Week 23: Kalooki Nights – Howard Jacobson
Recommended by: Gemma Etienne
It's a good job that I make it a rule not to give up on books. I don't like throwing in the towel, I read quickly enough that I'm not stuck on something I don't like for an eternity, and I've been surprised by books late on – either they've taken a while to get going before becoming great or an average book has had a good development or twist at the end which has made me like or at least appreciate it more. And in this instance it would just be bad manners not to finish someone's recommendation.
I must confess that I struggled with Kalooki Nights to start with. For about the first half of the book I wasn't enjoying it, and having read one other book by Jacobson, The Finkler Question (for another reading challenge of sorts – working my way through all the Booker Prize winners), which I really didn't like, I wasn't holding out high hopes. The narrator of the earlier part of the book, who I'll refer to as Young Max, was precocious without either the quirks and charm of Salinger's Glass family or the childish imagination of Kerouac's first person narrators. For what was ultimately a plot-driven book, nothing really happened during this period and there was a lot of talk about Jewishness which largely boiled down to 'being a Jew is brilliant' and simultaneously 'being a Jew is bloody awful'. This is at least being a step up on The Finkler Question, where the entire book seemed to be tediously devoted to only the latter of those two concepts. And I was a little uncomfortable at the way all Germans were depicted as Nazis – there would be uproar if a book were published where all Jews were depicted as Shylock. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it was supposed to be satire, but I couldn't detect it and it just sounded a bum note.
That's a lot of obstacles to overcome but as I said earlier, sticking with it did eventually pay dividends. The plot, once it got going, was genuinely compelling, with the mystery at the heart of the novel that kept me hooked. And the characters came to life when they grew up (literally) and truly started interacting with each other, particularly Max's relationship with his mother and the first two of his ex-wives. It sees to me that rather than writing about Jewish People, Jacobson is much better writing about people who happen to be Jews. I admire the scope of what he's trying to do in understanding what it means to be Jewish in the 21st century – that's a pretty damn big question to ask. However, I feel it's much better to answer such questions through complex, interesting characters, through their lives, relationships and actions, rather than any through overarching thoughts and statements.
He is clearly a decent writer, and while I don't find him screamingly funny the way some people do (and I'm immediately sceptical of any review which describes a book as 'hilarious' as in my experience it rarely proves to be anything of the sort), he definitely has a talent for wordplay and witticisms. A couple of stand out (sorry!) moments were on the plural of hard on and the use of umlauts in names. However, from what I have read and what I know about his other books, I'd like to see him write about something else. As Max says right at the start of the book, "Why, why, why, as my father asked until the asking killed him, does everything always have to come back to Jew, Jew, Jew?"
Thursday, 11 June 2015
What's in a name?
Week 22: Tigana – Guy Gavriel Kay
Recommended by: Ashley Hayden
What does Tigana mean to you? Probably you either think it's gibberish or think of the former French midfield dynamo and later Fulham manager. To the majority of the Palm, however, it's a word they can no longer hear, a name stripped of all power by brutal magic. It might share a moniker with one of Les Bleus, but this Italianate setting is the basis for the fantasy novel I've been looking for.
One of my personal bugbears is the need within the genre for novels to be part of trilogies or even longer sagas, where it's hard to get away from the law of diminishing returns – the later books get longer and the pace slows to a crawl. I accept that this is driven partly by fans who generally like this and want to spend more time exploring the sandbox they have been given to play in, and partly by publishers who know they have a banker on their hands if the first title is a success. I'm not against this format, obviously, but I do long for more stand-alones, without the numerous sequels, prequels, side treks and whatever else. Tigana falls into this category and I like it for the fact it's self-contained.
I also like it for the world it builds: human, low magic, political, and fractured. I like it for the places it presents: small enough but part of a much bigger world. I like it for the plot, its twists and turns, its own take on the overthrow the tyrant story. I like it for being plot-centric but character driven. And I like it for the interesting characters, possessed of multiple dimensions, who I grew to love and care about, and the story told from a variety of viewpoints. I like it for the romance and the heroism, the humour and the action, the shades of light and dark. And I like it for being all of these things wrapped up in one neat package.
It's a bit of a doorstopper (another genre trope) but not overlong – I'm more forgiving in that it's feature length rather merely an instalment anyway but it didn't outstay its welcome and it didn't sag. It would perhaps have been interesting to find out more about the Barbadians, who were a bit one-dimensional, though this was balanced by knowing more about the Ygrathians, or at least some of their high-powered figures. And while both were important, the latter have precedence by virtue of Brandin's more central role in the plot. Overall it really did tick all the boxes for me and I'll certainly be checking out Kay's other books.
Recommended by: Ashley Hayden
What does Tigana mean to you? Probably you either think it's gibberish or think of the former French midfield dynamo and later Fulham manager. To the majority of the Palm, however, it's a word they can no longer hear, a name stripped of all power by brutal magic. It might share a moniker with one of Les Bleus, but this Italianate setting is the basis for the fantasy novel I've been looking for.
One of my personal bugbears is the need within the genre for novels to be part of trilogies or even longer sagas, where it's hard to get away from the law of diminishing returns – the later books get longer and the pace slows to a crawl. I accept that this is driven partly by fans who generally like this and want to spend more time exploring the sandbox they have been given to play in, and partly by publishers who know they have a banker on their hands if the first title is a success. I'm not against this format, obviously, but I do long for more stand-alones, without the numerous sequels, prequels, side treks and whatever else. Tigana falls into this category and I like it for the fact it's self-contained.
I also like it for the world it builds: human, low magic, political, and fractured. I like it for the places it presents: small enough but part of a much bigger world. I like it for the plot, its twists and turns, its own take on the overthrow the tyrant story. I like it for being plot-centric but character driven. And I like it for the interesting characters, possessed of multiple dimensions, who I grew to love and care about, and the story told from a variety of viewpoints. I like it for the romance and the heroism, the humour and the action, the shades of light and dark. And I like it for being all of these things wrapped up in one neat package.
It's a bit of a doorstopper (another genre trope) but not overlong – I'm more forgiving in that it's feature length rather merely an instalment anyway but it didn't outstay its welcome and it didn't sag. It would perhaps have been interesting to find out more about the Barbadians, who were a bit one-dimensional, though this was balanced by knowing more about the Ygrathians, or at least some of their high-powered figures. And while both were important, the latter have precedence by virtue of Brandin's more central role in the plot. Overall it really did tick all the boxes for me and I'll certainly be checking out Kay's other books.
Tuesday, 2 June 2015
Heart of a continent
Week 21: Danubia – Simon Winder
Recommended by: Dom Holdsworth
"Being a geek is all about being honest about what you enjoy and not being afraid to demonstrate that affection. It means never having to play it cool about how much you like something. It's basically a license to proudly emote on a somewhat childish level rather than behave like a supposed adult. Being a geek is extremely liberating." So said Simon Pegg, who has made a very successful living out of being a geek in a variety of ways, so he ought to know. Taking that definition, it's very easy to say that Simon Winder is a Central Europe geek.
The second book, after Germania, that he's written on the subject, the key part of Danubia is the subtitle: A Personal History of Habsburg Europe. And it very much is a personal story, or set of them. It's written in the Bill Bryson and Nick Hornby mould, taking people and places and liberally peppering them with personal thoughts, stories and anecdotes. It is also a history book, focused on the interesting characters over a long period, and the forces that shaped Mitteleuropa for several centuries. Loosely chronological, it also jumps around a lot, full of fascinating minituae and non sequiturs ranging from the architecture of Budapest Zoo to Admiral Von Tirpitz's beard and guest quarters. It's a bit like Horrible Histories for grown-ups.
The writing may not be to everyone's taste, flipping a bit between off-hand colloquialisms and pompous tryhardery, but the tone generally hits the mark at the entertaining and amusing level it strives for. There is a lot to enjoy and it's good to dip into as there is a lot to enjoy and Winder's love for his subject matter is obvious. The other side to that is that it doesn't have a strong enough narrative thrust, it's not trying to make a coherent argument, and perhaps it could have been pared down a little.
It vaguely touches on some of the ideas of Brendan Simms' excellent Europe, a longue durée approach to the continent that focuses on Germany's position as the dominant power (or it's potential to become so) as being the driving force for the last five hundred years. Where Danubia shines on a historical level is on the later sections as the Habsburg Empire breaks up as the forces of nationalism come into play, and the creation of national myths to give new countries and peoples legitimacy as they redraw borders.
It is also part travelogue, detailing the places the author has clearly spent a lot of time in, and it was enjoyable for me to reminisce about the many places I've also visited in the region, from Salzburg to Brasov and many places in between. Coupling that with elements of my own studies and wider reading, it also catapulted me back to Mr Gingell's A Level history class, and the personal touches that he added that made them so enjoyable also shone through here. It's a bit unwieldy, more meandering than the titular river, but also crammed full of interesting detail, personal stories and some decent insights into a history that sits outside of most people's knowledge. If you want an introduction to Central Europe, with plenty of feeling, you could do considerably worse.
Recommended by: Dom Holdsworth
"Being a geek is all about being honest about what you enjoy and not being afraid to demonstrate that affection. It means never having to play it cool about how much you like something. It's basically a license to proudly emote on a somewhat childish level rather than behave like a supposed adult. Being a geek is extremely liberating." So said Simon Pegg, who has made a very successful living out of being a geek in a variety of ways, so he ought to know. Taking that definition, it's very easy to say that Simon Winder is a Central Europe geek.
The second book, after Germania, that he's written on the subject, the key part of Danubia is the subtitle: A Personal History of Habsburg Europe. And it very much is a personal story, or set of them. It's written in the Bill Bryson and Nick Hornby mould, taking people and places and liberally peppering them with personal thoughts, stories and anecdotes. It is also a history book, focused on the interesting characters over a long period, and the forces that shaped Mitteleuropa for several centuries. Loosely chronological, it also jumps around a lot, full of fascinating minituae and non sequiturs ranging from the architecture of Budapest Zoo to Admiral Von Tirpitz's beard and guest quarters. It's a bit like Horrible Histories for grown-ups.
The writing may not be to everyone's taste, flipping a bit between off-hand colloquialisms and pompous tryhardery, but the tone generally hits the mark at the entertaining and amusing level it strives for. There is a lot to enjoy and it's good to dip into as there is a lot to enjoy and Winder's love for his subject matter is obvious. The other side to that is that it doesn't have a strong enough narrative thrust, it's not trying to make a coherent argument, and perhaps it could have been pared down a little.
It vaguely touches on some of the ideas of Brendan Simms' excellent Europe, a longue durée approach to the continent that focuses on Germany's position as the dominant power (or it's potential to become so) as being the driving force for the last five hundred years. Where Danubia shines on a historical level is on the later sections as the Habsburg Empire breaks up as the forces of nationalism come into play, and the creation of national myths to give new countries and peoples legitimacy as they redraw borders.
It is also part travelogue, detailing the places the author has clearly spent a lot of time in, and it was enjoyable for me to reminisce about the many places I've also visited in the region, from Salzburg to Brasov and many places in between. Coupling that with elements of my own studies and wider reading, it also catapulted me back to Mr Gingell's A Level history class, and the personal touches that he added that made them so enjoyable also shone through here. It's a bit unwieldy, more meandering than the titular river, but also crammed full of interesting detail, personal stories and some decent insights into a history that sits outside of most people's knowledge. If you want an introduction to Central Europe, with plenty of feeling, you could do considerably worse.
Begin again
Week 20: Life After Life – Kate Atkinson
Recommended by: Rhianna Jones
Imagine if life was like Wayne's World. This is pretty awesome on a number of levels – party on – but one of the joys is that instead of the bad ending, you could choose to have the mega happy ending, or indeed the Scooby Doo ending. Now imagine if this was done repeatedly, over and over, with multiple options, splitting down different paths like the many-worlds theory, with infinite possibilities. This, in a nutshell, is the premise for Life After Life.
It follows Ursula and her family from the moment of her birth, ultimately through to old age, though it is predominantly bracketed by the two world wars. The reader lives and relives her story as it splits and spreads as if it were a hydra: when one head is hacked off, another spawns in its place. It's an interesting concept and obviously there's a lot of ambiguity present as it's almost impossible to tell what the 'real' version of events is, if such a thing can even be said to exist. From a writer's perspective, it's the chance to explore a lot of different ideas with the same characters and without having to stick to a fixed narrative. It's obviously more fleshed out than a character sketch, more a series of the same subject but painted in different lights, from different angles, with different materials. To follow through on the artistic metaphor what it perhaps lacks though is a truly finished masterpiece as an end product.
It's not a short book and I found it took a long time to get going. I can't decide if the slow, repetitive pace of the opening was necessary to get the most out of the meatier sections at its heart, or if it simply needed to be jump started. It laid down the concept so you got used to different potential scenarios quickly, but it did little to pull me in or develop characters and I could imagine some people giving up on it before it really kicks into gear. Likewise, I found the ending disappointing in its lack of closure – with infinite possibilities available, choosing when to stop felt somewhat arbitrary.
However, the core sections that were the mainstay of the book were very good, with interesting characters who were built up slowly from the various snapshots showcasing facets of their personality. Ultimately the story was always going to live or die by the connection with the characters, as if you don't care what happens to them in one story, you certainly weren't going to in an alternative version of events. Fortunately Ursula, Pamela, Teddy, Sylvie, Hugh, Izzie and co had enough (quintessentially English) family drama and compelling narratives to pull off what is undoubtedly an ambitious concept.
And Englishness is at the heart of the book, with the time period also inevitably comparing and contrasting it with Germany. The focus on the wars is perhaps unsurprising as if history is full of 'what ifs', then, as Ursula and Nigel discuss, 'What if Hitler had been killed before he became Chancellor?' is probably going to be netting you a top score on Family Fortunes. Outside of life split between Fox Corner and London, we also get to witness one version of Ursula's life where she moves to Germany and marries, and another where she volunteers throughout the Blitz. These sections were the heart of the book and I found myself wanting more, only to be slightly disappointed to be taken on a different journey before I was ready to depart. It's a smart book and with patience a rewarding one that I enjoyed, but I can't help but wonder if Kate Atkinson were to write it again, would she abandon the concept in favour of the story, and would it be a better book for it?
Recommended by: Rhianna Jones
Imagine if life was like Wayne's World. This is pretty awesome on a number of levels – party on – but one of the joys is that instead of the bad ending, you could choose to have the mega happy ending, or indeed the Scooby Doo ending. Now imagine if this was done repeatedly, over and over, with multiple options, splitting down different paths like the many-worlds theory, with infinite possibilities. This, in a nutshell, is the premise for Life After Life.
It follows Ursula and her family from the moment of her birth, ultimately through to old age, though it is predominantly bracketed by the two world wars. The reader lives and relives her story as it splits and spreads as if it were a hydra: when one head is hacked off, another spawns in its place. It's an interesting concept and obviously there's a lot of ambiguity present as it's almost impossible to tell what the 'real' version of events is, if such a thing can even be said to exist. From a writer's perspective, it's the chance to explore a lot of different ideas with the same characters and without having to stick to a fixed narrative. It's obviously more fleshed out than a character sketch, more a series of the same subject but painted in different lights, from different angles, with different materials. To follow through on the artistic metaphor what it perhaps lacks though is a truly finished masterpiece as an end product.
It's not a short book and I found it took a long time to get going. I can't decide if the slow, repetitive pace of the opening was necessary to get the most out of the meatier sections at its heart, or if it simply needed to be jump started. It laid down the concept so you got used to different potential scenarios quickly, but it did little to pull me in or develop characters and I could imagine some people giving up on it before it really kicks into gear. Likewise, I found the ending disappointing in its lack of closure – with infinite possibilities available, choosing when to stop felt somewhat arbitrary.
However, the core sections that were the mainstay of the book were very good, with interesting characters who were built up slowly from the various snapshots showcasing facets of their personality. Ultimately the story was always going to live or die by the connection with the characters, as if you don't care what happens to them in one story, you certainly weren't going to in an alternative version of events. Fortunately Ursula, Pamela, Teddy, Sylvie, Hugh, Izzie and co had enough (quintessentially English) family drama and compelling narratives to pull off what is undoubtedly an ambitious concept.
And Englishness is at the heart of the book, with the time period also inevitably comparing and contrasting it with Germany. The focus on the wars is perhaps unsurprising as if history is full of 'what ifs', then, as Ursula and Nigel discuss, 'What if Hitler had been killed before he became Chancellor?' is probably going to be netting you a top score on Family Fortunes. Outside of life split between Fox Corner and London, we also get to witness one version of Ursula's life where she moves to Germany and marries, and another where she volunteers throughout the Blitz. These sections were the heart of the book and I found myself wanting more, only to be slightly disappointed to be taken on a different journey before I was ready to depart. It's a smart book and with patience a rewarding one that I enjoyed, but I can't help but wonder if Kate Atkinson were to write it again, would she abandon the concept in favour of the story, and would it be a better book for it?
Tuesday, 19 May 2015
Magic Ian
Week 19: Magician – Raymond E. Feist
Recommended by: Natalie Jacobs
I must confess that I had my doubts about this before I started Magician. I worried that it would be a rather hackneyed derivative vanilla fantasy, outdated in a time of increasingly dark moral shades and anti-heroes within the genre. On the other hand, that which survives, often does so on merit, and Feist has been around since the '70s and '80s D&D and swords and sorcery heydey. The cover described it as 'The original masterwork of magic and adventure', to which I'd respond 'Yes and no', 'Pretty good rather than superlative' and 'Hell yes'. Which I suppose is a pretty positive outcome.
My initial fears seemed well-founded for the setting is as classic medieval western European with elves 'n' dwarves 'n' goblins as you're likely to come across, and the protagonist, Pug, is an orphan. Not that there is anything wrong with either of these things per se, more that it's reliant on being interesting enough in other ways – compelling narrative, interesting characters, solid world building – to excel in the field. And while very little is truly original, the idea of the riftwar and the invasion of the homeworld by outsiders, certainly puts a new spin on it with what is more of a sci fi trope. The fact that the Tsurani are not just a slightly fantastical version of feudal Japan/the Aztecs/Ancient Greece/insert real-world culture here, and we got to see things from their perspective a lot more than that of the average invader, gets double points from me.
The scope of the book is big, the world worth exploring, and plenty of interesting looking regions that we don't get to see on the inevitable maps in the prelims. This depth, the ideas and stories and references of the world as far bigger than what the reader can ever see, popularised if not invented by Tolkien, is what for me makes a setting come alive. This box is also satisfactorily ticked. And the passage of time and the geography covered, as well as the epic scale of the invasion ensured that the promise of magic and adventure (arguably more of the latter) was fulfilled.
One thing I didn't like, and this is a pet peeve of mine, was the naming. For me this is vital for both suspension of disbelief and the crafting of a world. Names matter and give a place a sense of identity, whether it's through solid conventions (Earthsea), linguistic tendencies (Middle-earth) or common English derivatives (Westeros). The more exotic a name, largely the more exotic a person or culture is from the Western European base. What I don't like is a mish-mash of real and imaginary names, Martin and Roland standing shoulder to shoulder with Kulgan and Pug (which always felt more like a nickname than a given name anyway). If your world is rooted in the real world, e.g. urban fantasy, then this is fine, but I find it jars in traditional fantasy settings such as this.
So over a period of years we watch our hero(es) grow up, find romance, fight the bad guys, save the kingdom, wield power in a variety of ways, and come home for tea. Not necessarily in that order. If fantasy is not your cup of tea, this wouldn't be my suggestion to try and make you broaden your horizons. But if like me you do enjoy this sort of thing, it's certainly worth your time. I'm invested enough to want to finish the trilogy and that's usually a good sign – the genre may tend towards the long side, but life is too short.
Thursday, 14 May 2015
Countryphile
Week 18: A Month in the Country – J.L. Carr
Recommended by: Tim Davies
The novella is a much-maligned creature, often regarded as the novel's poor cousin, deemed an inferior work on the basis of its shorter length. Somehow it is treated as a less serious work; the author perceived as lazy and incapable of sustaining a longer narrative through either lack of ideas or lack of talent. That's one view, at least, though not for me, Clive.
As far as I'm concerned, novellas are ace. They are the embodiment of refinement, the author's craft firmly on show as it carefully delivers a great idea, an important point, a wonderful character portrait, without wasting a word. To me, that's true mastery. And when you look at such great works as The Old Man and the Sea, Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, Animal Farm, all of which could conceivably be considered novellas, or at the very least, novels erring firmly on the short side, small is definitely beautiful.
A Month in the Country certainly subscribes to this school, pushing for a place at the table of the elite. We join Tom Birkin as he looks back on the quiet summer he spent in Yorkshire recuperating from the horrors of World War One. And it's a quiet book; there's no action here, just the gentle rhythms of small lives going on in the way they had done for centuries past. There is a tremendously strong sense of place, of calm, the feeling that things are both exactly as they should be, and also that such a world has irrevocably been left behind. I was strongly reminded of Cider With Rosie, another wonderful window into the past and a seemingly simpler way of life.
And yet for all the peace of the village and the time to single-mindedly focus on the task of uncovering a wall painting that Birkin has dedicated himself to, the violence of the recent past haunts him: "Hell? Passchendaele had been hell." While he has the solitude he needs to heal, Birkin also develops surprisingly complex relationships with some of the villagers during his short sojourn. Whether it is solidarity with the damaged Moon, the whiff of romance with Alice, the sibling-like qualities of his exchanges with Kathy, there is a depth there perhaps not immediately apparent.
Credit here the author; the way he distills an intricate range of human thoughts, feelings and interactions in a manner that appears the simplest task confirms that we are in the presence of a master craftsman. Like the narrative, there is nothing flashy about the prose. Instead it is well-chosen, down to earth, full of nature, wisdom, life. And that's all there is to it really: a beautiful little story, beautifully told.
Recommended by: Tim Davies
The novella is a much-maligned creature, often regarded as the novel's poor cousin, deemed an inferior work on the basis of its shorter length. Somehow it is treated as a less serious work; the author perceived as lazy and incapable of sustaining a longer narrative through either lack of ideas or lack of talent. That's one view, at least, though not for me, Clive.
As far as I'm concerned, novellas are ace. They are the embodiment of refinement, the author's craft firmly on show as it carefully delivers a great idea, an important point, a wonderful character portrait, without wasting a word. To me, that's true mastery. And when you look at such great works as The Old Man and the Sea, Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, Animal Farm, all of which could conceivably be considered novellas, or at the very least, novels erring firmly on the short side, small is definitely beautiful.
A Month in the Country certainly subscribes to this school, pushing for a place at the table of the elite. We join Tom Birkin as he looks back on the quiet summer he spent in Yorkshire recuperating from the horrors of World War One. And it's a quiet book; there's no action here, just the gentle rhythms of small lives going on in the way they had done for centuries past. There is a tremendously strong sense of place, of calm, the feeling that things are both exactly as they should be, and also that such a world has irrevocably been left behind. I was strongly reminded of Cider With Rosie, another wonderful window into the past and a seemingly simpler way of life.
And yet for all the peace of the village and the time to single-mindedly focus on the task of uncovering a wall painting that Birkin has dedicated himself to, the violence of the recent past haunts him: "Hell? Passchendaele had been hell." While he has the solitude he needs to heal, Birkin also develops surprisingly complex relationships with some of the villagers during his short sojourn. Whether it is solidarity with the damaged Moon, the whiff of romance with Alice, the sibling-like qualities of his exchanges with Kathy, there is a depth there perhaps not immediately apparent.
Credit here the author; the way he distills an intricate range of human thoughts, feelings and interactions in a manner that appears the simplest task confirms that we are in the presence of a master craftsman. Like the narrative, there is nothing flashy about the prose. Instead it is well-chosen, down to earth, full of nature, wisdom, life. And that's all there is to it really: a beautiful little story, beautifully told.
Thursday, 7 May 2015
The failing marriage plot
Week 17: Us – David Nicholls
Recommended by: Elisabeth Van Willigenburg-van Dijl
tl; dr – A very David Nicholls kind of book.
The art of following up a smash hit is a tricky one in any kind of artistic sphere. Do you stick or twist? Go with the successful formula that gained you the fame in the first place or risk the wrath of fans with something completely different? That was the dilemma facing David Nicholls after winning both plaudits and popularity with One Day.
The short answer to that question was to not change a winning team. Us shares much in common with his previous books so it comes as little surprise to discover a less than perfect male protagonist in what is essentially a rom-com in book form, albeit one which probably bridges the gender divide more than most of Hollywood's output under that banner. If you liked his previous books – and I did – you'll find much to enjoy here. If your reaction to them was a bit meh, this isn't going to change your mind either. It's not a game changer but if Nicholls is to be charged with being a one trick pony, it's a good trick and he's damn good at it.
To sum up the plot, fiftysomething Douglas, a straight-laced middle Englander, finds out that his wife Connie, a free spirit artsy type, wants to leave him. This happens shortly before they are about to take the summer holiday of a lifetime, a Grand Tour of Europe with their son, surly teenage Albie. They decide to take the trip anyway. Douglas sees it as his last chance saloon to save his marriage. Comedy ensues as a result of numerous gaffes and events in a variety of western European cities. In the hands of a less gifted observer, this could obviously be terrible and clichéd with archetypes more than characters, but Nicholls' gift is to understand relationships very well, to put human creations at the centre of his work, and to make the unlikely plausible.
His relationships are complex creations, almost as much as the characters themselves. Again, the characters could be caricatures if handled less well, figures to serve as everymen (and everywomen), rather than personalities who also happen to have everymannish qualities. They're not perfect, any of them, least of all Douglas, who it is clear has said and done some things that will no doubt leave many readers facepalming and cursing, yet possibly eliciting empathy and understanding as we sit reminiscing and regretting the myriad idiotic things we ourselves have said and done.
If anything, I actually found the characters all a little too unlikeable in their own ways to truly root for them. I cared and I certainly wanted to know both what would happen, and about Douglas and Connie's history, the narrative jumping smoothly back and forth between past and present. Also, you know there are going to be surprises and emotional twists and turns, and while not predictable as such, neither are they totally unexpected. There's nothing like One Day's emotional sucker punch here.
This probably comes across more harshly than intended. Let's be clear about it: I did really enjoy it, it's an entertaining story, with plenty of heart, soul and human moments, as well as genuine humour and perception. Anyone can relate to some facets of almost every character, which coupled with a solid grasp of narrative drive is what makes it so eminently readable. It's just not going to change your mind on David Nicholls. And I'm generally ok with that; he is clearly very good at what he does. I'd just like to see him try something a bit different, take a step outside of his comfort zone and see what happens when he turns his undoubted talent to it.
Recommended by: Elisabeth Van Willigenburg-van Dijl
tl; dr – A very David Nicholls kind of book.
The art of following up a smash hit is a tricky one in any kind of artistic sphere. Do you stick or twist? Go with the successful formula that gained you the fame in the first place or risk the wrath of fans with something completely different? That was the dilemma facing David Nicholls after winning both plaudits and popularity with One Day.
The short answer to that question was to not change a winning team. Us shares much in common with his previous books so it comes as little surprise to discover a less than perfect male protagonist in what is essentially a rom-com in book form, albeit one which probably bridges the gender divide more than most of Hollywood's output under that banner. If you liked his previous books – and I did – you'll find much to enjoy here. If your reaction to them was a bit meh, this isn't going to change your mind either. It's not a game changer but if Nicholls is to be charged with being a one trick pony, it's a good trick and he's damn good at it.
To sum up the plot, fiftysomething Douglas, a straight-laced middle Englander, finds out that his wife Connie, a free spirit artsy type, wants to leave him. This happens shortly before they are about to take the summer holiday of a lifetime, a Grand Tour of Europe with their son, surly teenage Albie. They decide to take the trip anyway. Douglas sees it as his last chance saloon to save his marriage. Comedy ensues as a result of numerous gaffes and events in a variety of western European cities. In the hands of a less gifted observer, this could obviously be terrible and clichéd with archetypes more than characters, but Nicholls' gift is to understand relationships very well, to put human creations at the centre of his work, and to make the unlikely plausible.
His relationships are complex creations, almost as much as the characters themselves. Again, the characters could be caricatures if handled less well, figures to serve as everymen (and everywomen), rather than personalities who also happen to have everymannish qualities. They're not perfect, any of them, least of all Douglas, who it is clear has said and done some things that will no doubt leave many readers facepalming and cursing, yet possibly eliciting empathy and understanding as we sit reminiscing and regretting the myriad idiotic things we ourselves have said and done.
If anything, I actually found the characters all a little too unlikeable in their own ways to truly root for them. I cared and I certainly wanted to know both what would happen, and about Douglas and Connie's history, the narrative jumping smoothly back and forth between past and present. Also, you know there are going to be surprises and emotional twists and turns, and while not predictable as such, neither are they totally unexpected. There's nothing like One Day's emotional sucker punch here.
This probably comes across more harshly than intended. Let's be clear about it: I did really enjoy it, it's an entertaining story, with plenty of heart, soul and human moments, as well as genuine humour and perception. Anyone can relate to some facets of almost every character, which coupled with a solid grasp of narrative drive is what makes it so eminently readable. It's just not going to change your mind on David Nicholls. And I'm generally ok with that; he is clearly very good at what he does. I'd just like to see him try something a bit different, take a step outside of his comfort zone and see what happens when he turns his undoubted talent to it.
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