Thoughts: REVIVAL (plus Book Review)

Hello friends, my thoughts are off on a reunion tour and you are all invited!!

It’s been possibly my longest ever time away from the blog since I started it at the age of 20. I am now 29. It’s definitely been through periods of flush and periods of drought. It’s been 8 months since I posted, but in fairness to myself, it’s been a busy 8 months.

The last blog I posted, I was ranting about my housemate. I’m pleased to report I never have to speak to her ever again! We parted ways in September and after a few sparse facebook messages regarding unpaid debts (hers, obviously) I believe we are very much on divergent trajectories. Party popper time!

The reason for this is that I have moved away from my previous city, where I’d spent a happy three years, and to a new town closer to my home-home, a place I’m quite familiar with, to work pretty much my dream job (I’m not an ambitious person: helping wildlife and being outside a lot are my main goals). But most importantly, I have been able to do that with the love of my life, G. We moved in together in September, after eight months together. Madness, glorious, delicious, delightful, intoxicating madness. I can’t tell you how happy I am – every single morning we spend ten minutes snuggled together while I go back to sleep on her shoulder. We bound to each other after work like puppies and shower each other in kisses. We watch TV holding hands and sleep tangled up (I’ve always been terrible at sharing a bed and frequently take the floor over sharing with friends, but somehow, with G, it’s blissful). We are adoring to each other all the time and I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy. We are engaged to be married now, like I knew we would be after about five weeks together. We waited a year to ask, so people don’t think we ought to be sectioned. But we knew. BLISS.

So, no more housemates, anyway.

The other big thing that’s happened is finishing a PhD, and that’s why I didn’t hit my target of reading 20 books a year again. I do think, however, that’s quite a good excuse. I am not a doctor yet because I haven’t sat my viva (the hours-long oral exam). It was the most stressful, panicked time I’ve ever had, I think. I did it with no feedback at all on my thesis, which, honestly, should be some sort of crime on behalf of my supervisors. None of them gave a shit. But I still did it. I don’t have a date for my viva yet, even though I handed in five weeks ago. I doubt they’ve read it yet.

But, you may have noticed, I mentioned the books target! That’s because having time to read again (and being anal and keeping a list of what I’ve read) is what’s fired up the old blogging again. I want to continue the annual tradition of the Book Review. 2022 saw in 15 books (and that’s if you count a teeny tiny joke of a book, more below) but I also did write a book (a 100,000-word thesis on soil), so cut me some slack. Here are the winners and losers of 2022’s literary adventures!

1. Killing Eve: Codename Villanelle. Luke Jennings. 8/10. I read this in, no joke, less than five hours of Flow. I have learned that Flow is the state of pure engagement, where you are so absorbed in your task you are barely conscious of anything else. I have also come to realise I was in Flow so much as a teenager that very little registered – I would pick up a book on the school bus and not look up til I was at my stop. People would talk to me and I wouldn’t hear. My concentration has collapsed catastrophically in the last few years and a book like Killing Eve was a nice reminder that I could get it back. I love a book that sucks you in. I knocked a couple of points off because I think Eve and Villanelle in the book actually weren’t always characterised particularly vividly, and because at the start with the Twelve, they honestly talked like what a young man who was writing a book might imagine twelve global all-consuming baddies would talk like, to the point it was distracting. BUT then it got into its stride and I really enjoyed it. I eagerly await the next couple being kindly lent to me by my girlfriend. Spoiler: Fiona Shaw is only in the TV show, not the books ☹ The book is also pretty different to the TV, but just as good.
2. Shameless: A Sexual Reformation. Nadia Bolz-Weber 9/10. I call myself a Christian. In my last town, I did attend church regularly. I was sort of brought up going to church (a bit inconsistently). This is a book review, not a life story, so I’ll be quick, but I don’t always find organised Christian religion to mesh well with my kind of gay pagan earthiness. But before I moved, I found a wonderful gay church and made lots of new gay Christian friends, which is nice, and one of them lent me this book. Another thing with Christianity is I always feel both out of the loop, but also uninterested in it, when it comes to Christian media – books, music, whatever. I never know what anyone’s talking about, but I also don’t care to find out. And I feel sceptical and suspicious of a general sort of brush-sweep religion even if I know it’s broadly going to be affirming. So I went into this sceptically. But this book (my first Christian book, I think – well, that isn’t the bible, lol) was a pleasant, affirming, thought-provoking, generous surprise.
3. Killing Eve: No Tomorrow (vol. 2). Luke Jennings. 9/10. The second was better than the first, some EXCELLENT gory scenes, some fun satire in there, a brilliant twist, a beautiful cliffhanger …
4. Killing Eve: Die For Me (vol. 3). Luke Jennings. 8/10. Great action, a switch to Eve’s perspective (as opposed to third person) was quite nice and worked well. I liked the ending. I’m not sure I’m satisfied with that political landscape as the ending. I very much enjoyed the character of The Target (carefully letting slip no spoilers). I also really enjoyed Charlie’s arc, actually, and how Eve seamlessly switched, and attention was drawn to Charlie’s struggle for recognition in every conversation they had but without beating you over the head with it (compared to Eve’s total ease with their gender identity). Hopefully that’ll make some people think about their attitude in life (ooh look, a singular grammatically correct ‘their’! fuck your bigotry. Ahem). What else? It spent a bit too long on the north sea platform. But I liked the fight for the pencil! One thing I think I struggle with most is why Eve and Oxana even like each other? Can Oxana love? I don’t think she can. Why has Eve fallen for her? Luke Jennings seems at pains to say ‘they are the same’ a lot, but just because you say it doesn’t make it true. I don’t think that shines through in the writing on its own merits – it is told, not shown. Jennings can know that in his head, he knows his characters more deeply than I can imagine … So I don’t think they’re well matched, to be honest. But I still wanted them to be happy. I wanted Eve to show Oxana a slice of normal life in exchange, which they get.
5. A Curious History of Sex, Kate Lister. 9/10. This is the most enjoyable non-fiction book I’ve ever read. It’s pretty chunky but I read it in about two days – just couldn’t stop. It’s cut into sections, and each section has three quite short chapters, so if feels very accessible and not intimidating. And because they are all so well-linked, and just so interesting (sometimes dark, sometimes hilarious, and the author drops jokes in all the time) you can just tear through it. It also contains photos and illustrations throughout, including some excellent Victorian pornography. I took a point off (9/10) because I felt like the author didn’t touch on some obvious topics that maybe needed more exploration, like the advent of accessible hardcore porn, a broader range of technology and sex, or even sex as a weapon or tool. But I suppose each of those could be their own book. Maybe her next one. Kate Lister is on twitter at whoresofyore.
6. Cunk on Everything, Philomena Cunk (Diane Morgan?) 6/10. This had a lot of very funny lines in it but it is a book of nonsense written by a character, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I was wasting my time. It wasn’t funny enough to make up for that in my opinion. But it did have some absolute belters.
7. The Paying Guests, Sarah Waters. 9.5/10. Almost perfect. The second phase of the story just dragged out a tiny weeny bit long. But it’s almost flawless. It’s the first book I’ve read that really got the flush of discovery, passion, the joy of sex and liberation whilst maintaining the real fear – but also everything is so normal – I’m not doing a good job of this today – but I loved it. it’s got everything. Mystery, intrigue, romance, suspense, corners, characters you really care about. Tipping the Velvet, next.
8. Tipping the Velvet, Sarah Waters 9.5/10. Again, almost perfect. I love the scene-setting – the Whitstable oyster shop and the steamy smoky canterbury music halls the best, actually, which are at the very beginning. But Sarah Waters keeps up that flair for really taking you to a place the whole way through, from the richest rooms in London to the dankest alleys, from the softest shoes to sorest feet. The thing is, the main character (narrator), Nancy – I find her so unpredictable! She does so many things where I’m left, like, “Eh??!!” She actually has a good arc though – becoming lazy, jealous, pettish and unlikeable before crashing back to earth and A Certain Character really pulling her round, but not deliberately – Nancy returns to her oyster-shucking self without noticing just because of a good influence, I think. It has lesbian sex in it without being cringy (quite the opposite). Let’s go lesbians let’s go!! It has an interesting, almost ambiguous, ending – leaves a lot. At the end of a very thick book you’re left feeling like it was just the beginning.
9. Posh Boys: How English Public Schools Ruin Britain, Robert Verkaik. 6/10. Dry. Also names loads of characters which mostly, you won’t remember (a few names from the news stick, obviously, but he goes back hundreds of years in a family in some cases). However, it’s a nice dissection of the absolute bullshit that is ‘meritocracy’, and explains many dimensions of why we are fucked as a nation.
10. Bloody Jack, L.A. Meyer 8/10. I’ve read this loads of times, it’s one of my most well-thumbed, tattered books. I got it the Christmas I was ten. I thought it’d be right up my girlfriend’s street – she loves swashbuckling historical fiction, Victoriana (or rather 30 years pre-Victoria if you wanna get picky), cheap and cheerful yarns that spin you a wild thread for pure fun, as ridiculous as you like if it comes with nuggets of past lives and adventures. Me, too. So, before I lent it her, I re-read it for the first time in a while to see if it’s as good as I remembered and check whether she’d like it. It is, and she will (with the above description in mind, and the fact it is a YA novel). It’s the first book of, I think, twelve, actually, I’ve got them all and love them a lot. I love Jacky, the character. Also, re-reading it now, there’s lots of things that she says in the book, like when inspiration for a cartoon comes to her and she says “I must learn to draw” – or, beached, “I must learn to swim” – lots of things that throughout the books she does indeed learn to do, and do very well (I love her as a character who makes things happen and has an unquenchable thirst for learning and also, bullshitting).
11. Don’ts For Wives (1913), Blanche Ebbutt 8/10 (for comedy value/some pithy remarks and some rare actual good advice). I don’t know if this counts as a book because it’s tiny. My wife (this comes so easily although we aren’t married yet) bought it for me as a joke. But it does contain some genuine advice, such as “Don’t think that, because you have married for love, you can never know a moment’s unhappiness. Life is not a bed of roses, but love will help extract the thorns.” And some which would do well for many undervalued women today, like “Don’t be talked down to by your husband when you want to express your views on any subject. You have a right to be heard… Don’t let him dictate to you… Although you are willing to be led, you are not to be driven” and “Don’t let him have any financial secrets from you. You are partners, and you have as much right to know what is the balance at the bank as he has.” But it also contains some gems like “Make yourself extra charming and arrange delicious dinners”, “Don’t grudge him a couple of handkerchiefs a day”, “Nerves are often due to too much tea as too much worry” (hilarious), and “Usually a woman is very good at small economics but often a man has a better grip on essentials in spending large amounts”. Oh NO, what will we do?!
12. My Family and Other Animals, Gerald Durrell. 10/10 Books like these make me remember why I love to read. It’s all well and good reading a high educational nonfiction but it drags for weeks because you just can’t really bite –  and then I picked this up and gobbled it in days. Dad’s been telling me to read it for nigh on twenty years and now I have, I know I should have much sooner! It’s now one of my favourite books ever. It’s absolutely ridiculous and of course while many of the characters would be insufferable in real life (they all have a very blithe pre-war English upper/middle class “Everything will be fine because someone else will take care of it” attitude), Gerry writes of his family so observantly, and quotes their most hilarious statements and moments, that they become quite likeable and charming. I absolutely adored his wonderful descriptions of wild and semi-tamed Corfu, from the hills and the sea to the olive groves, and I’m terribly envious of his four wilderness years where he roamed almost as he pleased. There were several moments in the book where I laughed out loud, and one where I laughed for a couple of pages straight about the Bootle-Bumtrinket. We’ve moved on a bit in terms of his and his families’ attitudes to other people (he does refer to them as peasants, which may or may not be correct but feels supercilious, among other offhand remarks that wouldn’t fly now), and indeed to wildlife and the capture thereof, but you can’t fault his adventure and his storytelling.
13. Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson. 9.5/10 I enjoyed this so much. It’s weird. It’s my kinda weird. It has so many threads in it and it’s told in a really unselfconscious, blithe way that I am a huge fan of. It also drops in and out of fairy tales which are like a supplemental undercurrent – it reads like a fairy tale itself, but it’s like I can feel how I’m supposed to draw the threads together but I need another go. This will be a book of re-reads. The book is actually really hard to describe. It’s experimental, and as Dodie Smith once wrote, innovations in literature happen less often than other arts. So I think we should celebrate that. It also deals with a couple of subjects particularly close to my own heart and I love the way that the character, bullied and shamed, refuses to change, refuses to accept the shame, just steadfastly ploughs her own course with all the tools her mother inadvertently taught her and can now be used against her. I was satisfied with the ending too.
14. Labyrinth, Kate Mosse. 6/10. Kate Mosse clearly poured heart, soul and years into this book. It’s a behemoth. But it’s a bit too jumpy for me, back in time and forward, or from scene to scene or hotel to hotel. She keeps most secrets too close to her chest for too long, so it becomes frustrating in large parts rather than tantalising. I don’t feel the book ever gives a true pay-off. It’s not entirely satisfying or convincing. And it doesn’t explain enough about the book-treasures for me to truly care enough about the characters’ motives. You kind of get everything in the end (although thinking now, did we find out what happened to Shelagh?! I suppose we must have, but for such a supposedly important character, that must have been a footnote), but you need to have held on to way too many threads. I probably wouldn’t recommend it. It’s a serious investment of time and while I felt tied enough to get to the end, it was a slog.
15. Book of Trespass, Nick Hayes. 9/10. I bloody love this book, it is brilliant. This artist, Nick Hayes, roams the countryside, illustrating it and enjoying it and picking apart its vast unexplored political history. It is a social commentary on how we came to be in this trammelled country where we great unwashed are barred from the grand estates even now. He explores how land and power are intertwined, supporting each other. And he explains the roots of power, ownership, protest and belonging in a beautifully poetic way, he really ‘feels’ and this comes across in his heartfelt and calmly (and rightly) furious book, and he will make you feel it all too. I recommend reading along with Guy Shrubsole’s Who Owns England for the full experience. I bet they’re friends. I hope they are.

My top picks are Luke Jennings for punchy, easy-to-read fiction; Sarah Waters for an emotional (and sexy) journey; Gerald Durrell for beauty and hilarity; and Nick Hayes for a poetic education in land justice.

I got so many books for Christmas – and some for last Christmas that I still haven’t read! – that I shall be kept thoroughly busy for 2023 and beyond.

I write this for myself as much as any (or perhaps no) audience but if you read this I hope you are happy and well and thriving and also finding something great to read. I hope to be blogging again a bit more regularly, if I can find things I want to say!

With much love to Internet Pals

Yours literarararily

Georgie

In Other News

So much to choose from, I’m going to have to start writing things down again because I feel like G and I spend 90% our time together in stitches, she’s so funny. And I wind her up – so for example, the first one that comes to mind was me squashing the palms of my hands over my eye sockets so they made a squelching sound and I thought it was very funny but it made G say this actual sentence, new to human history: “Babe, stop farting with your eyes, so help me God.” And then neither of us stopped laughing for about half an hour.