Definitely recommended...

Packing my 15 holiday kilos recently, playing see-saw with my ToBeRead pile, as I begrudgingly acknowledged  that there could be a place in my life for a Kindle, I decided that whatever doom and gloom we hear about the publishing industry, the quality of accessible writing is just as good as it ever was. I packed:
* A Cupboard full of Coats by Yvvette Edwards - lovely writing style, this one’s to finish
* A Parachute in the Lime Tree by Annemarie Neary - I liked the look of this under the guise of research into the war period for a novel I might write
* The Sacrificial Man by Ruth Dugdall - because I’m a big fan of The Woman Before Me (see below)
* Love Gudrun Ensslin by Simon Corbin - no, I don’t really understand the title either but my respected writer-friend wrote it and he’s waited long enough for my thoughts.

I shall let you know what I think of this little collection, but for now, here are just some of the books which have blown me away over the years.

The Devil’s Music by Jane Rusbridge
Oh dear. How destructive family secrets can be. Andrew's had a difficult life at the hands of his angry father and grieving and absent mother. He isn't the easiest of characters himself but the peek into his life shows that he deserves some happiness. Will he achieve the closure needed to affect this?
One word springs to mind: lyrical. This tale is so beautifully descriptive and emotional, the characters incredibly complex and believable. I read this twice which is unheard of for me.

Room by Emma Donoghue
So much has been written about this Man Booker and Orange, amongst many other awards, nominated novel that I only really need to say that I feel its adulation is absolutely justified. Seeing five year old Jack’s captivity through his eyes is not as distressing as it may seem because his young and equally damaged mother has done such a good job of trying to give her child an acceptable existence in the most disturbing of circumstances. I’m not generally a fan of sequels but I would love to know how Jack and his mother got on in the ‘real’ world.

Simon’s Choice by Charlotte Castle
I read the first part of Simon's Choice on the writer's site, Authonomy, and once I could get my hot little hands on it, read the book in two nights. The premise is so clever. It's such a ridiculously illogical answer to give a child, particularly when you think that most parents will try not to lie, just give answers as tactfully as possible. But how on earth would you answer a dying child's desperate and scared plea for a hand to hold in the unknown world to which they're headed? Simon said what so many of us would have said and then he had to fathom out how to deal with his promise.
This is a gripping read with an ending I found very satisfying.

Alphabet by Kathy Page
A wonderful psychological drama. In-mate Simon is terrifyingly pleasant some of the time, the rest he's just terrifying. He admits he committed the crime and he's trying so hard to find redemption but he, and those trying to help him, are struggling to get into his mind. I was blown away by this book and when I learnt that author Kathy Page was a writer in residence in a men's prison it wasn't a surprise. Her attention to detail is brilliant, the picture she draws of prison life in the 80s in Britain is enlightening.

Glasshopper by Isabel Ashdown
Talk to anybody who’s read Glasshopper and they will pout and remember wistfully how adorable 13 year old Jake is, and how they wish they could give him a hug. Told expertly through Jake’s voice and that of his troubled mother, Mary, Glasshopper is the story of her descent into alcoholism. Jake tries his best to care for her while coping with the fact that his father and older brother have left home.
If you are someone known to weep at novels, you will not escape wet eyes with this one. However, the way most characters deal with, and accept, their own and each other's demons and failings makes this a strangely upbeat kind of read.

Also great in this genre: Hide and Seek by Clare Sambrook.

The Woman Before Me by Ruth Dugdall
Cate, newly returned to work as a single mum after a period of depression, is the ultimate decision maker in whether convicted murderer, Rose Wilks, will be let out of prison early. Cate must decide if Rose shows remorse for her crime but this requires Rose to take responsibility for a crime she claims she did not commit. Fragile Cate’s few unsatisfactory meetings with Rose and the people from her past form the basis of a terrifyingly subjective decision process. Will she make the right choice? Rose is pivotal in her getting it right but she’s playing games.
This is a page-turner with heaps of character observation to chew over. Wait for the twist at the end before you decide if justice has been done.

Another favourite psychological drama is, Chosen by Lesley Glaister.

Flying Under Bridges by Sandi Toksvig
I’ve sneaked this one in as one of my all-time favourites, I just checked to see that it’s still in print, which it is, and Amazon tells me that I bought it in May 2003. As you might expect, it’s absolutely riddled with dry humour and wry observation – even though the central character is talking to us from Holloway. It’s satirical writing at its best.

Tea With Guppies by Marika Cobbold is a similarly witty-serious drama I’d highly recommend.

I’ve also read and loved the mind-messing, Defending Jacob by William Landay, the beautifully atmospheric, Rook by Jane Rusbridge, the desperately sad and yet uplifting, Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward and the ‘Marmite’ book of, Before I go to Sleep by SJ Watson but as reviews of these are due to be published in Chase Magazine soon, I shall let you read them there first ;)

I’d love to know your favourite reads.  Until my TBR pile reaches the ceiling, I’m always open to suggestions.

The Novel in your Hand

Sun setting, men tending to the early summer barbecue, children playing sweetly together in the vast fields attached to the camp site and the scene is set for a much loved relative and I to have a glass of wine together. I ask about the novel in her hand and she talks enthusiastically about the brilliance of this book, how she doesn't want it to finish and how she’d feel differently about a friend who didn’t enjoy it, such was the impact the book has had on her own life.

I understand this level of passion for a novel. However I’d defy anybody who’s played any part in a book club to feel like this, nothing being less predictable in a group of people than who will like and dislike your chosen story. Our conversation came to a natural close but nonetheless left me with a slight uneasiness and the hope that this relative wouldn’t buy me the book in question. 

Three months later, the book arrived. I bet you’ll love this, she wrote inside. I do hope so, I thought to myself.

To make matters worse, this same relative, whose opinion I do respect, had bought me a novel for a previous birthday which I really didn’t enjoy, despite it being tremendously popular and a film having come from it. I decided to be honest when we discussed it later, although choosing to focus on the parts I liked, or perhaps should say, could bear, rather than those which had me squirming with nausea. Yes, the nostalgic scenes were great, I said, with a fixed smile. I wrestled with myself even back then about not admitting my true feelings about a book. It wasn’t as if my friend had written it, or even that a friend of a friend of hers had written it. But somehow, it just seemed a little ungrateful to talk about not enjoying a present.

So, imagine how I felt when I finally picked up this now infamous book during the Christmas holidays and struggled to get started. Reading under pressure to enjoy something, I’ve discovered, is a little like being asked to ‘walk normally’ as a consultant asked me to do, recently. How hard can it be to put one foot in front of the other? Try it! I nearly fell over, such was my determination to produce an even tread.

I re-started this book three times – each time, thinking that I mustn’t have been in the mood or was too tired to concentrate. On the third, I made a pact with myself. I would treat this book like any other; if it wasn’t working for me by the 100^th page, I would cut my losses and turn to the next in my To Be Read pile which is reminiscent of a publisher’s slush pile of reads from wannabe first-time novelists. 

Besides, hopefully the conversation would never come up.

I saw the book-giver over Christmas and she said how much she’d really enjoyed Glasshopper by Isabel Ashdown which I’d given her for her birthday. She spoke so fondly of the adorable main character, Jake, that I had no doubt her praise was real. I’ve just started yours, I said, the blurb looks great.

It wasn’t going well. By page 30 I was tempted to skim read. For the record, my problem is with the introduction of the main characters and their stories, without enough happening elsewhere. I reminded myself that I felt similarly about Atonement by Ian McEwan up to around 50 pages and that went on to become one of my all-time favourite reads.

This novel was now under about the same amount of pressure to be enjoyable as David Cameron is to sort out the debt crisis. It wasn’t fair to heap so much responsibility on one story, to put it under such close scrutiny.

I started the novel for the fourth time, knowing I had a good unbroken couple of hours ahead of me to ‘get into this book’, such had become the nature of the challenge. There was a flicker, around page 45, when I found a character I thought I might care about but other than that, I’m afraid, at page 114, I gave up for the last time and went to bed.

And that’s where my story ends. I can’t bring myself to pretend I’ve read this book but I also don't relish seeing the disappointment in the relative’s face if I reveal I can't even finish it. What would you do in this situation? And if you’ve been in a similar place before, please do tell us here!

Happy New Year everyone and happy reading, whatever you choose!