Category: 2012

Five words from the blurb: woman, robbed, witnessed, camera, changed

I am heavily influenced by endorsements from certain authors and I’d probably have avoided this book if it hadn’t received a rare endorsement from Kazuo Ishiguro. A story about an obsessive photographer didn’t appeal to me, but having read it I have to agree with Ishiguro – A Division of the Light is

A strange, brilliant work

The book begins with a woman being mugged on a quiet street. The event is witnessed by Gregory, a successful photographer. Instinctively Gregory takes several photographs of the crime and becomes obsessed by the photogenic nature of this ordinary woman. He persuades her to meet him again and over several months the pair form an awkward, but realistic relationship.

The story is quite simple, but I was captivated by the vivid imagery. 

It is not the crime that excites the photographer’s attention, but a chance configuration of shape and texture – the smooth opacity of the lenses, the knotty tension in the victim’s hands, the summer clothing rubbed along the ground. These, and the dishevelled hair that screens a face he cannot quite see and that could so easily have smashed into the pavement.

Describing individual photographs is a difficult task for a novelist, but Burns made the images come to life. I could picture the beauty of Gregory’s work and grew to admire his obsessive search for the perfect image.

The author lives in West Cumbria and mentions places like Sampson’s Bratfull. I used to live in the same area and so appreciated the descriptions of the rugged countryside. But although the author is English this book doesn’t feel as though it originates from this country, it has a universal feel that is hard to explain. If pushed I’d say this book has a Japanese outlook mixed with cosmopolitan European influences. If that sounds strange, that is because it is! I haven’t read anything quite like it. This is one of those special books that is gripping and easy to read, yet stands up to deep scrutiny.

My only criticism is that all the passion revolved around the photography – I longed for the people to come alive in the same way. I was interested in what happened to the characters, but never really cared about them. In the end this was a minor problem and I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. 

The quiet, simple plot won’t be for everyone, but if you appreciate vivid writing you’ll find a lot to admire. If I was a Booker judge, I’d put this on the longlist.

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Five words from the blurb: childhood, books, reclusive, past, truths

I loved Astonishing Splashes of Colour, so was keen to try Morrall’s new book. Unfortunately it isn’t in the same league, but it is still an enjoyable read.

The book introduces Quinn, a man living an isolated life in a caravan on a roundabout.  Quinn has few possessions and relies on food scavenged from the nearby motorway service station. He is befriended by its employees, who wonder why he leads this bizarre existence. The truth has something to do with the fact that his mother was a famous author who immortalised his life (and that of his triplet sisters) in a series of very successful children’s books.

Clare Morrall has an amazing ability to create eccentric characters. They are well-rounded and believable, but also sensitively portrayed, without a hint of sensationalism.

Much of the book reminded me of the film, Enid, which showed how Enid Blyton’s hectic schedule of writing and publicity led to her children being largely ignored.

When I was about three, I kept trying to sneak into the drawing room where my mother was writing, shuffling along the floor on my bottom, humming softly to myself, trying to be quiet but needing to imagine the motor of a car beneath me.
‘Not now, Quinn, I’m busy.’
Sometimes I reached the desk before she saw me, and once I even managed to lean my head against her legs.
‘Go away, please, Quinn. I need to concentrate.’
Why didn’t she just tolerate my presence for a while, let me stay there, even put out a hand and stroke my hair? I know she was busy, but I wouldn’t have disturbed her.

The first half of the book was very good, creating an interesting story with layers of mystery. Unfortunately the plot petered out in the middle and I found that the more I knew, the less interested I was in carrying on. I was initially going to criticise the book for its slightly disappointing revelations, but as I normally complain about unlikely coincidences, I should probably praise their realism!

Things picked up towards the end and I thought the final page was especially good. The quietness of the plot meant that I actually appreciated the book more after I’d had a few days to let the general themes settle in my head.

Recommended to Clare Morrall fans. Everyone else should read Astonishing Splashes of Colour first.

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The thoughts of other bloggers:

…a really clever fusion of urban legend, news story and popular history. The Book and Biscuit

Sometimes the story rambled. Sometimes it became a little too fanciful……But its strangeness and charm kept me holding on. Fleur Fisher in her World

This is a beautifully written story with fully realised and engaging characters. Lovely Treez Reads

Five words from the blurb: autistic, son, challenging, quirkiness, family

Ten years ago I loved reading Kathy Lette’s books, but my reading tastes changed and I didn’t think I’d be tempted to try her again. Then I received an email from her publicist in which I was informed that Kathy Lette’s new book was a big departure from her previous novels and was written based on her experiences with her twenty one-year-old son who has Asperger’s syndrome. Always keen to read books on the subject, I agreed to give it a try.

The Boy who Fell to Earth centres on Lucy and Jeremy, a fictional couple who have an autistic son called Merlin. Unable to cope with the demands of a special needs child Jeremy leaves and Lucy finds herself alone, battling with authorities to achieve the best results for her son.

The first half of the book annoyed me. I know that all parents of special needs children have difficult days and experience a whole range of emotions, but the negativity of the opening chapters was over powering. A lot of the content didn’t ring true when compared to my recent experiences of the NHS/local schooling system. I can’t decide if this is because Kathy Lette is basing this book on her experiences from twenty years ago or because she is more familiar with the Australian schooling structure (or both!) but I can reassure any parents with children recently diagnosed with autism that things are far better than this book makes out.

There was no mention of the National Autistic Society and the central character made no effort to understand her son’s way of thinking. This meant that she spent her whole life tormenting the poor child, who would have probably been easy to look after if she’d made a few small changes in the way she communicated with him.

I was also frustrated by the way the way she continually moaned about mainstream schooling, but then rejected her in-law’s offer of £300,000 to privately educate him. She seemed to want sympathy more than solutions and her cycle of negativity drove me mad.

The writing was light and easy to read, but the chatty style and endless punchlines became tiring after a while. Perhaps I’m just too close to the subject matter, but I didn’t find some of the jokes very funny.

One thing I learnt in my three years of disastrous dating is that when Cupid closes one door…he slams another in your face. Who knew that Asperger’s was sexually transmittable? But it must be, judging by the way men bolted at the first glimpse of Merlin.

Luckily, things improved as Merlin aged and I found the descriptions of him as a teenager far more enjoyable to read. Their relationship had stabilised and they seemed to have a far better understanding of each other. Lucy continued to do annoying things, but I had a bit more tolerance for her.

The ending almost made up for the earlier sections. It was beautifully written, moving and poignant.

So now I’m torn. I want everyone to read the ending, but I can’t recommend the first section. The only solution is for everyone to read this as part of a book group. It will provoke lots of discussion and give people a greater knowledge of autism. Perhaps the excessive negativity will lead to greater sympathy for us parents?

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