I am a reader and, although I have been called both, I am
neither a ‘voracious reader’ nor a ‘widely read' person. I think it’s safe to
say I have have read some part of some book every day of my teenage and adult life.
But my reading is confined to one serious session before sleep, twenty minutes
over lunch, and the odd ‘sit on the couch and just read’ sessions. With this
occasional, erratic, but constant routine, I get through quite a few books and
I’ve been doing it for so long it’s added up to quite a list of books read. But
‘voracious’? Alas, no.
As always, I am indebted to the Castlebar Library Book Club,
where I’ve been going monthly for the best part of two decades. Every month, the
good people there put their heads together and suggest a book that I probably
would never have found all by myself. Because of this, my reading horizons have
been broadened from the murky corners I would have previously habituated. Every
month doesn’t hit 100% home but that’s kind of the point. It’s like a taster
menu in a better class of restaurant than the ones you normally frequent.
So the two books I want to mention specifically were both
choices at this years Book Club sessions.
Here’s the first:
West by Carys Davies: A slender, but wonderful, novel set in Pennsylvania an 1819 in which a
bereaved father sets out on a misguided and very lengthy expedition to find
prehistoric animals which he believes could still exist. He leaves behind his
10 year old daughter, in the care of his sister, and off he trots. Along the
way, he enlist the help of a Native American boy and, together, they face the
immense hardships of the American Frontier while, back at home, his daughter has
her own severe challenges to meet.
My Grandfather, Sammy, used to love ‘Cowboy Books’ and, as a lad,
I used to delight in rounding up and driving home volumes of Louis Lamour and
Zane Grey from the local library. I have since found much to admire in various
books set in the so-called ‘Old West’. A friend pointed me towards ‘Lonesome
Dove’ which carried me along with it like a tide. More recently, there was the
wonderful ‘The Heart in Winter’ by Kevin Barry, 'Butcher’s Crossing' by John
Edward Williams, and the unshakable horrors contained in ‘Blood Meridian’ by
Cormac McCarthy. There is something rooted and without guile in so many of the
stories set in this era. The older I get, the more I seem to appreciate them.
‘West’ is one of those books I would be happy to recommend
to anyone. It is moving and insightful. It is unexpected and human and it
rattles onward to a thundering (if slightly unlikely) conclusion.
And here's the second:
The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden: I would never
have read this, if it weren’t for Castlebar Library Book Club. I mean, never.
This is one of those books where anything I tell you about it would tend to
lessen its effectiveness. I had read one review before I read the book and,
although the reviewer was ultra-careful in what they revealed, I still found
myself primed for the arrival of certain moments in the story and subconsciously
expectant of where it was going and where it ultimately went. Have I said too
much already? I hope not. We give our reads star ratings out of five and I gave
this a very rare five. The writing and the insight into the characters wrapped
me up and engrossed me and the story, which is outside of that which would normally
engage me, did exactly that. This one won’t be for everyone, I reckon. But, damn,
it worked for me.
Other non-Book Club books that hit some this year included ‘On
the Calculation of Volume – Book 1’ by Solvej Balle. I came to this with a lot
of expectation. It sounded right up my street. And, in fairness, it turned out
to be a little slower and more reflective than I expected it to be. But I am
still looking forward to getting to the second (and, hopefully) subsequent
volumes, so it must have done something right.
In retrospective reading, I became immersed in ‘A Fringe of
Leaves’ by Patrick White. This book has been pointed out as including negative
depictions and/or mistreatment of people or cultures and that should be taken
into account. Respecting this, I found the heightened language and slowly
unfolding misfortune of the story engrossing.
Finally, at the moment, I am reading, and having a good time
with, ‘The Lincoln Highway’ by Amor Towles. Amor hit big with the Book Club
some years ago with ‘A Gentleman in Moscow.’ And, whereas this book did not
meet the same critical and general success, I am enjoying the ride, nonetheless.
Towles writes in an accessible, straightforward style of a kind I always admire.
He takes you along with him with a deceptive ease. If you enjoyed ‘Gentleman in
Moscow’ and fancy an American road trip which doesn’t go quite where you expect
it to go, then you might like this one.
Books are great. Whenever I crack the spine of my current
one, at the end of any given day, I feel like I am home.
1 comment:
Thanks for this Ken. It makes me realise how little 'good' reading I do.
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