Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

It's hard to think of a novel I'd be predisposed to love as much as Gabrielle Zevin's story of two friends who become extremely successful game designers. Not only does the novel begin in an area near Boston I'm very familiar with, but its main characters are roughly my contemporaries. They reference video games I played a lot when I was younger. The characters discuss issues such as how to reach the top of the flag pole in Super Mario Bros and dying from dysentery in The Oregon Trail. Aside from my personal identification with the story and even if you weren't ever into gaming this is a novel many will enjoy in the way it poignantly describes a longterm platonic friendship, creativity and issues to do with identity. Adolescent Sam survives a car crash but sustains a serious foot injury which leaves him disabled for the rest of his life. While he's in the hospital he meets Sadie and the two connect over a shared passion for gaming. Both are somewhat socially awkward so their special relationship is particularly meaningful but over the years they go through rocky patches where sometimes they are emotionally distant from each other. While they are still in college they dedicate themselves to creating a new video game. Though they are driven more by passion than a desire for success the game becomes a worldwide hit. They are living the dream, but we follow how personal, professional and political challenges inhibit them from happily inhabiting the real world.

I enjoyed how the story shows that there's a liberating freedom in entering the gaming world where we're not subject to the same pressures and limitations of reality. It also broadens our scope for seeing how society can be refashioned to be more equal and fair for everyone. Sadie and Sam self consciously endeavour to form alternative worlds which aren't inhibited by sexism, racism and homophobia. The role playing in the stories also challenges preconceived ideas of history and our own culpability in morally ambiguous situations. As a model which gamers inhabit with avatars this can inspire change which carries over into decisions made in the real world. However, it can also be an addictive way of avoiding certain personal issues and foster as many factions as there are in reality. Equally, even though it can be a useful medium through which to build and sustain friendships, it doesn't always foster communication in the same way as speaking to people in real life. The story details the particular challenges which Sadie encounters because she was one of the few women in the professional field of gaming at that time. Sam becomes extremely withdrawn because of his serious injury and denies how much it impacts his life. Their social awkwardness is somewhat mediated through a mutual friend and colleague named Marx who is confident and caring. It's heartrending how the story of this trio plays out over the course of the story.

This is a novel of great ambition which is largely pleasurable and engaging to read. At times it feels like it strives a little too hard to cover quite so many topics from the line between power play in the bedroom and domestic abuse to same sex marriage to cultural appropriation. For the most part it meaningfully incorporates these into the characters and storylines, but it sometimes risks cramming a bit too much in to sensitively show the full repercussions and complexities of these things. The timeline shifts around quite a lot in a way which can be a bit disorientating at first, but it's fairly easy to follow. Interviews with Sam about the success of their games are interspersed with the main narrative so there's never any question about their success as game creators. Instead the plot focuses on the more interesting question of how they can continue to stay true to their ideas and vision while building a sustainable business. I admire how Zevin toys with narrative perspective itself so it sometimes switches to inhabiting game play. This builds a tension concerning what is occurring in the real world and why the characters are taking refuge in the virtual. The title of the novel is a quote from Shakespeare and its relevance in the story is only revealed later. It's pleasurable when stories do this because it's like a reward for the reader who finally understands the thematic frame of the book. Overall, it's a smart and alluring tale which poignantly expresses the bittersweet joys of gaming and the sustaining connection of friendship.

Girls in their Married Bliss by Edna O'Brien

Has there ever been a more ironic title for a novel? In the third book of O'Brien's 'Country Girls' trilogy we pick up with Cait and Baba to discover they have separately married. Despite the prospect of her independence in London at the end of “The Lonely Girl”, Cait has actually married the problematic older man Eugene, given birth to his child and is in the midst of an affair when the novel begins. Baba has also married a prosperous but dull-witted man who is a poor match for this highly social and sexually forward woman. Neither of these women are content with their lives, let alone feeling anything close to bliss. Along with learning about the developments in these girls' lives which occurred between the novels the most striking thing about this latest instalment is that O'Brien has changed the narrative so it alternates between Cait and Baba's perspective. (Previously, we've been firmly locked in Cait's point of view.) It's quite emotional following the dramatic events of this novel as I've grown to closely know and care about both these girls as they've struggled to achieve their desires while developing into independent women.

At first it's a great novelty getting Baba's brashly unfiltered perspective. However, it soon feels a bit too chaotic as events unfold and it ultimately detracted from my enjoyment of following a story which had previously engrossed me. I'm not sure why O'Brien chose to change the narrative in this way as Baba's voice and point of view always came through clearly enough in the dialogue of previous books. Of course, it's also more gloomy following the girls into their adult lives as all the promise and prospects they enjoyed when they were younger and rebellious have dwindled as they've made certain life choices. It previously seemed like there were educational and professional prospects for them but those have seemingly been put aside. Far from finding personal contentment in motherhood, each woman differently struggles with parenting while being embroiled in relationship difficulties. There's the sad fact that these girls have become bound by the same struggles which inhibited their mothers' livelihood. So it's depressing seeing the cycle continue.

Nonetheless, the novel makes a striking statement about how we all get caught in the “rut of human existence” because of conflicts to do with romance, friendships and living in a community. However, because of the conservative attitudes and the dominant religion in Ireland at that time, these women aren't equipped to deal with and productively discuss the challenges that they face. There's no support network for their issues which are universal but the patriarchy expects them to silently abandon their desires and submit to what's expected of them. They are locked in a perpetual state of “girlhood”. While their difficulties are partly circumstantial they also have personalities which compel them to make some unfortunate choices and they end up perpetuating damaging behaviour. This trilogy also includes an afterward by the author which is really more like a novella and from what I understand O'Brien wrote it several years after completing this third book. Sadly, this only reinforces the sense that rather than being beacons of progress these girls end up damaging those around them and find no fulfilment. It's realistic that things work out this way, but it does make these last instalments relentlessly depressing to read. Previously it felt like the novels achieved a good balance between humour and seriousness. All this meant that I enjoyed this third novel the least of all the books, but O'Brien is such a skilful writer and this trilogy is truly a modern classic in the forthright way it presents the perspective of the young Irish female experience.

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka

How could I not fall for a novel whose plot superficially resembles the movie 'Ghost'? That's not to say this book was inspired by that film as its use of ghosts caught “In-Between” is rooted in Sri Lankan folklore, but it's the reference which immediately came to my mind when reading this tremendous story. There may not be any Oda Mae Brown, but there is a more sinister self-interested sort of medium called The Crow Man. Thankfully the protagonist is also much more interesting than the blandly good, pretty boy Sam Wheat. Maali Almeida documents atrocities of war and wants tyrants to be held accountable but he is not virtuous. From page one it states that if he had a business card it'd say: “Maali Almeida: Photographer. Gambler. Slut.” He accepts work from shady organizations, loses a lot of his money at a casino and sleeps around with many men behind his (secret) partner DD's back. What's more he's disillusioned with the government and doesn't attach himself to any particular political organization in Sri Lanka which is heavily embroiled in a deadly civil war during the late 80s when this novel is set. Because of all his complexity and so-called “flaws”, I fell in love with this character.

At the start of the book Maali wakes to find himself in the liminal space between life and the great beyond. Just like we can't recall birth, he can't recall his death. He's instructed by an official that he has seven moons to decide whether he wants to enter the light or remain as a spectre amongst the living. A countdown begins during which he wants to discover his killer, reconnect with those he loves and reveal to the public shocking evidence of a national scandal. It's satisfying reading a novel built around a certain structure that moves towards a definite ending and the suspenseful way in which this story unravels makes it thrilling to reach the conclusion. We gradually discover details of his life through people he “haunts”, but he also encounters many of the dead victims he got paid for photographing. In addition to those who were actively killed there are the ghosts of those who found life in Sri Lanka untenable and committed suicide. These spirits are raging. There is a tension between those who want to get their revenge and the desire to leave all the pain of life behind.

This is dramatically played out over the course of the novel as Maali becomes familiar with Sena, a deceased man who is hatching a terrorist plot aided by a dangerous, demonic spirit. Underlying these tense and fantastical events are deeply pressing questions about our degree of involvement to enact change and our motivations in life. Maali has seen enough deception, hypocrisy and double-crossing coupled with egregious acts of oppression and mass murder to know that no leader, political organization or band of people can be trusted with consistently safeguarding the welfare for everyone in his country. A brief list of the primary political groups involved in Sri Lanka's conflict is given towards the beginning of the novel. This not only slyly tips off Western readers to who the main stakeholders are and the general motivations of these groups but also shows how none of these opposing forces are purely “good” or “right”. Not aligning himself with any of them makes him an outsider, but he also feels like an outcast because he's a closeted homosexual. Experience has taught him it's safer to adamantly deny being gay even when it's clear he's not straight. His infidelity and many furtive sexual encounters are partly caused by this social pressure but also his puerile justification that it's man's nature as shown in this funny exchange: “You tell him the pecker is proof that man has no free will. There is a pause and, then, DD snorts: 'That is the lamest excuse ever.'”

The story is narrated in the second person which makes sense for a protagonist who has been separated from his physical body. It also grounds the reader in Maali's immediate experience as he struggles to navigate the laws and rules of this peculiar afterlife. The means by which he travels through wind and the degree to which the dead can whisper to the living or physically interact with them are bound by certain constraints. This is handled quite playfully with evocative details such as what it feels like to walk through a wall. It's also amusing how the transitory space which is meant to encourage him into the light resembles an overworked bureaucratic waiting room and ghosts do prankish things like make a scientist's bum itch. So the story doesn't often feel too hampered by logistics and there were only a couple of scenes where it felt like the author was heavy handedly whipping Maali's ghost to a particular place to advance the plot. However, the way in which the afterlife is layered over the realistic world is also presented in a genuinely creepy and atmospheric way. At one point this is even made personal to the reader when it's observed: “There are at least five spirits wandering the space you're in now. One may be reading over your shoulder.” Terrifying and twisted spirits frequently appear to Maali and that initial horror is deepened by the tragic backstories that accompany many of these pitiable souls.

Maali still has the impulse to document what he witnesses and the novel frequently refers to how he continues trying to take pictures with the camera around his neck even though the device is muddied and broken. There's a poignant tragedy to this and the race to allow incriminating photos he took to be seen by the general public. These aspects of the story challenges the general sense that if we can witness any wrongdoing in the world it will be corrected. It's revolutionary how images and video filmed by ordinary people which become viral inspire protest and movement towards change. However, there's also a danger that we can become numb to such violent imagery because of our distance from it and a sense of hopelessness. Can an overwhelming amount of individual tragedy be met with anything but inertia? This novel intelligently probes these issues while not allowing the central suspenseful plot to be drowned by them.

My affection for the central character was also formed because of the love triangle at the centre of this novel. Maali doesn't only live with the equally closeted politician's son and golden boy DD who is described as a “former swimmer, athlete and ruggerite” but also DD's cousin Jaki who has a misplaced attraction towards Maali until they settle down to become good friends. The dynamic of this trio is presented in a compelling and charming way. There's a persistent tragic sense that Maali and DD's dreams of moving to San Francisco to live freely and openly will never be realised. This is underpinned by recollections of endearing moments such as how they had “a hall lined with books that you and DD have gifted each other for misremembered birthdays. Neither of you have read the books received as presents, only the ones you bought for the other.” All these elements combine to produce a big emotional impact. I admire how this novel manages to be mischievous, thrilling, unsettling, insightful, moving and so much fun to read. It's also interesting how the book was originally published in India in 2020 with the title “Chats with the Dead”. Now that it's been published in the UK and has been longlisted for this year's Booker Prize the novel is getting a second life – which feels pleasingly appropriate given the nature of its story.

Otherlands by Thomas Halliday

I really enjoy watching nature documentaries about different animals and climates as well as science programs about the origins of the universe and the growing field of astrobiology. “Otherlands” is like a unique combination of these different scientific surveys. It examines several eras of Earth itself to provide a guided tour which stretches back to the origins of life. We start by viewing a specific region from 20,000 years ago and end up in a location 550 million years ago so that our own planet appears increasingly alien. From this vantage point the history of humans looks very small indeed. Halliday takes care not only to highlight particular plants, microorganisms and other living creatures which look increasingly peculiar the further back we go, but how the ecosystems of different eras worked as a whole given the geological makeup and weather conditions of the time. From this vantage point we can see how systems of life have come and gone on our planet, the staggered methods by which different lifeforms have evolved over time and how examining these things might show us what will happen to humankind in the future with the advent of climate change. It's an awe-inspiring journey which draws upon archeological evidence to transport the reader deep into the history of our planet.

I was drawn to reading this book after it was shortlisted for this year's Wainwright Prize for Nature Writing. The narrative is written in a highly personable style which made me as curious about what we're being shown as the author evidently felt in studying and recreating a picture of these different eras. Halliday's prose is very evocative making it easy to visualise how select parts of the planet appeared very different in these deep layers of history. While he makes comparisons to plants and animals we're familiar with, he takes care to highlight how they aren't necessarily from the same biological family and they inhabited a unique place within these past ecosystems. It's also noted how our common understanding of the origins of humankind and the study of this science itself has been influenced by different politics so Halliday strives to provide as de-politicised and science-based perspective as possible. Though this book is steeped in carefully-researched facts and carries a timely environmental message, it also revels in the wonders of what has come before including the first creature to exhibit parental care to its offspring, the largest waterfall to have ever existed and the startlingly diversity of lifeforms which arise in sync with the changing conditions of our planet. Though each chapter begins with a map of the planet from that particular era and a visual example of a life form that inhabited it, this feels like too sparse an amount of imagery to accompany such graphic text. I'd love to one day see this book turned into a nature television series which could further bring these periods of the planet's history to life.

Booth by Karen Joy Fowler

In an author's note at the end of this novel Karen Joy Fowler expresses her feelings of ambiguity about fictionally recreating the life of John Wilkes Booth, one of the most notorious figures in US history. He was famed for being a handsome and talented actor until the age of 26 when he became infamous for assassinating President Abraham Lincoln in Ford's Theatre on April 15, 1865. Why give more attention to a fanatic and egotist? This was a defining moment in American history which forever reshaped the country so it's only natural to wonder how it came about. Fowler was interested in the way it affected the rest of Booth's family. She's also haunted by Lincoln's warnings about tyrants and mobs in this country and how this still resonates today. The impetus for this novel which recreates the story of the Booth family also presents a conundrum for the reader who will most likely only know of John Wilkes Booth for a single defining action. Therefore, following the story of his life from birth we're naturally attentive to any action which indicates a propensity for mental instability, extreme views or violence. Fowler peppers the text with such signs and we can only warily witness an emboldened John who states at one point: “It's a wonderful thing... to be right in the middle of something so momentous. To feel that you've touched history and history has touched you.” Unlike the author's previous novel “We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves” which contains a famous twist, there's never any doubt about how “Booth” will end but that makes this story no less gripping.

The thing about significant historical events is that they can come to feel inevitable, but obviously in the present moment we're faced with an infinite number of possibilities. We also cannot know the many repercussions of our actions. Though Fowler describes John as having certain propensities, his family definitely didn't view him as having the potential to be a monster. This novel primarily focuses on the point of view of John's surviving siblings and the dramatic story of their challenging family life leading up to John's murderous action. Their father Junius was a famous Shakespearean actor and a complicated tyrannical larger-than-life figure. On one hand, he was an intelligent artist who respected all life as sacred. On the other, he was bigamist who abandoned his first wife, frequently neglected his family and occasionally drunkenly terrorized his mistress and children. Naturally living under his shadow his children grew to both revere and hate him. It's fascinating reading how they change over time and wrestle with their identities as the offspring of Booth. Crucially, their interactions with John feel like any complicated sibling relationship. There's closeness and distance as well as moments of tenderness and frustration.

In between following the family's development we're also given shorter snippets about Lincoln's personal and political life. This serves as an interesting counterpoint because, just as things could have turned out differently for John, the same is true of Lincoln who was a politically moderate figure in the right place at the right time to become a presidential candidate. Only through his astute reasoning did he decide that the country could not continue and progress while slavery was legal. However, he wasn't certain about whether Whites and African Americans could co-exist in America. Of course, the Emancipation Proclamation was met with a lot of opposition and the issue of slavery embroiled the country in a deadly civil war. But in the novel we see how things could have so easily turned out differently. Additionally the narrative follows the story of an African American family acquainted with the Booths who endeavour over a period of many many years to buy freedom for each of its members. This is only a peripheral strand of the novel but it crucially shows that whatever struggles the Booths encountered, the struggle of many black people in the country was dire. The questions being debated weren't merely political but very personal.

The novel illuminates a number of compelling historical details about the nature of life at the time from conditions in the home to the difficulty of travel before a better infrastructure was in place. Because of Julius and many of his sons' involvement in the theatre there is also an interesting look at the position of theatres within American society at the time. Equally, there was as much drama back stage and in the audience as on the stage itself. I enjoyed the inclusion of Adam, a gay theatre critic who becomes acquainted with the family, and the odd tension which arises between him and Edwin Booth. The novel also illuminates a number of larger historical facts which I wasn't previously aware of such as the distinction between owning and leasing slaves, the harrowing events/tragedy of The Dakota War and the fact that Maryland's state song included derogatory lyrics about Lincoln. It took more than ten attempts over forty years for both houses of the General Assembly to finally vote to abandon this song in 2021.

Does this novel give the definitive reason for John's extremism? Like most shocking occurrences, it shows how there is no one single cause but a multitude of influences and factors which led to this tragedy. Just like his elder sister Rosalie we're left asking “what if” and wonder how events might have turned out very differently. There's no way to control the past or its consequences. Instead, Fowler shows the hidden complexities of the past and the nuance of personalities who could easily be flattened into certain types. Like all great historical fiction, this story breathes life into the past and imaginatively fills in the gaps between known facts to show we're not disconnected from history. John Wilkes Booth might be anyone's brother and the violence which occurred following a monumental readjustment of power in the US will likely happen again.

The Lonely Girl by Edna O'Brien

It's such a pleasure following this continuing drama about two Irish country girls who are now young women dealing with very adult problems. The story picks up two years after the end of “The Country Girls” when Cait and her spirited friend Baba are living in rented accommodation in Dublin. Both are working and enjoying their status as independent women in the city free from the constraints of family and the religious school of their youth. But, while Baba is consumed with flirting and partying, Cait has recovered from her misjudged romance in the first book and now embarks on a perilous new relationship with Eugene, an older man and documentary filmmaker. They grapple with intimacy and move into his house together though it's still crowded with memories of his first wife (reminiscent of “Rebecca”). Meanwhile, a series of anonymous letters makes Cait's father aware of the perceived inappropriateness of her relations with Eugene. Suddenly she finds herself in danger of being trapped in the constrained family life she thought she'd been freed from. It's a story filled with tense conflict and complex emotions as it charts Cait's continuing development. There are also numerous deliciously funny scenes and heartbreaking moments as Cait struggles to maintain her autonomy and articulate her desires.

While the narrative is primarily concerned with Cait and Baba's current issues it's touching how Cait continues to occasionally reflects upon her childhood and lost mother. There's a tragic moment when she recalls how she never saw her mother happy or even laugh. It adds to the sense of what dreary circumstances her poor mum endured and compounds the sense of grief Cait carries about her loss. She's confronted by blatant hypocrisy from conservative members of society including a priest who excuses her father's excessive drinking because of the climate. While we spend the majority of the story with Cait we also get some interesting insights into Baba's life and how startlingly blasé she is about a pregnancy scare. It's clever though how the narrative hints at more tender emotions beneath her hard exterior especially when it comes to how desperately she wants Cait to accompany her to London. There's also the intriguing mystery of who sent the anonymous letters to Cait and her father. I'm curious if this will ever be resolved or if it will remain a malicious act from the shadows.

There's a very dramatic confrontation at Eugene's house when Cait's father and his friends attempt to retrieve her. More than the tense scene this creates, it feels like a clash between two different factions of Irish society with results which are violent and absurd. The father's cohorts express distinct nationalistic sentiments and paranoia about “foreigners”. It's also telling how both sides seem more concerned with their own self righteousness than Cait's actual welfare. Cait's continuing feelings of guilt and her sympathetic uncertainty about what she really wants in life seem only natural. Her emotional seriousness is counterbalanced so well with Baba's freewheeling attitude. Every time Baba appears her cutting dialogue, eye rolling impatience with Cait and odd pretensions are always hilarious. There are eerie parallels between the ends of the first and second novels where Cait longingly waits for a man's arrival, but this new instalment ends on a much more hopeful note. It leaves me eager to find out where their lives lead next.

The Booker Prize 2022 Longlist

It's heeeere! The 13 novels longlisted for the 2022 Booker Prize have been announced. A new video is up on my YouTube channel discussing all these books.

Some I'm thrilled to see and some are surprises. I predicted only 3 but I've read 6 of them and I'm eager to explore more of these novels!

The judges considered 169 submissions to arrive at this list. Amongst these authors are the youngest and oldest authors to ever be listed for the Booker. Leila Mottley just turned 20 last month and Alan Garner is 88. There are also 3 debuts.Amongst the authors are 6 Americans, 3 British, 2 Irish, 1 Zimbabwean and 1 Sri Lankan. It's a shame there aren't any Australian, New Zealand, Canadian or Indian authors represented.

I'm very excited “Glory” by NoViolet Bulawayo, “The Trees” by Percival Everett, “Small Things Like These” by Claire Keegan, “The Colony” by Audrey Magee & “Nightcrawling” by Leila Mottley listed. All inventive, moving and utterly enthralling stories. I'm going to say it now... while I love Elizabeth Strout's writing I don't think “Oh William!” is her best so I was quite shocked to see it listed but feel free to argue with me.

I'm most looking forward to reading “Booth” by Karen Joy Fowler, “The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida” by Shehan Karunatilaka & “After Sappho” by Selby Wynn Schwartz but if I have time I'm hoping to get to all the titles I've not read yet.

It’s really difficult to see what books might be frontrunners to win this early on especially since I’ve not read all of them yet. But if I had to make a guess I think “Glory” or “Small Things Like These” have a strong chance of taking the crown.

What do you think of the list? Any favourites, disappointments or books you're looking forward to?

Let the games (and reading) begin!

Nightcrawling by Leila Mottley

There's a geeky pleasure in discovering connections between authors so when Ruth Ozeki described in her speech after winning this year's Women's Prize for Fiction that her student Leila Mottley's “Nightcrawling” was just published, it made me even more eager to read this debut novel. It was a delight to find that it's a book worthy of all the buzz it's been getting as it is so moving, impactful and skilfully written – especially for an author who has only just turned twenty years old. It follows the story of Kiara who is seventeen at the start of the novel and lives with her brother Marcus in a run-down apartment complex in Oakland, California. They're in danger of being evicted because of rent increases and it entirely falls to Kiara to gather the money since her father is dead, her mother is absent and Marcus is more focused on trying to launch a music career rather than finding paid work. Since she didn't finish high school and doesn't have a resume, her options are extremely limited and she becomes a prostitute. However, when she's cornered by the police she's ensnared in a situation where she is frequently taken advantage of and abused. The narrative steeps us in Kiara's perspective and journey through this harrowing situation in a way which is so vivid and striking, but also artfully illuminates wider issues concerning the danger and violence experienced by many Black girls and Black women in America.

Part of what makes this such an arresting tale is that it is based on a real case from recent years and it's one that Mottley read about when she was Kiara's age. Being a character so close to her age and one who is from the same city gives a real authenticity to the voice of the character. She's entirely fictional but the way the author portrays her complex psychology and development makes her multi-dimensional. More than this it's written in a way which highlights the many issues at stake which could lead a young American girl to being the victim of such an atrocious crime. We are entirely locked in Kiara's point of view yet can see from what she witnesses how the police systematically abuse their power and the difficulty of making the perpetrators accountable. Through her struggle we're made aware why so many cases of abuse go unreported and aren't brought to justice and how there isn't enough support for the most vulnerable citizens in this country. Additionally, the story shows how the innate intelligence and artistic talent of many young people isn't developed because of the circumstances they struggle under and the concept that if something isn't profitable it isn't worth pursuing.

It's also a gripping story for many reasons beyond the shocking way in which its protagonist is a victim of sex trafficking. Kiara naturally feels resentment and anger towards her mother for making enormous mistakes. There is a confrontation later on in the book which is so heartbreaking and powerful in terms of how this daughter and mother gradually understand one another and connect over the awful decisions people have to make under desperate circumstances. There is also drama in the way Kiara must reckon with her brother, uncle and a trans woman named Camila who is also a prostitute. The novel dynamically conveys how their conflict with each other primarily stems from larger issues and pressure beyond their control, but they are also individuals with their own idiosyncrasies and flaws. Of course, it's also utterly compelling how the central drama of the story and the build up to a grand jury hearing plays out.

Mottley is also a poet and I think the way she portrays Kiara's psychological journey is enhanced by using a form of language which becomes somewhat abstract and ethereal at times. As her situation worsens, Kiara naturally begins to disassociate from her surroundings and retreat into herself. The narrative reflects this and there are some powerful passages where we feel both this girl's distress and her sense of mentally leaving her body in order to survive. However, it's important to note there is a specificity of detail and description so I never felt lost or confused as to what was happening from scene to scene. There is also a wonderful sense of humour and comradeship or rivalry amongst the characters so they feel fully rounded and real. Sections which could come across as overwhelming and crushingly serious are lightened by banter between friends, a neighbouring boy Kiara looks after and her lawyer. The love which Kiara continues to maintain for the world around her and the people she cares about makes this an uplifting story as well as one which has an urgent message.

Fight Night by Miriam Toews

Nine year old Swiv lives at home with her mother and grandmother after being suspended from school for fighting. Her grandmother Elvira has taken on the responsibility of her education though her methods of teaching are certainly unconventional, idiosyncratic and funny. Swiv's mother is frequently overwhelmed as she's heavily pregnant, struggling to find work as an actor and grappling with her own mental health issues. Since Swiv's father is absent, this novel takes the form of a letter she's writing to him (although most of the book settles down into a more standard account of events as she experiences them.) Each of these women write their own letters – not so much to communicate with someone but to try to articulate what they want and understand their own experiences. Their personalities vibrantly come to life as we learn about the intimate details of their days, the story behind the father's disappearance and their opinions of the world around them.

I developed such an affection for these three characters. Each is fiery and feisty in her own way. So the way they bounce off from each other is often hilarious. It's particularly moving how the narrative is mediated through Swiv's perspective. She's still a child but on the cusp of maturity so her choice of words often mimics her mother and grandmother. Equally her point of view is heavily influenced by them while also showing her own unique disposition. Given the big personalities around her there is a certain amount of grandstanding just to make herself heard. It's not surprising she's always determined to win King of the Castle when playing with her contemporaries because for her it isn't just a game. It's clever how Toews shows the way that each character may be called daughter, mother, grandmother because of their ages and positions in life, but these roles become interchangeable as they alternately nurture and educate one another. In this way none of them fit into a neat category so Swiv is naturally resentful when figures in authority at a hospital treat her dismissively and tell her to get a doughnut. At the same time, we see how she's undergoing an important stage of her development and maintains a naivety especially when meeting a cool older boy she wants to impress.

Though the circumstances are quite different from Toews' previous novel “Women Talking” this new book is a natural follow up. It poignantly shows the particular conversations which arise between women in an all-female space. Internal and external conflicts arise, but there is a genuine sense of bonding and love present as well. Though the trio in this story sometimes bicker and must negotiate how to co-exist in a single household they also have a fierce loyalty to each other. In a sense, it's them versus the world. Toews shows the way each of them are involved in their own particular fights with themselves, certain individuals and different institutions. The struggle is real and it's a daily challenge just to muster the spirit to keep going: “Fighting is so hard and yet we're never supposed to stop.” This novel movingly demonstrates how life is worth the battle and how family can inspire you to tough out the hardest challenges.

The Country Girls by Edna O'Brien

It's exciting reading such an influential book for the first time, but it's also a curious experience since radical elements of the story can already feel familiar. I've read a good amount of recent Irish fiction. So a novel about an Irish girl coming of age, experiencing the oppressive forces of the patriarchy/conservative religion, moving from the country to an independent life in the city and engaging in a romantic relationship with an older man doesn't feel that revolutionary now. But, at the time of its initial publication in 1960, the story presented in “The Country Girls” stirred a lot of controversy as it was condemned by some politicians and religious leaders who even went to the extreme of burning copies of the book.

I can only admire how Edna O'Brien broke boundaries at the time to represent young female experience in her protagonist of Caithleen “Cait” Brady. It's arrestingly portrayed how she must live with a father prone to violent alcohol-fuelled outbursts and amongst a community of men who expect kisses (or more) in exchange for favours. Though her academic prowess earns her a promising scholarship to a convent school she discovers she must contend with mean-spirited nuns and stomach-turning meals (stringy meat and sodden cabbage). Caithleen also develops a romantic infatuation with a figure nicknamed Mr. Gentleman who is married and grooms her for a future affair from the age of fourteen. Together with her longtime friend (frenemy) Bridget “Baba” she moves to Dublin to live for the first time as independent young women. These experiences are vividly conveyed throughly sharply-rendered details and emotional descriptions. So, even if such a storyline may no longer feel entirely new, it remains an utterly captivating tale that's brilliantly written.

Part of the magic of this book is in the minutiae of Caithleen's recollections whether it's glimpsing a woman in a striking sequin dress, carrying a cherished tea service or kindly receiving an iced bun when she's experiencing despair/grief. These are the kinds of small things which resonate with deep personal meaning and serve as important memories so that in turn they also feel special to the reader. Something such as a layer of dust on a cup of milk can feel so real it's like I've experienced it myself. The characterisation is equally as vivid in how even characters who are vile come across as complex and like someone we're likely to encounter on the street. I found it informative the way O'Brien describes the hierarchy amongst the nuns at the school based on their relative education and family status so even these predominantly overbearing figures came across as well rounded. Though Baba is snobbish and acts cruelly towards Caithleen their friendship feels real and layered. Both girls have distinct personalities with positive and negative traits. Baba's relationship with her parents hints at her motivations and why she might act so mean. Most poignantly, like all long standing friendships, their companionship runs hot and cold over the course of many years.

It's also completely understandable why Caithleen would be so enamoured with Mr. Gentleman who seems to be going through something of a mid-life crisis, but their secret affair is very ominous since it's unlikely this pairing will end in happiness. I found myself simultaneously swept up in Caithleen's young romance and extremely nervous about where their passion might lead. The way in which a tenderness builds between them and the awkwardness of other dates Caithleen goes on is so involving that I raced through reading this story. It's a testament to her power as a writer that O'Brien can make characters and subject matter that now feel well-tread feel entirely new and gripping. The only other novel I've read by her is the relatively recent “The Little Red Chairs” and the fact that O'Brien continues to break new ground by writing about politically-contentious subject matter is so impressive. I'm now eager to read the next two books in 'The Country Girls Trilogy' as well as her other work.

Lapvona by Ottessa Moshfegh

Rape... murder... masochism... cannibalism... mutilation... sexual debauchery... incest... body horror... regurgitated sausages. Welcome to the medieval world as presented by Ottessa Moshfegh! Those who aren't instantly put off by such sordid elements will probably find that an over-indulgence in such bombastic grotesquery comes to feel humorous and absurd. Maybe it enhances rare moments of tenderness such as when a servant girl longingly dreams of her lost love or when a grieving beaten boy who never knew his mother suckles the empty breast of a kindly old woman. Or perhaps this fictional reimagining of past horrors comes to feel like a distorted mirror of the present where the majority toil under increasingly strained conditions while society's elite live in excess. Or could it just be there for shock value?

Whatever your interpretation of Moshfegh's writing it certainly inspires plenty of discourse. Her debut “Eileen” earned her credentials with multiple book award nominations and her musings of a sleepy heroine in “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” became a big bestseller. “Lapvona” has already received a range of praise and damnation in literary circles. There is a mesmerising quality to this author's storytelling which drew me into the world of its naïve adolescent protagonist Marek. At first this son of a shepherd feels sympathetic with his unfortunate ugliness, twisted spine and mop of untended red hair. However, his pitiful desire for his father's punishment soon gives way to lowkey aggression and cruelty as he passively listens to the pleas of a dying boy. Over the course of a year he finds himself in a surprisingly close position to the town's lord and governor Villiam.

Marek is central to this story of a feudal land set in an unspecified place and in some archaic time period where peasants toil the land and live with the hope that their suffering will earn them points in the afterlife. But it's just as much a tale of this town's range of other inhabitants and the narrative frequently shifts to follow their points of view. We gradually discover hidden familial relations and a sinister scheme which drives the general population to starvation while Villiam indulges in his endless gluttony and demand for constant puerile and perverse entertainment. There's also the sometimes-blind elderly Ina who is called a witch, converses with birds and served as a wet nurse to most of the village. Later on she even helps “prepare” the men to repopulate the area. And a mysterious tongueless woman is rumoured to be carrying the new son of God and this disrupts the unequal order of this viciously brutal community. The way in which the reader is privy to information which certain characters are ignorant about creates an excellent feeling of suspense within this horrifyingly vivid story.

Randomly, I recently watched John Waters' film 'Desperate Living' for the first time. There are strange parallels to “Lapvona” in that both splinter away from reality to indulge in a carnival of debauchery centred around an imaginary feudal community. In the movie a mentally ill suburban housewife and her murderous nurse seek refuge in a shantytown ruled by an evil queen similar to Villiam in her insatiable appetite and pleasure in the suffering/humiliation of her subjects. Moshfegh and Waters make surprising but natural bedfellows in their invocations of immoral worlds filled with perversity and wild drama. Perhaps their rebellion against established orders show how continuous imbalances in society drive people to follow their most depraved instincts. Or that neither logic or faith hold up against the wilfulness of human experience which is always centred around the self. Towards the end of this novel, Moshfegh wryly comments “Right or wrong, you will think what you need to think so that you can get by.” Whether you applaud her, cancel her or allow yourself to be entertained by her writing, this is a writer who is unafraid of sticking a pitchfork in conformity.

Appliance by J.O. Morgan

I fondly remember being a child and going on the Disney World ride 'Carousel of Progress' which demonstrates through a singing audio-animatronic American family how technology has benefited and improved the lives of each successive generation. We can get so caught up in the belief that “progress” will be nothing but an asset for us as individuals and as a species. Certainly people in the past had poorer living standards and worse medical treatment – but how does progress impact the planet? In what ways does it bind us to capitalism? And how does it change our sense of being unique individuals? These are questions at the heart of J.O. Morgan's novel “Appliance”. Through a series of vignettes we follow the development of a device which can instantly transport objects (and eventually people) from one place to another. Think Wonka Vision but without the shrinkage. We follow the reactions and the impact it has upon a series of characters who are like bystanders to this march of progress which demands they integrate this device into their lives whether they like it or not. Though this may sound like a book with a Luddite agenda, it's more an emotional and philosophical examination about how we can get caught up driving forward our society more for the sake of it rather than to benefit the people who inhabit it.

Since each chapter moves to an entirely new set of characters the novel demands patience as it's necessary to reorientate to a new situation. But there is a pleasure in discovering how the technology has moved on and the way it is affecting the lives of these different individuals. From the outside one naturally wants to marvel at a rapidly-improving device which begins by transporting a simple plastic spoon and progresses to the point where it can zap whole cities to the moon. However, what's so clever about this novel is how it focuses on the dangers, frustrations and bewilderment it causes to those who live with it. As the device advances the infrastructure around everyone deteriorates to the point where they become wholly reliant upon this technology. Every resource must be mined to feed it even as most people increasingly don't understand it.

The story also teases out questions of authenticity. It addresses how we are biological beings which continuously regenerate: “The person we were yesterday is not composed of exactly the same stuff as the person we are today. Just as we can't be sure we are the same person who wakes up each morning, unless we stay awake all through the night.” If we can be wholly mapped and recreated elsewhere what aspect of our being is really individual? In each successive story the characters come to feel less authentically themselves and less intelligent. Those who protest against the system which demands they use this device find that their objections are met with indifference. Those who infiltrate the system find themselves being drawn into becoming a part of it. Everyone else blithely goes along with it though the quality of their lives doesn't necessarily improve. Though the premise of this story is like something you'd find in science fiction it feels eerily relatable and relevant to the world today. I got the creepy sense from reading this novel that technology would never need to become self-aware in order to enslave us as we're unwittingly allowing it to control us already.

Glory by NoViolet Bulawayo

It's quite a challenge for a new book to use a device from a classic novel in a way which feels both relevant and entirely fresh. George Orwell's “Animal Farm” brilliantly satirised the Russian Revolution of 1917 and Stalinism in the Soviet Union by anthropomorphizing barnyard animals who fight to free themselves from the tyranny of their human farmer only to find themselves ensnared in an equally oppressive system. At first I felt skeptical that NoViolet Bulawayo used this same format by applying it to the 2017 Zimbabwean coup d'etat, but as I continued reading I discovered how this is a forceful and heartfelt way to update and expand upon Orwell's allegorical novella.

In Bulawayo's story Old Horse has been ruling the country of Jidada for forty years until he is suddenly ousted from power and a new regime takes control. Though the general population is presented with a simulacrum of a #freefairncredibleelection not much has changed where those in power rule with an iron fist, the economy deteriorates and many ordinary citizens continue to suffer. In doing so she captures the way language and political rhetoric can be weaponized to control a population and shore up power in our modern era. It's a book that succeeds in how it refers to specific historical events and describes the way all systems of government can abuse their power. It's a sweeping epic that evokes the plight of a nation and an intensely personal story about an expatriate's return to the chaos of her country. It brings to the centre the lives of women and girls who struggle under an oppressive patriarchal system. Moreover, it's a funny, heartbreaking, horrifying and utterly bewitching tale that I fell in love with.

There are many innovative elements in this novel which creatively convey clear points and complex ideas. Bulawayo skilfully utilizes repetition in a number of ways. In the name of the country itself it's frequently emphasized how it's called “Jidada with a -da and another -da” which expresses the idea of national pride, an emphasis on the patriarchy and a defiant stance to the international community about the way the country's name is pronounced. Certain idioms and figurative language such as the phrase “tholukuthi” and “those who really know about things said...” create a sense of collective identity and common ways of speaking as the characters try to clarify their situation. There are also a few instances of pages which are dominated by certain words or phrases being repeated such as “I can't breathe” when the citizens witness the video of George Floyd's murder and the word “take” flows across a page in an incessant stream as an outcry about how leaders have repeatedly stollen from the country. Sometimes the text is crossed out to show how certain characters manipulate language or how the country is regressing such as the chapter heading “PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE, PAST”. Also, the image of red butterflies recurs throughout the novel as things of beauty which also appear to be dangerous and/or bloody and they eventually come to represent something specific on the nation's new flag.

I've always been doubtful about novels whose primary mode is satire because it feels like if you take an ironic stance to ridicule something it's very difficult to also express any kind of emotional sincerity other than disdain. However, “Glory” maintains a fine balance between hilariously skewering the leaders of this nation (including the “liberator” who pettily stresses about the amount of followers he has on social media and falls in love with his Siri) and expressing the earnest concerns of those suffering under a tyrannical leadership. It does so through the speeches delivered by particular individuals and political parties as well as the online discussion which rages while the country physically deteriorates. There's a large cast of vibrant characters who take the forms of different animals that are at turns hilarious, cunning in their doublespeak and sympathetic in their struggle. Together they express a palpable anger at clear acts of greed and abuses of power as well as the fragmentation which prevents the general population from overturning a corrupt system.

I was a big fan of Bulawayo's debut novel “We Need New Names” and it's so impressive how she's crafted an ambitious second novel which is very different from that first book, but stays true to the heart of her subject matter. Both books speak from the stance of a distinct individual while also voicing the concerns of the collective. In “Glory” there's the well-timed introduction of a character named Destiny who abruptly left Jidada a decade ago and has returned to reconnect with her mother and discover the truth about her family's past. She gives a much-needed moral centre to the novel as well as expressing the tension between an individual's drive for self preservation and a sense of obligation to her family and community. Through her we feel the emotional immediacy of this tale which tears off the mask concealing political hypocrisy and how every nation struggles to come together for the collective good.

The Arena of the Unwell by Liam Konemann

It's heartening to see so many new queer books representing the complexity and many different forms of gay experience. The protagonist of debut novel “The Arena of the Unwell” is Noah, a 20-something North Londoner who is into indie music and feels “I'm a pretty sub-standard gay – not quite up to date on the culture and customs. I missed that part of my education.” He's one of many gay men that don't necessarily identify with the predominant gay culture. Though his closest friend and flatmate is a lesbian named Mairead, most encounters he has with the gay community seem to be coincidental. He doesn't go to gay bars or engage on gay social media/hookup apps. As such he seems to feel an increased sense of alienation and has few opportunities for romantic encounters. This adds to his existing issues to do with depression, low self-worth, alcohol abuse and lack of motivation. So when two slightly older men show interest in Noah he becomes intimately involved and entangled in their lives. Unfortunately it turns out to be a much more fraught relationship and complex situation than he imagined.

I sympathize with Noah's situation, but unfortunately I didn’t really like him. I certainly don’t always have to like the protagonists I read about. But I grew increasingly frustrated and bored by this novel as Noah is caught in a continuous cycle of disaffection, drinking and inertia. Though he has a number of people in his life who want to help and support him when he's having a hard time, he continuously bats away their offers or ignores them. This is a natural response from someone with very low self esteem, but he also fails to engage in other people's lives in a way which might allow him to feel more connected and gain a sense of community. Though his friend Mairead and his father are clearly struggling with their own issues we learn little about their situations. Instead, the narrative solely focuses on Noah's point of view and seems to take it for a given that the reader will like him. Though I recognized that he was wrestling with a number of issues and has the common self-centredness of the young, I grew annoyed with him as a character and how he refuses any opportunities to positively change his situation. Moreover, there's a kind of pretension about how he withdraws from society where he admits “I am 'convalescing'. Alternatively, 'drowning my sorrows'. Sulking, but in an artistic sort of way.” While this is someone who feels quite real the main issue I have with the book is that the author doesn't explore the dynamics of Noah's plight in a way that shows the character gaining any sense of self-awareness. Instead, the story seems structured in a way where the fault lies entirely with the two men who draw them into their twisted (and frankly baffling) co-dependency.

Additionally, there were several elements of the story which felt underdeveloped or didn't go anywhere. Though it's touching to see how Noah's father accepts his son's homosexuality we get little insight into the father's personal life or their family history. Noah receives threatening messages at one point but this dilemma is left aside. Some stollen money goes missing but we don't find out where it went. There's a parallel narrative which shows brief articles about a band called Smiling Politely where their singer Ryan Shelby struggles with self-destructive impulses similar to Noah's. It's interesting how (though ostensibly successful) this band member equally can't pull himself out of a downward spiral. Unfortunately, the way this part of the story concludes didn't feel as impactful as I felt it was supposed to. An aspect of the story which I felt most uncomfortable with was the way it handled Noah's struggle with self harm. Though this is a very difficult issue, it's introduced quite abruptly and then not referred to again so it felt like it was dropped into the narrative. If such a conflict is going to be a part of a story I feel like it needs to be a more integral part of the novel.

All of these issues prevented me from really connecting with the story in the way I wanted to. I was surprised not to appreciate this novel after having read (and loved) the novel “Love in the Big City” because the protagonist of that book is somewhat similar to Noah. However, I just never grew to care much about the faltering hero of Konemann's novel.

The Swimmers by Julie Otsuka

One of the most terrifying parts of ageing is the possibility of experiencing or having a loved one who experiences Dementia. I know someone who is wrestling with this issue now and it's such a complicated, difficult and heartrending issue. I'm not sure whether it's consoling or distressing to read a novel which deals with this if it's a condition you're wrestling with but I feel that's up to the individual reader. Nevertheless, I think “The Swimmers” brilliantly depicts how life changes for a character named Alice whose memory deteriorates to the point where her daughter brings her to a care facility. We're first introduced to her as one of many people who frequently swim at an underground pool. The opening section is narrated in their collective voice as they describe the customs of regular swimmers at this pool and how a loose sense of community forms at this location. But one day a crack appears in the pool and this causes a lot of anxiety for the regular swimmers. Shortly after it becomes necessary for Alice to go into care and we learn about her process of being admitted into this facility.

What's so impressive about this novel is that so much emotion is conveyed without the author necessarily delving into the interior thoughts and feelings of the characters. It's a reckoning with mortality that's conveyed so gracefully it left me breathless. I loved the way the opening section describes the sense of freedom the swimmers find in the routines and rules which become established at their pool. There is a solace here in being both known to the other swimmers but also anonymous because this is a space completely detached from ordinary life. Life is reassuringly constant in the pool – until it's disrupted by the fracture which is both literal and a metaphor for the way tragedy infiltrates all of our lives at some point. It's also incredibly moving how the dilemma of Alice's daughter is delicately shown over the period of admitting her mother to the care facility. I intensely felt both her struggle and the process of Alice losing her sense of self. This powerful novel is both beautiful and devastating and I'm so glad I read it.