Most of us are finding more time to read these days, although I’m hearing from many who find it tough to concentrate on their books, from others who only want to read “gentle” stories. I, too, can find it difficult to concentrate and I’ll admit to spending more time with a screen than usual (what did we do before Netflix? And I just subscribed to MHz so that we could finish watching Un Village Français of which we’d only managed 5 seasons, a few years ago in France, and had been searching for here ever since). . . .
For me, comfort from reading doesn’t necessarily come from gentle narratives, although I’m not averse to those, if they’re well written. But I seem to like a mix of subject material and genre and writing style, and that’s what you’ll see in this post. Again, I’ll remind you that last year I made the decision to write my response to my reading by hand in a small journal. Rather than aim for more comprehensive (and more cohesive!) posts — which, in the past has meant posting that falls far behind my reading — I post photographs of those pages here semi-regularly, and I try to post what I’m currently reading on my Instagram reading account. . . . In case you’re new here and wondering what kind of an excuse for a Reading Blog this is . . .
Without further ado. . . .
1. Top of this page, photo of the bottom of a page from my Reading Journal, very brief note about Mick Herron’s Spook Street (note continues on the next RJ page, seen in photo below. If you like very well-written topical thrillers — and if a London setting is a bonus — you really should look for this Slough House series. Begin with his Slow Horses.
2. I posted this photo on Instagram— Ann Patchett’s blurb on the back cover of Jesmyn Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing — having just read a book by Patchett. Synchronicity. . . No one would call this a gentle book, and perhaps few would call it comforting. But I do take comfort that brilliant, talented, skilful, observant, and thoughtful writers work to record difficult truths about our world. And somehow make surprising beauty as they testify. Redemption seems possible through the telling and the hearing, the writing and the reading.
3. I’m not sure I would have made room in my far-too-long To Be Read list for Ann Patchett’s debut novel if my Book Club of Two friend hadn’t suggested it, but I’m glad I did. That reading time seems so distant now, though, and yet marks such an abrupt and drastic change. Borrowed from the library just before the shut-down, and still sitting on my hallway shelf waiting to be returned weeks later, due date extended. . . . (IG post here)
4. I’ve written before about books by Jean-Christophe Rufin — back in May 2017 I referred ever so glancingly to his L’Immortelle Randonnée: Compostelle Malgré Moi, my favourite of several Camino pilgrimage memoirs I’ve read. Last summer I read Rufin’s most recent novel Les Sept Mariages d’Edgar et Ludmila and liked it very much. So last month, I finally got around to reading a novel that a friend in Bayonne recommended to me last spring, a novel that has been made into a film which I hope to see some day. Le Collier Rouge. If you read French, I recommend this . . .
My notes about it are scribbled here. . .
5. And for a change of pace, this whimsical novel set in Rome is fun — if I were willing to spend less time reading and more time writing, it probably deserves more than the few scrawled lines you see above (#21 in the year’s entries). . . . I did say a few more words about it on IG. If you’re looking for something light, charming, that will transport you to a Rome in a happier state that it is now, this might be for you. I enjoyed it.
6. Jesmyn Ward’s Salvage the Bones is another book I borrowed from the library before it closed; I’d reserved it, along with her Sing, Unburied, Sing in early March, when we were looking forward to seeing the author speak at a UBC series on Thinking While Black. Sadly, her talk and another we had tickets to were cancelled because of Covid-19. I hope both events might someday be re-scheduled. . . .
This novel is set in the days before and after Hurricane Katrina, and in the current context of Covid-19 might prompt a reader to think about the kinds of crises we respond to and the kind of chronic and ongoing poverty and inequity we can ignore or accept as unchangeable.
7. I’ll close with another novel that won’t provide readers with any conventional comfort or escape they might be seeking during these strange times. But I seem to take comfort from writers who tell us important truths . . . and while doing so, and without compromise, without coddling, without couching dark realities, can nonetheless engage us aesthetically.
I find hope and even redemption in writing like this. The third novel in Smith’s tetralogy/quartet of seasons (I wrote about Winter in this post: a sentence or two about Autumn at the very bottom of this one) is the most directly political, but it’s also wonderfully multi-vocal, so many points of entry and exit, so many stories overlapping, so many “levels of discourse,” neatly integrated. In contrast to my inadequate Reading Journal scribbles, here’s a decent review from The Guardian. I did say a wee bit more on Instagram here and here and here
Now perhaps you’ll tell me if you’ve read any of these and let me know if you agree with my response to them. And perhaps we could talk about whether you turn to books for comfort in difficult times, and if so, what provides that comfort. (Perhaps instead you’d prefer trenchant analysis of the difficulties or books with substantive, distracting content — not necessarily cosy or gentle. Perhaps you find comfort in graphic murder mysteries, perhaps you indulge in genres you barely tolerate in normal times. No judging here, just curiosity and solidarity between readers.)
But mostly, we could just talk about what books you’ve been reading and enjoying since most of us entered this time of Staying Home. . . . any recommendations? The mic’s all yours. . .
I am late to it, but I just finished "My Brilliant Friend" by Elena Ferrante. I was transported to 1950s Italy. Wish the library were still open so I could get the next volume.
Recommendations:
Christ Stopped at Eboli by Primo Levi. Also in Italy, but during the war.
Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving. More escapism, to Spain.
My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell. A laugh a minute. Set on Corfu. Still more travel!
The Alexandria Quartet, by Lawrence Durrell, Gerald's big brother. Pretentious, but interesting. The story is told four ways. Set in Alexandria, Egypt.
The Names of Things by Susan Brind Morrow. Kind of in Egypt, but mostly in the realm of words. A very unusual book.
I seem to have been overcome by an overwhelming feeling of lethargy and just can't concentrate on reading (very unusual for me – I usually spend more time reading than doing anything else.) It's not really the virus and self-isolation that's getting me down; I'm also coping with worry and anxiety about my very ill husband. But I've picked out a book of Alice Munro's short stories (Runaway), hoping that will do the trick. And the post above reminded me that Gerald Durrell's book is one of my all time favourites. In fact, I just reread it a short while ago after watching the series on TV. I did manage to track down the Jack Reacher title you recommended and enjoyed it more than I thought I would.
Frances in Sidney
Very interesting seven titles-I'll go with One Summer Day in Rome
Actually, it took me a couple of days , to start reading H. Mantel's The Mirror and the Light…. but, I can't stop now-so,it is not only light reading
I highly recommend (once again, after at High Heels….) Kyung Sook Shin's Please Look After Mom
For the joy, there are Peter Grainger's mysteries (Sue's recommendation)
Dottoressa
Taste of France: My Brilliant Friend is so good — A few years back, I wrote about them here and then ended up hosting a Read-a-long with readers striking up a lively conversation over the months — Georgia even offered a guest post. If you're at all interested, you could click on "ferrante" in the list of "Labels" in the right-hand- column.
I haven't yet read Carlo Levi's Christ Stopped at Ebola, but I added it to my TBR list after reading his Words are Stones, a collection of three essays about his travels in Sicily after the war, through the 50s. I read it in preparation for the trip we would have been embarking on in two weeks. . . sigh. . . But your reading list is a great example of travel that can be done at home. I love it! Morrow's memoir, especially, really appeals to me. Thanks for the tip.
Frances: I completely understand why you'd find difficulty in mustering enough concentration to read. You already had enough to worry about with your husband's health and isolation plus the effect of this virus on the healthcare system will only exacerbate that. Short stories might be the answer, and Munro are brilliant. . . Perhaps this is the time to resort to the screen rather than the page — it seems to draw us in with less of our own effort, and sometimes that's what we need. Take care of you as well!
Dottoressa: I think you'd enjoy it, light but entertaining and credibly researched. I know I'm going to enjoy The Mirror and the Light, which was delivered the other day, but I have to be a bit patient and finish some others first. Glad to hear it's as good as you say. And I've put a Hold on Kyung Sook Shin's Please Look After Mom. Thank you!
Hope you get to Jasmine Ward's talk when it is rescheduled. I heard her at the Portland lecture and Arts series, it was a riveting,thoughtful and truthful talk. I did love her Sing, Unburied Sing novel. For sure, hard ugly truths told in a spiritual, beautiful way.
By coincidence, my bookclub reading for April is The Murmur of Bees, by Sophia Segovia. It takes place in Mexico during the Spanish Flu Pandemic. I thought it would be difficult to read, but I find it strangely comforting. So many things are the same 100 years later. I am thoughtful how different I read the story during a pandemic versus precovid days.
As usual, for this non-fiction reader, the titles on your reading list are unknown to me! However I can read fiction in French – for some reason it doesn't provoke the same ennui/weltschmertz as most fiction in English does – so I'll be ordering the Jean-Christophe Rufin titles as soon as I can get them from an independent bookseller. They're currently out of stock in UK foreign language bookshops. Amazon France has been shut by the French govt, but I would have tried at all costs to avoid ordering from them. I could do with a bit of virtual walking on the Camino!
There should be more time to read but my piles of unread books are staring reproachfully at me. I am lucky to have a garden, and an overgrown one at that which needs taking in hand. We are having a long spell of dry, sunny weather, so most of my time is spent working outside. The rest is cooking in a makeshift kitchen (stalled house renovation), and doing a couple of MOOCs for business purposes that I rashly signed up for. Once I get shot of them I'm going to do a MOOC on champagne for fun! My screen time seems to consist of googling "is it too late to feed raspberries with flowers of sulphur?" or "potting on broad beans", or French tourism websites. Film/TV-wise I've re-watched La Famille Bélier, and a nightly episode of Call the Midwife with our daughter, plus the weekly Gardeners World on BBC which is balm to the soul. Daughter is also trying to get us interested in The Crown, but it's not captivating me so far. Still, there's time in hand!
Elizabeth: I hope I can hear her speak eventually. Just finished her memoir (Men we Reap) and am even more admiring.
That is a coincidence, your current bookclub reading! And I can see the comfort you might find there. . .
Linda: Hmmm, I wonder if Mollat is still shipping. I was interested to see that bookstores and bike shops were the first "non-essential" stores to open in Germany. Love those priorities!
It's pretty clear you're not languishing for lack of activity — I'm pleased for you that the weather is good for getting your garden in shape. Must be hard work but ever so satisfying.