"The SilentWife" by A.S.A. Harrison

Susan Harrison’s debut novel is a stunning achievement. Her story is told in alternate viewpoints between the two main protagonists, who are both damaged products of their environment and upbringing. Her focus is firmly upon character and motivation, analysing the psychology of each party and trying to determine their impulses and motives.

In some senses it’s difficult to achieve a critical distance from the book knowing that Harrison died shortly before publication. Any criticism, however minor, sounds like ill-will, given that she cannot defend herself. However, to my mind in some instances the book felt just a little over-written; with the psychological discursions obscuring the plot rather than advancing it, but perhaps this had been her intention.

She herself described the work as “a study of two people at the limits of their ability to cope”, and for me where the novel works best is documenting the discreet retaliations that Jodi employs to keep the grievances in check that she feels towards her philandering partner. I particularly enjoyed the way that Harrison chose to make the two main characters fairly passive in their approach, with neither being particularly likeable at times, hence the title of the novel.

Many reviewers seem to want to compare the novel to Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl” but to me that seems a lazy comparison. The two books are fundamentally very different, and this felt darker, more calculated, somehow more real. The real loss is Harrison herself, and as a reader I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness that this powerful debut will also need to serve as her epitaph.

"Doctor Sleep" by Stephen King

I haven’t posted any reviews on my blog for quite a while as I have been working hard on my debut novel, “Ilona”. I’ve still been constantly reading throughout this time, but I thought it was high time that I started up the blog post again [New Year resolutions etc.].

I re-read “The Shining” late last year and found that it was even better than I remembered. It was one of the books that first made me want to write, along with Alan Garner’s The Owl Service and Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird”. I initially read “The Shining” back in 1978 when it was first released in paperback. I had pre-ordered it from Webster’s Bookshop in Dorking, having already devoured both “Carrie” and “Salem’s Lot”, and I was so excited to get my hands on a copy on its release. I read it the weekend I got it, finishing it breathless and exhausted in the middle of the night.

To me it was just the perfect novel and I was so disappointed when I saw the Kubrick movie which seemed to lose the essence of King’s intent that Jack Torrance was essentially a good man tormented by inner demons. Jack Nicholson was great in the film but seemed too dark and unhinged from the outset. However I felt that King’s story-telling had reached its peak with Danny, particularly his ability to make you feel the fear through a child’s eyes.  His minor characters were well-written too, particularly Wendy Torrance, Dick Halloran and even Lloyd the bartender.

So I had mixed feelings when I initially picked up “Doctor Sleep”, the first being why revisit something that was about as close to perfect as you could get? When I first started reading the novel it took me a while to re-adjust to Danny as an adult, and initially I found the scenes with the True  Knot a bit gratuitously violent, if I’m honest. However, I think I was wrong. I should learn to trust him.

As usual by about half-way through King had me gripped by the throat, and the pages flew by as I became absorbed in the story. I was transported back to how I felt when I first read “The Stand” and “It”…immersed in his imagination. In “Doctor Sleep” King has fleshed out an utterly convincing cast of characters, from the main protagonists to the minor supporting roles. If I’m being particularly critical I personally would have welcomed more page space being devoted to a few of the supporting characters, particularly Snakebite Andi and The Crow. However, tonally King creates a balanced blend between the warmth of the protagonists and the death-rattling chill of the enemy, the True Knot.

Many reviewers seem to want to compare the novel back to “The Shining” which I suppose is an obvious but ultimately lazy comparison. They are totally different books, written as King himself acknowledges in his Afterword at totally different points in the arc of his career. To my mind “Doctor Sleep” is a far more thoughtful book which worms its way into your psyche rather than going for the proverbial jugular.

In King’s universe things have a way of unravelling, often spectacularly and nearly always with raw and savage consequences. Without revealing any spoilers the final unravelling of the True Knot involves delicious twists and snarls and King delivers a fierce and final sense of closure.

So is it a story worth revisiting? You bet. As Roger Waters once said:- “Shine on….”

Rites by Sophie Coulombeau

Sometimes you come across a new writer who possesses breathtaking originality and verve. Sophie Coulombeau is the genuine article, and in my opinion this novel will come to be seen as her first step on the road to becoming a literary name.

The premise seems deceptively simple; four teenagers strike a pact to lose their virginity together, and despite their best intentions it all goes horribly wrong. Now, many years later, they reflect on the loss of innocence and how it shaped their lives.

Coulombeau uses the mechanism of first person narration throughout, as each of the four main protagonists, along with a supporting cast of eight other key figures, are all asked to recollect the incident. This approach offers the opportunity for a range of narrative reminiscences, some of which may be more reliable than others. Her real skill lies in creating sufficient differentiation between the voices that all twelve characters remain clear and uniquely individual, and not once did I struggle to remember who was who.

The novel came to be published when Route Publishing selected an extract of Coulombeau’s manuscript as the winner of their “Next Great Novelist Award 2012”, the prize being full publication. This came as something of a shock for Coulombeau who apparently hadn’t completed the rest of the book and consequently had to quickly complete her draft. It doesn’t show, which must be a testament to her skill.

I often criticise other reviewers who use lazy comparisons to describe an author’s carefully constructed prose as being just like another writer’s, and so I consciously try not to do that in my reviews. However “Rites” did give me a similar feeling to Stephen May’s “Life! Death! Prizes!”, and that is no lazy comparison; it simply means that they share the same soul. Twinned, but of different parents, if you like.

As I read through the novel, with my opinions being deliberately manipulated by the different first person narrations the question that kept puzzling me was “Who are they telling this to?”. Am I (as the reader) being asked to take on the role of inquisitor or confessor, or is that the role being adopted by the author? Is it actually one of the protagonists themselves who is the inquisitor? The way that Coulombeau chooses to deal with this particular issue is a marker for her confidence and ability as an author. When I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to ask her about this aspect of the novel she simply replied with an enigmatic face, which indicated that I should draw my own conclusions.

Well the conclusion I have drawn is that Sophie Coulombeau is a very fine novelist indeed and one who does not need to explain her methods or approach. I will certainly be following her career trajectory with genuine appreciation and admiration.

The Light Between Oceans by M L Stedman

“This is a story about right and wrong and how sometimes they look the same”.

This carefully constructed tag line neatly encapsulates the moral dilemma that lies at the heart of this powerful novel. Having survived the horrors of the First World War Tom Sherbourne is now the lighthouse keeper on remote Janus Rock in South Western Australia perched between the Indian Ocean and the Great Southern Ocean. He and his young wife Izzy long for a child, after a succession of miscarriages. Then a boat washes up on the island containing a dead man and a crying baby.

This incident is the heart of the story, as a decision made with the best of intentions causes Tom and Izzy’s life to unravel as the consequences of their actions spiral inexorably towards a tragic conclusion.

This debut novel features some beautifully evocative descriptive prose. One of my favourite passages reads: -

“The line between the ocean and the sky became harder to judge as the light faltered second by second”.

This inability to judge between ocean and sky stands as a symbol in judging right from wrong which echoes throughout the novel, underpinning the moral ambiguity of the narrative.

It seems no coincidence that Stedman has set the lighthouse on Janus Rock, its beam illuminating the two oceans of the title. Janus was the God of beginnings and transitions. His two heads looked both to the past and the future, which is an apt metaphor for Stedman’s meticulously crafted plot.

I was really impressed by the quality of writing in Margot Stedman’s first novel and her writing is by turns evocative, lyrical and compassionate. Her deft use of the rising and falling cadences of the Australian language is both charming and completely realistic.

The novel’s title is also an inspired choice. Apparently Stedman’s working title for the piece during its early drafts was “Lighthouse Story” before the title came to her, and to my mind it works beautifully on a number of different levels.

This novel grips the reader from the outset as it proceeds to its intensely sad conclusion. I shall certainly be looking out for the next novel by Margot Steadman.

Peaches for Monsieur le Cure by Joanne Harris

The popular wisdom is that it’s often a mistake to revisit earlier successes. Try telling that to Joanne Harris.

Just once in a while you read a book that is so good, so well-written that you can’t leave it behind, and you find that long after closing the final pages the characters are still intruding on your life, slipping into your thoughts throughout the working day. Many of Harris’s novels seem to have that effect on me, but possibly none more so than this one.

This is an absolute gem of a book, deftly plotted and beautifully constructed. The pace is measured and never rushed as Harris confidently interweaves the narratives of her main characters. With an interesting twist it could be argued that Vianne Rocher is not truly the main protagonist this time around, as the plot spirals around Father Reynaud as he struggles to deal with the influx of Muslim Maghrebins into the sleepy village of Lansquenet. Set around Ramadan (in itself a clever echo back to the Lenten setting of “Chocolat”) Vianne’s return to Lansquenet with her daughters Anouk and Rosette finds the village trying to cope with women wearing the niqab and the appearance of a mosque.

The book raises a number of questions about the nature of communities and the prejudice with which outsiders are viewed. However, as you would expect, it does so with a subtle touch rather than a heavy hand. Harris neatly encapsulates the main themes of the book with the phrase “everything returns” which echoes throughout the story, layering the plot threads into an integrated whole.

For anyone following the trajectory of Harris’s writing career this novel stands alongside Chocolat in representing the zenith of that curve. I am in awe of her talent and fervently hope that she is drawn back into her shed to write whilst her muse remains such a fascinating enchantress.

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

“Mockingjay” is the final instalment of the Hunger Games trilogy and represents a far darker and bleaker view than the earlier two novels. Although ostensibly still aimed at the Young Adult market it’s almost as if Suzanne Collins has decided that the story needs to grow up at a similar rate to her prospective readers. So you can consider yourself fully warned; don’t expect a light hearted conclusion to the trilogy.

I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all three novels although I am far removed from the target demographic. I found Collins to be a master-storyteller (no gender-based puns intended or required) and remarkably even-handed, irrespective of whether it’s a main character or a member of the minor supporting cast who is being killed off. The truth is that very few survive, but that will come as no surprise to readers familiar with the gritty realism that Collins employs.

I felt that her skill at characterisation improved considerably from the first book and I felt a real sense of identification with the problems and difficulties that the main characters experience. Katniss’s descent into depression and lethargy is particularly well-written and heartbreakingly accurate.

For me the epilogue felt a little unnecessary and I wondered why Collins felt the need to write it. I must try to do some research on-line to see if anyone has asked her this question. I suppose that after the machinations of the fairly convoluted plot had played out perhaps she saw it as a simpler, cleaner ending. But to me the conclusion of the book felt somewhat rushed after such careful plotting to reach this point.

However to sum up this third and final novel is harsh, brutal, and utterly relentless.

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire is the second novel in The Hunger Games series and demonstrates that Suzanne Collins really understands the power of the story. The novel develops the story of Katniss Everdeen and Peta Mellark following their success in the televised fight-to-the-death game show The Hunger Games.

It is immediately apparent that this is a far darker tale than the first novel and Collins creates a believable scenario of manipulation and exploitation for her characters. This does affect the pacing of the story, and the first half of the novel is slower than its predecessor, but that’s an inevitable consequence of trying to write the broader plot development that is needed to sustain a trilogy.

To my mind one of the strong points of the book is that the minor characters are given greater weight and depth than the rather one-dimensional supporting cast of the first novel. Collins manages to create an ensemble cast that engages you emotionally, and you care what happens to them. She also introduces two great characters in Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason (who will reappear in the final part of the trilogy).

Some reviewers have criticised the narrowness of her dystopian world-view, suggesting that her world-building could be stronger with a greater global sweep. I think this rather misses the point, and it should be remembered that Collins is primarily targeting the Young Adult audience. Whilst I felt that some of her symbolism was a little obvious I felt that she struck a good balance between the need to move the story on, whilst also broadening the overall vision.

As with the first novel I was again somewhat irritated by the lack of any mention of the cameras that must be filming every move within the arena for the reality show. I still felt that this was a missed opportunity by Collins which could have added another dimension to the piece, and a wider comment about surveillance, but overall this seems rather like sour grapes when considered against the many strengths of the novel.

Absorbing and compelling, this novel acts as an excellent bridge between “The Hunger Games” and “Mockingjay” and will not disappoint.