Books of the Year

Despite a reply I recently posted on a certain social network, I haven't a clue how many books I've read this year.  This isn't unusual.  Below I've listed 5 that I've really enjoyed.  Right now, I would say they are my top 5, but I've probably forgotten about that dazzling collection of poetry I read last January.  Several of these books were published in 2015 – it is unusual for me to be this up-to-date.  I haven't made a list like this before for this reason, and don't hold your breath waiting for one next year.

A Brief History of Seven Killings: Marlon James 

The days of me keeping up with the Booker Prize are long gone (and were brief anyway).  I went to a shop looking for this on a recommendation and found it along with the other shortlisted books.  It's easy to see why this novel won.  I've always been unsure about historical novels: most seem desperate to shoehorn research into the story, or speculate about what Henry VIII was thinking as Ann Boleyn was executed.  A Brief History of Seven Killings centres on the attempt on Bob Marley's life in 1978, but its relationship with historical fact is loose.  It is a book with an epic scope and linguistic experimentation that is as thrillingly inventive as anything Anthony Burgess wrote.

The Most Dangerous Book: Kevin Birmingham 

You don't have to have read James Joyce's Uylsses to enjoy this account of the novel's publication, censorship and eventual triumph.  Birmingham's book is more accessible (understandably) and is a thrilling and thought-provoking story of art and censorship.  Read this if you are interested in how art triumphs over censorship.  And if you haven't read Uylsses, read that as well. 

Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink: Elvis Costello 

It probably does help to be familiar with the work of Elvis Costello before reading this.  There is no ghostwriter, which shouldn't be a surprise – Costello is noted for his ambition as well as a way with words – but manages to be readable and innovative at the same time.  More than anything it is a moving account of the loss of his father, Ross MacManus, but it is also an incisive commentary on pop music from about 1963 to date.

Three Moments of an Explosion: China Mieville 

China Mieville is quite happy to be categorised as science fiction, which is fair enough, and sometimes seems to get a little tetchy about people who say he transcends the genre.  You don't have to be a Marxist to enjoy this collection of short stories, but a fondness for science fiction (and an interest in environmentalism) would help.

The Blank Screen: Blogging: William Gallaher 

Don't read this if you aren't a writer interested in blogging.  Otherwise, do read it: It's rather good.

I have included links for each one.  If you do want to buy one or more based on my recommendation (it's a possibility I suppose) please try to buy from a shop, rather than a tax-avoiding online retailer.  

Might as well go for it ...

Martin Amis is in the news at the moment: last night, he was even interviewed by Jeremy Paxman.  What has he done to get in the news?  He's published a book.  Ok, the cynicism is probably a little unfair.  A new Martin Amis novel has some news value in its own right: it is not as newsworthy as my own first novel will be  - no link to that, but you might want another look at this - but that's because Martin Amis has published lots of books before; my first novel will, by definition be unique, at least until the second one comes out.

Martin Amis also, of course, has an efficient publicity machine, which is aided in no small part by his ability to make controversial statements and provoke equally controversial reactions.  So far, although the book was only published a week ago, Lionel Asbo has already provoked numerous responses: see, for example, the comments section at the end of the Guardian review I linked to above.  How many of these people have read the book, I don't know; to be fair, not many claim to have.

That's the thing, of course, Amis is newsworthy because people talk about him and people talk about him because he's newsworthy.  I try not to be too obvious when writing this blog; I haven't read Lionel Asbo yet, although I might, but I do have an opinion about Martin Amis and you're going to read it (unless you click on something more interesting).

I've read a few of Martin Amis's books.  The only two I have any time for are Money and Time's Arrow.  I admire and (to an extent) enjoy his prose style, which seems to grab the reader by the throat and drag him or her outside for a good kicking.  The problem is that, apart from the two books I mention, this seems to be all it does.  Halfway through The Rachel Papers - his first novel, but not the first I read - I decided that I'd got the joke, but I wanted to see what he was going to do: the answer turned out to be not a lot.

Time's Arrow I like because it uses a spectacular conceit - the first-person narrator views his own life backwards, from death to birth - to discuss an important topic.  To avoid spoiling the plot, the identity of the narrator becomes clear to the narrator at the same time as the reader.  The method of the narration raises questions about moral responsibility and defamiliarises an element of twentieth century history so significant (and so horrific) that it is difficult to gain any perspective on it.  The only problem with this novel is the ending (the narrator's birth) is clearly predictable.

Money is set in Thatcher's Britain and its aggressive style suits the decade like a ball and chain would suit her son.  That isn't its most impressive feature.  The novel features a minor character, a local novelist called (hold your sides) 'Martin Amis'.  A year before Money was published I wrote a short-story that featured a minor character called 'Jason Jawando'.  Far be it from me to suggest that Martin Amis is a dirty plagiarist, but to paraphrase Father Dougal, it is a bit of a coincidence.

Lewis's Secret?

The BBC 1 programme, The Narnia Code, broadcast on Thursday 16th April contains, apparently startling claims of a hidden code contained within CS Lewis's Narnia Chronicles.

I will admit to being fascinated by the programme, literary studies being my thing and all. The gist of the theory is that each of the seven books parallels one of the seven planets in the medieval view of the cosmos. Dr Michael Ward, the first proponent of the theory makes a sound case, based partly on his study of Lewis's own study of medieval literature.

As I watched, I found I had to put my own lit-crit, mentality - with fully functioning intentional fallacy - on hold. Surely, if there is a hidden code, Lewis must have put it there. Later on, I thought about it a bit more. Why does it have to be a code? Perhaps it is easier to think of it as a series of correspondences. There would be no need for Lewis to have put them there, or even not to have put them there.

There seems to be an element of sensationalism about literary hostory. I'm tempted to blame Dan Brown, for obvious reasons, but actually this sort of thing has always been around: was Shakespeare gay? Was Marlowe Shakespeare? No doubt many famous (and not famous) authors have had their secrets, but they probably wanted to keep them secret. The contents of their work are usually much more mundane.