RAINBOW’S END by Lauren St John

Here is a book that aches for the past, and a place. It’s about a childhood on a Zimbabwean farm, and let me tell you it is not recommended reading for the English winter. The author is about ten years older than me, and so bears the unfortunate burden of actually remembering the war. This makes her childhood days on the farm somewhat hair-raising. The farm they live on, Rainbow’s End, was previously owned by a family who were killed by guerillas in the war. One of the family was a little boy who SAT NEXT TO HER IN CLASS. When she moves in she finds HUMAN BLOOD ON HER WARDROBE DOOR.

And then apparently she goes on to have a blissful childhood, as the farm is also a game reserve, and she is mad for horses. She is also big on Zimbabwean food, which I enjoyed, it is not often I hear the joys of Mazowe described as they should be. In any case, it was interesting to read what it was like for young people to see the end of the war, and how it changed their perspective on what it had all been for. I am glad to be spared that burden.

I was struck by how much of Zim life is unchanged form the war. She talked about people ‘making a plan’ which I thought was a more modern framing, to do with our current issues, but apparently not. The book is full of the beauty of the landscape, and of dread. Here is an example sentence:

In late 1979, when our friends Bev and Fred Bradnick (in whose garden Lisa had once found a live grenade) were firebombed by terrorists on their farm on the Lowood Road . .

Can you believe that finding a live grenade is just a parenthesis? In other memoirs that would be a chapter. Bizarrely, what ages the author the most is not the blood on wardrobe doors, or the dead horses, but the discovery her father is having an affair. But there you go, I guess everyone has their own problems.

QUIETLY HOSTILE by Samantha Irby

Irby is the only author I’ve read who comes close to Sedaris. I love her three previus books, MEATY, WE ARE NEVER MEETING IN REAL LIFE, and WOW NO THANK YOU. She writes personal essys in the voice of the internet, which I feel is a whole new form, no doubt to be quickly replaced by the voice of or AI overlords.

This fourth book, QUIETLY HOSTILE, I also enjoyed, though perhaps not as much as the others. In part, I guess, I am used to her style, so it delights me less. In part, also, she is doing better in her life, and somehow that always make for a less fun essay. I noticed the same thing with Sedaris: no matter how charming you are, it hard to really warm up to anecdote that involves buying trousers for $300.

In the first books, Irby is a single receptionist in Chicago with a long list of health problems. In QUIETLY HOSTILE she is happily married and living in rural Western Michigan. You ae fond of her, so glad it has gone well, but somehow its not quite as funny. That said, I’ll buy the next one on pre-order too.

BOOTH by Karen Joy Fowler

I really liked this one.  It is the story of the family of John Wilkes Booth, the man who assassinated Abraham Lincoln.  It is a fiction, based on their actual lives, and their actual lives were extraordinarily loopy.  Their father was a celebrated actor, who also seems to have been lightly crazy.  He did a lot of physically attacking good friends, holding funerals for pigeons (?), and digging up his dead children to try and embrace them back to life (this I actually find not that crazy).  His wife slogged her way through ten children, a good chunk of whom died of infancy, and much of the book is haunted by this loss.  (This I wonder about: did people really feel this way when children were so much less voluntary than they are today?)

Then we find out that the wife is not really the wife, and he has a wife in England, who comes over to Maryland and spends her time following the family around loudly declaiming they are whores and bastards.  I do find this a cool thing to do, and if I am ever betrayed I will 100% be following this path and not being suckered into having ‘dignity.’  I would much rather have revenge.

We are very close to the perspectives of three of the siblings, two of Wilkes sisters and the brother Edwin (who goes on to be a very famous actor himself), but not actually ever to Wilkes.  It is kind of interesting to see how his family do not realize that Wilkes is drifting into extremism.  It is in that way a very modern story.  But the heart of the story is really not at all the assassination, but more a picture of family life in nineteenth century America, and it is compellingly lively and interesting.  Try this, after Edwin’s young wife dies:

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.  He closes his eyes.  He hears birds, the murmured stream of conversations, children laughing as they run.  It’s a peaceful scene, offensively so.  He rejects it, this thin skin of happiness over the dismal world.  Say good-bye to it, Hattie, and go straight to God.  I’m going to need you there, making me coffee and toast, when my turn comes. 

It was a very complete world.  This last paragraph of the book was I thought great, maybe because it summed up the whole sweep of the thing:

More than a century has passes since they clapped and shouted and cheered him.  All of them, every person in every seat in every theater, now dead.  One by one, they go, winking out of existence.  The enslaved . . . though only ten years old I sold for . . . and the free, the civilians, the soldiers . .. wherever they fired on our boats we burnt everything that would burn . . . the spies, the thieves, the overseerers, the auctioneers, the nurses . .  I have forgotten how to feel . . . the clerks and the clergy, the critics, the poets and politicians, the profiteers, the postboys, the lion tamers, the pigeon killers, the mummers, the mourners, the farmers, the famous, the failures, the fortunate, the fallen, Frederick, Mary Ann, Elizabeth, Henry, John, June, Asia, Rosalie, Edwin, Joe.  One by one, they go. 

TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY by John Le Carre

I loved Le Carre’s most famous novel, THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD, and so expected to enjoy this, his second-most-famous. Instead I was just confused. It just seemed like there were a lot of names and a lot of middle-aged men talking to each other sweatily. I think this is not the author’s fault, but mine, for reading it in tiny snippets while falling asleep over a long period.

I learnt later that the book is based on the real story of how Kim Philby, one of the most important people in MI5, was eventually unmasked as a Soviet spy in 1963. I was required to dive deep into the Wikipedia, where I was most enthralled to learn that he was turned to the Soviets while at Cambridge, and spent his whole early career attempting to get into MI5, solely for the purposes of being a traitor. Once he had fled to Moscow, he said his ‘purpose in life was to defeat imperialism.’ What a baller, bizarre statement! Can you imagine being so entranced by something in university that you would stick to it single-mindedly for the rest of your life, lying to every single person you know for decades? Can you imagine spending years sending people to their deaths for a ‘concept’? I can barely commit to a haircut!

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES by Jane Austen and Seth Graham-Smith

Here is a book based on a hilarious idea for a title. I just love the fact that this title exists, but more than that, that someone decided to make a book of it, and more than that, that it became a best seller.

This is the first line:  “It is a truth universally recognized that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.”

And it goes on from there, cutting back and forth between the original and scenes of bloody violence. I read an interesting article with the contemporary author, who said it seemed to him obviously very adaptable to zombies, because it involved so much going about the countryside, and a whole platoon encamped nearby for no real reason. I had never thought of this, but it’s true, and I guess a great book contains multitudes.

Towards the end I just started skipping the zombie bits and enjoyed a re-read of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. It’s just extraordinarily, intimidatingly good, and funnier even than zombies.

OUT OF DARKNESS, SHINING LIGHT by Petina Gappah

A fantastically fun telling of the true story of the group of people who carried the corpse of David Livingstone from where he died, in today’s DRC, to the coast, a journey of 3,000 kilometres.

This group were those who had been travelling with him in his huge, and very bizarre search for the source of the Nile, guided by, of all things, the ancient Greek Herodotus. I mean I know Livingstone was parading around Africa but I did not know it was using an ancient Greek who had never been to Africa as a guidebook.

It is a quixotic choice to carry this body to the coast, and I don’t suppose anyone really knows why it was done. The story is told from that of two perspectives, real people who actually accompanied him. One is a Zanzibari cook, who annoys everyone by continually going on about Zanzibar. The other is a man who was abducted and sold into slavery as a teenager, liberated on the ocean by the British, dropped off in India where he was taken to school, before returning to Africa to do one of the weirdest roundtrips of all time.

It’s a charmingly written book, with both voices fully imagined and very enjoyable. What mostly inspired me about it though was how all these people, Livingstone included, were living lives so far outside the pale of what they were ever born to or was expected of them. What wild lives!

A WREATH FOR THE ENEMY by Pamela Frankau

Here is a highly mysterious book told with four different voices. What it is about is hard to say: it’s I guess partly about losing your virginity, about about betraying your parents, and about a cow that is saved from drowning. In short, it all goes on. The best voice is the first one, where a thirteen year old girl is working on her book, the Anthology of Hates, which is all about all the people and things she hates. Brilliant.

Best of all was that this was an old library book, which has not been checked out since 1985. These kinds of old smelly books that have passed through many hands are my favourite.

WHO WAS CHANGED AND WHO WAS DEAD by Barbara Comyns

Here is another book by wonderful Barbara Comyns, whose biography is a total inspiration.  It is all selling puppies and moving to Spain and renting flats and being a painter, and being a novelist is just by-the-by.  

WHO WAS CHANGED AND WHO WAS DEAD is quirky even by the standards of her other books, which are pretty damn quirky.  It begins mid-flood, with ducks paddling around the living room, “quacking their approval.”  Then one by one the townspeople start to go mad.  It is all down to some poisoned flour, but this is not the point. The point is the madness, and especially the freedom that is found in it.  It was deeply and weirdly enjoyable. 

AKENFIELD by Ronald Blythe

A  brilliantly weird effort to capture the entire life, top to bottom, of an English village.  Written from interviews made in the twentieth century, and lightly fictionalized, it focuses on their memory of life in the nineteenth, and captures the collapse of a certain rural way of being.

That collapse was no bad thing, because let me tell you, these people WORKED. Here we learn that it was not the Industrial Revolution that created exploitation.  Agricultural laborers had four hours off a week, 10-2 on Sunday (i.e., just enough time to go to church).  As one man, the grandson of a laborer puts it:

They bought their life’s strength for as little as they could.  They wore use out without a thought because, with the big families, there was a continuous supply of labour

There is a kind of tragic over-emphasis on the quality of work, with people taking what seems to us now a really bizarre amount of pride in their work, because as another worker says:

A straight furrow was all that a man was left with

Apparently it was a very silent world, though  “Television is now breaking down their silences.  They are getting accustomed to the idea of dialogue”

It is perhaps no surprise that given half a chance, lots of people fled. I was stunned to learn that from from 1871, 700,000 British left for the colonies, and  “It was the not the idlest and wastrels who sailed,” leaving lots of land effectively empty.  As a child of the former colonies I am very familiar   with what it was like for those who left, but I never thought about what it was for those who stayed.

It captures a world so small it can only boggle the mind:

Pub men stayed loyal to one pub for maybe the whole of their lives. . . now they will drive down to Southend or Clacton and let off steam

I also learnt more than I ever wanted to about agriculture in Suffolk. For example, East Anglia had 17 different types of apples (WHY?), all harvested at different times.  And that sheep used to be managed by  having their tails cut off with a hot iron and “the balls nicked out with the shepherd’s teeth.  He ate well that day.” 

I enjoyed all this interesting-slash-disgusting agricultural information, but even more I enjoyed a window into many individuals lives.  One guy goes to London briefly and works in the railway:

There is a place in Broad Street Station where you can stare through the arches and see the stars, an and they were the only things I can remember seeing in London.  That is the truth. 

Ronald Blythe left school at 14 and taught himself from public libraries and it shows. It’s a wildly ambitious, beautiful book. I could go on and on, and be grateful you were not with me while I was reading it, because I did go on and on. I’d love to read it for lots of different communities.  I can only imagine how interesting it would be if you took a single street of vendors in Harare, for example, or a Convent in HoChiMinh City.