Six in Six 2020

I saw this on FictionFan’s blog, but it’s a meme started by Jo at The Book Jotter. It’s a pause for reflection at the half year mark:  you select select six categories from the selection Jo provides or create your own categories, and then find six books you’ve read between January and June to fit each category. A great way to procrastinate from either reading, reviewing, writing, translating or working!

 

Six books I have read but not reviewed

Although I loved each of the books below, I somehow didn’t get round to reviewing them – either because I was planning to write something longer and more elaborate, or else because I just lost my reviewing super-power during lockdown.

Francesca Wade: Square Haunting 

Debbie Harry: Face It

Rosamund Lupton: Three Hours

Julian Symons: The Colour of Murder

John Dickson Carr: Castle Skull

 

Six authors I am looking forward to reading more of

Graeme Macrae Burnet – after reading The Disappearance of Adele Bedeau, I want to read more of his books, whether set in France or in Scotland.

Ron Rash – although I had mixed feelings about Serena, I certainly want to read more by him and have bought another two of his books

Machado de Assis – a rediscovery

Maggie O’Farrell – I really enjoyed Hamnet but have been told there is much more and better from where that came from

Elizabeth von Arnim – I’ve read her two most famous books a while back, but this year I discovered The Caravaners (which could easily fit into at least two other categories) and I think there’s a lot more there to explore

Marghanita Laski – Little Boy Lost was so captivating and nuanced and sad that I certainly want to read more (I’ve read The Victorian Chaise Longue as well)

 

Six books that I had one or two problems with but am still glad I tried

Carlos Ruis Zafon: Shadow of the Wind – I got about halfway through and didn’t finish it, which makes me feel guilty, since I was reading this as a tribute to him following the news of his death. I think I’d have enjoyed it a lot more if I’d read it in my teens, and I seem to remember quite liking Marina, the only other book of his that I’d read. But at least I know now that I haven’t missed anything by not reading more by this author.

Harriet Tyce: Blood Orange – I’d probably not have read it if it hadn’t been the May book for the Virtual Crime Book Club, as the subject matter was quite troubling and the descriptions a little too grotty for my taste. However, it was undeniably a powerful story and led to some good discussions at the book club.

Lily King: Writers and Lovers – I do like books about writers and about entitled male egos, so it was both fun and quite revealing, but just not quite as good as I wanted it to be

Nino Haratischwili: The Eighth Life – I struggled because of the sheer length of it and because family sagas are not really my thing, but it is undeniably ambitious, fascinating and entertaining

Kate Briggs: This Little Art – the only reservation I had about this is that it requires great concentration to read, you need to stop and reflect after every few pages, but I was completely captivated. Masterful!

Yokomizu Seishi: The Inugami Curse – very bizarre and somewhat crazy murders in this country manor mystery set in Japan – but lovely to see And Then There Were None transposed to a Japanese setting. Certainly enjoyed it much more than Shimada’s Murder in the Crooked House

 

Six books that took me on extraordinary journeys

Abir Mukherjee: A Rising Man – India (Calcutta) – and the start of a series I really want to explore

Shirley Hazzard: The Bay of Noon – Naples, Italy

Carol Carnac: Crossed Skis – my favourite sport and one of my favourite countries

Ludovic Bruckstein: The Trap – town nestled amidst the Carpathians in Maramures, Romania

Mary Stewart: Nine Coaches Waiting – the French Alps

Ueda Akinari: Ugetsu Monogatari – Japan (and ghosts of the past)

 

Six books to read to avoid politics

Nick Bradley: The Cat and the City

Mary Stewart: Airs Above the Ground

Philip Pullman: The Book of Dust

David Foenkinos: The Mystery of Henri Pick

Alan Melville: Weekend at Thrackley

Beth Ann Fennelly: Heating & Cooling

 

Six books purchased during lockdown but not yet started

All of the below have been purchased following tweets or reading reviews by fellow book bloggers:

Helon Habila: Travellers

Tshushima Yuko: The Shooting Gallery and other Stories (transl. Geraldine Harcourt)

Luke Brown: Theft

Sylvia Townsend Warner: The Corner That Held Them

Michele Roberts: Negative Capability

Antal Szerb: Journey by Moonlight (transl. Peter V. Czipott)

 

#20Booksof Summer: Nos. 6 and 7 – Holidays Abroad

Since we cannot holiday abroad for the time being, what better escapism than to travel via a couple of my 20 Books of Summer? These two books seem to work well as a compare and contrast: the first is a portrait of German holidaymakers coming to Britain in summer, while the other is of British holidaymakers going to a German-speaking country (Austria) in winter. The shadow of war hangs over both of these stories, although they are different wars, and never quite make it to the forefront. Still, I cannot help but wonder if there is a bit of political propaganda quietly involved in these books.

Elizabeth von Arnim: The Caravaners

The insufferable, pompous and completely self-absorbed Baron Otto von Ottringel, who is a major in the Prussian army, has decided to make the trip of a lifetime to celebrate his silver wedding anniversary. Actually, his first wife has died and he has only been married to his second wife for five years – but the overall number would be 25 years of married life for him, which is what counts. The plan was to go to Switzerland, but the baron is a bit stingy and cannot resist the temptation to go on a caravanning holiday in Kent instead. He finds the English contingent of his travel companions somewhat puzzling, and even the German ladies in the party seem to be succumbing to the spirit of freedom and frivolity. Otto heartily disapproves, of course, and is quite surprised to find that everyone cuts their month-long holiday short at the end of a week.

The Baron is a caricature of course, and, while some of this was probably a bit of a personal dig against the author’s aristocratic German ex-husband, it needs to be set in context. The novel was first published in 1909, when anti-German sentiment was running rampant in British society, for fear of Prussian militarism on the rise. Otto clearly feels superior to the ‘weak’ English, but soon proves himself incapable of helping out, finding wood, lighting a fire or even leading the horse-drawn caravan, and he very soon tires of the endless diet of boiled potatoes, as they struggle to find or cook anything edible outside, during one of the wettest summers on record.

Anyone who has struggled to enjoy camping or caravanning will delight in the comedy of the situation, perhaps even feel slightly sorry for the Baron. Of course, he will very quickly dispel any modicum of pity with his breathtaking lack of self-awareness and cruelty towards others, particularly his poor wife Edelgard.

Take away annoyances and worry, and I am as good-natured a man as you will find. More, I can enjoy anything, and am ready with a jest about almost anything. It is the knowledge that I am really so good-humoured that upsets me when Edelgard or other circumstances force me into a condition of vexation unnatural to me. I do not wish to be vexed. I do not wish ever to be disagreeable. And it is, I think downright wrong of people to force a human being who does not wish it to be so.

Carol Carnac: Crossed Skis

This book shows two countries that were once at war with each other now trying to repair the scars of the past. The narrative alternates between the ski resort of Lech in Austria and London in the early 1950s. A body is found burnt beyond recognition in a boarding house in London and there seem to be clues linking it to a merry ski party of eight men and eight women holidaying in the Austrian Alps. The Cold War was in full swing and the first of the Cambridge spies had defected to the Soviet Union just before the book was published in 1952. So it’s not surprising that there is a certain level of political paranoia in this book, as well as the brutally honest depiction of London as a city that is still struggling to return to normal after the war.

This contrasts with the beautiful, tranquil landscapes of Arlberg, the good humour of the holidaymakers and their light-hearted skiing and dancing exploits – until their holiday gets somewhat spoilt by some thievery. The author was clearly quite passionate about skiing, as are quite a few of her characters. Needless to say, this was the part of the book that I enjoyed most:

To the west and south the sky was blue behind the snow peaks, and the visibility had an intense quality, so that Kate felt helplessly that here was something you could not express in terms of paint. There was no gradation, no near and far, just a vast, crystalline clarity. To the east the sky was grey and great cloud banks were piling behind the mountains… Once again Kate realised that there was an element of terror in this mountain loveliness: the massing clouds and the snow slopes made the wooden houses seem puny.

So, if it’s escapism, holiday reading and vicarious travel that you are after, both of these books fit the bill: a comedy of manners and a neat little murder mystery, and in both cows and/or horses play a surprising key role. Two lesser known works by authors who were very popular in their time, but very much worth rediscovering.