol, but she’s only human in the end, and there are different ways of being a feminist: not just speaking out from a stage, but also quietly living every day in a way that shows you value people equally. I have a feeling this would have meant much more to me a decade ago, and the #MeToo-ready message isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but I very much enjoyed my first taste of Wolitzer’s sharp, witty writing and will be sure to read more from her. This seems custom-made for next year’s Women’s Prize shortlist. (Free from publisher, for comparison with Florida in Stylist “Book Wars” column.)
My rating:
Bookish Beck = Rebecca Foster. American transplant to England. Freelance proofreader and book reviewer.
Bookish Beck 