November & December 2022 Books

For the first time ever, I feel no need to differentiate these books from one another. I enjoyed all of them for one reason or another, which makes for a very successful couple months’ reading! I was surprised by how few books I read; it felt like I read a lot but in the end, it’s no surprise my Storygraph books vs. pages graph looks like this…

It’s all the fault of Little Dorrit, which came in at a whopping 850 pages! Let’s get into the reviews.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

This was a very enjoyable read, and I recommend it if you want something to get you out of a reading slump, that will carry you away with its story and characters. It is – dare I say it – an easier read than much of what I like and recommend, but ‘easy’ needn’t mean less worthy. It’s about two friends and their love of video games, and is in itself a love letter to gaming and game development. It’s not something I know much about, and I found the metaphoric play (get it?) between the video game theme and the ‘game of life’ really elevated this book for me. Zevin handles it all quite elegantly, and I found myself wrapped up in her little world. She writes the trials and tribulations of life well, and I liked that she generally focussed on friendship and community as opposed to romance. It was stronger in the first half than the second which had some plot points which raised my eyebrows a little, but overall it was a success for me.

The Sellout by Paul Beatty

This was a re-read for our November book club, and I was a little apprehensive given how difficult I found my first reading a few years ago. Luckily with a few more years of analysing books and another Beatty (The White Boy Shuffle) under my belt, I was much better equipped to tackle it this time around. I was surprised, in fact, at how I didn’t feel there was much between The White Boy Shuffle – Beatty’s debut in 1996 – and this one, written almost ten years and two novels later. It perhaps felt a little tighter and more controlled, but beyond that they are both complex, layered novels that tackle American culture and racism in Beatty’s characteristic sardonic style. These novels are not for the faint of heart; they are challenging and oftentimes shocking in their unrelenting examination of the problems at play when talking about race in America. In this book, our narrator finds himself somehow reinstating slavery and segregation in a small enclave of LA, with events spinning increasingly out of his control. Read it with google open so that you can get to grips with all its myriad references, but this is undoubtedly a masterwork by a literary genius. There is no one else writing like Beatty.

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens

Slowly, slowly, I’m working my way through Dickens’ oeuvre. This one has been languishing on my shelf for years, so I’m pleased to finally have gotten around to reading it – it is a bit of a beast after all. In true Dickens style, there was plenty of political satire and character-based comedy which had me chuckling a few times. There was also some melodrama and intricate plotting. In this one, not all of it worked out perfectly. The denouement of this novel is notoriously confusing, and it’s not his best attempt at bringing a big cast of characters together (indeed, I felt there were quite a lot of loose ends and red herrings I would have liked to see integrated better). It centres around Arthur Clennam, recently returned from a long stay in China where he had business dealings with his late father. He’s come home to London to give up the family business and ends up in the acquaintance of the Dorrit family, who live in the debtor’s prison, the Marshalsea. Primary amongst these is the titular Little Dorrit, who is a rather pale sketch of a character by modern standards. She is the epitome of the honourable, self-sacrificing, meek Victorian woman, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to love her as I think we are supposed to. At the same time, much of this novel did feel very vibrant and modern, as Dickens’ work often does – it feels almost cinematic at times. It is undoubtedly quite slow and dawdling, but I found myself missing the characters when I finally closed it. And there is nothing like Dickens’ depiction of Victorian London to immerse yourself in on a winter evening.

The Giant, O’Brien by Hilary Mantel

A short little knockout from Mantel, a whole world contained within its few pages. She riffs off the real-life story of Charles Byrne, an Irish ‘giant’ who was something of a curiosity in London in the late eighteenth century. After his death, his skeleton was then purloined by John Hunter – a prominent surgeon of the times – against his wishes. From this, Mantel weaves a melodic story in her customary sumptuous prose. She delights in storytelling here, making it a theme of the novel itself, and in the sound of the English language. This is a story of two worlds at war: the fantastical and the scientific. The Irish art of storytelling versus the fanatical single-minded possessiveness of the clinical Hunter. It’s a lovely piece, that is best read in one or two sittings with maximum focus, or it is easy to lose its thread and rhythm.

King Lear by William Shakespeare

Prepare yourselves for more Shakespeare, as I’ve made the decision to read one play a month as we move into 2023. If you’d like to join me, our Patreon group has got a little buddy read system set up – this month it’s Hamlet. Some of us decided to read King Lear together as A Thousand Acres is based on it, and it was actually very illuminating to read them back-to-back so I would definitely recommend it.

It made me remember all the reasons why I used to love studying Shakespeare at school. The language! It made me want to stand up and read it aloud, it was so luscious to the ear and so satisfyingly dramatic. As usual with Shakespeare, some knotty stuff in here about the patriarchy and the divine right of kings, which makes for all sorts of fun ambiguity in the reading (and performing). It’s pretty chaotic this one, especially in the latter half, but I can see why it has such enduring appeal. I’ve never watched it live but will be looking out for a performance now.

A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley

Our December book club pick! I read this at least six or seven years ago, and though I liked it then, I was worried it wouldn’t live up to the reputation I had built for it. Luckily, I was impressed by it a second time, even moreso with King Lear in the back of my mind. The way Smiley picks up on some of those ambiguities and knots of the play is very interesting, as well as its interpretation of gender roles and the patriarchy. Somehow Smiley marries taut psychological realism with big Shakespearean twists and turns – bringing out the human in King Lear on one hand, and the drama and mysticism of everyday life on an American farm on the other. For that is where this reimagination is set: a farm in Iowa. A wealthy farmer decides to hand his thousand acres over to his three daughters, to rather disastrous effect. This is a dark, twisted book, so be prepared to get drawn into the depths by narrator Ginny, the eldest daughter, as she makes some difficult discoveries about her family and the world she lives in.

[spoiler and content warning for sexual abuse]