"Case Histories," by Kate Atkinson

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

It's taken me a while to get around to it but, after reading "Emotionally Weird," I decided that I wanted to read more by Kate Atkinson.  As I enjoy mysteries, the Jackson Brodie series seemed like the obvious choice.  And, because I am a little bit obsessive-compulsive when it comes to reading (and my husband would probably say in other things also), it, of course, had to be the first in the series.

"Case Histories" finds ex-policeman Jackson Brodie working as a private detective.  Kate Atkinson's narrative has Jackson involved in three different cases, all of which have a common strand running through them in the relationships between parent and child: he is hired by two sisters who want to discover what happened to another sister who disappeared when they were children; a solicitor who wants to find the killer of his daughter, and a woman who wants to find the niece who was lost to her following a tragedy involving the child's parents.  In parallel with this, Jackson is struggling with the imperfections of his own life, including trying to maintain contact with his beloved daughter now that his ex-wife has found a new relationship and turned into a Stepford Wife.  Oh, and someone seems to be trying to hurt him.

I came to this book having seen the BBC adaptation starring Jason Isaacs as Jackson Brodie.  This meant that I was reading with the image of Jason Isaacs in my head.  Now, don't get me wrong, I like Jason Isaacs a lot, so in many ways it is a pleasant experience to have him inhabiting my head for a while.  But I do feel a little bit sad that I didn't discover the books first and have the chance to find my own Jackson Brodie.  I generally find it is a far more fulfilling experience to read a book and be able to form my own ideas of the character, than to have had it handed to me in a film or TV image - and it is more usual for me to have read the book first and be shouting at the screen* if I disagree with the casting ("Shutter Island" being another exception where I came to the book after the film).

Having used the word "sad" in the previous paragraph, I do have to say that this seemed to me to be a rather melancholy read.  There are very few happy characters, although that could be said of many mysteries as the genre feeds on the various dissents, tensions and simmering emotions that can lead to violence.  This feeling of melancholia might have arisen because the character who I felt was most strongly and memorably written, Amelia, is someone who is deeply discontented with where she is in her life.  Once again, though, I wish I had read the book first because I was reading Amelia and seeing Fenella Woolgar who played the part so well in the television adaptation. 

I am developing quite a strange relationship to Kate Atkinson's writing.  This is going to sound contradictory, but I find her books very putdownable - and yet I enjoy them.  It takes me a while to read one of her books, because I do so very sporadically.  I don't find them compulsive mysteries where you can't stop reading because you need to find out what happens next; they are more of a slow burn thing.  As it it usually a compliment to call a book unputdownable, the converse must sound like a criticism - but I think I just mean that I need to be in the right mood for her writing.  While I'm still in the mood, I think I'm going to move right on to the next in the series...


P.S.
As Jason Isaacs also played the wizard Lucius Malfoy in the Harry Potter film franchise, I was amused by the following in the novel about his reaction to his daughter's Harry Potter fixation: "Jackson tended to close his ears to her incessant Harry Potter chatter (he had had a wizard-free childhood himself and failed to see the attraction.)"

*Obviously I wouldn't shout at the screen if I was in a cinema because that would break one of the entries in Mayo and Kermode's Moviegoers Code of Conduct.
Oh, and hello to Jason Isaacs.

Falling into the New Year's resolution trap...

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that hardly anyone, ever, keeps their New Year's resolutions. 

And yet we still continue to make them, because it is in our nature to want to believe in the power of change and to hope that the coming year we will an improvement on the gnarly bits of the last year that we didn't like.

I'm not going to include the obvious - eat healthily, exercise, lose a bit of weight - because that will be a given to anyone who knows that:

• I bought a Food Doctor diet book with book vouchers that I got for Christmas

• I have been wearing skirts and dresses to work for a while now because my trousers have all made the fateful journey from uncomfortable to unwearable. 

I did the resolution thing last year here, and I feel chastened to notice with a sense of deja vu that what I am writing now is disturbing similar to what I wrote then.  A little part of me shrivelled inside when I read my challenge to the reader at the end to ask me if I kept my resolutions.  Since you ask, I didn't.

But I am still going to naively make a resolution, which is based on my experience of reading Susan Hill's, "Howards End is on the Landing."  In this book, Susan Hill decided to spend a year of reading from home: she would only read/re-read books that she has on her bookshelves, not buy anything new and not be swayed into buying the latest fashionable title or borrowing books from the library.

As I have many books on my shelves that I have not read - I get tempted by books from the library rather than reading the books that I take for granted at home - this sounds like a good idea.  However, I don't think that I can do this in its pure form as espoused by Susan Hill.  My mother did make the point that, as libraries are having funding cut, this would not be the best time to stop frequenting them.  So I think that I will set down some ground rules for an adulterated version of Susan Hill's challenge:

• I will continue to support the library but, for every book I borrow, I will read one from my shelves that I have been intending to read for ages
• I can't give up my weekly pilgrimage to Smiths to check what the book of the week is, but I will only buy it if it is something that I already wanted (I pretty much do that already, so that shouldn't be too difficult to keep)
• I am still allowed to buy any new book by my favourite authors, as I would normally do.  So if Janet Evanovich has a new book out I am allowed to get it (highly likely, as she is very prolific), likewise Howard Jacobson (possible) or Michael Ondaatje (highly unlikely, as "The Cat's Table" came out in 2011 and his books tend to have a long gestation period)
• I'm still deciding on whether I am allowed to buy an e-book a month, as I decided a while ago.  Maybe I can convince myself that I need to support authors and the publishing industry, as well as libraries?

Actually, now I think about it, this has been adulterated so much that it isn't much of a resolution.  I might actually manage to keep this....

"A House to Let:" a Victorian collaboration

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

I have just discovered an oddity on Radio 4 Extra, which has so surprised me that I wanted to share it.  Others more knowledgeable than I about Victorian literature might already know of it, but I have only just discovered its existence.

This unusual curio is a "Christmas story" called "A House to Let."  What makes it so special is that it was written as a relay by Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, Wilkie Collins and a poet called Adelaide Anne Procter (I have never heard of her before, but then I read very little poetry).  Dickens and Collins wrote the 1st and last chapters together, and the writers wrote chapters individually in the middle section. Wikipedia (Ok, maybe not the best source, I know) describes this as the "first collaboration between the four writers," so there are presumably others of which I am as yet unaware.

My apologies if I am being naive and uneducated in getting excited about sharing something about which you might already be aware.  But it is a fascinating idea to me.  I knew that in recent years Jeffrey Deaver and assorted crime writers had taken this approach in writing a couple of audio books, for example with "The Chopin Manuscript," but I have only discovered that this relay approach to writing had already been done by Dickens.

Although, thinking about it, I don't know why I should be so surprised.  I believe that the story was first published in Dickens' periodical "Household Words," so the serial nature of its publication might lend itself to this kind of experiment.

If anyone else shares my fascination with this idea and they have an e-reader, "A House to Let" is available to download for free from The Gutenberg Project here.  I have just done so.  I don't know if and when I will get time to do it, but it would be an interesting experiment to read it and see if the differing styles of the contributing authors are identifiable.

I would be interested in whether anyone knows about any earlier examples of such a relay approach to collaboration...?

A fairy tale for today

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

Once upon a time, there was a young inventor who was married to a woman he despised.

He had grown to hate her over time, but he still found her attractive even though she was incredibly hairy.  He felt desperately conflicted, because he still wanted her and he hated this power that she had over him.  The one thing more than anything else that he wanted to change about her was that he wanted her to be smooth but, because he also disliked her intensely, he wanted to cause her pain in the process.

Thus the epilator was invented.


Author's note:
This fairy tale is indicative of my feelings about epilators and should not be read as a parable on the state of my marriage, which is very happy, thank you very much.  I also believe that I am a normal amount of hairy, and not a freaky gorilla woman.

This is fiction and is not intended to be representative of the life of the real inventor of the epilator.  I would also like to point out that I am not rich so it would not be worth the time and expense of suing me.  Thank you.

"The Death Relic," by Chris Kuzneski

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

Last year I read a series of books by Chris Kuzneski, all focusing on the exploits of his heroes Payne and Jones, and I wrote about them here.  I thought that the series was good, rollicking fun, so I was pleased to hear that he had written a new book in the series called "The Death Relic."

In his new novel, Kuzneski's ex special forces heroes are called by Maria Pelati - a character who also appeared in the earlier novel, "The Sign of the Cross," and Jones' now ex-girlfriend - because she is in danger.  Maria has gone to Mexico in answer to a job offer from renowned fellow archaeologist Terrence Hamilton, who then disappears and she finds that her hotel room has been ransacked.  The pair leave snowy Pittsburgh - Jones hates the cold - to answer her distress call, but unresolved feelings make the reunion a fractious and prickly one.  A parallel plot about the kidnap and ransom of the children of a powerful Mexican criminal converges on the central mystery of Hamilton's disappearance, leading them to mysterious and exotic Mexican locations.

This was a strong entry in a series that continues to entertain, and to hold my attention.  I know very little about Mayan civilisation - I haven't even seen the Mel Gibson film "Apocalypto" - so the exotic locations and historical background were relatively fresh and new to me.  Payne and Jones are sparky and funny, as usual, and Maria's obstreporousness adds an interesting dimension to the dynamic.  Some extra warmth and comic relief was added by the semi-regular figure of the ebullient Petr Ulster, who has become possibly my favourite character of the series: Petr seems to revel in the thrill of joining Payne and Jones on their adventures, despite his rotund figure and love of material comfort making him better suited for book-study than fieldwork. 

I think I favour the character of Petr Ulster because I, too, have a (slightly) portly figure that makes me better suited to reading than action: with that in mind I will probably continue to join Payne and Jones on their next adventure while remaining in the safety of my own chair (or, my favourite reading location, bed) with a cup of coffee.

"Soulless," by Gail Carriger

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

I would like to thank my friend Sarah for recommending this series of books.  "Soulless" is the first of "The Parasol Protectorate" series and, having borrowed this from the library, I have now had to buy the next three for my reader because I couldn't stand to wait until after Christmas to get the others on reservation. 

Gail Carriger's series of novels is set in an alternate version of Victorian England, in which humans live slightly uneasily alongside a minority of vampires, werewolves and ghosts.  Her heroine is Alexia Tarabotti - statuesque, half-Italian, and therefore not conforming with the accepted English rose standard of beauty - who also happens to be preternatural (which means that physical contact between her and a supernatural being like a werewolf or vampire can make them human for the duration of her touch).  Vampires and werewolves might be in a minority, but preternatural beings are even rarer and are registered with the Bureau of Unnatural Registry (BUR).  When Alexia kills a vampire who, unaware of vampire etiquette, tries to bite her without her consent, she attracts the further attention of Lord Maccon of the BUR - who just happens to be uncouth, devastatingly attractive and a werewolf.  This encounter with a rogue vampire leads Alexia and Lord Maccon into a dangerous mystery.

I already did the "Twilight" comparison with "A Discovery of Witches," but - much as I have tried to avoid the bleeding obvious - it also came to mind with this novel.  If "Twilight" was thought of as having an abstinence agenda, this has a get-your-well-built-male-hero-naked-as-often-as-possible agenda (which I personally found more enjoyable).  If Stephenie Meyer tried to gloss over the idea that, when a werewolf changes back into being a man, you are essentially left with a nude bloke, Gail Carriger positively revels in that nudity.  Lord Maccon is often naked in Alexia's presence at great length, so to speak, and in one entertaining instance is nude for pretty much a whole chapter (and they are reasonably lengthy chapters).

But far be it from me to imply that this book is mainly notable for hot werewolves.  Gail Carriger is inventive, irreverent and funny in a way that reminds me, in spirit although not in content, of authors I enjoy like Jasper Fforde and Janet Evanovich.  This novel also reminded me of "The Vesuvius Club," only I enjoyed it a lot more.  Although the fact that it made me think of other authors might make it sound derivative, there are elements to this novel that I thought were unusual.  In Gail Carriger's re-imagination of Victorian England she creates a detailed world of vampire and werewolf society and etiquette, as well as detailing a pseudo-scientific study of the nature of her supernatural and preternatural creations.  The idea of a preternatural being was new to me and, in Alexia Tarabotti, Carriger has a strong, independent and entertaining heroine.

This Christmas I seem to be going a little bit steampunk, a little bit alternative history, since, as well as Carriger's subsequent novels in the series (the fifth and supposedly last is due to be published in March), I have a couple of Kim Newman's Victorian re-imaginings to read or listen to on audiobook in my holiday.  If, like me, you feel a little bit old for the jailbait world of "Twilight," Gail Carriger's novels are a full-blooded alternative for consenting adults.

"Already Gone," by John Rector

Stuff and Nonsense by Amy Cockram is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

I confess, I'm a bit rubbish.  I received "Already Gone" in the post a couple of months ago as a review copy, courtesy of the publishers Simon and Schuster.  The release date was 8th December and I had hoped to read it and write a review in time but, as usual, work and life got in the way.

The hero of John Rector's second novel is Jake Reese.  Jake has been drinking in a bar with work colleagues, but leaves to go home to his beautiful wife, Diane, to whom he has not long been married.  While in the parking lot, before he has time to get into the car, he is attacked by two men who hold him down and sever his ring finger complete with wedding ring.  His finger is then mailed to him in the post, and he starts to think, with a feeling of mounting dread, that criminal connections from his past are catching up with him.

This is quite different from my usual reading.  The blurb on the book cover compares Rector to Linwood Barclay and Harlan Coben - neither of whom I have read - and also has a quote of recommendation from Simon Kernick (who I have tried reading, but couldn't get on with his prose style).  This is more a thriller than a mystery, and I did find that I rather missed the authoritarian figure of a detective who works through an intellectual puzzle. 

While this was perhaps not to my personal taste, I did find things that I liked about this book.  I found that I was drawn into the book by Rector's use of first person narrative which, in particular, made the opening attack on Jake seem visceral and traumatic.  His sparse, direct prose style - which is robust and muscular - suits his material well, and he dives quickly into the action right from the intriguing opening passages of the novel.  His characters are economically defined through their actions and dialogue, and not through swathes of description that would slow the trajectory of the plot.   If you are a thriller fan who enjoys action, pace and intrigue then you will probably find much to enjoy in this novel.

For me, though, I'm probably going to return to some Jackson Brodie.  All that action gets a bit tiring.