The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak

This is the third novel I've read by Elif Shafak and I love the sheer heart and humanity of her fiction. Her work does what the best writing should which is to give a voice to the voiceless and start a conversation about divisive social issues which affect us all while telling an engaging story about characters I grew to really care about. “The Island of Missing Trees” is part love story and part history of recent deadly conflicts in Cyprus. Greek Cypriot Kostas and Turkish Cypriot Defne are teenagers who form a strong romantic relationship in a taverna. When war breaks out their world is torn apart. Many years later in England their teenage daughter Ada struggles to come to terms with her parents' past and she's also dealing with the fact that a video of her experiencing an emotional outburst/breakdown has gone viral. This may sound like an obvious device for exploring the personal ramification of national discord, but like Ada who claims she understand the division which ravaged her parents' lives there is much more to the story and intricacies which require deeper consideration. Gradually we get the full tale of Kostas and Defne's past which is especially heartrending because it also involves another tragic love story about the gay proprietors of the taverna they meet in. It's a vibrant and sweeping saga that I got fully wrapped up in with all its moments of humour and sorrow. 

One of the most surprising and delightful aspects of this novel is that it's partly narrated from the point of view of a fig tree. And she has lots of opinions! It's very playful the way the tree comes to comment upon the story of these characters' lives as a silent witness while also giving a wholly new view on the situation. Since her conception of time and the interrelationship between all living creatures and the natural world is very different from humans she is able to stand somewhat outside the emotional and political drama of these characters (although she has her own love interest). At the same time she's been physically at this story's centre since she grew in the middle of the taverna and a cutting from her branches was taken to England to flourish in a new form. In this way Shafak meaningfully weaves in commentary about environmental issues which have affected Cyprus over the years on top of the human casualties sustained because of the war. Another point of view given by the narrative I really appreciated was that of Ada's aunt Meryem who comes to stay with the family in England and becomes involved in her niece's life (despite the teen's resistance). She maintains her superstitious belief despite Ada's judgemental attitude and the two come to establish a touching bond. It enforces the fact that Shafak's stories are at heart a celebration of family, love and individuality in all its beautifully varied forms.

The Wrong End of the Telescope by Rabih Alameddine

Given that Rabih Alameddine's novel “The Wrong End of the Telescope” is about an Arab American trans woman's trip to provide medical support to Syrian refugees you might think this is a novel which is only about the big social issues of our age. It definitely is about those issues, but it's more importantly about the individuals involved with all their unique personalities and points of view. The author movingly humanizes a world that many of us only see mediated through the news showing the strengths and foibles of a wide array of fascinating people that she encounters. It's written in a style which is extremely enjoyable to read without exploiting the circumstances or people involved merely for the sake of entertainment. The plot is also effective and engaging without overwhelming the narrative. In other words, its primary motivation isn't to make a political point in the way of “American Dirt” but to present people who are neither virtuous or villainous. They are full of complexities and our fleeting encounters with them emphasize their uniqueness. Even if this makes it at times more of a meandering novel than Cummins' book which is like a conventional thriller, it means Alameddine's story is much more meaningful and successful. 

Mina is a Lebanese doctor who answers a friend's appeal to help in her organization's efforts to assist refugees that are arriving on the island of Lesbos amidst their transit to other European locations. She's also dealing with her own personal issues especially to do with the family that rejected her and she uses this trip as an opportunity to reconnect with her brother. Mina is aware that this journey isn't just a philanthropic one, but also has to do with her own ego – although, perhaps less so than some of her fellow volunteers whose primary objective is to take selfies at the refugee camps and beached dinghies. This novel is also about the author because many chapters are written in the second person where Mina is speaking to Alameddine himself who has also travelled to the island and is dealing with his own life issues. It's a fascinating and successful way for the author to circumvent the dilemma of writing a timely novel about certain political issues, acknowledging his limited personal involvement and avoiding only making it a story about himself. While the intimate concerns of Mina and the author are completely valid to consider they aren't caught in an emergency predicament like the refugees they are sincerely trying to help.

The character who is facing a dire crisis in this novel is Sumaiya, a matriarch who has been forced to flee Syria with her family and who is suffering from a terminal illness. She's a vibrant and opinionated individual who desperately wants to help her family move onto a better life even when her own existence is coming to an end. It's extremely moving how we learn about her past, the atrocious predicament she's in and the way Mina gets involved with assisting her. In this way she becomes much more than just a statistic we'd read about in the news. The same goes for many of the refugees we meet through this story including a teenage boy who aspires to become a pop star and a mother who painstakingly decorates the interior of a tent she lives in with sequins “with results Liberace would have envied.” Alameddine writes about these individuals in a way where they are not simply victims but dynamic personalities who rise above their circumstances. It makes this novel a truly inspiring and poignant book.

LonesomeReader is Eight Years Old Today!

I know it's self-indulgent to celebrate a book blog's birthday, but I take a little pride in saying that something I started more or less on a whim eight years ago is still going today and that it's opened up so many opportunities for me. If I were more organized and ambitious I'd probably have started a literary review or became a book reviewer for other publications, but I like the fact that I can just do my own thing here casually writing about whatever books take my fancy and engaging with so many great readers across the world. Some book bloggers I know who have gone on to work in publishing or mainstream media have found when reading becomes a job it loses a bit of its magic. So I figure it's probably best if I keep all the booky stuff I do online as a passionate hobby. 

The thing I enjoy most about it is the opportunity for personal reflection and literary analysis it gives me as well as the ability to connect with other readers. It really enhances my reading experience seeing a variety of responses to new books that are coming out or engaging in discussions about book prizes. And it's still the best feeling when I get a response to a passionate blog post I wrote years ago because that reader has just experienced the book I discussed and loved it just as much and wants to share that feeling with someone. It affirms my understanding that reading is a solitary activity, but it connects us to other readers across time in quite a profound way.

For most of the year I've kept up the habit of writing about a couple of different books per week, but this month I've been a bit slack about blog posts because I had a bad cold for a while and currently I'm on holiday in Lanzarote. Of course, I always bring a big pile of books with me on holiday but inevitably I end up doing fun activities with my partner which means I have less reading time than I do in a normal week. There are a number of books I've read recently including new fiction by Rabih Alameddine and Elif Shafak and some books that were listed for this year's Wainwright Prize which I haven't had time to blog about yet.

Since we're on a Spanish island I've also been enjoying reading some stories from The Penguin Book of Spanish Short Stories edited by Margaret Jull Costa. My partner and I have been reading a number of these aloud to each other which is such an excellent way to make reading a joint activity. Naturally, there's a real variety of styles and subject matter in these stories which span the past century but it's tipped me off to some writers whose work I'd like to explore more including Pío Baroja, Mercè Rodoreda and Elvira Navarro. The volcanic earth of this region makes it such a curious landscape but a lovely spot for some quiet reading time.

As always, thank you for following my blog and discussing books with me. I'd love to know about what you've been reading recently or what you're looking forward to reading.

The 2021 Booker Prize Shortlist

It's always interesting to see how the Booker judges will cut their list of novels down by more than half to arrive at only six titles for a shortlist. While last year there was surprise at the absence of Hilary Mantel, this year some will be taken aback that former Booker Prize winner and Nobel laureate Kazuo Ishiguro isn't included. I was hoping to see his book on the list – not because of his reputation – but because “Klara and the Sun” is a novel that's really stuck with me and that I've continued to think about many months after finishing it. However, this year's shortlistees are far from unknown. Richard Powers and Damon Galgut have been nominated for the Booker Prize before and Patricia Lockwood's debut novel “No One is Talking About This” was also shortlisted for this year's Women's Prize for Fiction. It's brilliant that this year's prize will raise the profile of critically acclaimed authors Anuk Arudpragasam, Nadifa Mohamed and Maggie Shipstead. Although this is another year where the old school Booker followers can roll their eyes at half the shortlistees being American, the novels in this group really address a wide range of topics and utilize a compelling mixture of writing styles to tell a unique story. 

Though I preferred some of the other longlisted novels over “A Passage North” and “No One is Talking About This” I certainly appreciate many things about these books and agree they are worth a second look. I loved the way that “The Fortune Men” immerses the reader in the point of view of a sympathetically flawed figure from history who was a victim of the United Kingdom's racist injustice. “The Promise” provides an utterly unique narrative which shows the other side of racism in South Africa by locking the reader into the prejudiced perspective of a white family in the years before and after Apartheid. “Great Circle” presents a dual storyline in two different time periods which asks pressing questions about the way history is interpreted while dramatizing an arresting and adventure tale. “Bewilderment” creatively shows a beautifully tender father and son relationship while addressing some of the most pressing issues we face today especially concerning climate change and the extinction of species. It's going to be very difficult trying to determine which novel the judges might pick as their winner. You can watch me discuss more of my thoughts in a reaction video I made about the announcement: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZ5Cq-CTdnk

What do you think about this group of books? Are you interested in reading some or all of them? If you've read them all which is your favourite?

The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris

It's difficult to visualize how a monumental shift in society such as the end of the American Civil War changed the ways in which people related to one another in their communities, but Nathan Harris has imagined one such story in his debut novel “The Sweetness of Water”. Brothers Landry and Prentiss were born into slavery at a Georgia plantation. Though they have left as free men they don't yet have the foundation to build independent lives for themselves and dwell in the forest of a nearby farm owned by a kindly rotund white man named George. While on the plantation Landry suffered immeasurable daily abuse which left him with injuries so severe he can barely speak. Both he and Prentiss also still suffer from the loss of their mother. Since George and his wife Isabelle are also dealing with their own grief and planning how to manage their property for the future, they invite these men to work with them so that they may all prosper. But the brothers' former owner still thinks of them as his property, the locals are wary that the newly freed slaves will take their work from them and a secret love affair threatens to disrupt the social order of this community. The novel follows a series of heartrending events which result from these conflicts and how individuals struggle to insist upon their rightful place in this newly reformed society. 

Though the central characters are sensitively drawn with many quiet, contemplative moments and evocative dialogue, there's something about this story which failed to fully capture my imagination. I think it's to do with how the high drama of the plot felt so tightly controlled in a way that seemed more manufactured than logical. I felt very sympathetic with the story which describes the lives and struggles of people not often portrayed in fiction. The lag between emancipation and the freedom to live as truly equal citizens is a struggle which carries on to this day so although it's a historical novel it feels extremely relevant. It's necessary to consider why this transition is so slow to occur and to realise that there are so many individuals throughout history who've suffered and continue to suffer as a result of the established caste system as described in Isabel Wilkerson's influential book. “Conjure Women”, another debut novel published last year, also imagined the uneasy transition in the years immediately following the Civil War or “FreedomTime” as she labels it in her novel. Nathan Harris presents another compelling point of view but the reach of its story feels too restrained by author's need to tidily bring about a conclusion for the compelling main characters.

I'm always interested in fiction set in the distant past which imagines how queer people would have negotiated intimacy within a social environment which condemned such relationships. Harris presents an example of such an interesting situation, but the gay couple didn't feel entirely believable to me as their interactions often seemed staged for the story. Sections of the novel I absolutely loved were scenes where Landry is able to find rare moments of respite in nature. Harris vividly describes the liberation Landry experiences in a space removed from the expectations and judgements of the community. Unfortunately, we're jolted out of this and other such moments in the novel a little too abruptly. This jostling pace combined with some unnecessarily simplified minor characters detracted from the subtly of emotion found in the author's otherwise excellent writing. Though it always sounds condescending, I think this is a very promising first novel. It's brilliant the author has achieved such success with the attention it's received from Oprah, Obama and being listed for this year's Booker Prize. I hope there's more to come.

The Sisters Mao by Gavin McCrea

I was enthralled by debut novel “Mrs Engels” which shone a light on the experiences and insights of Lizzie Burns. She was a historical figure known primarily as the long-term partner of Friedrich Engels but she vibrantly came to life and into her own in McCrea's fictional account. It dramatically gave a personal slant on Marxism which can't be found in any history or philosophy book while telling a beautiful story. “The Sisters Mao” is not related to that first book in its characters or events, but it is a natural follow up in that it traces the effects of Marxism through the mid-20th century and describes personalities at the beating heart of this ideology. In many ways it's a much more ambitious and lengthy novel that spans multiple decades and countries while slipping backwards and forwards in time. The delicious secrets of its story are also deeply encoded in its structure which theatrically opens and closes. Its narrative also includes an “interruption” rather than an intermission. Performance is at the centre of this novel with all its bewitching flair and ability to convey truths that are dramatically revealed. The experience left me reeling in wonder and pondering its deeper meanings. 

The story primarily focuses on the separate stories of sisters Iris and Eva who are central members of a radical performance collective in London. In 1968 their theatre is on the brink of closure since the cat-riddled building which many drifters use as a squat will be condemned and the owner (who is also their mother) wants to take back control of the property. Iris ekes out a living and helps support the collective by selling drugs while drifting through counterculture parties. Meanwhile, Eva leads members of their group to Paris to join in the notorious demonstrations which occurred that year in protest against capitalism and consumerism. When reunited the sisters hatch a shockingly disruptive plan to make a statement and confront their mother Alissa whose once-progressive values have been abandoned as she's become a mainstream West End actress. The narrative also switches for long sections to simultaneously follow the story of Jiang Qing (also known as Madame Mao) in 1974 when she takes control of a directing a ballet which is being presented for a stately visit from Imelda Marcos and which Jiang Qing wants to slyly use to suppress her enemies within the Party. Though the threads of this plot are somewhat complicated to explain the story gives generous space to each of them making it enjoyable and highly intriguing to follow. Together they also present compelling points of view to consider against each other and the ways in which embracing certain political beliefs warp these fascinating women's sense of justice.

While “Mrs Engels” focused on how a loving relationship is intimately transformed by closely-held ideals, this new novel presents multiple mother-daughter relationships which have been deeply complicated by living out longstanding ideological beliefs. The intense bitterness Eva and Iris feel towards their mother revolves around an alarming incident which occurred in 1956 when the girls were still adolescents and the theatre collective run by their parents viewed Maoism as a great red beacon of light since Stalinism had proved itself to be an epic catastrophe. It's ominously stated how “This pain was the kind caused by a mother's hand, and the honey of revenge was the only medicine for it.” Jiang Qing and Chairman Mao's daughter Li Na is tightly controlled by her mother who draws Li Na into her scheme by using her as a translator when Jiang Qing has a tantalizing private meeting with Imelda Marcos. Natural sentiments become skewed by a belief in a larger system of thought: “Family feelings were not always correct. Sometimes they were a cloak for selfishness and counterrevolutionary urgings.” The parental bonds in this novel have been twisted amidst steely power plays and nurturing has been subsumed by hardened expectations of duty. It's both tense and moving how these interactions unfold. 

Subtle points of deep consideration are worked into this sweeping historical narrative and it raises many relevant contemporary questions about the way we live in larger communities. How do our ideals play out in reality? What visible and invisible power structures are at work behind larger events and figureheads? How does capitalism steer our motives? Also, these compelling and richly drawn characters made me wonder: how do we live honestly? To live honestly within society and with those who we are intimate with sometimes conflicts with the truth of who we are. And what happens when we struggle to be truly honest with ourselves about what we desire and want? An intriguing body artist named Doris within the story plainly states “Truth is always the best option, because it's the radical option, because it's true.” So many of the dramatic acts within this novel are gestures which aim to reveal a deeper truth which people can't see. Though they may be desperate and forgotten theatrical performances, it's a meaningful testament to the triumph of art over history. It doesn't matter that the acts or the performers are imperfect because, as Alissa opines, “society doesn't need perfect art. It just needs people who try to make art. Of any kind. Good or bad. People who are willing to fail, that's what helps societies grow and what, in the end, brings about change”. 

This tremendous and thrilling story reveals the hidden drama at the centre of our lives and our society. McCrea has previously stated that these novels will form part of a trilogy about revolutionary wives. If he continues with this project (as I hope he does) it'll be a monumental achievement. I remember in 2017 seeing a picture of the spouses of several NATO leaders at a conference that included a group of wives as well as Gautheir Destenay, husband of Luxembourg's first openly gay Prime Minister. I never want to be a politician or married to a politician, but if I was I'd much rather be Destenay sitting at a table with wives rather than presidents and prime ministers. Surely they have greater insight into what's really happening in their respective countries and the world than the men in power. Similarly, McCrea has cannily chosen to focus on feminine perspectives from these specific historical periods which is far more interesting and gives an entirely unique point of view about a political philosophy which shook our previous century to its core.

Beautiful World Where Are You by Sally Rooney

When multiple friends I know in real life start talking to me about a certain author I realise that this is someone who has broken through to the mainstream. My friends are very intelligent and literate, but they don't generally follow the latest publications with as much geeky rigour as I do along with other readers wrapped up in the online bookish community. Yet, over the past few years multiple people IRL have asked me for recommendations of a book that is exactly like “Normal People”. Few authors have experienced such a meteoric rise to fame as Sally Rooney. Since the publication of her first two novels and the TV adaptation of her second novel, her books have been alternately hailed as representing the voice of a generation and pigeonholed as overhyped naval-gazing millennial fiction. Personally, I feel a bit bemused by any such strident claims as her books strike me as simply well-written, engaging, funny and smart fiction which is well-aligned with our present times. But Rooney's popularity feels more like a chance occurrence which could have happened to any of her contemporaries such as Belinda McKeon, Jade Sharma or Naoise Dolan. Nevertheless, the simmering anticipation for Rooney's new novel “Beautiful World Where Are You” has made it one of the publishing events of the year. I can assure you it's an extremely enjoyable novel and Rooney enthusiasts won't be disappointed. 

When commenting on this new novel most Sally Rooney fans and critics will probably remark on how one of its central characters, Alice, superficially resembles the author. She's published two extremely successful novels and feels ambivalent about the newfound fame she's achieved as an author. And Alice isn't shy about her opinions concerning readers' prying interest in the author's personal life, the vanity of fellow writers and the precarious position books have as a commodity in our current culture. She's also prone to complaining about her privileged position: “They never tire of giving me awards, do they? It's a shame I've tired so quickly of receiving them, or my life would be endless fun.” But she also vividly describes the deleterious effect such fame has upon her: “I feel like I've been locked in a smoke-filled room with thousands of people shouting at me incomprehensibly day and night for the last several years.” We're made aware of how Alice previously suffered a breakdown from stress. Alice's celebrity doesn't change the initial awkwardness of going on a date with someone she meets on a dating app. In fact, it makes it worse when her date, Felix, discovers that she's well known and this squeamish situation is realistically described. Though it's easy to draw parallels between this character and the author and assume Rooney is using this opportunity to vent her own frustrations, it's important to emphasize how the novel contains a carefully calibrated balance of points of view.

Another primary character is Eileen, Alice's best friend since university. Much of this novel's text is composed of messages between these women who now live in separate places since Alice moved to a more rural town in Ireland and Eileen remained in Dublin. They ruminate on a wide range of subjects including religion, history, capitalism, gender, art and concepts of beauty. It's fitting that Rooney's first novel was titled “Conversations with Friends” because this is what all three of her novels concern. It's interesting giving this novel the Bechdel test because Alice and Eileen's messages also include lengthly ruminations about love and their respective love interests. However, it seems only natural that they discuss men at length as I do the same with friends whom I exchange lengthy emails. While Alice begins a tentative relationship with Felix, Eileen experiences a hot and cold relationship with Simon, someone she's known since childhood. Like with “Normal People”, this new novel contains a traditional romantic storyline where the reader is left wondering: will they or won't they get together? And I was drawn into the suspense of this plot as I grew to care and form opinions about the characters as if they were friends of my own.

While readers will quickly identify Rooney's closeness to Alice, I think it's equally easy to see the fidelity she feels towards Eileen. Eileen works as a poorly-paid editor of a small literary review and struggles to pay the expensive rent of her Dublin flat-share. At the launch party and reading for an issue, we see what a meagre life she has selling only two copies of the publication and spending most of her time directing people to the toilets. It's easy to imagine that if Rooney hadn't achieved the fame that she has this could easily have been her life. I also felt a strong affinity towards Eileen who struggles to embrace opportunities which come her way. The narrative takes care to fill out Eileen's backstory more than any other character in the book. We also come to intimately understand the positions of bisexual Felix who works in a gruelling warehouse job and Simon who is a devout Catholic that has a burgeoning career in politics. Each of these characters' positions are dramatically played out in their interactions with each other to show the strengths and weaknesses of each. Rooney thoughtfully tests their points of view when faced with real world challenges and the way in which other people react to them.

At points it feels as if the characters are like Sims figures from that video game where we read how they go throughout their days perfunctorily fulfilling certain duties and actions. I feel like this style of narrative reflects a kind modern self consciousness which has arisen due to social media and the sense that we're living out a simulated existence. A character might get lost for hours on their phone or regularly check dating apps without any intention of arranging actual dates. It's a way in which Rooney so skilfully portrays the feeling of a certain generation within a certain demographic. All her characters are struggling with the way in which to be an adult and feel (as most generations do) that their generation might be the last. Eileen writes to Alice: “I know we agree that civilisation is presently in its decadent declining phase, and that lurid ugliness is the predominant visual feature of modern life.” One of the biggest questions in the book is how will these characters find the motivation to continue and have fulfilling lives when the prospect of a future filled with environmental and societal collapse looms before them. As well as giving a nuanced depiction of friendship and romance, this novel also meaningfully addresses this issue and provides a surprisingly hopeful message. Rooney certainly isn't the only author people should be reading, but her writing is excellent and this new novel is extremely intelligent, moving and I'm sure many readers will strongly connect with it.