It's been a while since I've posted anything book-related on my blog, so I decided to collect a list of books I've been reading so far in 2021. I always get excited about roaming bookshops and choosing my next read because you never know when a book is going to come along and completely change your life. For now, this is an online experience and although I miss spending hours in Waterstones, I've still managed to read a lot of good novels, so enjoy!
The Confession - Jessie Burton
Jessie Burton is one of my favourite authors, and I was first introduced to her writing when I picked up her debut best-selling novel The Miniaturist a few years ago. Having read The Miniaturist numerous times, I had high hopes for this novel and finally had time to read it at the beginning of this year, after buying it over a year ago - but I guess that is the way when you've spent the last four years studying literature! The Confession has a dual time-frame that alternates with each chapter, a narrative framework that Burton has used before in The Muse. I really like this structure because it helps to build suspense when events in one time are connected to the present day.
The novel is split between the 1980s and modern-day London, with the reader first introduced to Elise Morceau as she meets writer Constance Holden on a winter's afternoon on Hamstead Heath. The pair begin a clandestine relationship but it is soon marred by Constance's growing popularity and fame as a novelist. When one of her novels captures the imagination of some Hollywood executives, the couple up and leave to Los Angeles and it is here that the first stirrings of resentment and mistrust erupt in their relationship.
In the present day, a 70-year-old Constance is a recluse and has not written in over 30 years. The reason behind her disappearance from the literary scene becomes one of the novel's main focuses, as she employs a young woman, Laura Brown, to be her new secretary and housekeeper. As a novel focused on three very different women, The Confession flits between being about motherhood, the process of novel-writing, and the search for identity, which makes it a compelling read but also at times one that creates distance between reader and characters. The dissonance that forms between Elise and Constance is effective as a plot device, but it also has the reverse effect of seeming slightly implausible. Their romantic relationship is guarded and forever strained, so you never fully believe that the two love each other and I questioned why they were together in the first place. On one hand, their complicated relationship is a good hook for the reader and is used to connect events between the two strands of the plot, but I personally struggled to connect emotionally with them as a couple because of how horrible they both were to each other.
With that being said, I'm always enamored by Burton's writing style, and I find myself re-reading her sentences over and over again because they are so beautifully written. As soon as I started reading The Confession I began to compare it to her other two novels, and this means that I found small flaws that I perhaps wouldn't have minded had I never read her work before. Hence, the novel didn't pierce my heart in the same way as The Miniaturist, but it's still a wonderful read and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
The Tattooist of Auschwitz - Heather Morris
The Tattooist of Auschwitz is a harrowing tale of courage, loss, and survival, based on the life of Lale Sokolov, a Slovakian Jew who was imprisoned at the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in 1942. His experience of surviving the Holocaust is told by Heather Morris, who met Lale in 2003 and over the course of three years, developed a friendship with him. An intelligent and charming man who could speak several languages, Lale found himself employed at the camp as the Tatowierer, tasked with tattooing new prisoners. The novel details how he is forced to scar his fellow campmates on a daily basis, a role that creates huge conflict within him. Doing the bidding of the Nazi officers in charge earns him extra rations of food, which he shares with the rest of the camp, but it also means he must stare at the faces of the camp's new victims every day, knowing what awaits them. Then Lale meets Gita and he falls in love. They must keep their relationship hidden, clinging to the hope that they will both survive the war's atrocities and start a life together away from the camp.
Morris does an incredible job of bringing to life Lale's story, that it almost feels like a memoir as we follow Lale's hopes, dreams, and unwavering belief that he will survive. Even though the central theme of the novel is the blossoming relationship between Lale and Gita, Morris does not ignore the brutality of the period, describing in one scene how SS officers abruptly open fire on prisoners who are relieving themselves and talking quietly by a ditch. While the novel is based on real historical events, it is important to remember that Morris has created a work of fiction, using Lale's experiences to craft a story and in some instances, she does bring together her characters for dramatic effect rather than keep the narrative strictly accurate to true events. By focusing on the tales Lale told her over the course of their friendship, Morris' novel lacks the historical detail of other novels in this genre that I have read, and at times it can seem romanticised in places, but I don't necessarily believe this is a huge problem. I often research the context behind historical films and books to see how much reality and fiction have been woven together, and so approaching this novel with an awareness that it's a piece of fiction and based on one man's recollections doesn't mean its contribution to the Holocaust narrative is less valuable. Ultimately, when reading this book I felt the amount of affection and respect Morris had for Lale by how she writes him, and I'm so thankful that she pursued telling his important story.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine - Gail Honeyman
When browsing my grandma's bookshelf a few months ago, I found Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine and I'm not exaggerating when I say I've never cried as much when reading a book. I had no idea what to expect when I began reading this novel, but I didn't anticipate how much I would connect with its protagonist, Eleanor Oliphant. Eleanor is nearing her 30s, is working as a finance clerk and we quickly learn that she works all week, buys a bottle of vodka for the weekend, and doesn't speak or see anyone until Monday comes back around. She's seen as the weirdo in the office because she often says what she thinks with no understanding of what is classed as appropriate behavior. She is funny and absurd in equal measure, and her lack of experience in social situations means that she is yet to make any meaningful connections with other people, until she meets the company's IT guy, Raymond. The two slowly become friends, and Eleanor is introduced to a world of kindness, compassion, and love.
Gail Honeyman writes such thought-provoking moments between her characters, and I especially loved the scene when Raymond takes Eleanor to meet his mum, and she soon notes the affection between them, reasoning that although 'no one had ever looked at me like that, I'd be able to recognise it if they ever did.' It's lines like this that really got me attached to Eleanor and her journey. The first time Eleanor goes to a hair salon is also beautifully described, as she thanks the stylist for 'making me shiny.' As the novel progresses, we learn more about Eleanor's past and the sadness that is deep within her, but it's the power of kindness that helps her to overcome this. Whether that's Eleanor learning to think of other people, or having kindness bestowed on her by strangers, Eleanor's world opens up to her when she is brave enough to let love in. It suffices to say that reading this book during a global pandemic when I was experiencing my own feelings of loneliness, was perhaps not the best idea, but I can't think of a novel that has affected me in such a profound way. I 100% recommend it!
Afterwards - Rosamund Lupton
After reading Rosamund Lupton's novels Sister and The Quality of Silence, I was eager to read Afterwards. It's a very different novel to what I'm used to reading from Lupton, especially as the story remains pretty static, with most of the action taking place in the corridors of a hospital. Having explored the dark wilderness of Alaska in The Quality of Silence, this felt like a big shift away from her previous styles of writing. The story is focused on a family whose lives are ripped apart when they are involved in a school arson attack, and we are introduced to events through Grace, a mother who races into the burning school to save her daughter.
What follows is a race against time to find the identity of the arsonist and save the life of her daughter. I don't want to spoil the plot too much, but there are supernatural elements to it when mother and daughter are able to communicate to each other as spirits, whilst they travel unseen through the corridors of the hospital. If you suspend your disbelief, this novel is very enjoyable if a little frustrating at times. The second-person perspective is unusual and although I felt it worked, for the most part, it means that we are only allowed to view events from characters who are essentially in the 'in-between' (think The Lovely Bones). I was constantly waiting for the crime to be solved, but because of the situation of Lupton's characters, the investigation was always on pause. This meant that I didn't enjoy it as much as her other novels, but it was still a good read and I'm looking forward to reading more of her work.
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
I received this beautiful copy of Little Women for my birthday last year, and I'm obsessed with the cover! It's so darn pretty. I saw the Greta Gerwig film version of Little Women in 2020 (I think it might have been one of the last films I saw before the pandemic omg) and I loved it so much, so I was really excited about finally reading it. Reading the introduction by Elaine Showalter, I was struck by how little I knew about Louisa May Alcott. As Showlater writes, Alcott was often having to 'tailor her turbulent imagination to suit the moralism of her father [and] the commercialism of her publishers', and feminist critics have thus debated whether the novel is a study of female obligation or artistic freedom.
As a reader in the 21st Century, I believe the novel is still as relatable as ever, not least because the four March sisters all take different paths in life, they make mistakes and love fiercely. Alcott allows them to push against the gender constraints of their time, Jo refuses to see herself as the type of woman to settle down and marry and spends much of the novel attempting to establish a respectable career as a writer. I was often laughing out loud at some parts because I was reminded of how I acted when I was a younger. One of my favourite quotes that never fails to make me laugh is when Alcott writes, 'If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, "My Nose." It's impossible not to love these characters!
Life After Life - Kate Atkinson
I've heard such amazing things from people who have read Kate Atkinson and have been planning on buying some of her books for a while. For my birthday last year, I chose Life After Life because every time I've been into Waterstones it's caught my eye. It's gratifying when you have high hopes for an author and you immediately love their writing style on first reading, and that's what happened when I opened up this book. It's hard to explain Life After Life in one sentence, for it is a historical novel predominantly focused on civilian life during the World Wars, and yet it has an unusual structure, with chapters looping back in time and events being relayed to us differently each time.
We are introduced to the novel's protagonist Ursula Todd as a newborn baby in 1910, but she subsequently dies not long after being born. The following chapters see her experience a multitude of lives, ending in her dying by tragic circumstances but eventually gaining foreknowledge, often through feelings of deja vu, that allows her to change the trajectory of her life. One of the most significant threads of the story is Ursula's fascination with the rise of Hitler in 1930s Germany and her attempts at changing the events she knows will come to pass. In many ways, the novel reminds me of Ian McEwan's Atonement, in both style and depiction of war. [SPOILER] McEwan wields the reader into believing that the events of his novel did come to pass until we find out that his main character actually invented large sections of the plot. This incapability of believing events are truly taking place is paramount to the experience of reading Life After Life, and I thought this constant starting over would annoy me. But I actually found it very effective and I quickly got used to revisiting moments and being able to pick apart characters that pop up in more than one life.
Atkinson doesn't describe the battlefields and trenches, instead, her focus is very much on the homefront and the struggles civilians faced during the Blitz. The most macabre part of the novel is when Ursula is a member of a recovery team pulling people from the wreckage of bombings. When one of her friends, Mr Palmer, is killed when a delayed action bomb detonates at an incident they are attending, his body comes apart 'like a Christmas cracker.' Another of my favourite moments in the novel is when Ursula and her crew watch a bombing raid from a rooftop, the scene of destruction being likened to the god's 'throwing a particularly noisy party.' The ease with which Atkinson drifts from light to dark, from describing family summers at Fox Corner to the streets of war-torn Berlin and London, is full of delicacy and intent. For a book that's over 600 pages long, Life After Life didn't feel like a hefty read for me, and maybe that was due to the constant shifts in period and place. You always feel like you're playing catch up, and I enjoy that in a book because whenever you start to feel comfortable the rug is pulled from under you again. I've also recently read that the BBC is making a four-part adaptation of the novel, and I wonder how they're are going to make the story work for TV. With the looping narrative arc, it will be hard to ensure the audience understands what's going on, so I can't wait to see what they do with it!
A God in Ruins - Kate Atkinson
A God in Ruins is essentially a companion piece to Life After Life, and so I found it fitting to read both novels back-to-back. It takes a character from Life After Life, Teddy Todd, and explores his story in further detail. Teddy is a World War Two bomber pilot, and when I first started reading this novel, I assumed that Atkinson would be writing on his experiences of being a POW, something only briefly mentioned in Life After Life. But instead, Atkinson surprised me by writing Todd's story almost in the shadow of events described in her earlier novel. Scenes that involved Teddy in Life After Life are fleshed out here, told from his perspective. In doing this, we realise how little we understand and know about Teddy as a character. Atkinson writes incredible scenes involving Teddy's experiences in combat, steering planes across Germany's war-torn skies and dodging gunfire, constantly fearing that every flight might be his last. As with the Blitz sections of Life After Life, what I love most about Atkinson's writing is the amount of research she has clearly done in preparation. Both novels are stacked with historical sources in the bibliography, which I think is very useful for anyone interested in the events she explores, and Atkinson has expressed how many of the scenes in the book have been taken from real-life scenarios.
Aside from the rich historical insights, A God in Ruins is more about what happens to Teddy after the war and his struggles to adjust to normality. War is described by Atkinson as man's fall from grace and its after-effects see Teddy unravel. His personal relationships become more strained and he finds himself reminiscing about how simpler life was when he faced death every day. The novel is deeply melancholic in tackling the future Teddy thought he'd never have, and I found it incredibly moving. I think Life After Life is overall a stronger novel, in terms of how complex and intriguing the plot is, but Teddy's story is profound and affecting.
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