Look Me in the Eye, Silvia Soler, translated by Richard Thomson

Blanca is working on a translation of a novel by Matteo Spadaro when she finds herself so deeply affected by the story that she begins to question the security of her own world. Translating the disintegration of a fictional relationship leads to doubts chipping away at her own happy marriage. She decides that she needs to visit Sicily, the location of Spadaro’s novel, where she meets the author and discovers that fiction is often not as far removed from reality as one might imagine.

An interesting concept exploring the power of art over reality and the damage paranoia can do. Unfortunately, the potential is not fully realised in this perplexing book. Bruna, the fictional character, has something of a breakdown caused by worry that her husband Massimo is having an affair. Rather than taking this as a cautionary tale, Blanca goes even further in her irrational behaviour. Her actions are far-fetched at best as she allows her obsession to blind her to reality. She behaves deplorably but seems to have no awareness of how contradictory she is being, nor how badly she is treating her partner, Raimon.

The writing style felt unsophisticated, whether the fault of the original author or translator I don’t know. There are moments where you almost care about the characters but the opportunities are passed up. It could, possibly, be redeemed with a more significant, consequential ending but instead the reader is left feeling cold.

Notes on a Nervous Planet, Matt Haig

Following on from the monumental success of Reasons to Stay Alive, Haig turns his attention to non-fiction once more with Notes on a Nervous Planet. Using his own experiences as the base for his advice he talks us through the negative impact of modern life on our collective mental health and how we can try to alleviate some of the pressure.

Our obsession with and reliance on our smartphones is a recurring theme. The advice? Turn off all notifications, set aside time to go online but don’t keep checking it every five minutes. In this world that demands us to be available at all times it is OK to carve out some time for yourself. It may seem obvious that we spend too much time online, but it is nonetheless a needed reminder. 

This is not to say that Haig is against technology, but that the world we now live in has developed beyond one where humans can cope with all the choice and demands on our time. He recommends spending actual physical time with those we care about, stepping outside and looking at the sky, and generally going back to what makes us human.

He does not dole out advice as some flawless power, admitting to struggling to step away from Twitter and not falling into negativity following people who disagree with his world view. Yet his reminder to not compare your worst moments to the best of somebody else’s is one we would all do well to heed next time we find ourselves scrolling through the curated lives of others.

He writes also of how consumerism makes us feel constantly that we are lacking. If we could just achieve the next promotion, buy the latest phone, that we will be happy. Of course, the benefits these give are only transitory. We cannot spend our lives hoping for the next step that will surely make us happy only to find when we get there that we desire our next hit of gratification.

A conversational, bite-sized book designed to be consumed in short snaps for the Google generation. Wise and timely, this is the wake up call the world needs.

Sovereign, C. J. Sansom

Sovereign is the third outing for lawyer turned detective Matthew Shardlake. The year is 1541 and the King’s Progress has reached York, a hostile city that does not welcome the arrival of so many southerners. The king hopes his visit will help quell resistance in the north but bad weather and an absent king of Scotland delays the Progress and puts huge strain on a city that hasn’t forgiven Henry for the split from Rome.

In his characteristic style Sansom does not sugarcoat life in the Tudor period. He describes the rotting corpses hung over the gates to the city, the hardships endured by the citizens and the uncertainty of the age. The story revolves around those who believe the king is not the rightful heir to the throne and Shardlake himself is in danger when it seems he’s seen incriminating documents. The claustrophobic atmosphere of fear and suspicion is expertly crafted.

Shardlake is under orders to ensure Broderick, a rebel prisoner, is kept alive ready to be tortured in the Tower once returned to London. This causes a conflict of morals for him, knowing the horrors of the torture chamber. There are also hints that Shardlake could be swayed by the conspirators’ point of view, though he has enough experience and diplomacy not to allow himself to become incriminated.

He nonetheless finds himself in an increasingly difficult situation as he discovers secrets of the Queen alongside his assistant Barak and love interest Tamasin. This knowledge sees Shardlake interrogated under false accusations and the sheer horror of torture is shown through the descent into madness and suicide of a number of characters awaiting interrogation.

An atmospheric novel that balances a number of interlinked mysteries, the climax of which is a real page turner. The sights, smells, and struggles of life in the sixteenth century are realistically evoked and the historic note at the end explains any variance from reality.

Seven Ages of Paris: Portrait of a City, Alistair Horne

Great affection for the City of Light runs through this biography by one of Britain’s foremost historians on the topic. He delights in the culture and glamour of the city while not failing to make quite clear what a turbulent history it has survived, a fact Horne seems to consider makes it that much more exciting than our own capital. He admits in the preface that the seven ages have been chosen capriciously and yet they offer a vast history from the Middle Ages to the mid-twentieth century. A whirlwind tour it may be but with enough attention lavished on each epoch that you don’t feel lost. Its ambitious span allows for themes and recurrences to be easily identified.

It is, predominantly, a history of the upper class and those in power, the average Parisian only getting a look in as part of a statistic. Horne has no qualms in expressing his distaste or favour for those he writes about. His focus is also on the way each ruler impacted the very fabric of Paris. Mass building under the likes of Napoleon, an often-absent leader who nonetheless ruled with great attention. Some ages saw great expansion with little to no care for existing buildings. Interesting also to see the buildings we are so familiar with – the Louvre and Versailles for example, change roles so drastically. What is now home to the world’s largest art gallery was once home to French royalty and the fate of Versailles from pleasure palace to dreadfully boring under the Sun King as the young and fashionable moved back to the city centre. It is interesting to see the centre of power move through the ages and the emphasis on different disciplines such as education or religion as evidenced by the buildings erected.

The lingering impression of Paris remains one of high culture and beauty but of a city that has earned its battle scars. Invasions and revolutions are no stranger to the French capital and Parisians through the ages have suffered terrible hardships because of them. This easy to read history will leave you with a greater appreciation of the flourishing city born of so much turmoil.

Apple and Blackberry Upside Down Cake

Ingredients:

For the apples and caramel:

- Butter, for greasing

- 200g/7oz caster sugar

- 3 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced in 1cm/½in wedges

- 3 tbsp water

For the sponge:

-      -  225g/8oz salted butter, softened

-        -225g/8oz golden caster sugar

-       - 225g/8oz self-raising flour

-      -  ½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

-       - 4 free-range eggs, at room temperature

-       - 60ml/4 tbsp milk

-       - ½ tsp vanilla extract

-       - 150g blackberries

For the toffee sauce (optional):

-       -  250ml/9fl oz double cream

-       - 87g/3oz demerara sugar

-       - 87g/3oz butter

-       - 1 1/2 tsp golden syrup

-       - 1 1/2 tsp black treacle

To serve:

- Ice cream or whipped cream (optional)

Method:

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4. Grease and line an 8-inch, solid base cake tin.

Over a high heat add the sugar and three tablespoons of water in a pan and cook until the sugar has melted and turned amber. Do not stir.

Remove from the heat and pour into the lined baking tin, making sure to cover the base completely. Arrange the apples on the caramel., taking care not to burn your fingers.

For the sponge, in a mixing bowl beat the sugar and butter until light and fluffy.

Mix in one egg at a time.

Fold in the flour and bicarbonate of soda. Mix in the milk and vanilla extract.

Sprinkle the blackberries with a little flour and gently stir in. Pour the mix into the prepared cake tin, spreading the mix carefully.

Bake for 50-60 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Using oven gloves, place a cooling rack over the tin and flip, taking care of any leaking sauce. Remove the tin and leave to cool.

To make the toffee sauce, gently heat the cream in a saucepan. Whisk the butter and sugar into the cream until melted and then whisk in the treacle and syrup. Drizzle over the cake and enjoy. 

American War, Omar El Akkad

It’s late in the twenty-first century and America is once again in the throes of civil war. It has been wracked by climate change and the free Southern States have refused to give up fossil fuel. The Chestnut family live in a metal shack in a wasteland, terrified of the ever closening war. Benjamin, the father, is killed in a suicide bombing while attempting to organise a way for his family to move to the North. Martina and her three children; Dana, Sarat, and Simon, are forced to move to Camp Patience, a sprawling refugee camp that will be their home for years to come. The book goes on to show the irreversible damage war does to the Chestnut family.

Sarat is the main focus of the text. Tall, tough, and trusting, we see the war gradually break the innocent trust and curiosity she held at the opening. She is radicalized and tortured and commits acts of terrorism that the reader may struggle to reconcile with their desire for a happy ending and admirable protagonist. El Akkad has said that his aim was not to create a likeable or even a sympathetic character in Sarat but for the reader to understand how she came to be the person she becomes. In this he certainly succeeds, and although her actions are at time shocking it feels difficult to entirely condemn her.

Camp Patience has all the hallmarks of the refugee camps we are familiar with hearing about, yet being thrown into the day to day, knowing the characters are there for years, brings home the realities of displacement in war-torn countries, that the struggle continues long after the cameras have gone. El Akkad based the experiences in the novel deeply in fact, both from his time as a journalist and in research for the novel. This is also true of Sugarloaf, the detention centre where atrocious tortures are doled out. Again, he has made nothing up, and the reader knows this, making it all the more harrowing.

With the current problems in America it is easy to read this as a cautionary tale, and yet it was written before Trump announced his intention to run for President. Instead it is concerned with the past and the present and bringing atrocities that people turn a blind eye to into such close proximity that they can’t be ignored. A difficult read that rings true on many levels.

First Love, Gwendoline Riley

First Love is a study in unhappy relationships. Neve and Edwyn have an uncomfortable marriage. The reader is to expect nothing less as we are told early on that they’d both planned to be alone and married against their better judgment. Neve is a writer with a part-time job to subsidise her income, something which Edwyn seems to consider a flaw on her part, relying on him to provide for her. He is significantly older, has an illness which frequently causes him pain, and takes his frustrations out on Neve and rages against women more generally.

As a reader the perpetual question is why are they together. Edwyn claims freedom is the most important thing, something which he evidently feels Neve restricts. Even in the scenes showing their supposed affection the terms of endearment he uses have an unpleasant edge – ‘little compost heap’ and ‘little cabbage’. Later in the novel we see what can only be described as abusive behaviour and Neve’s attempts to cope with his outbursts. In an interview, Riley commented that she hoped by the end you could see that there was something in Neve that drives him to these rages, which is not to say it’s her fault. A complex and difficult emotional situation.

We are also show how Neve’s psychological makeup was forged through a challenging upbringing. Her father was a bully and after his separation from her mother forces himself into Neve’s life. He is controlling and sometimes cruel. Edwyn accuses her, during an argument, of relating to him in the same way she did her father. The reader can’t help but wonder if her intimate relations have indeed been coloured by this dysfunctional parental relationship.

Her mother also proves to be a challenge. She leads a chaotic life and is needy in a child-like way. She married again but found unhappiness once more and so looks for her next companion, her attempts to date falling flat. Neve tells us that she doesn’t want to end up like her, which perhaps goes some way to explaining why she perseveres with Edwyn. Her mother is an intriguing character, seemingly deeply unhappy yet determinedly optimistic. She mentions in passing sexual trauma in her youth which she claims not to have been deeply affected by yet her reaction to suggestions of sexual desire and her marital celibacy suggest otherwise. Neve is frustrated by her but won’t fully cut her off.

First Love is a powerful, uncomfortable read. The first-person narrative perhaps skews our opinion in Neve’s favour and yet you’re left feeling like you can’t quite pin her down. Is everyone as unfair to her as she thinks, or does she have a deep seated aversion to being relied upon that makes her feel she is being taken advantage of? An intriguing, complex little book.