There’s no denying that, with my preoccupation with launching a certain novel, I’ve been neglecting my reading of others’ words of late. But I have been doing some reading over the past month, but writing posts for my epic blog tour has taken precedence over writing my reviews. Much as I might berate myself for not paying it forward and matching the eloquence and depth of so many of the reviews of Sugar and Snails, I’ve decided that mini reviews of these three debut novels will have to suffice. They’re summarised here, not in order of preference, but in the order I read them.
Someone Else’s Conflict is a novel about attachment: both the negative consequences of territorialism and the fragility of human relationships when trust is at a premium. Moving between the Yorkshire Dales and the former Yugoslavia, the theme is enacted by the three main characters: Jay, an itinerant storyteller haunted by his part in the civil war; Marilyn, a potter, desperate to assert her independence after leaving a controlling relationship; and Vinko, a feral teenager who has grown up in exile and can’t shrug off his rage at what he’s been denied (p216):
At a deserted children’s play area he slowed and stopped, chest heaving. His head playing images of neat, well cared-for little kids filing into classrooms, their toddler brothers and sisters waiting impatiently for mothers to bring them here, he threw himself onto the flaking roundabout, kicked the ground violently hard and lay back watching the sky spin.
It’s a deeply ambitious novel with a complex plot. Although I would applaud the author for tackling serious issues of human relationships and recent European history, I felt that she was perhaps trying to pack too much in. Yet the interludes of Jay’s stories were particularly pleasurable (not something I usually like in a novel), emphasising our universal need for stories about ourselves and the world we live in.
I received my copy from the publisher, Honno Press, after being approached by the author.
At a deserted children’s play area he slowed and stopped, chest heaving. His head playing images of neat, well cared-for little kids filing into classrooms, their toddler brothers and sisters waiting impatiently for mothers to bring them here, he threw himself onto the flaking roundabout, kicked the ground violently hard and lay back watching the sky spin.
It’s a deeply ambitious novel with a complex plot. Although I would applaud the author for tackling serious issues of human relationships and recent European history, I felt that she was perhaps trying to pack too much in. Yet the interludes of Jay’s stories were particularly pleasurable (not something I usually like in a novel), emphasising our universal need for stories about ourselves and the world we live in.
I received my copy from the publisher, Honno Press, after being approached by the author.
Sixteen-year-old Helen is spending the summer of 1983 at home with her depressed and neglectful father after her mother has moved out, when she is beguiled by the bohemian Dover family who have moved into a dilapidated cottage by the canal. The children, particularly the mercurial Victoria, appear much more independent than she is, perhaps of necessity, given that their father is mysteriously absent and their mother is a delicate flower who seems to have renounced all parenting responsibilities. When their uncle arrives, he pulls Helen’s father from his stupor, helping him to repair the dilapidated boat that is part of the reason for her mother’s leaving home. But on the night of the party to celebrate its launch, disaster strikes and Helen, now exiled in her mother’s flat, is protected from the details. It’s not until she meets up again with Victoria, now a celebrated painter, thirty years on that she discovers what really happened, and how her own life has been impoverished by her ignorance.
The Summer of Secrets is a coming-of-age story that, for me, dwelt too long on the obsessions of the adolescents and not enough on the implications for Helen’s adult life. Published this month by Transworld, I received my proof copy via the Curtis Brown book group.
The Summer of Secrets is a coming-of-age story that, for me, dwelt too long on the obsessions of the adolescents and not enough on the implications for Helen’s adult life. Published this month by Transworld, I received my proof copy via the Curtis Brown book group.
Elizabeth and Sadie, each with a young daughter, meet up at a Glasgow housing office after leaving their husbands. Her jaw broken by the latest beating, Elizabeth finds dubious consolation in the medal of the Virgin Mary she wears around her neck. When Sadie admits that she has stolen £20,000 from her drug-dealer husband in order to make a better life for her daughter on a small island off the coast of Ireland, Elizabeth is persuaded to go with her. But Sadie’s feckless husband is a mere pawn in the drug world, and his minder isn’t prepared to suffer that kind of loss. So Alan is dragged off by the violent Paddy to wreak vengeance on his recalcitrant wife.
I found the women’s lives quite harrowing, so it was a bit of a shock when, in the second half of the novel, an older Elizabeth, intent on revenge, meets up with a physical incarnation of the Virgin Mary. But, amongst the humour and surrealism, we come to a deeper understanding of the mental turmoil she’s suffered since childhood and the reason for her identification with, and hatred of, the saint who failed to save her. Although I think could have stood being shorter, and the resolution seemed too easy, this is a powerful novel about women’s vulnerability(see also The Lives of Women), the difficulty of exiting a drug culture (see also The Glorious Heresies) and the risks for children of putting their faith in the Catholic Church (see also A History of Loneliness).
Do let me know if any of these books take your fancy!
I found the women’s lives quite harrowing, so it was a bit of a shock when, in the second half of the novel, an older Elizabeth, intent on revenge, meets up with a physical incarnation of the Virgin Mary. But, amongst the humour and surrealism, we come to a deeper understanding of the mental turmoil she’s suffered since childhood and the reason for her identification with, and hatred of, the saint who failed to save her. Although I think could have stood being shorter, and the resolution seemed too easy, this is a powerful novel about women’s vulnerability(see also The Lives of Women), the difficulty of exiting a drug culture (see also The Glorious Heresies) and the risks for children of putting their faith in the Catholic Church (see also A History of Loneliness).
Do let me know if any of these books take your fancy!
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