Katheryn Thompson's Blog, page 10

I picked this one up because I've only recently realised how few books I've read by authors of colour (to my shame). I didn't know a lot about The Sellout; only that I'd seen it recommended by several people, and it was available (as an ebook) at my local library. That was good enough for me.



The book opens with our main character on trial in the Supreme Court. The bulk of the story tells us the story of the Sellout - who he is, and how he got there. Born in the "agrarian ghetto" of Dickens, on the outskirts of LA, Bonbon (as he is more affectionately known) was raised by a behavioural scientist father, who saw Bonbon more as the subject of an experiment than as his son, and makes his living as a farmer. I'll let him tell you the rest himself.

The Sellout won't be to everyone's taste. While I was reading this one, someone asked me if I'd recommend it, and I found it a difficult question to answer. I loved this book. I would quite happily have read it in one sitting if time had permitted, and found myself frequently thinking about the story. But the biting satirical tone won't be for everyone - one review I read described it as not a book to read if you're easily offended. Some of the humour was certainly audacious.

This is an excellent book for thinking about racism and race equality, in an (dare I say) original and witty manner. By serendipity, this was exactly the book I wanted to read. It introduced me to a new Black author, it helped me to continue thinking about race in a very different way to the material I've been reading and watching, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I think that if you like Jonathan Franzen's books, you'll enjoy this one. If you liked this one, I'd recommend the IQ series by Joe Ide. I was also reminded of the 2019 film The Day Shall Come, although perhaps the satirical ideas are more fully fleshed out here than in that film.

Recent events have made me want to do some reading about how to be a better anti-racist. How to Be an Antiracist was being suggested the most on social media, but I decided I'd find it more useful to read about Britain than about America. So I picked up this book.



Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race was inspired by a viral blog post of the same name. The book's title is obviously not about shutting down the conversation, but instead expresses a moment of frustration and despair Reni Eddo-Lodge felt trying to talk about race to white people who refused to listen. In this book, Eddo-Lodge talks through her own journey of understanding Britain's structural racism, discussing its history, its impact on present-day issues, and its possible future, to help her reader understand it too.

Eddo-Lodge talks about her experiences of white people's disbelief and stubborn disagreement in the face of conversations about race and racism. Those were not emotions I felt at all while reading this book. I found myself nodding along as Eddo-Lodge expressed so succinctly and eloquently views which I completely agree with, and which I have found my own experiences to confirm.

This book has taught me about how to talk more effectively about the issues of structural racism. When I have needed to have conversations in the past about race and racism, I've often struggled to explain my reasoning, because I've assumed (wrongly) that the arguments I'm making are obvious ones. This book has made me feel much better prepared for those conversations in future, and has also driven home the importance of having such conversations. I've also learnt so much that I didn't know about the history of race relations in Britain, on which our education system is woefully lacking.

Eddo-Lodge writes incredibly well, and she constantly centres her discussions on her own experiences, which I've found is often a feature of the best non-fiction books. I strongly recommend this (surprisingly short) book. Although please note that Eddo-Lodge has asked that people, where possible, borrow this book and donate what they would have spent; or buy it from their local independent bookshop, and also donate to their local and national racial justice organisations.

The next step for me is making more of an effort to read fiction by black authors and authors of colour. It's not as if there aren't many to choose from!

This one has been on my to-read list for a while, and, since I recently acquired a copy of Nuala Ellwood's latest book, The House on the Lake, I thought it was about time I read it.



When Maggie wakes up from a coma, she is told that her daughter is dead and her husband is missing. Maggie remembers nothing. The police assure her that her daughter's death was an accident; the handbrake wasn't quite secured, and Maggie did everything she could to stop the car rolling into the river. But what if it she didn't? What if it wasn't an accident? What if Maggie's daughter, Elspeth, isn't really dead at all?

Day of the Accident is hardly the first thriller to centre around someone who can't remember what happened the day they lost a loved one. But I have a penchant for the memory loss trope. I like a book where I'm trying to piece together the mystery at the same time as the protagonist, especially when I'm not sure how reliable that protagonist is. The mystery at the heart of Day of the Accident is also nicely layered: Maggie's role in Elspeth's death is an added complication, as is the disappearance of Maggie's husband.

I found the style of writing a little predictable at first. The book is narrated, in the first-person, present tense, by Maggie. This is an efficient way of telling the story, of having the reader follow Maggie as she pieces everything together, but there is nothing new or notable in the writing style. However, once the story got going, the driving force of the plot was enough to make me forget about the writing. This is a real page-turner, and I could easily have read it in one sitting.

Once the story started to approach the climax, I began to realise what had happened. I wouldn't describe the ending as obvious or predictable, but I also wouldn't describe it as a plot twist. Like most solid thrillers, everything began to fall in place as the climax approached, but I was also desperate to keep reading. I normally rate books that keep me completely fixated at five stars, but I was aware, even as I was completely absorbed in the story, of how overly dramatic the ending was. For this reason, Day of the Accident could not be a five-star read for me.

Mulling over whether to give this one three or four stars, I think about how much I enjoyed the depiction of Maggie's recovery from her coma. We see all the physical and mental effects of the accident and her time in hospital, as she progresses through the book. I don't think I've read such an attention to detail before, concerning the practicalities of Maggie being assigned a carer, and being prescribed different kinds of medication, and I really liked that.

On the other hand, while I can forgive the predictable writing style, since the strength of this book is evidently its plot, I did find the style of the brief chapters interspersing Maggie's narration (which I can't really describe without giving anything away) a little tiresome. So I think it will have to be three stars.



I know three stars is a bit of an ambiguous rating, so I want to be clear that I did enjoy this book very much. I might not rush to reread it, but I would certainly recommend it to others. And I look forward to reading The House on the Lake.

Jane Austen is one of those authors I'm aware I've never read. I've been tempted to try her books for a while, especially since there are so many good adaptations to watch afterwards. I was finally convinced by all the comparisons of life in lockdown to life in an Austen novel (a turn about the room anyone?)



All Mrs Bennett wants is for her five daughters to be married, especially since the modest family estate is to be entailed to a male cousin upon Mr Bennett's death, leaving the family destitute. Surely that's not too much to wish for...

Pride and Prejudice really surprised me. I was expecting quite a slow, stilted novel, but, after a moderately slow start, the story really took off and I almost couldn't bear to put it down. This was mainly due to my obsession with Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy - I finally understand what all the fuss is about. They are characters well-matched for each other, as Benedick and Beatrice (of Much Ado About Nothing), who I also can't resist, are. Despite the enemies-to-lovers plot, the way they react around each other, and the way they develop through the book, feels perfectly natural.

Elizabeth Bennett is the main character, and my awareness of our similarities may mean that I enjoyed this book more than others might. But there are plenty of interesting characters moving about in overlapping circles. I had no trouble imagining any of them, and, while some are clearly written to be amusing, they are all wonderfully lifelike.

The book is clearly of its time, but I can only recall one moment where I was briefly bothered by an offhand comment I disagreed with. I mostly ignored the various paratexts in my edition; there were only a handful of moments where I thought it was worth checking the notes. The only thing I did find was that I had occasionally to reread a sentence of dialogue to fully grasp its meaning, but overall I didn't find the writing too verbose.

I can't wait to watch the adaptations of this one. The BBC version (infamously starring Colin Firth) has already started on iPlayer. And of course I'll have to watch the Keira Knightley film version as well, to compare.



I bought Sense and Sensibility and Emma at the same time as I bought Pride and Prejudice (so it's a good thing I enjoyed it!), which means I still have those to look forward to.

I'd heard great things about Fingersmith, and also about its film adaptation The Handmaiden, so, since I love nothing more than reading a book then watching an adaptation of it, I decided to give this one a go.



The orphaned Sue Trinder grows up in a house of petty thieves, protected by the motherly love of Mrs Sucksby. One day Gentleman, a charming con man, arrives with a proposition. If Sue becomes maid to Maud Lilly, a naive gentlewoman, and aids Gentleman in her seduction, she will receive a generous cut of Maud's vast inheritance. Wanting to repay the kindness of her adopted family, Sue agrees. After all, how difficult can it be?

Fingersmith starts off slowly, but the colourful characters and the way the story is told held my interest completely. Despite its evocative language, this is very much a plot-driven novel. The con is introduced fairly early on, and the book is narrated from the start as a past experience, so you're always aware that the story is moving forwards. But, at the beginning, I thought Fingersmith would be a slow-burner (which I was completely fine with), and then suddenly I was hit with a plot twist. For the rest of the story, despite its length, I could barely put the book down.

I don't always enjoy historical fiction, but I think what made Fingersmith unusual (in a good way) was its language. Sarah Waters somehow makes the language feel both right for the book's historical setting, and somehow modern and present. I think the (thoughtful) use of swear words really helped with this. I also can't resist a story about a big house with big secrets.

At first I wasn't convinced how interested I was in the character of Sue Trinder, but as the story progressed this concern completely fell away. I think my initial uncertainty was due to the fact we are first introduced to her more through her own narration than through her actions, but this soon ceases to be a problem. In fact, despite some of the slightly laboured descriptions of the physical effects of characters' emotions, Waters presents characters through their actions in a delightfully ambiguous way. I loved putting this book down on a night, and mulling over the twists and turns of the story as I fell asleep.

I gave this one four stars, simply because it just didn't quite feel like a five-star read to me. I really enjoyed Fingersmith, and it made me want to give Dickens (who I'm never quite sure about) another go. The back page of my edition, displaying all the other Sarah Waters' books, with their beautifully matching covers, also made me want to read more of her work. Any recommendations on where to start?

For now, I'm really looking forward to watching The Handmaiden.



If you enjoyed Fingersmith, I'd recommend The Woman in White and The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (two of my all-time favourites), The Unicorn by Iris Murdoch, and The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O'Farrell. I can't quite bring myself to recommend Charles Dickens, but he probably belongs on this list too (possibly in the form of Great Expectations).

I'd heard lots of great things this one, but I just wasn't convinced whether to read it or not. I often feel that way about historical fiction, perhaps because I'm worried that inaccuracies will ruin the enjoyment of the story. But The Silence of the Girls was a Christmas present, and I've finally found time (plucked up the courage?) to read it.



The Iliad is the story of one section of the lengthy Trojan War, focused around the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles. The Silence of the Girls tells the story of Briseis, the prisoner of war awarded to Achilles, around whom that quarrel revolves. The events follow those of the Iliad, and extend a little further, but we spend more time in the women's huts than on the battlefield. The majority of the book is told in first person from Briseis, with intermittent third person chapters from the POV of Achilles.

The Silence of the Girls is an extremely readable book. I read one review which suggests that the story loses much of its impact for readers familiar with the Iliad. I didn't personally find this to be the case; knowing what was coming in many cases heightened the sense of tragedy, and I also enjoyed reading about familiar events from a different perspective. Although it's not fair to say that Homer silences the voices of the women, this book really brought home some of the realities of war, and made me think about aspects to the tale I hadn't really considered before.

I loved how vividly the time and place were recreated, and I think my ability to see so much of the story in my mind was a large part of the book's power. Part of the evocation of time and place is Barker's deliberately anachronistic language. I loved the atmosphere this created.

I'm tempted to say that you should read the The Iliad before you read this retelling, but only because that is my preference. My preferred translation is the prose translation by E.V. Rieu. It probably goes without saying, but, while there is no gratuitous violence, and no graphic sexual descriptions, The Silence of the Girls does deal with some tough issues that some readers might find difficult.



The Silence of the Girls has definitely made me want to read The Penelopiad. I'm still debating whether or not to read The Song of Achilles, but this one has pushed me a little more in that direction. I'm also now considering Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy.

If you enjoyed The Silence of the Girls, I'd recommend Memorial: An Excavation of the Iliad by Alice Oswald, and War Music: An Account of Homer's Iliad by Christopher Logue. Both are stunning retellings of the Iliad.

This book is everywhere at the moment. The original hype has come alive again in the wake of the new BBC adaptation of the book.



I'm nearly always behind the trend with new books, because there's so much I want to read. I mentally added Conversations with Friends to my TBR list when everyone seemed to be raving about it back in 2017. I then added Normal People when that came out to a similar reaction a year later. It slid up my TBR list a little when a close friend recommended it, and then secured a place near the top when the BBC adaptation was announced. I really like to read a book and then watch an adaptation of it. But time ran away with me, and suddenly everyone was talking about Normal People - both the book and the programme. But I was rescued from my FOMO by the brilliant Big Green Bookshop's Buy A Stranger A Book Day.

Normal People is described as a love story. I would rather describe it as a coming of age story. It tells the story of Connell and Marianne, who grow up at different ends of the socio-economic scale in Carricklea, Galway, and who both go on to study at Trinity College, Dublin. The book is anchored on their relationship, but the story is really about them both as individuals - how they, and their relationship, change over time, and how this changing relationship changes them.

I love the way Rooney captures that pivotal experience of going to university, and how people develop - for better and for worse - during this time. But the book also ends at this wonderful moment, where we see the impact of everything that has gone before, but it's also clear there is so much yet to come.

My favourite aspect of the book was how real it felt. The relationship between Connell and Marianne feels authentic, and the characters are all delightfully flawed. Normal People also touches on some fairly gritty aspects of life. In particular, reading about a character's depressive episodes made me realise that I don't think I've ever read about a character with depression before. Yet, what could be more normal?

It was refreshing to find a story that manages to make a reasonably everyday story, told in a linear format, compulsively readable. I would have read the entire book in one sitting if I'd had the time. As it happens, my current insomnia meant I read it in two sittings.

And now, I still have the BBC adaptation to look forward to.



Conversations with Friends is definitely moving higher up my TBR list. I was also delighted to wake up this morning, having finished Normal People last night, to an article from Waterstones on What to Read Next After Normal People.
I'd personally recommend How to be Famous by Caitlin Moran, and Nina is Not OK by Shappi Khorsandi. And also Fleabag, because I recommend that to everyone.

These are uncertain times, but new books are one thing we can rely on. Check out the April book releases on my radar:



The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires (7 April)
A Southern-flavoured, supernatural thriller set in the '90s about a women's book club that must protect its suburban community from a mysterious and handsome stranger, who turns out to be a blood-sucking fiend.



Afterlife (7 April)
Antonia Vega, an immigrant writer, has just retired from the college where she taught English when her beloved husband, Sam, suddenly dies. And then more jolts: her bighearted but unstable sister disappears, and Antonia returns home one evening to find a pregnant, undocumented teenager on her doorstep.



Godshot (7 April)
A book of grit and humour and heart, a debut novel about female friendship and resilience, mother-loss and motherhood, and seeking salvation in unexpected places.



This Is Big: How the Founder of Weight Watchers Changed the World (14 April)
The true story of a cross-generational, beyond-the-grave - and beyond-the-scale - friendship that led to the first breakthrough Marisa Meltzer ever had in her quest for self-improvement.



Death in Her Hands (21 April)
A novel of haunting metaphysical suspense about an elderly widow whose life is upturned when she finds a cryptic note on a walk in the woods that ultimately makes her question everything about her new home.



If I Had Your Face (21 April)
A riveting debut novel set in contemporary Seoul, Korea, about four young women making their way in a world defined by impossibly high standards of beauty, secret room salons catering to wealthy men, strict social hierarchies, and K-pop fan mania.



Strange Situation: A Mother's Journey Into the Science of Attachment (21 April)
A full-scale investigation of the controversial and often misunderstood science of attachment theory, inspired by the author's own experience as a parent and daughter.



Swimming in the Dark (28 April)
Set in early 1980s Poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide.



Take Me Apart (28 April)
A young archivist's obsession with her subject's mysterious death threatens to destroy her fragile grasp on sanity, in a riveting debut novel of psychological suspense.

Do any of these catch your eye? What April releases are on your to-read list?

I've seen a lot of people recommending comfort reads, but I'm really enjoying reading a book with some parallels to our current lockdown. If you're struggling with anxiety, you might be better off checking out last week's blog post on books that evoke place, but for everyone else, check out my recommendations for books and films about isolation and lockdowns:



The Last
My current read. This dystopian thriller follows an American academic stranded at a Swiss hotel as the world descends into nuclear war, who becomes obsessed with identifying a murderer in their midst after the body of a young girl is discovered in one of the hotel’s water tanks.

I'd recommend this one if you enjoyed And Then There Were None (the BBC adaptation from 2015 is also worth a watch if you liked the book).



The Mandibles: A Family, 2029–2047
This one's been playing on my mind recently. The year is 2029, and in a coordinated move by the rest of the world’s governments, the dollar loses all its value. The American President declares that the States will default on all its loans - prices skyrocket, currency becomes essentially worthless, and we watch one family struggle to survive through it all.



The Road
I keep seeing references to this one on social media. A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Their destination is the coast, although they don’t know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food - and each other.

If you've already read this dystopian classic, check out The Girl With All the Gifts. Both also have film adaptations which look promising, although I haven't yet watched either myself.



The Shining
Another thriller set in a hotel on lockdown. Danny is only five years old but in the words of Old Mr Hallorann he is a ‘shiner,’ aglow with psychic voltage. When his father becomes caretaker of the Overlook hotel, Danny’s visions grow out of control.

If you enjoyed this one, check out the film adaptation (I didn't actually enjoy it, but I'm definitely in a minority), and the sequel, Doctor Sleep, which is on my to-read list.



The Martian
Moving on to sci-fi, this book is still on my to-read list, but I really enjoyed the film. Six days ago, astronaut Mark Watney became one of the first people to walk on Mars. Now, he's sure he'll be the first person to die there.

If you enjoyed this one, I also loved Gravity (2013). I still have to watch Interstellar (2014).



Life of Pi
An excellent book to read during the lockdown. After the tragic sinking of a cargo ship, one solitary lifeboat remains bobbling on the wild, blue Pacific. The only survivors from the wreck are a sixteen-year-old boy named Pi, a hyena, a zebra (with a broken leg), a female orangutan... and a 450-pound Royal Bengal tiger.

The film is also stunning.



Moon (2009)
Moving on to films, I've been wanting to watch this one for a while, and now seems the perfect time. The film follows Sam Bell, a man who experiences a personal crisis as he nears the end of a three-year solitary stint mining helium-3 on the far side of the Moon.



Wakefield (2016)
Another one on my to-watch list. Bryan Cranston gives the performance of a lifetime as Howard Wakefield, a lawyer on the edge of madness who has decided to disassociate himself from his own life.



The Lighthouse (2019)
In a similar vein, two lighthouse keepers try to maintain their sanity whilst living on a remote and mysterious New England island in the 1890s. I also haven't found time to watch this one yet.



Ad Astra (2019)
This one I have watched! Astronaut Roy McBride undertakes a mission across an unforgiving solar system to uncover the truth about his missing father and his doomed expedition that now, 30 years later, threatens the universe.

See any of your favourites on here? What are you currently reading and watching during the lockdown?

Since most of us are staying in at the moment, I thought I'd throw out some of my favourite books that evoke place:



The Birdwatcher
A slow-burning police procedural, set in the bleak and isolated landscape of Dungeness on the Kent coast. One of the best evocations of place I've ever read.



The Moonstone
Arguably the first detective novel, and as memorable for its scenes featuring the Shivering Sand near the Verinders' house in Yorkshire, as for those featuring the eponymous stolen jewel.



The Unicorn
Sticking with the bleak theme, in this one Marian Taylor takes a post as governess at Gaze Castle, a remote house on a desolate coast.



Ayiti
A collection of moving and often brutal short stories, which aim to explore the Haitian diaspora experience.



Common People: An Anthology of Working Class Writers
A powerful and exciting collection of essays, poems, and pieces of personal memoir from thirty-three established and emerging working-class writers across the UK.



Pictures From Hopper
Support an indie press, and read this evocative collection of short stories inspired by the paintings of Edward Hopper (especially appropriate given that many of us feel like we're living in Hopper paintings at the moment).



Stonehenge: The Story of a Sacred Landscape
If you prefer non-fiction, check out this beautifully illustrated account of the fascinating history and archaeology of Stonehenge.



Notes from a Small Island
Continuing with the non-fiction, this is my current read, and is guaranteed to cheer you up. The account of Bill Bryson's farewell tour around UK, before he returns to America.



Angel Avenger: A Max Becker Thriller
Immerse yourself in 1960s Berlin in this police-procedural thriller.

What are your favourite books that evoke place?