Here is my reading list so far for 2011. It will be updated monthly.
This year, I engineered my choices in reading to correlate with my writing. Contemporary novels are a clear indication of what sells. I believe that what you read assimilates itself into how you write – a direct influence. However, classics are just as vital in understanding writing for the diversity they offer in language, themes and viewpoints. With diversity in mind, I have aimed to include a wide range of authors in the list. Each book has a 100 word comment upon which I have pointed out aspects of the book that I liked when reading and what I could borrow.
April
Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro – 272 pages
I originally picked this book up owing to the fact a major part of it is set in Salisbury. However, upon reading it, this only acts as a backdrop to the protagonist’s memories. I wasn’t disappointed as the butler’s story proved to be a fascinating study of class. I particularly enjoyed his thoughts on dignity and what it meant to be a good butler. In his eyes, it meant going as far as ignoring his father’s death – even when it was happening right before his eyes. The tone used is consistent with the times and grabs you from the beginning.
Norwegian Wood – Haruki Murakami – 386 pages
Norwegian Wood strays away from traditional Murakami books and has often been criticised for ‘just’ being a love story. When reading it, I did find myself missing the surrealism found in Kafka on the Shore, but that isn’t to say I disliked it. I found Murakami’s shunning of the 1960’s student uprising in Tokyo similar to student protests in England – hollow and pointless. The simplistic writing used throughout also appeals to me and understatement of emotion is extremely effective throughout. Although some of the imagery is clichéd, the book perfectly depicts the transformation of a 19 to 20 year old.
Coming Up for Air – George Orwell – 246 pages
The reflective nature of this book reminded me of my blogs – concerning someone who returns to their childhood home. However, the book is darkly cynical especially concerning World War Two. But unlike 1984 where, in my opinion, it is solely about the war, Coming Up for Air is excellent on a personal level. It is also ironically funny, with Bowling’s descriptions of his wife hilarious as well as his self-depreciation in regards to his body and false teeth. A very nostalgic read that in all, reminded me of Philip Larkin’s poem MCMXIV and the innocence before the Great War started.
The Music of Chance – Paul Auster – 198 pages
A fable on how one man’s life is totally altered by chance. Auster is superb in his portrayal of lead, Jim Nashe, and meticulously details Nashe’s response to things around him. There is brilliance in the way it contrasts Nashe’s personal freedom and his justification for his actions with the stark reality – his destiny is dictated by chance. One scene in which he transfers his hate for his captors to a small boy in a skeleton costume is particularly disturbing and gives insight into a sane mind developing into an insane one.
March
The Islamist – Ed Husain - 286 pages
The Islamist is a sincere and compelling account of one man’s life in extremist Islamism, his rejection of it and his reflections upon it in a modern day context. I especially liked Husain’s commentary on how extremist attract disillusioned teens with the promise of a politicised Islam that’s smarter and sleeker than the ‘subdued’ religion they were brought up on. Also interesting was Husain’s account of his time living in Saudi Arabia and how this is an example as to why an Islamic state wouldn’t work. This book really enlightened my view upon Islam and its impact on British youth.
Brave New World – Aldous Huxley – 229 pages
Brave New World is a book I’ve been meaning to read for a while and the delay hasn’t been in vain – this book has fundamentally enhanced my view on some aspects of life. The future is set in a future dystopia (or utopia, however you look at it) where consciousness of identity is sacrificed for pure happiness. This means that castes in society are conditioned to love whatever they are destined to do with no intellectual distractions such as Shakespeare or science. Could this be a vision of what’s happening currently? Possibly, but questions raised on humanity are perceptively genius.
The Warden – Anthony Trollope – 185 pages
This was a return to the classics for me and I wasn’t disappointed. Besides being a riveting account of one man’s personal conflict in the face of diversity, it is also an acute study of the influence of the media on a 19th century community. I enjoyed the descriptions of a cathedral city which is undoubtedly Salisbury, though the language was initially difficult to return to. Trollope intensely details how each character feels throughout and thus grants The Warden a sense of timelessness – although the backdrop is 150 years ago, the motives, feelings and actions are still relevant to today.
February
After Dark – Haruki Murakami – 201 pages
A short easy read with a surreal style of narrative – I have adapted this into one of my own short stories. This narrative involves detailing things as they happen in a very intricate way i.e. how you would see things as they happen. However, this voice also retains a sense of omniscience that relates to the wider picture Murakami wishes to convey. ‘After Dark’ contains the usual Murakami hallmarks such as jazz, isolation in Japanese youth and the effect of city-living. He also uses an innovative real time system for chapters, literally detailing events as they happen throughout the night.
Amsterdam – Ian McEwan – 178 pages
I enjoyed the portrayal of the two main characters in this book –McEwan uses their occupations to reveal features about them. For example, one character is the editor of a respectable paper and the realistic way in which he interacts with his co-workers expresses characteristics about him. The other character, a composer, is characterised through the use of technical musical language – a very novel and concrete way of showing us what he’s like. However, I disliked the somewhat farcical way in which the story ended. I felt it was too predictable and let down 150 effective pages of build up.
Kitchen – Banana Yoshimoto – 150 pages
Two quirky stories about Japanese women’s’ struggle for their own identity. I liked the actual use of a kitchen as a device for characterisation in the first story. As such a mundane location, it is glorified as an extraordinary place of safety which reflects upon the character but also contrasts heavily against an outside world that doesn’t seem that ordinary. The main character lodges with a friend whose father is a transsexual – this raises valuable questions about sexual identity. I disliked the kitsch style that it was written in and thought that its cutesy style of language undermined the themes.
Factotum – Charles Bukowski – 163 pages
Bukowski writes in a gritty and fundamentally ‘back-to-basics’ way throughout the book pulling no punches. With extremely small chapters, extremely funny moments are caught in an instance – it’s snapshots onto Bukowski’s life, though the book is only semi-autobiographical. The best thing, however, is his ability to make you hate the main character, Chinaski, but to also make you feel pity for him. Chinaski is a waster with no permanent job, has no respect for women and is forever violent and drunk. But you do actually care for him, no matter what he does - this is the magic of Factotum.
January
Down and Out in Paris and London – George Orwell – 256 pages
Orwell’s experience as a hotel plongeur and his struggle against poverty in both France and England makes for a fascinating read. His insight into the hierarchy of the hotel outlines in a concrete and factual way the tragic life of a tramp. He devotes a whole chapter to the vocabulary of the London homeless person and offers detailed commentary. In terms of a ‘story’, there’s very little plot or characterisation here. But it is the richness of characters Orwell meets such as a street painter and a rapist that makes this book more than just a non-fiction account of poverty.
Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami – 505 pages
An outstanding novel that introduced me to surrealist elements in prose – among others, there’s talking cats, mackerel falling from the sky and an entity embodied as Colonel Sanders. Murakami’s charm is in combining surrealism with reality – he weaves a seamless novel where the extraordinary seems normal. Although a translation, the economy of language is a powerful feature of the book. There is no wastage in elaborate metaphors or intensely detailed locations –imagery is simple and plausibility is gained from meticulous observation of behaviour. Some have criticised it for being open-ended and almost inconclusive but would it work any other way?
Ghostwritten – David Mitchell – 436 pages
A novel in nine parts with nine different main characters. When reading this book, it’s easy to be disillusioned – there is no all-encompassing plot and it does start to feel like a collection of short stories. However, I think this is where the novel derives its strength from. The overall theme of the book is chance, fate and pre-determination. Do we decide our actions? This is interpreted in different ways by each character (luck, metaphysics, passivity, spirituality, responsibility etc.) and many different styles of writing are explored. It is in this diversity of writing that Mitchell offers a compelling read.
