Forthcoming books

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:38 am by Mark MacLean

31 October 2017: To The Islands, Randolph Stow, venue TBA.
05 December 2017: The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton, venue TBA.
23 January 2018: The Ministry of Utmost Happiness / The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy, venue TBA.
Giuseppe di Lampedusa: The Leopard
Paul Beatty: White Boy Shuffle
Min Jin Lee: Pachinko
Ryan O’Neill Their Brilliant Careers


Book 218: The Golden Legend

Posted in Uncategorized at 3:30 pm by Mark MacLean

Golden_Legend26 September 2017, at Suzanne’s

What follows is a review of reviews: as a guest of the reading group I had not actually read Nadeem Aslam’s novel, so please bear that in mind as you read on.

The Golden Legend is set in contemporary Pakistan, a nation riven by conflict and division, both internal and external. Politics and religion (not necessarily in that order) provide the backdrop to the seemingly random, barbarous and oftentimes plain stupid actions that throw the characters’ lives in tumult. The book opens with an accidental shooting of architect Massud, whose death sets in train a sequence of events that are catastrophic for his wife, Nargis, and their extended family.

A common theme emerged among the readers: this was a story that was ‘enlightening’ (HB), ‘fast-paced’ and ‘well drawn’ (SM), and full of ‘magnificent imagery’ (JW). But, for some, the book was endured rather than enjoyed. HB read it with ‘horrified fascination’, while MB skipped some parts that felt like ‘the stuff of nightmares’.

Structurally, KH felt that it flagged midpoint, while CB felt that there were two or three books competing to fit inside the one novel. (KH commented that this was something of an issue in Aslam’s previous novel, The Blind Man’s Garden.) CH commented, by post, on some ‘overly romantic’ plot elements, and there was a general sense of occasional clunkiness in character. Having said, that everyone, I felt, agreed with Lara Feigel, who says in her Guardian review:

If character is secondary to archetype, this reflects the reality of a world in which the individual is frequently secondary to collective ideology.

The book certainly inspired lots (lots) of discussion. We roamed from the West’s historical impact on Middle Eastern politics to the processes and motivations of radicalisation, women’s (and girls’) education and – ultimately – the sense that this was a world we do not, and may not ever, clearly understand.

Our thanks go to Suzanne for hosting at short notice. Also, our marks:

Karen 7; Jane 8; Suzanne 7; Helen 8; Christine 7; Simon 7; Charles 8 (post); Marion 8 (by post); Wendy 8 (by post); Jo 8 (provided later). Average = 7.6.



Book 216: Autumn

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:03 am by Mark MacLean

Autumn_smith29 August 2017: Christine’s

Ali Smith is an author whom most of us are familiar with, perhaps through reading How to be both (or others of her 14-or-so books) or, maybe, because her name has been mentioned in relation to the Booker prize in recent times. In any case, Autumn is her latest offering and, if The Guardian is to be believed, we will expect three more books in her ‘seasonal’ series.

Autumn is set in post-Brexit England where two former neighbours have reunited in difficult circumstances as the century-old Daniel Gluck lies in a deep sleep (just resting apparently) while his former mentee, Elisabeth Demand, is a regular visitor at his bedside. There are flashbacks to Daniel’s earlier days as well as to scenes which marked the development of his charming relationship with the very young and bright Elisabeth. Into this mix are thrown elements such: as Elisabeth’s present-day anger (rage, even) over Britain’s decision to leave the European Union and the polarisation that this has caused / exposed; her ongoing battle with bureaucracy to gain a British passport; & (Elisabeth’s mother) Wendy’s infatuation with a TV game show (The Golden Gavel) and her subsequent relationship with (is anyone owning up to being a) psychoanalyst (anymore) Zoe. Other, more juicy, narratives are explored as we are: introduced to Daniel’s ex-lover (and real-life character), Pauline Boty, and a whole world of art and tragedy associated with her short but brilliant career; & reminded of the chaos and wonder of the Profumo Affair.

This is a novel in which Smith tries to evoke the recollection of strong memories by Elisabeth and Daniel. Each of these memories is offered up to the reader not as an even narrative but as a bright re-experiencing by the character, stripped of a certain amount of detail and context as happens with the passing of time and with the protection of selectivity. Most of the book group members thought that the author had succeeded rather well on this score – but we were generally more interested in (80-year-old) Daniel’s gentle management of his relationship with the child Elisabeth, which Jane described as a “… love affair (platonic at that) between curiosity and wisdom”. At this point Suzanne recalled an extraordinary part of the book (around p. 201) when Daniel counselled a troubled Elisabeth about the benefits of forgetting in times of distress.

Book group members generally liked this offering. Smith’s treatment of memory worked for most of us but a few found that the sudden flashes of narrative infused the book with a clunky unevenness. A few of us were put off by Elisabeth’s jousts with bureaucracy in her attempts to secure a passport and some found that Wendy’s character lacked credibility. On the whole, however, there was a strong appreciation of what Ali Smith has achieved with this book. Moreover, we are all searching the archives for traces of the incandescent Pauline Boty and her ground-breaking art.

The scores were: Marian 6; Suzanne 8; Simon 7; Helen 9; Jane 7; Jo 7; Christine abstained; Judith 8; Karen 7; Charles 7; Wendy 6. Average = 7.2

Thanks to Christine for being a gracious host on a cold evening (winter’s last gasp?). Bring on Nadeem Aslam’s The golden legend.



Book 215: Island Home

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:16 pm by Mark MacLean

Island_Home25 July 2017, Wendy’s

As the marks for tonight’s book attest, the group was divided in its opinion of Island Home.

On the plus side, many of the group members really enjoyed the book, with particular enjoyment of the prose. Marion described the language as “impressive”. Suzanne felt he made “word pictures”, while Wendy felt the prose was “symphonic”! Even the non-fans e.g. Charlie, felt it was “good descriptive writing”.

There were mixed reactions to his attitudes to the land, ranging from finding him sincere and honest in his love of the landscape and its “sacredness”, to Judith’s belief that he is too precious about it and Charlie feeling there was too much emphasis on the “unknowable”. Not having been a fan of Winton’s in the past, Simon thought his writing had matured and he now had a new-found respect for him. He particularly liked (echoed by Helen and Suzanne), his critical stance on some of the “holy cows” of Australian culture such as Anzac Day. Also, his criticism of the actions of figures such as Lang Hancock and Campbell Newman. However, it must be said, that in this instance he was preaching to the converted in many of us!

On the subject of preaching . .  a criticism levelled at Winton by some of the group was that the writing felt like preaching. Karen reported (from Sri Lanka!) that she found it repetitive and she did not engage with the book. Jo thinks his fiction writing is better. Despite the sad and tragic history he recounts, Winton did find some optimism at the conclusion, in that there appears to be the stirrings of a burgeoning respect for the land among many Australians.

Most of those present agreed that the book gave us all a longing to go to W.A., though Wendy thought the writing felt true for all of Australia, despite being about W.A .

Christine added that Winton articulated ideas she had not been able to put into words before.

A very interesting and thought-provoking discussion.

Marks: Jo 7; Judith 6; Marion  9; Simon 8; Wendy 8; Helen 9; Jane 8; Charlie 5; Suzanne 9; Karen 5; Christine 9.

Avg: 7.6 (rounded up)

Review by HB


Book 214: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Posted in Uncategorized at 4:26 pm by Mark MacLean

Hitchhikers_Guide4 July 2017, at Judith’s

Don’t panic! A sneaky extra book in the middle of the month! Something short, something light-hearted, something considered a classic: Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. (Though I note no possessive apostrophe in the retro UK first-edition cover, at right.)

It seems like a million years ago when Adams first appeared, but he seemed to go from zero to ubiquitous on about 15 seconds flat. As is often the case with ‘classics’, it was a very difficult book to judge. If one enjoys the experience of (re)reading it, is it because the book is indeed a classic, or is it invoking the warm fuzzies of youth? If one does not enjoy it, does that in any way devalue its ‘classic’ status? A couple of people hadn’t read the book but most had; this did not seem to affect our overall response.

It was, we all agreed, a rather pedestrian read. It invoked the feeling you get when you accidentally catch an episode of Dad’s Army or Some Mother’s Do Have ‘Em on midday TV. Did we really laugh at this shit, back in the day?

Apparently we did. Lots of us. Or perhaps ‘them’, not ‘us’, the ‘them’ being the kinds of people who could recite entire Monty Python skits on the school bus, the kinds of people who have beards and drink real ale and always win at quiz night. This brought up an interesting thread: Is it a blokes’ book? (And, subthread, what is a ‘blokes’ book’?)

And another subthread: what constitutes a good funny book? Judith pointed out that Howard Jacobson has written extensively on the way in which the comic novel is seriously undervalued. (‘Show me a novel that’s not comic and I’ll show you a novel that’s not doing its job,’ says Jacobson.) Among the suggestions for classic comic novels were Catch 22, Candide and even Slaughterhouse 5, but we all agreed that the pickings were slim. Bill Bryson was nominated as an outstanding comic writer, but of non-fiction. Subsubthread 42 for the night (see what I did there?): is it easier to write comic non-fiction than comic fiction? If so, why?

You’ll guess from the above that the conversation was wide-ranging, discursive and a lot of fun. In other words, the Guide was one of those books that inspires conversation rather than analysis. Charles brought us back to the book by pointing out, before we started to become too dismissive, that it was in fact a collection of radio skits, bound together by strong and easily recognisable characters. At times Adams seemed to be doing no more than meeting word-count quotas; at other times he could come up with lines such as “The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t”, a line that’s appeared in almost every writer’s guide I’ve ever read.

There are dozens of quotes from Adams that have entered popular culture, so many that the Guide can’t simply be a pedestrian collection of thrown-together radio skits. No-one might keep a copy in their back pocket as a way of attracting and connecting with fellow travellers, but if you asked a tribesman in the darkest Amazon what is the meaning of life, the world and everything, he’d be able to provide you with That Number.

We didn’t mark it. How could we? But we did have a great night. Or, as Arthur Dent might have said, “I’d far rather be happy than right any day.”


Book 213: The Diary of a Nobody

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:12 pm by Mark MacLean

Diary_of_a_nobody27 June 2017, at Jane’s

Diary of a nobody by George & Weedon Grossmith, first Published in 1892.

A bit of context is always useful. George Grossmith was, amongst other things, an English comedian and writer of sketches and comic operas. He was also a leading man in Gilbert & Sullivan Operettas and even created characters and contributed to some of the many G & S songs- arguably the most famous being the (very model of a modern) Major General in The pirates of Penzance. Brother Walter Weedon Grossmith (better known as Weedon) was an English writer, playwright and painter who provided the illustrations for Diary of a nobody.

The diary is that of Mr Charles Pooter: an ‘ordinary’ man; resident of Brickfield Terrace in Holloway in the borough of Islington; husband of Carrie; a lowly bank clerk by profession; and as self-righteous, bumbling and accident-prone as any man has a right to be. Mr Pooter is at once pompous and humble, respectable and disrespected, sensible and ridiculous. He is the archetype for so many comic creations to follow. Doubtless characters from Ralph Kramdon to Homer Simpson owe much to Charlie Pooter. Notably, Evelyn Waugh described the diary as “the funniest book in the world”.

Not much happens in Mr Pooter’s life. Typically he goes to work for his employer, Mr Perkupp, and then returns to his wife Carrie and their freeloading friends Cummings and Gowings. Son Lupin (he of the Holloway comedians) comes to stay for a while before forging links with luminaries such as Murray and Daisy Posh (Murray being the manufacturer responsible for a brand of cheap hats) and launching his career upon the unsuspecting financial community of London. Meanwhile there are cameos involving: adventures in spiritualism with Mrs James Sutton; meetings with ‘hilarious’ impersonators of stage characters such as Mr Burwin-Fosselton; and encounters with old school chums such as Teddy Farnsworth. Otherwise Mr Pooter grudgingly takes on the chore of dealing with the lower classes: maids, butchers, house-painters and junior clerks, and the like, who seem to take every opportunity to bring him down a peg or two. Added to all this is Mr Pooter’s dreadful sense of humour –viz:

He said he wouldn’t stay, as he didn’t care much for the smell of the paint, and fell over the scraper as he went out. Must get the scraper removed, or else I shall get into a scrape. I don’t often make jokes.

This is a satire on being ‘ordinary’, with Charles and Carrie being the lower middle class targets. Still, they are happy and take every opportunity to celebrate their tiny blessings with a bottle or two of Jackson-Freres champagne- at 2/6 each.

The book group members were pretty happy with this little book and no-one had any major misgivings. The book was described as gently humorous and there was much comment about the book as a forerunner to other diaries about other ‘ordinary’ characters such as Adrian Mole and Bridget Jones. Most loved the way that Mr Pooter’s precious dignity was brought to heal – such as the time that he and Carrie were ‘honoured’ to be invited to the Mayoral Ball only to find ‘common tradesmen’ also in attendance.

Marian described the book as funny and delightful – especially in the way that it poked at the English class structure. Suzanne saw parallels with modern British humour – especially in the depictions of upper class, middle class and lower/working class characters by the Monty Python team and the Two Ronnies. Added to this we all liked the banter between Charlie and Lupin – a clear indication that the entitlement of youth and the exasperation of parents is something that we share with our predecessors. Helen commented that she would have liked to have heard from at least one of the other diary characters. Generally, however, all agreed that the Grossmiths had achieved something rare: a comic novella which was, especially for its time, original and humorous.

After all the hoopla the scores were:

Judith 8; Wendy 6.5; Simon 6; Suzanne 7; Karen 6; Jane 6; Helen 6.5; Charles 7; Marian 6. Average = 6.6

Thanks to Jane for being such a gracious host!



Book 212: Fear

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:53 pm by Mark MacLean

FearTuesday, 20 May 2017, Simon & Helen’s

Dirk Kurbjuweit, a resident of Berlin and Hamburg, is deputy editor-in-chief at Der Spiegel. He has received numerous awards for journalism and has written several novels. Fear (novel number seven, or eight maybe) has drawn acclaim from various sources, including an effusive review from our old friend Herman Koch.

The book group members were of the same mind, pretty much, in our reviews of this book: no-one was terribly offended by it but none was over the moon either. Discussion was lengthy and wide-ranging and we took some time to explore the perils of living in post WW2 Western Europe during the cold war given the proximity of antagonistic militarised states with totalitarian rulers, extreme ideologies and the bomb to back them up. Things have ameliorated somewhat following the fall of the Soviet system and its Warsaw Pact but new tensions accompany the emergence of Putin’s Russia. These tensions are explored as a sort of ambient layer added to the angst experienced by the protagonists in Fear.

Essentially this is the story of an ‘average’ middle-class Berlin family, the Tiefenthaler’s – Randolph, Rebecca and their two children Paul and Fay – who move into a nice apartment in suburban Berlin. Randolph has a successful business as an architect while Rebecca lives a life divided between the happiness that she has with her children and frustrations associated with leaving her career as a scientist and researcher. Randolph and Rebecca have a lot of first-world angst which they offload by sponsoring kiddies in the third-world and fluffy animals in the zoo. They take pride in their righteous lifestyle but reveal their soft underbellies at alcohol-fuelled soirees with their equally successful middle class peers. Their marriage is under strain at the start of the novel and Randolph reacts by sneaking off to Michelin-hatted restaurants where he spends much time and a substantial part the family’s income.

Meanwhile Dieter, the man occupying the apartment below, becomes ever more intrusive, baking cookies and pizza for them at first but then surveilling them and subsequently making (unfounded as it turns out) allegations to the police about child sexual abuse. Dieter also has a crush on Rebecca, leaving her romantic poems which become increasingly sexualised. Things start to happen: Randolph and Rebecca draw closer to each other and their relationship blossoms; meanwhile, Randolph also draws closer to his parents and his brother – although his main motive is to manipulate his gun-obsessed father into taking up arms against Dieter. The Tiefenthalers become not only fearful of Dieter but they begin to objectify him as the Utermensch. Moreover their concerns are amplified when they realise that Dieter is being supported in his accommodation by the kindness of his landlord and the largesse of the German Welfare State. A sense of desperation takes hold as police remain unwilling to deal with Dieter’s behaviour since he has done nothing against the law. The option to have Dieter dealt with becomes more pressing with each passing moment.

As mentioned earlier, Fear has its fans. Lou Murphy, writing for the Newtown Review of Books (posting dated 28 March 2017) opined:

This aptly titled novel is an indelible examination of middle-class values, relationships, masculinity, identity, violence, history and fear that comes full circle to a conclusion as shocking as it is logical. A finely crafted and disturbing psychological thriller.

Alas the general opinion amongst book group members was that Kurbjuweit’s writing was rather wooden. Most agreed that the first 100 pages-or-so offered a promising build-up towards the suspenseful ending which did not eventuate. There was comment that this was a turgid effort and hardly a page-turner- but that this may be a product of poor translation. Ah to be able to read in several languages!

Finally, even the twist at the end was telegraphed to the reader. It was clear that something shocking was about to be revealed and, ta dah, it was. The choices were: were Randolph and Rebecca really child molesters? AND/OR was Randolph or his brother the real killer? No-one, it seems, held their breath.

Scores were as follows: Judith 6; Karen 6; Helen 6; Marian 6; Suzanne 7; Charles 5. Average: you guessed it.

What was that Wendy: something about the damning of faint praise?



Book 211: His Bloody Project

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:11 pm by Mark MacLean

His_Bloody_Project25 April 2017, at Judith’s

Graeme Macrae-Burnet (GM-B) was nominated for the 2016 Man-
Booker prize for this effort which generated healthy sales, out-selling the other shortlisted authors for a good while there.

Essentially the story outlines the life and times of the fictional Macraes – a family of crofters living in Culdui in the northern highlands of Scotland (which does exist – as do Applecross, Camusterrach, Toscaig etc.). In particular, the story is propelled, if that is the word, by a confession by Roderick Macrae as he awaits trial for the ‘murder’ of his neighbour and nemesis, Laughlin Mackenzie. According to Justine Jordan of the Guardian (August 12th, 2016):

“Documents relating to the case of Roderick Macrae”, His Bloody Project contains the 17-year-old crofter’s memoir, written while awaiting trial in Inverness in 1869 for three brutal murders, and “discovered” by the author while researching his own Highland roots. This manuscript, we are teasingly informed, divided the Edinburgh literati of the time, who feared a rerun of James Macpherson’s 18th-century literary hoax Ossian and considered it “quite inconceivable that a semi-literate peasant could produce such a sustained and eloquent piece of writing”. The apparently guileless account of how Roderick did indeed enter the house of his overbearing neighbour with croman, flaughter and murderous intent (a glossary is provided) is complicated by witness statements, medical reports and a journalistic account of the trial. It also includes a psychological report on Roderick by the real-life prison doctor James Bruce Thomson, who has firm opinions on the characteristics and proclivities of the “criminal class”.

Discussion at Judith’s bubbled away, with most of us smitten with the book. Those on board “loved the detail” constructed by the author – and some were clearly emotionally involved with some attesting that their “heart was torn out” by the crofter’s tales of hardship. There was much discussion about how the people of Culdui were ensnared by Laughlan Mackenzie and how GM-B was able to crank up the tension as young Roddy became increasingly distressed by a series of injustices against his family until he could see only one way out of his predicament. As the red mist descended upon him, the otherwise gentle Roddy began a Manson-esque murder spree. Was Roddy just a man driven too far or was he a craven sociopath showing his true colours? Ultimately, there was discussion about the debate in the story as to whether Roddy was insane at the time of the murder. The old tropes about murderers being touched by insanity at the time of their deeds came up and we delved briefly into the more esoteric realms of ‘moral insanity’ and the M’Naghton rule for the determination of responsibility.

Jane commented that His bloody project was somewhat similar to Burial rights albeit that the former had more fictional elements. I must confess that I was under the misapprehension that GM-B had based his novel on more historical fact than was the case. Judith lamented that the book did not hold her interest all that well and I am afraid that I must agree. There was a wide spread of scores but, in the main, the book made a positive impression.

Scores: Jo 8; Simon 9; Helen 7; Karen 6; Charles 4; Wendy 8; Judith 6; Jane 6; Christine (email) 7. Average score = 6.8

Many thanks to Judith, ably assisted by the lovely Priscilla, who hosted in her new home for the first time.



Book 210: Man Tiger

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:59 am by Mark MacLean

man-tiger29 March 2017, at the Harmon home (minus Charles)

The book received mixed reviews culminating in discussion about high and low sixes as our scores reflected conflict of what a six really meant (you had to be there!). We were all keen to read an Indonesian author as most had not read any other Indonesian writers. The book opens with the ending – a murder, going back to explore the story that led to the murder, always knowing the perpetrator and the victim.

The story is set in a small town on the Indonesian coast and tells the story of two interlinked and tormented families and of Margio, a young man who conceals within himself a supernatural female white tiger. Margio’s grandfather has told him the story of how the white tiger is passed down the family line and it is the tiger that perpetrates the violent murder. This opening act of violence and its mysterious cause is unravelled as events progress toward a heartbreaking story of domestic violence, affairs and family problems.

The group was also divided in its sense of place, some feeling they could clearly picture the small Indonesian village, others not taken there. Most agreed however that some of the issues that were borne out were universal ie domestic violence and that it depicted the inequities and betrayals of family life with a cultural twist of the white tiger that inhabited Margio. We all would have liked more exploration the grandfather’s story of the white tiger and its cultural context as well as Margio’s relationship with his grandfather, a character we all liked.

Review: KH

Scores were as follows: Simon 7; Karen 5; Helen 6; Judith 6; Jane 5; Charles 5; Marion 7; Jo 6.

Book 209: These Are The Names

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:55 am by Mark MacLean

these_are_the_names28 February 2017, at Marion’s.

It was a somewhat depleted book group that met at Marion’s  – Christine was at Uni, Helen and Simon off in Noosa, Charles in Tamworth, Jo was moderating several thousand speech therapists on the internet, Karen was just back from Sydney and snuffling with a nasty cold, and Mark was living it up in Lightning Ridge. However, the remaining members had a very convivial evening with lots of good discussion.

The title gives us a broad hint of the near-biblical saga to come, as a group of migrants from an unidentified place in Middle Asia search for their promised land in the west. Two separate stories are told in alternate chapters, but the reader knows that the stories and characters will collide at some point. These are the Names is a quote from Exodus 1:1 “Now these are the names of the children of Israel, which came into Egypt; every man and his household came with Jacob.” Throughout the book there are parallels between the Flight into Egypt and the the wanderings of the refugees, who endure incredible hardship. Other refugee stories were referenced – Charles has pointed out similarities with the Oakies from John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath. Although not all the refugees have names, their characters are developed well, as is their deterioration as they are progressively stripped of “their possessions; their pasts; their identities and their lives”.

Also the character of Pontus Beg, the flawed Chief of Police in the parallel story – getting old, craving love and respect, a little bit corrupt (so the police can get paid at the end of the month), but not without humour – is beautifully drawn.

To quote (in bits) Simon:

The migrants have no names, except for Vitaly, and latterly the Ethiopian, who is given the name Africa by his fellow travellers. As they search for their destination, Pontus Beg searches for some meaning to his life, something other than the daily routine of running a police station in a small town, tackling petty crime, aiding and abetting the corrupt imposition of fines. The migrants start out with a strange set of rules and superstitions: they keep away from people with red hair; they are suspicious of the Ethiopian, who knows how to find food, how to deal with the hardships of the journey better than they can. Eventually, when things get too bad, he has to be killed, his head carried on the journey as a talisman. Instead of reaching the fabled west, land of riches and plenty, they wash up – finally – in Michailopol, victims of a cruel trick. This is up there with the fake lifejackets and the trains bound for “Germany”, but which pull up hours later at an internment camp.

Pontus Beg happens on the last rabbi in Michailopol, befriends him and then decides that he himself might – just – be Jewish. Is he? The rabbi, Zelman Eder, is sceptical, but by the end of the book Pontus has decided that it’s a certainty. It’s another step in his search for meaning, for something better. How wonderful, he thinks, to immerse oneself in the mikveh and wash away all of the bad things from the past, all of the deals, the corrupt acts, the wrongful arrests.

Most of the group thought that the characters of both stories were well drawn. Minor criticisms: one or two had doubts about the Rabbi; Wendy found the beginning rather slow; Simon, Helen and Judith thought the ending weak – couldn’t see the boy’s travel to Israel as either an option or a solution. Jo, however, found it a bit annoying – she didn’t like any of the characters, and “women were just in it to have sex with boring and unattractive men, and the whole Jewish thing felt like a plot device to make the metaphor of travelling across to new lands legit.” Most, though, found it an “easy read” (sorry, Howard Jacobson) and obviously a good translation.

Overall, a very positive response (see marks below), thanks to Simon for introducing us to a little-known writer, and I’m off in search of Wieringa’s other books, particularly Joe Speedboat.

Marks: Marion 6, Jane 8, Wendy 8, Judith 7, Suzanne 9, Charles 8, Karen 8, Simon 8, Helen 8, Jo 6. Average 7.6.


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