The Book List

The papers are full of lists of books to read on holiday, books to read on the beach, books not to miss this summer and a conversation with two friends last week reminded me of what we share in books we like and how our reactions can differ. We were talking about books we’d read, books we would recommend and ways of accessing and reading books – libraries, purchase, online, in the bookshop, and more. A wide variation but all aimed towards one of life’s pleasures – reading.

The three of us were all people who always have a book on the go. A book? Make that 2 or 3. To me, asking if you read feels like asking if you breathe and I struggle to understand how people can survive without doing both these things. Reading is sometimes categorised as escapism, and there is some truth in that, but it’s much more. A book can introduce you to new worlds – both real and imaginary, can give insights into other cultures, the inner workings of other people’s minds. A book can have a grand scope or a narrow focus, can have you turning the pages or stopping to absorb something new. How can you not enjoy that?

So which books would I recommend? From recent reading I’d suggest Kristin Hannah’s The Women in which a woman breaks from her narrow background to become a nurse in Viet Nam and struggles for recognition, and The Nightingale by the same author. This time a WW2 setting. Women authors seem to be featuring strongly and The Island of the Missing Trees by Elif Shafak – a tale of uprooting and rerooting – had me spellbound, as did There are Rivers in the Sky by the same author – a vast sweep of a story, with the underlying concept of a recycled drop of water. Anne Pratchet is a novelist whose wok I love and I’ve just finished, and can recommend her latest, Whistler, rekindling old family relationships and learning about self.

On a very different tack I loved discovering the Gabriel Dax series by William Boyd (how have I missed that before?) and catching the latest Mick Herron – Clown Town. I have a weakness for ‘spy’ novels, thanks to John Le Carre, and these are wonderful.

And for sheer beauty of writing, my favourite of recent times has to be Cuddy by Benjamin Myers despite strong competition from Jon McGregor (especially in If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, a simple story and a focus on a short period of time in masterpiece of poetic writing) and Geoff Dyer (But Beautiful is my favourite and not just because it’s about jazz).

I’m now immersed in What We Can Know, Ian McEwan’s new novel set in the next century and looking back at the mess we may be in the middle of creating. The central role of a special poem adds appeal but it’s about much, much more than that.

You may have noticed that these are all works of fiction. I’m also reading non-fiction – but slowly, in among, lacking the narrative drive. A subject for another time.

Books

So much was happening in his life 
death all around
new love found 
old love betrayed

the tramp of feet 
the screech of brakes 
the maiden aunts 
with their tea and cakes

the underworld danger
the cynical cop
the spy in the raincoat
the dead letter drop

the sweep of history
the birth of nations
the wars and conflicts
the forced migrations

the progress of a world in pain 
the exodus from primeval mud
the reality of climate change
parched earth, the drought and then the floods

in his books
between the pages
the pain and wisdom of the ages