Books read in August

The Entropy Tango – Michael Moorcock

I think this is my favourite of the Cornelius books, or perhaps it is the peak of an otherwise exceptional collection of novels and stories. It has all the familiar ingredients and characters presented without any explanation or backstory, yet it is written with an unforced maturity and has an air of melancholy that chimes with my own natural temperament. The ending, in particular, is heart rending without any attempt at false sentimentality. Plus it centres on Una Persson. If ever there was a fictional character I would like to meet...

Gold Diggers of 1977 – Michael Moorcock

Originally titled ‘The Great Rock n Roll Swindle’ to tie in with the movie of the same name. This is Moorcock’s own anarchic view of things (and probably closer, in its own way, to the truth). Although it it uses the punk band as a platform for the story, it takes a wider look at the music business (Mo Collier, a burned out musician forever in search of his wages with everyone else telling hime no money has been made) and the way in those who died young have become idols both adored and exploited long after they are dust.

Muddle Earth Too – Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell

Gentle fun at the expense of every childhood favourite fantasy. Enough of a story to hold interest, excellent illustrations (as ever) from Chris Riddell (some quite subversive if you start looking for likenesses), the occasional fart joke, and general mayhem. And a flower fairy called Pesticide. How can it go wrong. Very different from some of Paul Stewart’s earlier darker work for older children, but no less worthy for that.

Roadside Picnic – Arkady and Boris Strugatsky (tr Olena Bormashenko)

Quite possibly my all time favourite ‘science fiction’ novel (sf being in inverted commas because whilst the premiss is science-fictional, it is a book about ordinary people). When it was first written, in Soviet Russia, the authors had terrible trouble with the censors. Not because of political subversiveness (although the text certainly has its fair share of that which goes to show how dumb some of those censors were), but because of moral questions (too much swearing, not a good example to Soviet youth, apparently). As a result the version that appeared in print and was later translated was a much watered down version.

This new edition is the Director’s cut, as it were. Not all ‘author’s versions’ are better than the version that was edited by another hand, but in this case the book, even though the changes are subtle, is far better than the original (which I read alongside this. This version is harder, rougher and, as a consequence, bleaker. It is also far more realistic.

The background to the story is that the Earth is visited by aliens who land, ignore us as if we were harmless insects, and then take off again. They leave behind them (in the only human aspect of them) a whole load of junk – as if they had stopped, cleaned out their garbage cans, and then moved on.

The places in which they landed are deadly to people although there are some who risk the perils to bring out artefacts to sell. These Stalkers work illegally in an uneasy relationship with the scientists who study the sites. The book follows the fortunes of one Stalker through eight years of his life and is about the effects of the Zone on him, his family, and the people he knows, mirroring all the implications for society as a whole.

There are no heroes, no super-scientists solving every problem, there is no resolution. What we have, caught in the brilliant spotlight of the Strugatskys’ writing, is a sad tale of how what could otherwise have been the most remarkable event in human history is turned, like everything else, into an excuse for exploitation and criminal behaviour. It is also about how we make myths for ourselves, even in the darkest of situations.

It is a mystery to me that the works of the Strugatskys, along with Stanislaw Lem, are not more widely known and are not readily available in new translations like this volume. They certainly deserve to be better known.

The Alchemist’s Question – Michael Moorcock

A Jerry Cornelius novel with a different feel. Subtitled as ‘being the final episode in the career of the English Assassin’, it seemed unlikely even at the time. Be that as it may, this book tapped into a different kind of 1984 (the year it was published) in which the gentle anarchy and alchemy of the hippy spirit of the west overcomes the beautifully satirised vision of what Thatcherism was in danger of doing to the country (and which project has since been revived).

Tapping into Celtic mythology the novel draws a battleground where one side tries to tap into a mythos of Arthurian/Gloriania in the form of Brigantia and the other simply opens themselves to whatever form the powers of the land decide is right to defeat the cynical misappropriation of values they know nothing of. Merrie England with its mock tudor frontage is demolished by those who have always lived off that particular grid in a wilder world. The ending is ambiguous, although the forces of stagnation, the lovers of nuclear winter, are confounded.

Whilst this does not capture the immediacy  of the earlier novels, it is good to go back and see how they develop this far. The underlying ideas are still there: the playfulness, the exploration of alternatives, and so on. However, the form and the characters have matured and in the end it is a fitting end to a major cycle of work.

Maigret Sets A Trap – Georges Simenon

On the track of a serial killer, this is about how failure and success go hand in hand, about the pyschology of killing, about the effects of the police. All wrapped up in 140 pages with Simenon’s usual economy of style and the ability to leave his readers feeling they have read a much longer book.

Maigret And The Madwoman – Georges Simenon

Pragmatism and compassion in equal measure drive this story. As with every traumatic disruption of personal life, things emerge that both horrify us and make us look to ourselves. In this case, a small old lady plucks up courage to approach the one policeman she admires and trusts to say that things in her flat have been moved while she is out. Maigret promises to go and see her, but puts it off (it is just a mad old woman) until it is too late and she is found murdered.

What is exposed is a series of lonely lives, people lost in an existential bleakness and clutching at whatever straws they think might keep them afloat. Justice is served on several levels and the one who seems to have come to terms with life, despite all that he sees and deals with, is Maigret himself.

The Pillars Of Eternity – Barrington J Bayley

When it comes to Barry Bayley, I am biased. I was introduced to him by Mike Moorcock [enough name dropping – ed] and went drinking with him back in the late ‘70s. He was witty, charming, frighteningly intelligent, but most of all was kind to a young and not at all successful writer. It has always been a mystery to me why his work has not been lauded and reprinted until book shop shelves are groaning under the weight (as they do for lesser writers).

I’m not a great fan of science fiction because it is generally devoid of interesting characters or the kind of issues I find interesting. Bayley, however, never fails to satisfy. He wrote using space opera as form for the most part. There is no lack of spacecraft, planets, exotic civilisations, and so on. These, however, are the means by which he explores some very deep philosophical, ethical, and psychological questions: the nature of and our relationship with reality, time, human nature, ethics.

Like any great writer he makes his story work these explorations out. Whilst characters may have philosophical discussions, they are always in character, essential to the plot, and never go on for too long. Bayley knew something about the readership of science fiction books. They are, for the most part, extremely intelligent. They don’t need things to be spelled out for them. In The Pillars of Eternity there is a whole background that you see glimpses of – it is a coherent and complex whole, but time is not wasted telling us about it. Where it touches the story it is relevant, otherwise, like real life, it just gets on with itself in the background.

The Pillars of Wisdom concerns some of the things that Bayley was most interested in – the nature of time, predestination, what it is that makes us and how (and if) we can alter that. The central character (who names himself Joachim Boaz) has undergone a physical and psychological trauma unmatched by anyone else in the universe (the why and how are beautifully integral to the overall metaphysical basis of the story) and he is searching for a way to undo it so that he does not have to experience it in his future lives. He is convinced the answer lies in the manipulation of time so that he can focus on a pre-ordained event and change it.

Tightly written, brimful of ideas that were way ahead of their time (in fact and in fiction) and never afraid to stray into areas others would feel uncomfortable even admitting they were interested in (the Tarot, for example). A number of his books have been revived as e-books, but it is a great shame to me that all his works are not still in print.

Sleep Has His House – Anna Kavan

Unique. In my experience. I can think of no other novel that I have read that comes anywhere near this. Based in part on her own life and withdrawal from the world, it is a truly surreal journey from day into night, from reality into dreams, from normality into a world of symbolism that is cut off from the mainstream. Yet it manages at the same to imply that, in fact, the night and the dreams and the symbols are a much more fundamental reality underlying the chaotic world in which we are expected to live.

Taking epsiodes from her own life which are used to introduce each episode, we see how that is converted into dream, how the real world is painful and desolate place. Each surreal flight, each dream is an escape, not from but to. The language and the episode offer new perspectives. And even where events are chilling (the brief visions of nuclear war are horrific) there is always a sense that somewhere in the twisted cosmos there is a way out.

For Anna Kavan, the struggle to escape was lifelong. She wrestled with addiction and mental illness. Her writing proves that sometimes she won, if for no other reason than that she made the world a better place for the rest of us through the very words she put on paper. Because in those words is not just a record of the struggle, but a glimpse of beauty and hope.

Deep Trouble – Debi Gliori

We are back at StregaSchloss with all the old crew. Outrageous, revolting, anarchic and truly wonderful. This one does get a bit dark but where an adult book would end, this one has a last chapter that offers a glimmer of hope. Quality writing for kids that treats them as intelligent beings (albeit with a penchant for stickiness, goo, vomit and other nauseating substances).

Books read in July

Snuff – Terry Pratchett

Almost a return to form. The subject matter certainly lines up with the best that he has done – the way in which a wealthy elite regards the law as something to be ignored in pursuit of greed whilst at the same time demonising those least able to defend themselves. However, the edge is a little dull and yet again there is no feeling of jeopardy. Yes, this is Sam Vimes. But at no point in the book did I feel the he or his family would suffer. And when there is no uncertainty the story lacks the tension it needs.

The English Assassin – Michael Moorcock

Third in the original Cornelius Quartet and more layers of the story are peeled away. In the end of course there is no conventional narrative, which is somewhat the point of the book. Life isn’t like a novel; the world doesn’t unfold to a plan; our psyches are not built to deal with everything in a linear fashion.

So much for the structure. The content is a sharp observation of twentieth century culture from a ‘western’ perspective. Examining a number of possible realities (none of them all that appealing), Cornelius does what we all do: search for the best possible outcome amongst the detritus heaped on us by politicians, warlords, and greed-crazed industrialists (who are very often one and the same).

At all times this is done with erudition and with humour. As Mrs C says, just after her latest husband has been shot dead: “Yer gotta larf, aintcha?”

The Condition Of Muzak – Michael Moorcock

The title is a take on Pater: ‘All art constantly aspires towards the condition of music.’ Muzak, of course, is the pap you hear in lifts and other public places. As ever, an erudite commentary on pop culture with the many story strands of the entire quartet being given some kind of resolution (with many dropping into the start position of the first book).

There is a point toward the end of this book I always find the commedia del’arte references become a bit forced, as if the book is playing to that rather than the other way round, but this is more than redeemed by the fantasy Christmas which is then capped by the devastating finale – the death of Honoria Cornelius. Knowing what she has been (and you have to go to the Pyat quartet to find out more of that) plus the feeling that of them all she is the one that will live forever, a bawdy goddess, the simply told demise is both shocking and extremely touching.

For me the Cornelius quartet is the quintessential chronicle of the pantomime that was the 1960s. A bright, gaudy, bawdy show where for a while everyone could be what they wanted and dream of a brighter, cleaner world whilst all the time the money men are waiting in the wings to dismember the whole thing and sell on those bits from which they might hope to make a profit.

The Adventures Of Una Persson And Catherine Cornelius In The Twentieth Century – Michael Moorcock

A continuation of the Cornelius quartet but from the perspective of two of the main female protagonists. Although lovers, their lives expose certain disastrous extremes of the twentieth century – an inward looking self-pleasuring disregard for everything else; and the constant desire to meddle in the affairs of at the other end of the spectrum. Both tore the world apart, scavenging on the corpses left by the major conflicts of the time.

There is a weariness about the book. The characters are all tired of the parts they have been playing. The text also feels as if it is something that has to be side but that the author, like Una Persson, is tired of having to go over the same arguments, wondering if anyone is listening.

Despite that, it is a fine piece of social observation, especially the backstage stuff covering the 60s music scene.

Scrivener’s Moon – Philip Reeve

Back on form after the previous book in the series (which was not bad and probably a set-up for future events, but felt slow and something of a non-sequitor). Fever Crumb returns to London to find that progress into creating the first traction city is well under way. And that forces are massing to stop this step into municipal darwinism.

Exciting, fast paced, and suitably open ended, a great addition to Mortal Engines series.

Artemis Fowl And The Last Guardian – Eoin Colfer

One of the better (and possibly last) entries in the series, despite the bad copy editing. Come on Puffin, readers deserve better than this. Colfer has delivered his usual fast paced story. Nothing new, but a great read.

Maigret Goes Home – Georges Simenon

Intrigued by a message that arrives via a provincial police station stating that a crime will be committed during first Mass on a given date in a certain church, Maigret decides to be present. That the church is in the village where was born and where he was once a choir boy intrigues him further. And it is there, during first Mass, that the ageing Comtess keels over dead.

There follows a chilly psychological portrait of an inward looking society that is crumbling, a half dead institution pick at by vultures not waiting for it to die. And it is also Maigret’s memories that are savaged, leaving him almost powerless to act.

A spectator on the past, a spectator on the present, he watches as eveything unfolds in an almost gothic climax. And whilst it sounds melodramatic, Simenon as ever, through a barebones economy of language and plot, focusses on what really matters in the story and carries it through with great style.

The Theatre: A Concise History – Phyllis Hartnoll

A standard text on the subject and a set text for me when I was at college. It is exactly what it says on the cover – a concise history. It is however extremely informative, heavily illustrated, and has a short but very useful bibliography.

Recollections Of The Golden Triangle – Alain Robbe-Grillet

Set in an unspecified South American country, this is a typical Robbe-Grillet maze. A very simple linear exposition is told from different viewpoints and without regard to to any of the normal conventions of narrative. We move back and forth in time, the narrators change without any warning, symbols are discussed, not just by characters but by the author, and yet what sounds like it would be an unholy mess flows smoothly and, eventually, tells a story.

Of course, it is not the story set out at the end in a chronology of events. One point of the text is to demonstrate that a narrative is not necessarily (and probably never is outside a book or film) a chronology of cause and effect. Paths cross and re-cross building up a picture in much the way something is woven. Individual strands mean nothing. Follow a thread to its end and you see nothing. Stand back and let the process do its work and in the end you have a picture that makes sense. The beauty of a Robbe-Grillet is that the finished picture is merely a surface effect. He weaves in four dimensions, using colours that go well beyond the visible spectrum. Whilst we admire the picture, beneath it and deep within ourselves, doors have been unlocked...

The True Heart – Sylvia Townsend Warner

A modern fairy tale transposing Cupid and Psyche into late 19^th century Essex. Sukey Bond is a beautifully drawn character who floats through life in what is an exceedingly deceptive novel. It seems simple and light (and the writing style suits this perfectly), but there are many layers to this. To begin with, it is rare for writing to convey both the sparkle in the author’s eye as well as the occasional flicker of a wink. And if you know your late nineteenth century slang there are more than few outrageous statements made in the guise of innocence (not least when Sukey finds herself in a brothel). And beneath that is an essay on the power of love that is uplifting and quite glorious.

Empty Space – M John Harrison

A beautifully written continuation of Light and Nova Swing. An experience such as this is difficult to express as a review. Nominally a work of science fiction, it is actually a work that explores metaphysics as well as physics, inner space as well as outer space (and, indeed, recognises that these are false distinctions), and the dynamics of personal relationships. The whole thing is a glorious feast of symbolism that will provide generations of students material for their theses, none of which will ever come close to exhausting the deep veins of meaning – although like the aliens who gave up trying to understand the Tract, the universe will be littered with these long abandoned and forgotten experiments in understanding whilst the thing itself will still provide pleasure and a rich metaphorical background.

Harrison (even in his earliest works) has always been a writer able to find ways of discussing ideas through action and events. And not content with that skill, he writes with a confidence, wit, and intelligence that leaves a lot of other writers gibbering incoherently on the starting blocks. Literate, entertaining, and clearly working at his craft in order to enhance his art. One could wish that we could say as much of many of our so-called literary authors.

Despite having written ‘straight’ novels, there is a perception that Harrison is a science fiction writer (or worse, a writer of fantasy). But like all good writers, he transcends that. For one thing, he always manages to turn any genre tropes he uses inside out and upside down. At the heart of his work are human beings trying to come to terms with being human. People who dismiss his work because of the way he chooses to explore these fundamental ideas are missing not just a treat, but work that leaves shadowy forms flickering just out of range of your internal sensors, teasing you to leave the gaudy neon life of the surface to explore the darker alleyways of your psyche where the real you is probably lost.

Snapshots – Alain Robbe-Grillet

A collection of short fictions. Not so much snapshots as short films lacking all context but that which can be derived from within. Children walking on a beach, people in the Metro, and so on. They are vivid and described in minute detail, but lacking that broader context it is initially difficult to decide what, if anything, is important. We are simply given a surface – a series of events and actions. Yet even this is illusion, because each reader brings their own context, creating a largely unconscious set of connections that create a story beneath the surface (we are a storytelling species). This may, in part, defeat the object of the author’s purpose, but it does demonstrate what an important contribution that Robbe-Grillet has made to an understanding and development of literary work.

Arsène Lupin Versus Holmlock Shears – Maurice Leblance

So glad to see this (along with three other volumes) in an omnibus from Wordsworth. Arsène Lupin is one of the all time great creations of crime fiction and deserves to be much better known. And not only are they significant in terms of the history of crime fiction, they are great fun. Written with tongue firmly in cheek, yet always presenting an excellent story, Lupin stands with Sherlock Holmes, Raffles, and Zenith the Albino – more the latter two than the former.

Lupin is the ‘Prince of Thieves’. A dashing Parisian who finds a challenge in the most difficult of robberies and whose humour and conceit make him both difficult to catch and a supreme annoyance to the authorities. Even Sherlock Holmes (her thinly disguised as Holmlock Shears as Conan Doyle was less than happy to see his detective made fun of) has trouble with Lupin.

Yet Lupin is not just a thief. He is, in his own way (as the second of the two stories in this volume demonstrates), a man of honour who will put himself at considerable risk to save the honour of someone else. For someone like me who enjoys French literature, who enjoys crime stories with a bit of flair, who enjoys something well-written and entertaining, this is a real feast. I hope Wordsworth can, over time, collect more of Leblanc’s wonderful stories and present them in their equally wonderful (and deliciously cheap) editions.

Books read in June

The Leaping Hare – George Ewart Evans & David Thomson

First published in 1972 and recently re-issued, this is a classic work. It gathers together what was known of the natural history and mythology of the hare at the time. Of the natural history, little was known as no systematic study of the hare in the wild by scientists had been undertaken. Enough was known to give a concise and informative overview of the different types of hare, their habitats and their habits. The bulk of the book of the book is given over to folklore and mythology. At all times, references are given which provides plenty of material for follow-up reading. Fascinating as the book is (and I love hares dearly) it is a terrible indictment that the bulk of the information in the book is about hunting the hare and provided by poachers and gamekeepers, those well-known ‘guardians’ of life in the countryside. Amongst all this are moments of wonder, usually when a hare has taken refuge beneath the skirts of woman – itself a telling addition to the mythos of such a beautiful creature.

The Futurological Congress – Stanislaw Lem

Think New Wave (this was written in 1971) and you’ll get some idea of the book, not so much the style as the content. Think also a mix of Sladek, Dick, Moorcock, and Aldiss and you’ll begin to get some idea of the books’ flavour. If it were to be filmed, it would have to be Terry Gilliam. Throw in the sensibility of a writer who is a master of satire, delivered with wit, and you have this book – one that imagines a future where the vast population of the planet is controlled and kept happy by ever increasingly complex cocktails of hallucinogenic and mood altering drugs.

On the surface, it is a comic novel. The situations that Ijon Tichy finds himself in are funny, outrageous, and wicked. The names of many of the drugs and their uses are wonderful plays on words (and hats off to the translator Michael Kandel). The situations stray into the absurd and one is never certain about the degree of reality, especially given that mind-altering drugs are involved.

As with all good comic novels, there is a serious side. You are not hammered with it. Lem is far too good a writer for that. Yet you cannot read the book without considering the moral questions posed – about population levels, about systems for living peacefully, about corruption, about how companies have so subverted the world to their own ends that they effectively control what happens. Except, of course, they are no more in control than anyone else. And the other big question is about how much we can rely on science and technology to solve what are not scientific or technological problems.

Dimple Hill – Dorothy Richardson

This and the following, last, book of Richardson’s Pilgrimage cycle is shorter, more compact, and much more self-assured than her previous works. Her personal circumstances were altogether uncertain and it is something of a miracle she managed these last two volumes at all. Yet she is by now clearly a writer at home with her method and with the world she has shaped out of her own.

Dimple Hill marks the moment when Miriam is told by her doctor that she is so near physical (and possibly mental) collapse that she must get away for six months. Having lived all her life with financial insecurity and with all the distractions of London, there seems no more danger in this than in any other enterprise of her life. And she exults at the chance so long denied, time for herself and time to devote to a project that has been growing in her mind – to write a novel that expresses the true nature of the feminine.

Her first move is to Dimple Hill (Windmill Hill in Sussex) to stay with a Quaker family. Whilst the book marks her (Miriam and Dorothy) first foray into the writing of fiction, the act barely warrants a few pages – that she tries and that she is deeply disappointed with her first effort. Instead, life with the Quaker family (all that is said and left unsaid) is examined as one might a rare and beautiful flower.

The writing is relaxed, open, and exquisitely captures a moment in rural life before the destructive forces of ‘agribusiness’ begin to erode a whole culture. One is left wondering what would have happened had the agricultural revolution of the time been based on a gentle Socialism rather than the voracious needs of the nascent military-industrial complex.

That aside, the novel as a whole is a triumph of atmosphere and emotional enlightenment, of a feeling of old ways passing with a new and uncertain future emerging in the dawn. For whilst Miriam returns to London it is with a different perspective and a certainty that a new language must be found to express herself in her writing and leave us a lasting legacy by which to carry forward literary culture.

Light Thickens – Ngaio Marsh

As an exposition on the playing of Macbeth, this is much better than many non-fiction works on the subject. As a detective story, it is as thin as you can get and still legitimately claim it as one. In a sense it is a short(ish) detective story (based on which cast member has the opportunity in the staging of a play to kill another cast member) tacked onto the end of the description of the rehearsal and performance of that play. It is all skilfully done. Marsh knows and loves the theatre and those who work in it (even the monsters). One suspects, given the dedication, that much of the staging was based in fact (or an idealised version thereof). Having played the Thane myself, I found this fascinating. I’m not sure how devotees of Inspector Alleyn come to it if they don’t have such a specific interest as my own.

Solaris – Stanislaw Lem

Arguably Lem’s best novel in which all his preoccupations are brought to bear. The concept is simple. A research station hovers above the surface of the planet Solaris. The planet is mostly ‘ocean’, a single, fluid entity that may or may not be intelligent but which is so alien that all attempts to make contact with it have failed. Or not. Because one of the ideas explored is just how do you know if something that alien is even aware of your presence?

The question seems to be answered when a psychologist called Kelvin is sent to the station. There he finds his mentor has committed suicide and the other two inhabitants are coping as best they can with the ‘visitors’. Each visitor manifests itself in a different way. For Kelvin it is the woman he loved, a woman who committed suicide many years before. Clearly a creation of the planet below, the visitors seem to serve no purpose. They have no message and seem not to know their own origin. But then nothing is as it seems in a Lem novel. Because this is a book about what it is to be human.

It is haunting, lyrical, and conveys a sense of alien-ness that most science fiction never comes close to. No literary equivalent of actors in rubber suits. No battles. No spectacular scenes (unless you count the descriptions of the planet). No monsters trying to eat anyone’s brains. Just human beings in an isolated world; humanity taking its early steps out of the nursery.

Freshwater – Virginia Woolf

A comedic sketch written for private performance. The subject matter is Woolf’s great-aunt Julia Margaret Cameron and the artists with which she was acquainted. There are two versions of the play, one a heavy revision of the other. Both, however, are funny and at times almost savage in their mockery of the figures involved (principally Cameron, Tennyson, Watts and Ellen Terry). Whatever else it may be, it shows that Woolf had a light side and a sense of the absurd that went hand in hand with her sense of humour.

Repetition – Alain Robbe-Grillet

An aptly named book as the author returns once more to scenes and ideas that have featured in earlier novels, not least childhood memories. The overall theme of the book, that of identity, is also a repetition. In this case the framework on which these issues are hung is that of a spy novel set in post-war Berlin. It does not flinch from the sleaze that afflicted the city, although the obsession with adolescent girls does make for uncomfortable reading. And whilst Robbe-Grillet tackles his themes with all his usual form, he never quite hits the mark. Perhaps because he has done it before (and better in something like The Erasers) or because in using the tropes of the spy novel he fails to come close to the sense of alienation and displacement that is to be found in works by the likes of le Carré and Deighton. Not uninteresting, but in the end unsatisfying.

The Final Programme – Michael Moorcock

The first Jerry Cornelius novel. A bit rough round the edges, an indication of the speed with which it was written, it is nonetheless strikingly prescient. A Europe in financial chaos and on the verge of collapse, America (as always) with global ambitions, greed rampant... one might think the author had access to newspapers from the early twenty-first century. The actual story is thin, but with Jerry Cornelius it has never been about the story, it is about the mood. This captures the mood of when it was written (which is probably why it made such an impact on me then) and so very little has changed. I always enjoy this one and always find something new.

March Moonlight – Dorothy Richardson

The final book written by Richardson during extremely difficult circumstances, yet still managing to be the most accomplished. She never stopped developing as an author, refining her techniques and improving her presentation. The brevity, of course, is probably down to her circumstances, but she makes a virtue of it and the narrative that underlies her work moves forward to the goal she had, perhaps, intended to reach at a more leisurely pace.

It is an intriguing question to wonder whether her writing would have been better or worse had she had to worry less about external factors. She chose a life of poverty to gain freedom, yet she and her husband were abysmally served by the world. But the world is always suspicious of such pioneers.

Having reached the end, I feel an immense sadness. The sequence of novels is an immense achievement and it is such a shame that compared with those who followed (like Woolf and Joyce), Richardson is neglected.

A Cure For Cancer – Michael Moorcock

The second Cornelius novel and a far more sophisticated piece of work than its predecessor. Less story but a greater evocation of mood; the arrival of characters who grow in importance in the Moorcock multiverse; and a much stronger sense that Moorcock had his finger on the pulse more firmly and accurately than any other writer then or since.

Revived from the dead, Jerry Cornelius searches for a way to revive his dead sister, Catherine. That’s the story. Along the way we seen an America (Amerika) that now shows every sign of becoming a reality; tap into the most basic myths of Britain (the story begins at Tintagel with Jerry washed ashore); and are treated to a lexicon of all that was cool in the late ‘60s.

Very tasty.

The Investigation – Stanislaw Lem

This is the sort of book that baffles blurb writers. It uses the framework of a police mystery set in southern England, but that is where the likeness ends as this is much more akin to a Robbe-Grillet or a Pinget than anything else. The framework and the metaphysical theories are the means by which a mood is created and we are able to study the sense of alienation felt by the central character. Lem does this in his science fiction as well, another genre that provides ample opportunity for psychological study.

It is an intriguing book and one I found fascinating, despite all the faults (of which more in a moment). The bewilderment leading to anger and back, the weariness that drives Gregory on, the dreamlike quality of events and places, are all wonderfully drawn and make best use of the ironic qualities inherent in the noirish tropes. But always the flaws.

The first level of these can be forgiven. Lem wrote the book in mid-1950s. His grasp of English geography was a trifle hazy; as was his understanding of the structure of the British police (he seems to have used a Polish model). I have no problem with that as they are incidental to the story and could easily have been rectified by a decent translation and translator’s note. Sadly, this book has not had a decent translation. This is the second level. Knowing Lem’s writing from before and after this book, it can only be the translation that is at fault (it is a different translator to those other books). It is dull and the translator’s grasp of English is faulty. Again, I can forgive that, because the translator should not be the final arbiter of the word on the page. What has really let this work down is the appalling editing. Whoever did it must have been asleep at the time or had an equally poor grasp of English culture and language. As an example, we several times have: ‘He shined his torch into the dark room.’ we have American makes of car, we a police Lieutenant, uniformed constables carrying pistols... It goes on and on. It made me itch to rewrite it in a way that kept to the text but simply made it sit comfortably in an English landscape.

I have gone on at some length about this simply because it demonstrates that an author’s work can be made to suffer by the ineptness or laziness of others in the process. And as a plea if anyone out there with the necessary clout is reading this to have a whole new and improved collection of Lem’s work in new (and better) translations into English.

Books read in May

Clear Horizon – Dorothy Richardson

Although perhaps the most understated of the novels so far, this is where Miriam finally makes a break and begins the process that will lead to her writing her first novel. That is in the future, however, and she has no inkling, as yet, that this will be the outcome. Instead she finds new (and sometimes uncomfortable) truth in the world, experience that begins to ripen the nascent writer.

That Richardson manages to capture her own past with such clarity is remarkable. That she sees herself with such honesty (perhaps even harshness given what others say she was like), is doubly so. And it is all carried of in such remarkable prose that has never justified the oft-repeated male critics’ assertion that it is ‘difficult’. The more I read, the more I love these books. There are just two novels left now and I’m torn between devouring them and taking them slowly.

Passacaglia – Robert Pinget

Like the music for which it is named, this piece rings the changes on a simple story. Variation after variation is given, creating a complex picture of an event; as if we were presented with hundreds of witness statements and photographs all from different perspectives and produced with different motives. Yet far from becoming a meaningless hodgepodge, what emerges is a vibrant picture, as if layers of coloured glass were used to build up a rich, deep and complex picture. What is more, toward the end, the piece seems to become self-aware. It reaches a point where the accumulation of the parts (each in themselves meaningless) begin to present enough information in which to see the whole. At that point, the piece changes direction and emphasis.

For all its concentration on a very specific event in a very specific place, there is a sense of timelessness, of dream, of the ultimate verities that inhabit the everyday. Pinget is, of course, a master of this kind of writing and this is perhaps his most concentrated work. The imagery is sparse, yet haunting; the language is simple, yet profound. There is enormous intelligence at work here. And it is clear that it is also, at one and the same time, an intelligence at play.

The Invention Of Morel – Adolfo Bioy Casares

Another short work of intense writing. Written in 1940 it uses a science fiction trope as a vehicle to consider notions of immortality, love and obsession. I won’t discuss the details of the plot as that cannot be done without spoiling the book. And it is a story that needs to be read for the first time in ignorance of what is happening.

However, it is possible to discuss the presentation, and Casares is a writer who uses the simplest of language to convey the most complex of ideas and emotions. A series of short chapters draw us through the strange events and echo, as well, another island, that of Dr Moreau. One of a great tradition of surreal writing to emerged from South America, this is worthy of Jorge Luis Borges opening comments.

Last Ditch – Ngaio Marsh

A book that almost manages to shuck off the feeling that the author has once again gone to the same cast of characters. And it is all the better for it. Whilst the new actors have, as yet, to settle into their roles, there is a feeling that Marsh may have been starting a new phase in her writing career. The interlinked story lines work well together – there is a genuine whodunnit working alongside an acceptable thriller, and the end is sufficiently downbeat to match the age in which it was written.

The Wings Of The Sphinx – Andrea Camilleri

Having watched the TV versions of the Inspector Montalbano stories, I thought I’d boorw one of the books from the library. I suspect this is a case of preferring the one you come to first. The writing is good (although I suspect not easy to translate and it does suffer from the attempts to convey Catarelli’s unusual approach to language), but the characters do not shine through as they do on television where there is the bonus of having a quality cast to watch. I will probably read more, but I doubt this is an author I would buy.

The Land Without Stars – Jean-Claude Mézières & Pierre Christin

The third adventure of Valerian and Laureline, this is comic par excellence. Inventive storyline (remembering this first appeared 40 years ago), great graphics, and some wonderful characters. And for all those of you who think steampunk was just invented or that Stars Wars was innovative, just take a look at these to see where it all began (and from where some of it was stolen).

Le Labyrinthe Infernal – Jacques Tardi

The ninth installment of the adventures of Adèle Blanc-sec. Witty, touching, and completely bonkers (more mummies, monsters, secret societies, and a handful of clones - even though it is only 1923). And Adèle remains as beautiful as ever, with a whole cast of wonderfully strange characters weaving through all the interconnected storylines. As ever, the city of Paris is a main character, lovingly drawn.

Grave Mistake – Ngaio Marsh

Marsh really hit her stride with this. It is clear from the writing that she was enjoying it. The whole thing is very relaxed, unforced and moves along at a smooth pace. The style is slightly different to earlier offerings. You are more conscious of being invited into the world she has created without it once compromising the fourth wall. The settings are familiar and the characters are still from the same repertory, but they are fresh enough to be believable.

The Glass Bees – Ernst Jünger

A subtle work that requires a lot of the reader. On the surface, the novel is about an unusual (if not altogether surreal) job interview. Down on his luck, an ex cavalry officer goes to an old colleague for help and is recommended for a post working in security at the headquarters of an industrialist whose work is a mix of that of Walt Disney and Bill Gates with a good measure of Tyrell thrown in. Given that this was written in the mid 1950s it is remarkably prescient in its view of society and its treatment of technology.

But this is no piece of pulp sci fi. There are no chases, fights, thrills or spills. It is, rather, a philosophical discourse following the thoughts of Captain Richard as he goes through his interview and watches the glass bees of the title. A discourse on technological process, on warfare, on what makes us human. In that sense it parallels the work being produced by Philip K Dick, which shares the same concerns.

Of the two, Jünger is the greater stylist, although he probably had more time (he lived to be 102 whereas Dick died at the age of 53). It is perhaps inevitable that a German who served in both wars and whose work displays a nostalgia for martial orderliness should be accused of Fascism, even Nazism. But he was on the losing side. Britons or Americans who have written in the same nostalgic vein have escaped (for the most part) such accusations. He was a soldier who accepted the discipline of military life. He was also dismissed from the German army for his closeness to those who attempted to assassinate Hitler.

Whatever the case, his perspective has allowed him, in this book, to see the future and to see it accurately enough to make you wonder if the parts that seem still to be fictional are not, in fact, already taking place behind the scenes.

Maigret In Montmartre – Georges Simenon

On the surface a typical Maigret; beneath is the paradox of easy-going French life and the seedy underbelly that seems to flourish when the weight of society means the beast can no longer lift itself and sores accummulate and fester. Drug addiction, runaways, those they run away from, those they end running into. A sad tale and as fine a piece of social commentary as you will find anywhere.

Maigret’s Mistake – Georges Simenon

A little puzzled at the English title. More accurately it should be ‘Maigret’s self-deception’, and even then... Again a very French situation. Prominent man keeps mistress in apartment below where he lives with his wife. Mistress found murdered. Less of a whodunnit than a psychological examination of the abuse of power and its effects on those involved.

Tales Of Pirx The Pilot – Stanislaw lem

A perfect blend of outer space and inner space, delivered with a gentle humour. If taken as pure science fiction, these short stories have dated badly (cathode ray tubes, bags full of books being lugged around, and so on). At the same time they could be taken as a glimpse into an alternative universe, because the pictures that Lem paints of these things are entirely plausible (think of the computer consoles in the movie ‘Brazil’). Where the stories do stand up is in the soft science, the inner space. Pirx himself ages and matures as the stories progress and the situations he encounters are a realistic mix of humour, mystery and heartbreak. Some of the situations are haunting in the simplicity of their tragedy and told with dignity and reserve.

The Space Merchants – Frederick Pohl & C M Kornbluth

Although now a familiar trope, the idea that the future would be run by big business, itself in thrall to the advertising agencies was new when this work appeared. And because it is written in a fairly downbeat way, it has not dated. Indeed, although we have some way to go yet to achieve the future envisaged here, we are already 75% of the way along the road.

Tightly written, understated, free of exposition whilst still painting a comprehensive picture of a particular dystopia, this well deserves its reputation as a classic of science fiction. The only thing that lets it down for me is the over sentimental kiss-and-make-up ending. It doesn’t quite ring true, which in a book that is otherwise a carillon of veracity makes it stick out like the proverbial sore digit.

Photo-Finish – Ngaio Marsh

Her penultimate book is set in her native New Zealand with a classic isolated house mystery. Well plotted and reasonably well written it nonetheless feels like the work of someone who is tired. No pace. No peril. Very little mystery.

Memoirs Found In A Bathtub – Stanislaw Lem

Although set in a future America, one suspects the framework is there to carry what would otherwise never have been approved by a Soviet censor. The story tells of a manuscript discovered by archaeologists, one of the very few paper documents that survived the papyralysis – a phage that destroyed all paper and thus brought society to its knees. The document was found in the remains of a vast, sealed, underground complex and recounts... well, ostensibly a secret mission by an agent. But here the book steps from science fiction into a Kafkaesque nightmare of convoluted bureaucracy and a society based on secrets that has slumped into a monstrous pit of its own creation.

The unnamed protagonist is given a secret mission so secret that he never learns what it is. Instead he becomes entangled in a web created by all the doctrines of secrecy. To put it another way, he descends into madness. And this satirical allegory portrays that insanity with an intensity that makes this a frightening read. Not only locked in a sealed building (inside a mountain), we find ourselves locked inside a sealed system, perhaps inside the head of the one who descends into the madness from which he seeks an escape, knowing more and more that he is doomed to failure.

Like other science fiction novels that deal with inner space, it rarely reaches a wider audience. This is a shame because when they are as well written as this, they deserve to be placed next to any work in the so-called ‘literary canon’. And if you have an aversion to science fiction, simply skip the Introduction (although it is an amusing piece in its own right) and skip to the main text which is timeless and placeless. Then prepare to be astounded.

Books read in April

A Clutch Of Constables – Ngaio Marsh
Interesting premiss, but sadly lacking in any real tension which is a shame as that would have made it a first class novel rather than the run-of-the-mill example it turned out to be. But this is Marsh and even her also-ran efforts are well written and well constructed.


A Storm Of Wings – M John Harrison
The second novel set in and around Viriconium, a long life-time after the events of The Pastel City. There is a nod, here, to Wells and to Kneale with the insect-like aliens and their psychic effect, but viewed through Harrison’s inimitable lens.


Dorothy Richardson The Genius They Forgot – John Rosenberg
A concise biography of Dorothy Miller Richardson (and given the way she guarded her private life, it is remarkable there is as much material as there is) which displays how abysmally artists and writers can be treated in the UK. DRM and her husband Alan Odle were both amongst the best in their respective fields, yet they lived in abject poverty all their lives. Interwoven with the biography is a literary appreciation of DRM’s life work. As this is largely autobiographical it is interesting to compare the fiction with the fact. A desperately sad book, yet I couldn’t help feeling I wanted to know more.


Peter Pan – J M Barrie
The bittersweet tale of the boy who didn’t want to grow up. The final chapter gives me shivers every time I read it. And the whole book delivers on so many levels it is always worth a re-read.


When In Rome – Ngaio Marsh
Efficient, but ultimately there is the feeling this was written to fit an intriguing location rather than because the story came first.


Tied Up In Tinsel – Ngaio Marsh
Perhaps reading the books in quick succession makes them easier to ‘read’. The particular tricks of the author are easier to spot. However, the book is well-written, the puzzle is genuine and well thought out if under-developed.


Black As He’s Painted – Ngaio Marsh
Marsh hits form here with an intriguing thriller/whodunnit. She sticks well within the bounds expected of her genre, but nonetheless manages (with its setting and its nod to the after effects of colonialism) to convey a whole other novel lurking just beneath the surface.


50 Literature Ideas You Really Need To Know – John Sutherland
Part of a series of ‘50 Ideas...’ this would probably be a useful teaching tool for A level students – each chapter the basis for discussion. It starts well and clearly, if with a somewhat random approach. And it never clearly makes its mind up about whether it is a primer on literary criticism, analysis, and theory or whether it is about the creative processes involved in writing.

It is also a book that suffers all the problems associated with writing to someone else’s formula. Despite starting strongly, Sutherland clearly ran out of ideas or steam before he got to the fifty. He seems to have packed the end with some pretty trite observations on modern trends that are, perhaps, intended to make the book up to date whereas they just make it look silly.

It further suffers from the fact that the author cannot keep his opinions (offered as snide little asides) to himself; and sometimes it is difficult to know whether they are his opinions or those of the theorists he is discussing. Clarity here is essential and it fades the further you get into the book, as if perhaps the author didn’t quite understand his later topics.

All in all an entertaining read, but if you want something with depth, clarity, and a clear structure, this is not the book to go to.


The Letter Killers Club – Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky
It is a real joy to discover an author for one’s self, especially one who wrote work that is so in tune with the kind of thing one likes best. Heartbreaking as well to learn of his life of rejection (hardly surprising in Stalinist Russia) and of how his life ended. At least he had good friends who preserved his work and saw to its eventual publication. And thus, the world of letters is a better place.

This novella grew out of an incident in Krzhizhanovsky’s early life. Living in poverty in Moscow he received word of his mother’s death. The only way he could afford to travel the hundreds of miles back home was to sell his only possessions – his books. Having gone through a period of my own when nearly all my books were sold, I can begin (but only begin) to imagine what that meant.

In the novella, this is the starting point. It tells of someone who has to sell their books and who then, on trying and failing to recall the contents of the books, populates their shelves with imaginary tomes. This, in turn, provides the material for many successful books of their own – something that had previously eluded them. Later in life, however, this author has become convinced that committing things to paper destroys the purity of their conceptions and starts a secret society where authors meet to speak their ideas to the air and fill a set of empty shelves so that their ideas remain pure and untainted by the interpretations of others.

The stories told at the club are philosophical, surreal, and exceedingly rich. Yet this is Russia in the 1920s. What, on the surface, appears to be a slightly offbeat conceit has much darker under currents. The notion that one must gather in secret to share thoughts, that one dare not commit them to public scrutiny, that the club itself begins to mirror the external world... all this and more is both a comment on the construction of fiction and its place in the world as well as casting a sharp eye on the political environment in which the novella was written.

The translation is well made and what we know of Krzhizhanovsky through his life is apparent in the writing. He was clearly widely read and had a unique eye with which to view the world. And although he is at times biting in his criticism of the world in which he lived, it never becomes polemical. He makes the stories serve his purpose.

I loved this so much I have just ordered another volume of his work and look forward to the day that his other writings appear in English. If you like modernist writing, if you like sharp writing, if you like to see how a writer can be subversive, how surrealism works, if you want a great example of outright good writing, you could do a lot worse than this.


Tous Des Monstres! – Jacques Tardi
An old adversary returns in another beautifully drawn adventure. Post WWI Paris is lovingly recreated and populated with the usual cast of bizarre characters (including clowns ) and a whole host of monsters. Adèle now sports a suitably ‘20s hairstyle and is still as lovably acid as ever.


Le Mystère Des Profondeurs – Jacques Tardi
More favourite characters return along with a female assassin who turns out to be... Well, I’m not giving that away. Monsters and criminals still infest a Paris unremittingly bleak beneath rainy skies.  


Poetics – Aristotle
A classic, in so many ways. Aristotle analyses tragedy and throws in a side dish on epic poetry. The result is a concise account of the elements of plot, character, and presentation and how they are best combined with other aspects to create the best drama. Although the text is short (less than fifty pages in my edition), Aristotle’s analysis is key to the understanding of literature. It introduces key ideas (such as mimesis and katharsis) that have informed literature ever since. And although many of the ideas have since been deliberately overturned, inverted, and subverted, one can only really understand that in light of the Poetics.


The Shape Of Things To Come – H G Wells
Wells’s classic history of the future. Presented as a history book published in 2106, HG blends reality and fiction with ease and to great effect. As people never tire of pointing out, Wells got a lot of the detail wrong (although if you look at it, he wasn’t that far out, and a damned site more accurate than a lot of predictions from the period). What he got frighteningly right are the underlying trends and causes. Even in the first section of this book that deals with events in Wells’s immediate past, he cuts through all the crap and goes right to the heart of the matter. His description of the First World War is chilling; his analysis of the outcome of the Treaty of Versailles spot on. He told the world what would happen. True, he wasn’t alone, but it’s no wonder his last years were bitter ones.

There are other aspects of the book that are less easy to decipher, although one suspects there is very little but Wells shining through. And it is a flawed lamp. He never really got to grips with the idea that social equality should include women. His views on eugenics, although common at the time, are nonetheless difficult for a modern audience. Which is why it is important to know something (if not a lot) about the times in which the book was written, about the arguments that raged, and how ultimately they were used to bury the essential message of socialism (just as a tasty bit of scandal today is leapt on by politicians and press alike to divert the public’s eye from the more fundamental problems of society).

As for the press, everyone should read Wells’s analysis of the role of the press. Goodness alone knows what he would make of it today. Wrap his corpse in copper wire and you could light a city at the rate he must be turning in his grave.

I have read this a number of times, now, and in common with reading Ruskin and Morris, Shaw and the Webbs, Nesbit and all the others associated with the birth of British socialism through politics, science, and the arts, it makes me mourn for the way in which was systematically destroyed from without and within by all the greedy hypocrites that ever lay claim to socialist principles.  


Kipling’s Science Fiction – Rudyard Kipling
A collection of nine short stories. The definition of science fiction is stretched a bit here. Some of these are what I would term ‘wonder tales’, but that is by-the-by. I bought this principally to have ‘With The Night Mail’ and ‘As Easy As A. B. C.’ together in a single volume. These two tales set in the same future world are, ostensibly about a utopian future when the world is largely at peace under the aegis of a benign dictatorship – a company called the Aerial Board of Control. In the first story we are treated to a report of the mail being taken across the Atlantic by airship. Yet the subtext, combined with all the extra bits (which purport to be from the same magazine in which the report appeared – advertisements, notices, answers to letters, and the like) sketch a different picture; one that is given in more detail in the sequel. In essence it tells us that there are no single, simple solutions; that there will always be malcontents; that this may, in fact, be healthy.

On a different point, it is a shame this volume had no information on when the stories were published or any background to their composition or reception. It is also a shame that the text was clearly not proofread before going to print. It is riddled with the sort of errors one would expect of a text that has been scanned and converted electronically. It doesn’t take long to go through a text of this length. To neglect such a thing is unprofessional and makes me wary of buying any other books from the same publisher (despite them having some very interesting titles).  

Other books read in first quarter of 2012

January
Maigret Mystified – Georges Simenon
A psychological study of a closed society of strangers – people living in the same building, yet so different. Fine character studies, superb atmosphere.

The Underground Man – Ross Macdonald
Macdonald at his best with a meditation on the loss of innocence underlying an excellently convoluted plot.

Sleeping Beauty – Ross Macdonald
Another indictment of a system that puts money before people, creating a machine that churns everyone up and spits them out.

The Blue Hammer – Ross Macdonald
The last Lew Archer book and whilst it contains the usual complex plot and thoughtful examination of the modern world, it also sees a certain respite for an increasingly tired and disillusioned Archer.

Large Type Killer – Richard Williams
Based on a Jack Trevor Story idea (which he later developed as ‘Man Pinches Bottom’) and which he, in truth, probably mostly wrote, this is a Sexton Blake story about a series of innocent events that lead to a man being hunted as a child killer.

Enter A Murderer – Ngaio Marsh
There are some, I know, who regard the outcome as a bit of a cheat. I’m not one of them. And this second outing also begins to put a little flesh on the bones of the main characters.

The Nursing Home Murder – Ngaio Marsh
A classic, simple tale. Well constructed with more development of the central characters.

The Madman Of Bergerac – Georges Simenon
Maigret solves a series of murders from a bed whilst convalescing from a gunshot wound. Bad tempered at the lack of co-operation, he nonetheless works out what has been happening. Somewhat controversial in the eyes of some who claim it is anti-Semitic. Whilst it does deal with the question of Jewish refugees, the ire is directed solely at those who exploit them.

Vintage Murder – Ngaio Marsh
Marsh moves the scene to her native New Zealand with another mystery set in a theatre. The increasing ability of the author as a writer is readily apparent. More show. Less tell. The only annoying this that this is a uniform edition of the works. One would have thought the publisher would have spent just a few quid having someone proof the texts to get rid of appalling typos (I gave up counting after fifty).

Artists In Crime – Ngaio Marsh
Inspector Alleyn falls for Agatha Troy. All very civilized against a backdrop of horrible murder.

Deadlock – Dorothy Richardson
Miriam Henderson discovers the joy of writing and nearly discovers the joy of love.

The Two Of Them – Joanna Russ
Irene escapes the patriarchy of 1950s America to find herself freeing a young girl from the even more oppressive patriarchy of a distant planet, only to find that her actions condemn her in the eyes of her own (male) partner. Beautiful writing. Thought provoking.

Death At The President’s Lodging – Michael Innes
Largely enjoyable if somewhat contrived whodunit. Pleasingly well written and the first of many by the same author (who is not above poking fun at himself from the outset).

February
Death In A White Tie – Ngaio Marsh
Absolute classic whodunit in high society which whilst not a social critique does not hide the fact that some, even then, regarded ‘the season’ as little more than a meat market.

Overture To Death – Ngaio Marsh
Fine variation on the vindictive old lady theme. The characters are a tad clichéd, but the storyline was in part responsible as it demanded certain stock characters. Still good to read something of the period with flashes of ‘modern’ thought.

Death At The Bar – Ngaio Marsh
Ingenious and impossible to describe without giving the game away. So kudos to the author for managing a whole book without actually doing that.

Surfeit Of Lampreys – Ngaio Marsh
A mix of procedural and whodunit with some nice character portraits thrown in. Alleyn and Fox take something of a back seat in terms of development.

Death And The Dancing Footman – Ngaio Marsh
A wonderful whodunit with clichéd elements gently spoofed whilst presenting a solid puzzle that centres round the vivid image of the footman dancing in the hall to a tune on the radio.

Colour Scheme – Ngaio Marsh
Another mystery set in New Zealand, this time with Alleyn on special service during the Second World War.

Earwig And The Witch – Diana Wynne Jones
Her last book (unless others surface). Written for younger readers, amusing and wonderfully illustrated, this is about how Earwig is fostered and begins to learn to be a witch.

Died In The Wool – Ngaio Marsh
Another New Zealand set mystery centred on an isolated sheep station where the owner disappears and turns up weeks later packed in bale of wool. A regular whodunit with a colouring of espionage.

Final Curtain – Ngaio Marsh
Theatrical portraits abound. And having had some small experience of the professional theatre, they aren’t as exaggerated as one may, at first, think.

Swing, Brother, Swing – Ngaio Marsh
Not only did she come up with some great titles, but she was excellent, as this book proves, at creating monstrous characters. Not out-and-out evil, but those egomaniacs who annoy you with their blatant idiocy, the ones you know will never listen to reason.

Revolving Lights – Dorothy Richardson
Exquisitely written novel in the pilgrimage series. Miriam Henderson experiences the dark uncertainties of a disintegrating relationship (the tension and distress conveyed with perfect insight), and the contrasting joy of a holiday away from London.

Opening Night – Ngaio Marsh
Another theatre-set murder; another book featuring a young woman newly arrived in London from New Zealand. Yet these repetitions in no way distract from the story. Indeed, the very theatricality of Marsh’s work is evident here. She uses a repertory system of ‘characters’ and, like a good actor, makes them her own.

Spinsters In Jeopardy – Ngaio Marsh
Not a whodunit. Not an especially good thriller, either. More like an attempt to introduce us to the Alleyn’s horribly precocious child in an adventure that has little logic but which is, nonetheless, entertaining.

March
Scales Of Justice – Ngaio Marsh
A little disappointing in its reinforcement of a type. Although the set-up is intriguing, the characterization is a little thin and, for once, contains no sense of gentle parody.

The Trap – Dorothy Richardson
The eighth book of the sequence and Richardson’s maturity as a writer is much in evidence. She handles each episode with consummate ease, weaving a strong thread through so many apparently disparate aspects of Miriam Henderson’s life. Some of the oddities of style that vex some commentators (the movement between third and first person, the use real people and their alter egos) seems to me to be quite logical – the author is engaged with this work and appears quite naturally within it. After all, one of the main concerns is about the difficulty of putting anything to words that adequately convey ones ideas and experiences. Richardson has a found a way of doing this.

Nemesis – Lindsey Davis
Whilst all the ingredients are there, this turned out to be a very flat cake indeed. No tension, no sense of peril, no horror, and the ‘mystery’ is so obvious that I spent most of the book thinking it must be a massive red herring.

Off With His Head – Ngaio Marsh
Back on form with this foray into the deadly side of folk dance. Wonderful characters (Dame Alice and Dulcie are vividly sketched) and an intriguing mystery.

Singing In The Shrouds – Ngaio Marsh
As much thriller as mystery, another top form novel. Set on a boat with a small group of characters, it’s a race against time to discover which (if any) is a psychopathic killer who murders every ten days.

False Scent – Ngaio Marsh
After the highs of the previous two, this settles back to a more comfortable level. A return to theatre folk (some of whom really do behave like that, believe me; I’ve been on the wrong end of it), but a well-crafted novel nonetheless.

Hand In Glove – Ngaio Marsh
The usual repertory company is here with a set of characters one feels might have been better developed. The book is short and feels rushed, yet there is potential there for much more. A good read, however, and it does the job it set out to do.

Dead Water – Ngaio Marsh
At this point, Marsh seems to have found a new seam to mine. Whilst in some respects this is a fairly standard whodunit, the old repertory of characters has been given a shaking up, the young lovers fade into the background, and the whole thing has genuine elements of tragedy about it.

Death At The Dolphin – Ngaio Marsh
Back to the theatre, but with a twist. A story that revolves around a glove that would seem to have been made for Hamnet Shakespeare, and the fall out of events from when the glove first came into the hands of a wealthy recluse.

The Adventures Of Robina – Emma Tennant
A clever conceit to set an early eighteenth century novel in the mid twentieth century. That is, a female innocent abroad in the mid twentieth century written in the style of the early eighteenth. It is fast, funny, and bitingly satirical.

Le Secret De La Salamandre – Jacques Tardi
Comic book at its best. Excellent drawing, off the wall story (intersecting with other story strands by Tardi) and the bonus of realising my French is still up to it (with a little help from a dictionary).

Dawn’s Left Hand – Dorothy Richardson
On the confusions and uncertainties of personal relationships (particularly Miriam’s with Hypo). Whilst still philosophical, the novels are now becoming more concerned with the personal again (rather than the universal) and we see Miriam’s sensibility and understand of men and women in a far less hypothetical setting.

The Pastel City – M John Harrison
Harrison can put more story, ideas, and description in one page than most writers of fantasy can put into a over-long chapter. The richness and depth is astounding with the added layer that is a conscious examination and subtle subversion of the genre. If you want to know how fantasy should be written, this is the book for you.

The Manual Of Detection – Jedediah Berry
Curiously flat and lacking in tension, the interest in this book is invested in the world that is created. It has taken a number of commonplace elements and ideas and moulded them into a diverting and well-realised dreamscape. Certainly unusual, well-written, and well worth a read.

Le Noyé À Deux Têtes – Jacques Tardi
A continuation of the Adèle Blanc-sec series. Amusing, subversive, full of period detail (in both the images and the text) – popular culture in a form at which the French excel.

Journey To Paradise - Dorothy Richardson

You might think anyone whose life’s work was invested in a massive novel of 2110 pages (each of the thirteen chapters a novel in itself) would have problems with the shorter form. Yet Dorothy Richardson’s genius with words seems to have known few bounds. This collection of short fiction and autobiographical sketches demonstrates just how accomplished she was at reducing whole worlds to a few pages without losing anything in the process.

The works clearly have a commonality with the much longer Pilgrimage series. Indeed, they offer an insight into aspects of Dorothy Richardson’s life before the opening of her first novel. Childhood, from the very earliest memories that often recur in Pilgrimage are here explored in detail. Sitting in the garden as a very young child; visits to relatives; the bliss of holidays by the sea.

Each is a delicately and subtly cut jewel that reflects all forms of light and changes as the perspective alters. What is even more amazing is that one of the earliest exponents of modernist literature is, to my mind at least, the best. Perhaps that is the enthusiasm of discovery, but much as I love Virginia Woolf (who has always held top place), I fear she must move over and make place on the top step of the podium for Dorothy Richardson.

Sadly this, and much of her other short work (not to mention her non-fiction) is difficult to come by. All power to Virago for ensuring Pilgrimage is available. Perhaps they should get this volume back into print as well as the perfect introduction to the work of a still neglected writer.