In Praise of the New
Lucky me, I’ve been having a reading binge, and have read some really good books—here are just three of them.
Magpie Murders ($33) is a clever, very entertaining book within a book. An editor is reading a manuscript by a famous, and recently murdered, author, but the last pages are missing. The book is full of allusions to the murder mystery genre, with lots of cryptic hints along the way, creating a puzzle within a puzzle. Anthony Horowitz is a hugely prolific writer of books and television, and in Magpie Murders he has written a very literary, filmic book that is extremely enjoyable. There are lots of references to real life writers, and the publishing industry (currently a popular and rich seam for novel writers), which keep the book from becoming like a plot of Midsomer Murders.
Less satisfying in conclusion, but still a terrific book, is Idaho ($33) by Emily Ruskovich. This is an extraordinary first novel, beautifully written and at first deeply compelling. A small family are chopping wood in the forest near their Idaho cabin, when a horrific crime takes place —committed by one of the parents. The crime happens within the first few pages, and the rest of the novel goes back and forth in time, from the different perspectives of the characters. Idaho is a very dark, disturbing book, full of red herrings, and the reader really wants to know why the crime happened. What starts as a mystery turns into an elegy, and the reader won’t be satisfied by a tidy conclusion. Comparisons may not be helpful, but I was taken back to the early books of Barbara Kingsolver and Jane Smiley by Idaho, and I look forward to seeing what Emily Ruskovich writes next.
Lastly, a book highly recommended by Andrew at Gleebooks, Lincoln in the Bardo ($30). Set in 1892, in a graveyard in Washington, during one night, this incredible book took me somewhere I’ve never been before. Abraham Lincoln’s son Willie has just died, and the grieving father goes back to a borrowed crypt to see his son once more. The text of the book is mainly quotes, from real and imagined people, and from many ghosts. Willie’s soul is in Bardo, a Tibetan term for limbo, and a terrific battle is taking place for it. Most of the ghosts are in denial about their own corporeal states, and all have opinions about Willie. It’s a long time that I’ve read such an astounding book—it’s tremendously sad, fairly horrifying, horribly funny and utterly bewitching. Unsurprising to hear that it took George Saunders five years to write. Louise
Granny's Good Reads
One thing I did not know is that mitochondria (the ‘batteries’ and metabolism regulators of our cells) are hardly ever transmitted by males, but are normally passed to offspring through the female line. So, if a mother only has sons her mitochondria die out, which has led geneticists to conclude that modern humans have descended from one ‘Mitochondrial Eve’, possibly a lady from somewhere in West Africa. Mukherjee also tells us that the male sex gene is buried precariously on the Y chromosome, so that males ‘barely made it’. There’s a useful glossary of scientific terms for when the reader gets bamboozled. I was so impressed by The Gene that I went on to read The Emperor of all Maladies ($23), Mukherjee’s Pulitzer Prize-winning history of cancer, a deeply humane ‘biography’ of cancer with many case studies. Both of these books are riveting reads.
Russians seem to have endurance buried deep in their DNA. In Secondhand Time ($35) Svetlana Alexievich illustrates this in her oral history of the ‘Last of the Soviets’. Alexievich was born in the Ukraine in 1948 to a Ukrainian mother and a Belarusian father but writes in Russian. Between 2000 and 2011 she lived in exile, mainly in Western Europe, and has dedicated herself to capturing the voices of those who lived, suffered or prospered after the disintegration of the USSR, when rampant capitalism allowed oligarchs to plunder the wealth of the country. Her book is made up of interviews recorded over thirty years up to 2010 and skilfully presented so as to give the voices free rein. Many of the interviews are ‘kitchen conversations’ conducted with the water running to swamp possible listening devices. Alexievich also gives a welcome timeline of events in the USSR after Stalin’s death. Russians of course knew of the executions and the gulags, but in that bygone age they also had hope and pride in ‘the Motherland’. Though they lacked even some of the most basic consumer goods, they had full employment and were avid readers. One interviewee remembers such a girl at school, who lived with her grandmother and had only one dress for the whole year. No one looked down on her then, while now such poverty would be thought shameful. Another couple found that their 90 roubles a month had become inadequate and spoke bitterly of ‘all [those] young men with gold rings and magenta blazers’. Some of the stories are so poignant that they bring tears to the eyes. Svetlana Alexievich was awarded a Nobel Prize for her work in 2015. Secondhand Time is a masterpiece which could profitably be read in tandem with Simon Montefiore’s monumental work The Romanovs ($25, B format due April). Sonia Lee