“The Man I Think I Know” by Mike Gayle (2018)

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“You’re stopping my dole money?”

Mike Gayle has long been one of my favourite writers. With a tone that always sounds like he’s just telling you a story over a pint, and a sharp turn of phrase, his books are lined up for a re-read sometime soon, as only a couple of them are on the blog so far, which means it’s been a long time since I read his earlier books, and I think they’re all worth talking about. Let’s focus today, however, on his newest book, The Man I Think I Know.

Danny and James haven’t seen each other for many years – not since their time together at one of Britain’s most prestigious boarding schools. Every student who attends ends up curing a disease, serving in government, making big headlines, or generally just being a complete success in whatever field they chose. And yet our heroes are entirely at odds with this. Danny has just had his dole money cut off after failing to find work yet again, and James has had to move back home with his parents after The Incident that changed his whole way of life.

When James’s parents go on a much needed holiday, James is booked into a care centre for the duration, where he meets Danny who now works as a carer. Trouble is, when he introduces himself, Danny says he doesn’t recognise him. This is a lie. The two men form a strange bond. In James, Danny finds someone who doesn’t think he’s a hopeless waste of space. In Danny, James finds someone who treats him like the man he used to be before The Incident, and not as a fragile patient. Desperate to get out from his parents’ home, James offers Danny the chance to move in with as his live-in carer. What happens next will change both of their lives for the better.

In my experience, media focuses far more on romantic relationships than any other, with family coming second, and platonic friendships a long way down the list. Even rarer are stories about male friendship. Mike Gayle is one of the few writers who has tapped into this market and writes brilliant stories about men growing up and trying to maintain friendships. This is perhaps his most tender, with the relationship between James and Danny front and centre of the story. They are both single thirty-somethings who have been dealt an unfair hand by life, although in very different ways.

Gayle sympathetically writes about ABIs (acquired brain injuries), which is what James is now suffering from, and it’s clear he’s done his research into this world. In the chapters narrated by James, it is clear from his way of speaking that The Incident had a profound affect on him, and while we aren’t treated to any scenes of him before his ABI, indications of who he was do slip through. James is a great figure as he also destroys the harmful stereotypes some people have about those with mental illness. As James reminds us throughout, people treat him differently because he has difficulty walking and talking, but inside he is still intelligent, ambitious, and capable of telling jokes. This is an important thing to never lose sight of in the real world, as too often we judge on appearances. Danny is also very compelling. Perhaps at first it’s easy to write him off as someone unworthy of our sympathy as most of his problems seem to have been caused by his own failings, but as the story unfolds, we learn the tragedy at the heart of his existence and cheer him on as he picks himself up and finds some direction in life.

Gayle’s usual warmth, wit and charm are all present in this book and I’m far from the first to heap praise on it this year, but I’m more than happy to add my name to the list of fans. A very engaging read.

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“Early Riser” by Jasper Fforde (2018)

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“Mrs Tiffen could play the bouzouki.”

Jasper Fforde has – even by his own admission – been undergoing a creative hiatus these last few years. He doesn’t know what caused it anymore than his readers do, but suffice to say the literary landscape has been missing its shine peculiar to the man for the duration. As one of the finest and funniest writers we have, it was a huge relief that this month finally saw the release of his newest book, almost two years after it was originally announced.

Fforde takes us to a new world of his imagination in Early Riser as we enter a planet in the grip of an Ice Age, where the ice sheets reach down to the Midlands, and humans hibernate every winter. As the temperatures drop and blizzards set in, only a few people stay awake for the Winter to protect those that sleep. Charlie Worthing is a new recruit undergoing his first season with the Winter Consuls and he doesn’t really know what to expect. Things start bad enough when the nightwalker he’s been tasked with taking care of is lost and rumours begin to circulate about a viral dream that’s causing people to go mad. Things get worse when he accidentally falls asleep for four weeks and is now trapped in Sector Twelve, the most dangerous and insanity-inducing area of Wales known to mankind.

Caught now between two factions – one led by the pleasant and charming Aurora, and the other by the violent and permanently angry Toccata – Charlie finds that he’s now beginning to experience the viral dream too, and what’s more it seems to be bleeding into reality. As the waking world begins to merge with his dreams, he learns the hard way that it takes more to survive the Winter than a thick coat and a steady supply of Tunnock’s Teacakes.

From the opening paragraph, you can tell it’s Fforde. His style is so unique and warm, and his imagination is somewhere I could spend hours swimming around in. I long to be able to write as well as this. His world building is unmatched in its scope. This is now the fifth world he’s created for us, and it lacks nothing. The single difficulty is that because the narrators assume that you live in the world too, many aspects don’t get fully explained, so you have to pick it up as you go along and hope for the best. Fforde layers in so many jokes and ideas that it’s hard work to read him, but gets easier as time goes on and is absolutely always worth it. Here, for example, we not only have hibernating humans but also nuns who pledge their oath to be permanently pregnant to help population growth, mythical creatures that live out in the snow but are never witnessed, an economy based on Snickers bars and the owing of favours, and Carmen Miranda. As with Shades of Grey, his humans are not quite as we are, but this is never really shown explictly – you just suddenly realise that they’ve all grown thick coats of winter fur, some of them in intricate tortoiseshell or spotted patterns.

Fforde also plays with concepts in our world and turns them upside down. Here, weight loss diets don’t exist, as it’s better for you to enter hibernation fat and well fed. The Ice Age means that people are pumping masses of carbon dioxide into the air in an attempt to heat up the world. His fondness for Wales shines through too, as that’s where the novel is entirely set, and it’s only really halfway through when you meet some English villains that you learn all the characters up to that point are, and have been speaking, Welsh.

Despite the surrealism, the core is still utterly believable. It depicts a world that has evolved much like ours – Shakespeare, the Chuckle Brothers and Brief Encounter all still exist – but with the added issue of the encroaching ice sheets. As ever, the characters are real and complex, somehow attractive and very, very human. When it comes down to it, all of his books are pretty much about normal people trying to cope in worlds that seem bizarre to use but completely normal to them. No one has been this sharp on the topic since Douglas Adams, and I think it’ll be many years before we find anyone who can do it this well again.

We’re so glad to have you back, Jasper. Now about those sequels…

“Want You Dead” by Peter James (2014)

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“Karl Murphy was a decent and kind man, a family doctor with two small children whom he was bringing up on his own.”

The Peter James series about Brighton detective Roy Grace rolls on, with Want You Dead being the tenth instalment. In the hands of a lesser author, the series could be getting tired by now, and yet here we are, with me finished and wanting to get hold of the next one. We return to Brighton’s criminal underbelly to meet with an obsessed stalker.

Red Westwood had left a dull relationship and tried online dating, where she met the rich, charming and handsome Bryce Laurent. He seemed too good to be true, but while her family and friends had reservations and told her to be careful, she blindly ignored them, until it was almost too late. Bryce became violent and jealous, and eventually, after Red’s mother had hired a private detective to prove that Bryce’s history was a tissue of lies, Red kicked him out. Bryce, however, isn’t going to go down without a fight. Red might be under police protection, but Bryce is determined to destroy everything she loves in the city: her new boyfriend, her favourite restaurant, her old car…

Red is now stuck in a nightmare she can’t wake up from, and despite the restraining order, Bryce seems to know everything about her, and is becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day. The spate of arson across Brighton doesn’t go unnoticed by Roy Grace and his team, however, and when they discover that Red is the link between the murder of Karl Murphy, the fire at a swanky bar, and the incident at an old block of flats that leads to the death of one of the police force’s finest sergeants, they pull out all the stops to see that Bryce is stopped. And on top of that, Roy really just wants to get married and have his honeymoon in peace, but crime doesn’t stop just because you’ve got a flight to Venice booked…

Starting out a little slower than usual from James, the emphasis – for the first half of the novel at least – is firmly on Red and her life. We know from the off that Bryce is responsible, so the mystery here is more how the police will capture him, rather than who is starting all the fires. Bryce Laurent is one of the most villainous characters in perhaps any crime novel in recent years; mentally unbalanced and damaged by an abusive childhood and an obsession with fire. He’s an egomaniac with a nasty temper, and will stop at nothing to get what he thinks he is owed. Roy and his team are on fine form here, too, and for a while it seemed like a run-of-the-mill entry into the series, but I should’ve prepared for more – as ever. With the death of one of the characters we have grown to know and love over the last ten books, and the return of another Roy hoped he’d never see again, it’s all change here and promises drama for the next book in the series.

James’s style is as readable as ever, with characters and scenes leaping off the page, particularly given any reader who has made it this far has is now very familiar with the characters. There are some huge tragedies awaiting in this one, so brace yourselves if you’re regular readers. It’s also worth noting something that I don’t think I’ve dwelt on too much before on these books – they are incredibly dark. The criminals are not those you’d find in an Agatha Christie – these are some proper bastards with evil minds and broken moral compasses. Ingeniously written, and you sometimes have to sit back and admire that Peter James – who otherwise seems a charming and friendly man – can create such odious characters and incredible scenarios.

Keep ’em coming.

Book Chat: Kate Goodbody

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Kate Goodbody is the brain behind the travel blog “More Native Than The Natives”, which explores the world from the points of view of herself and fellow bloggers who have been to the places in question. Several months ago I contributed by pointing out the best places in Brighton to quench your thirst. When not working on this, the 23-year-old travels a lot and is a former resident of Paris. She volunteers in an art gallery and also serves as a tutor for French, English and Maths.

When travelling, there is always time to get a bit of reading in, so Kate always has something on the go. She generously gave up her time to answer my questions about her favourite books.

What are you reading at the moment?

Dear Mr M by Herman Koch. I massively enjoyed The Dinner so thought I’d give this a go and so far it’s proving to be a good read. It uses different narrators to build the suspense and keeps you guessing throughout.

What were your favourite books growing up?

I grew up while the Harry Potter books were still being written and can remember sitting in the playground at school reading them. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was a big book for an eight-year-old to lug around! I even sat on the landing late at night so that I could just finish the chapter because my sister wouldn’t let me keep our bedroom light on!

Which author, dead or alive, would you most like to meet?

I have a confession here. I’m ever so slightly obsessed with James Bond (the novels, not necessarily the films), therefore I’d have to say Ian Fleming. I don’t think we would get on but I wouldn’t say no to a martini on the veranda of his house in Jamaica. I know people see him as a misogynist but the books have a special place in my heart.

Have you ever seen a film that was better than the book it was based on?

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy! I’m a big John le Carré fan but this book did drag on a little. The film perfectly captured the atmosphere and Gary Oldman makes a fabulous spymaster. The casting in general was top notch. It isn’t often they get the right actors for the right roles in adaptations but not one of their choices disappointed me.

What factors are important to you when choosing a book?

If the blurb doesn’t capture my attention then I won’t go near it even if someone has recommended it to me. I’d never read something that would be counted as a book you have to read before you die. You’ll never find War and Peace on my bookcase because life is too short to waste time on books that you don’t enjoy!

Have you read any books translated from a foreign language and how did you find them?

I studied French at university so have read a fair few as well as having to translate literature for assignments. I have such respect for anyone who can successfully translate anything from another language and still keep the personality of the text alive.

If you could spend a day inside a book, which would you choose?

Would it be cheating if I said The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde? Then, by the nature of the book, I’d be able to jump around all books. Joking aside, I do adore the universe he has come up with and I’m always finding different jokes I didn’t get the first time around. [Not cheating at all; that’s my answer too! – Michael]

Can you tell me some of the books currently on your “to-read” list?

Have you got a spare three hours? The stack next to my bed currently contains Louis Theroux’s Call of the Weird, and The Book of Dust by Philip Pullman. I did have a weird moment in Waterstones recently when nothing in the “Buy One Get One Half Price” section didn’t take my fancy. Does anyone know the cure for this affliction?

Which fictional character would you most like to go for dinner or drinks with?

Arthur Dent seems like he’d be a great guy to sink a few pints with, plus he’ll always have his towel ready to mop up any spillages.

The impossible question: what is your favourite book?

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service by Ian Fleming. It has it all: evil villain, fast cars, and a devilish plan to thwart the British government. I have the audiobook read by David Tennant and it’s just absolute perfection.


For more about Kate, visit her fantastic travel blog More Native Than The Natives, or seek her out on Instagram and Twitter.

“Notes On A Nervous Planet” by Matt Haig (2018)

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“I was stressed out.”

The world is moving ever faster and sometimes it feels like a struggle just to hold on. With the constant bombardment of adverts, breaking news, tweets, social media updates and fear-mongering by anyone with Internet access, it’s no wonder that rates of anxiety, depression and mental malaise seem to have risen so sharply. Fortunately, there are people who are trying to make sense of it all and give us a way to speak out about it. Matt Haig is one of the best.

A couple of years ago, Haig published Reasons to Stay Alive, a frank and moving book about his own struggles with anxiety, panic attacks and suicide. Its success was instant and profound. People across the world thanked him for his words and putting to paper the feelings they’d been struggling to articulate, as well as giving his own tips on how to improve things – or rather, showing us how he did it. He is at pains to insist he isn’t a psychological expert by any means, and his advice is merely based on things he has experienced, but sometimes that’s just a good start.

Notes on a Nervous Planet is the wonderful sequel, this time focusing more on the speed of progress in the world, how the world seems to be working to keep us miserable and anxious (happy people don’t spend money), and how best to cope with things like Twitter and Instagram. We can all make changes to our lives that might alleviate some of the worst problems.

The advice is often simple, or at least appears so: charge your mobile phone outside of your bedroom; don’t stay on Twitter if you’re not enjoying it anymore; read more often; do yoga; go outside more often. Nonetheless, I feel that it all helps. As someone who has had his own issues with anxiety and depression in recent years, it was refreshing to read via Haig’s wonderful prose that I’m not alone. It’s also important to have people talking about these things, as the more we talk about mental health, the more likely the attached stigma will drop away. It’s particularly important, I feel, to have a man talk about it. I appreciate that we live in a world that seems to assume “straight, white male” is the default and people are bored to listening to them, but generally men are told not to express their feelings and to “be strong” all the time. Robert Webb covered this in his memoirs too. This stuff needs to be said – everyone is allowed to cry, and everyone is allowed to feel.

Haig’s book is short but full of profound and charming, lyrical sentences, as well as common sense advice. It’s also raw in places, as he recounts panic attacks and times when he thought he couldn’t carry on. I, for one, am enormously pleased he has, as he’s written some of my favourite books in recent years, including The Humans and How To Stop Time.

Brilliant, beautiful, wise, and important.

“Colour Scheme” by Ngaio Marsh (1943)

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“When Dr James Ackrington limped into the Harpoon Club on the afternoon of Monday, January the thirteenth, he was in a poisonous temper.”

I keep reading reviews that tell me Ngaio Marsh was an even better mystery writer than Agatha Christie. No disrespect meant to Marsh, but she isn’t. She’s good, don’t get me wrong, but her stories lack something that Christie’s had, although I’m not sure I would ever be able to pinpoint exactly what it was. They’re just different, and that’s almost certainly due to a difference in upbringing. This is the third Marsh novel I’ve read now, and I’m finally heading back to her homeland. It’s time to solve a murder in New Zealand.

The Claire family run a small guest house on the North Island, notable for its access to the hot springs and their curative properties. The family are having difficulty with the businessman Maurice Questing, who is determined to take over and expand the hotel himself to bring in more money, with Colonel Claire firmly under his thumb. Elsewhere, the chief of the nearby Maori tribe, the Te Rarawas, has concerns that Questing seems very interested in some of his ancestors weaponry, and there’s talk of a spy in the area who is responsible for the sinking of a nearby ship.

Things come to a head on the night of a concert held by the Maoris for their white visitors. Maurice Questing has made no friends among the staff and guests at the hotel, so when he disappears into the night and the police find evidence that he may have ended up drowned in one of the hot mud pools, there is little sympathy. It does however raise that eternal question – whodunnit? With a love triangle building, a number of suspicious figures in the frame, and the threat of fifth columnists, the police have their work cut out for them.

Being a native Brit who hasn’t left the continent, never mind the hemisphere, it is always interesting to explore another country via literature. New Zealand feels almost as much of a character here as the humans, and Marsh seems respectful of Maori culture, incorporating figures and their beliefs into her work. She is almost at pains to remind the reader that these islands were inhabited long before Westerners turned up. There are some interesting characters here too, particularly Mr Gaunt, the Shakespearean actor who has been coerced into attending the spa against his will, and now fans are turning up in droves to catch a glimpse of him.

While there is a conventional murder mystery in here, it takes a long time to kick in as Marsh lays down the numerous threads required for the final chapters and the solution to play out. While there’s no confirmation as to which character is even going to end up dead, you quickly get a good idea. Then we get the usual scenes of the suspects all discussing their movements as the police arrive. There is a final twist, but I’d seen it coming a long time before it arrived.

It isn’t my favourite of the Marsh books I’ve read so far, but not so off-putting that I’d never return to her. You can call her the Kiwi Christie, by all means, but she still comes in second place to me.

“The Witches” by Roald Dahl (1983)

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“In fairy-tales, witches always wear silly black hats and black cloaks, and they ride on broomsticks.”

I’ve been re-reading all of Roald Dahl this year, but most of them I haven’t reviewed as they’re often too short for me to have much to say about them. The Witches, however, I have to talk about. Inexplicably, despite being a Dahl fan throughout my childhood and this battered copy sitting on my shelf for as long as I can remember, I’ve somehow never read it. I don’t really know how it slipped by me, but it’s OK, the matter has been resolved now.

The Witches is the story of a young boy who is taught all about the evil hags by his kindly grandmother, with whom he lives after his parents die in a tragic car crash. Grandmother likes telling the boy stories about witches and warning him to stay away from them. She gives him advice on how to spot a witch including the fact that they wear gloves to hide their claws, and they’re always itching their heads because of their wigs, used to hide their bald heads. On a holiday in Bournemouth, our hero discovers that he’s sharing the hotel with all of England’s witches who have gathered under the instruction of the Grand High Witch. She has come up with a plan that will rid England of all its children.

Before he can warn anyone, the boy is caught and turned into a mouse, which prompts him and his grandmother to formulate their own plan to eradicate all the witches and make the country a safer place.

I don’t think I knew anything about the plot of this one, save for the fact it contained a Grand High Witch and a small boy was the hero. I certainly knew nothing of him turning into a mouse, which arguably is one of the main features of the novel. Like in many Dahl novels, there isn’t an awful lot that really happens. The novel takes place over a short space of time and the plot is simple to grasp, none of which is a complaint. There’s still more of a plot than, say, The Twits, which always felt quite loose to me.

I have heard people say, however, that this is Dahl’s scariest book and I think I probably agree with them. The darkness is much less subtle here, with genuinely vile characters and a pair of protagonists you care about strongly. It’s creepy, and the witches are portrayed very well as malevolent and just the wrong side of odd. The fact that they have slightly different noses or feet to real humans is the sort of thing that would appeal to a child who wants there to be some fantasy in their world. The Grand High Witch is repulsive and genuinely quite terrifying – the polar opposite to the kind, warm Grandmother in the novel. The Grandmother’s inclusion is perhaps the most important aspect. Dahl explains that all witches are women, but does say, “I do not wish to speak badly about women. Most women are lovely.” I presume this is so children don’t go through their young lives fearing all women or believing them to be evil – I suppose there’s a suggestion of internalised misogyny here, if one wanted to take on that aspect – so the inclusion of the kindly Grandmother is in direct contrast to the witches.

I sense that had I read this as a kid, I would’ve found it very scary, and I still do to some degree. It’s that fear of something evil lurking in plain sight, I think. Nothing is so unnerving and eerie as something ordinary suddenly becoming dangerous. A great story.

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