The novel is unusual because it is written backwards. We first meet the characters when the war is over. It is 1947 and although it should be a time of happiness because of the relative peace after so long at war, every character is troubled for some reason or other.  The author provides enough information that you can start to form a picture of why each person is where they are, but not so much that you can guess at what befell them during the war years. Kay is very much alone, Viv remains loyal to her married lover but shows signs of disillusionment, Duncan is now free from prison, but living with one of his prison wardens and Helen, in love with and living with Julia, is torn apart by her own jealousy and insecurity.

The tragic section of this book is the middle section which covers the events of 1944. It is during this section that we find out the reason for Kay’s sadness, and the roots of Viv’s disillusionment. We discover when Helen fell in love with Julia and the impact that that had on others. And we share prison with Duncan, and begin to learn why he is there. In the final, short section of the book – 1941 – some final answers are provided, causing you to think back over what you have read to put the pieces together and explain the atmosphere which pervades the first part of the book.

I really enjoyed the novel, although I was a little frustrated by the reverse narrative, not because I found it difficult to follow, but because when I had discovered the causes, I wanted to know what happened after 1947 and I kept reminding myself that I wouldn’t know because I had already read that part! I thought the descriptions of the relationships between the characters were very tender and unselfconsciously written, and I really liked that. It isn’t always that you get to read about lesbian relationships with such candour and it helped you to understand just how difficult it would have been during a time where any kind of unorthodox relationship was frowned upon, whether it was same sex, or simply an affair out of wedlock. As a result, every single character experiences something of the forced secrecy which they have to endure as an added stress to the difficulties everyone faced.

I think this was a well written novel which brought to life the Blitz in London. It successfully showed that not everyone who went through it fitted the archetype of the Londoner which you see on the old newsreels or read about in history books. Then, as today, there were ‘outcasts’ – who had to show perhaps greater bravery and strength to make it through.

Rating: 8/10
ISBN: 978-1-84408-241-4
Publisher: Virago
Year:2006
Date Finished: 6 November 2009
Pages: 503

Uncorrected proof copies of a novel can be of varying quality. Some I have received have had paper covers (although the shabby appearance belied the quality of the writing within). Others I have received looked no different to what I imagine the finished product would look like, although the illustrations may have been blurred or left out altogether. When I received my copy of The Selected Works of T.S.Spivet, I opened up what could only be described as a beautifully produced book, complete with exquisite margin drawings and copious notes. My curiosity was definitely piqued, and I couldn’t wait to sit down with the book and get started.

Strangely enough, when I had read the publicity material for this book, I had immediately formed a picture of T.S. Spivet. In my mind he was an explorer, an illustrator and a grown man. When I met T.S. Spivet for real, he was the first two of these things, but in the body of a 12 year old boy. But T.S. was no ordinary 12 year old. Despite having grown up on a ranch in Montana, his skill at map making and drawing, as well as his scientific mind meant that soon after we meet him, he discovers that he has won a prestigious award from the Smithsonian and, in order to accept it, must present himself in Washington D.C. the following Thursday.

And thus his adventure begins.

I was charmed by T.S. The author captured a moment in the life of the protagonist which was still so childish, and yet was laced by a budding maturity. This meant that T.S. spoke to me as an adult, but would still speak to a child just as effectively.  The book is an account of his journey to Washington on a freight train, his discovery of an adult world which he doesn’t fully understand, as well as his own self-discovery in coming to terms with the death of his younger brother, his perceived rejection by his father and his own gifts.  Parallel to his own story, T.S. learns the story of his grandmother, herself a gifted scientist in an age when women’s academic abilities were not taken seriously, and through that he learns about the struggle of not belonging, and how that can ultimately lead you away from your own talents.

If it were just the story without the accompanying illustrations, this book would have lost something. I think I might have struggled with some of the flights of fancy into which it went. There were times I couldn’t decide whether this books was supposed to be a fantasy (with wormholes in the middle of America into which trains disappear), or an observation of reality. I finally came to the conclusion that this was reality for a 12 year old – and that reality is a combination of wormholes, talking winnebagos and secret societies, big cities, Macdonalds and the desperate need to be loved. When I had settled with that I was able to fully suspend my disbelief and take the journey with T.S. The little maps, pictures and drawings which litter the pages emphasise how the world appears through T.S.’s eyes. He helped me to start noticing tiny things again – things which, when you enter the adult world, blur into normality and become insiginificant in the day to day push to survive.

My biggest issue did come from the apparent incongruity between T.S.’s parents – his mother, herself a scientist without any apparent domestic ability somehow meets and stays with his father, a cowboy and ranchman who’s life partially emulates the Westerns he watches so religiously. Would two people like that come together? I couldn’t work out how or why. Although T.S. was as mystified as I was as he states in one of the margin notes early on in the book. The story of T.S.’s grandmother, Emma, goes some way towards answering the question but I never felt fully satisfied, just as I didn’t feel fully satisfied with how one so young could have such an in depth knowledge of science. But that was all part of the fantasy of the novel, so I didn’t let it worry me too much.

The author touches elegantly upon the Evolution/Creationism debate which appears to be so prominent in the United States. I liked how he introduced the beauty and logic of science in a way which was neither confrontational nor obvious. I believe that novels like this will go much further in convincing people than hard scientific fact because they pose no threat. This novel provides that middle ground between science and people’s personal faith which seems to be ignored to a great extent (from my limited understanding) in the US. If for no other reason, The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet should be regarded as an important contribution to literature, and one that is timely and necessary.

I will go back to this book again and again, even if it is just to examine the drawings in more detail, or once again smile at T.S.’s thoughts and asides. It is a wonderful addition to my library and I was honoured to be given the opportunity to review it. It is a fantastic first novel and a recommended read.

You can find out more about the book and the author at http://www.tsspivet.com/

Rating: 9/10
ISBN: 9781846552786 
Publisher: Harvill Secker
Year: 2009
Date Finished: 22 April 2009
Pages: 375

Four years ago I bought a copy of Life of Pi by Yann Martel at a time when I was trying to read more modern fiction and prize winners. I remember loving it. I loved it so much that I recommended it to others without hesitation and it sat on my bookshelf waiting to be read again.

Shift forward to the present day, and Life of Pi was handed out to us in our book group. I took it with pleasure, glad of the opportunity to read the book again. Sadly, the second time around, I wasn’t nearly as impressed.

I don’t think it is because I take less pleasure in a book on a second reading. On the contrary, there are many books I can think of which get better and better every time you pick them up (I haven’t read Lord of the Rings 13 times by accident). I really had thought this would be one of those, but what we forget is that every book which has been read in the past is now part of our history and our memory, and in the intervening time we change. Sometimes those changes make no difference at all. Other times, the changes are huge. I don’t know what had changed, but I found the story a bit silly, unnecessarily violent in parts and although it was still compelling in the way I remember, I just didn’t warm to Pi on the second reading.

I often wondered how an author could make the story of a boy and a wild Bengal Tiger adrift on the ocean for months at all interesting. But he does, and you do have to keep turning the page to find out what happens next. Maybe the thrill at the imagination was what impressed me so much on the first reading. This time around, I was prepared for the imagination and so I spent more time with the characters – and found that I wasn’t a particular fan of the characters at all. I took to Richard Parker – but then which tiger lover wouldn’t. But I found Pi irritating, the narrator contrived, and the family which Pi lost a bit painful.

Nevertheless this is a story of survival in every sense. The overarching theme is one of adapting to the circumstances, no matter what the circumstances are. Whether he is deciding how to stay alive when he was a castaway with only a wild animal as his companion, or simply deciding what story to tell when people wanted to know how he survived after his rescue, Pi understands survival. In that respect he represents the animal side of humans, but still with very human traits.

The whole incident with the carnivorous island was almost too bizarre to be believed. Even knowing what was coming I found it odd in the extreme. I could buy the miniature zoo on the lifeboat. I could buy the orangutan on the bananas. I could almost buy the strange period of blindness and the weird meeting with a random human being in the middle of the ocean. But the meercats and the acidic algae did it for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a fantasy, and I have a vivid imagination. I think my problem with this book was that it didn’t quite know whether it was supposed to be a complete fantasy or a fiction based in the real world. It tried to straddle both, and I didn’t feel satisfied with either. Sadly, although my copy is still on my bookshelf, it will be a long while before I pick it up for a third time. And I will need to have changed as a person quite a lot by then.

Rating: 7/10
Publisher: Canongate Books
ISBN: 978-1841953922
Date: 2003
Date Finished: 31 January 2009
Pages: 348

Although you can’t judge a book by it’s cover, or it’s title for that matter, that doesn’t stop us from being attracted to a book by one or other of those things. I was attracted to An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England by the curious title. I knew nothing about it, and as usual I avoided reading any reviews before I picked it up, and I gave it a go.

Unfortunately, it took me a chapter or two to realise that this wasn’t fiction in the sense of a good story. This was literary fiction which tells a story, but which has the purpose of delivering a deeper message. Because of this, the plot becomes obscure, almost incidental to the message. It is the kind of thing that many Booker Prize winning novels suffer from. I can see what the author is trying to do, but sometime the message is so obscure, or difficult to spot that all you are left with is absurdity.

The story is narrated by Sam Pulsifer, a man who is a ‘bumbler’. He is a pretty pathetic character throughout most of the story – so pathetic that I realised he couldn’t be a real character, all he could be was a metaphor. His completely dysfunctional childhood, where he was accused of burning down the historical house of Emily Dickinson in Massachusetts and goes to prison for 10 years for arson, is overshadowed by his even more dysfunctional adulthood after he is released from prison. He goes through prison without even being touched – he is the same, vague kind of bumbler after he comes out as he was before he went in. When he comes out though, he embarks on a strange career in packaging science, marries (also a very strange event) and then gets accused by his wife of having an affair (in circumstances which are a bit ridiculous), after which time he returns to the house of his previously educated, literary family and finds them both raging alcoholics.

None of this rang true, which is why I had to keep in my mind that the whole story was a metaphor and perhaps I just wasn’t reading deep enough. But as deep as I read, I just couldn’t figure out what it was trying to say. The pathetic guy finally adds courage to his vacuous identity? Being pathetic means fate ensures you take the blame for everything? No matter how pathetic you are, everyone has it in them to protect the one person they love? None of these seemed adequate to justify the irritating weakness of the main character and the complete absurdity of the story.

The oddest thing of all was the cover was festooned with quotes like “a hilarious tale” and “laugh out loud”. What? Yes, it was strange, but it was so dark that I struggled to find humour in it (unless you take enormous pleasure in laughing at people who are so low they couldn’t fall any further – which I don’t). There was not one part of the book which raised a smile. It was well written, undoubtedly, and the language structure was very elegant, but I feel it widely missed the mark if it was supposed to be comedy and it also fell short of quality literature. Perhaps I have missed something with this book, and perhaps it was written as a critique on academia, literature and life, but I simply came away feeling slightly depressed and shaking my head.

Interestingly, I have read Evelyn Waugh’s The Loved One since finishing this (the review will come soon, when I have caught up!) and it stands as a marked contrast. It is also a critique of a particular society but the grim humour, absurdity and scathing observation was far more subtle, and therefore, in my opinion, far more effective.

Rating: 6/10
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Year: 2007
Date Finished: 26 December 2008
Pages: 303