Josh Emmons’ debut, The Loss of Leon Meed, has largely earned its place here because it comes from The Friday Project whose books are always worth a look rather than its seemingly ubiquitous Jonathan Franzen recommendation. Popping up inexplicably and in the strangest of situations, Leon Meed brings together ten disparate residents of Eureka, California, previously unknown to each other, each of whom has witnessed his appearances and each of whom wants to share their experiences. ‘A canny status report on the American Soul’, according to the Los Angeles Times.
I’ve read but not reviewed Katherine Hill’s The Violet Hour in which Abe throws himself overboard after confronting Cassandra with her infidelity leaving her and her teenage daughter aboard their pilotless yacht. Theirs was an apparently perfect marriage, a fulfilment of the American dream, but Hill’s novel goes on to reveal otherwise. A classy summer read – just the thing for lazing around which is why I took it on my own holiday then failed to get around to reading it.
Niven Govinden’s All the Days and Nights is also a portrait of a relationship which is not quite
Much longer, unsurprisingly given its name, The Hundred-Year House is Rebecca Makkai’s backward looking history of Laurelfield which we first enter as a family home, albeit a somewhat dysfunctional family. You may know Makkai’s name from her lovely, engaging first novel, The Borrower, the story of a librarian who goes on the run with her favourite customer, a ten-year-old boy whose Evangelical mother is worried about his sexuality. Her second is entirely different, but just as entertaining.
As is Linda Grant’s Upstairs at the Party which had me absorbed from start to finish. It’s a novel about a particular generation, my own, and many of her characters are all too recognisable. This is the second novel in which Grant puts the baby-boomers under the microscope. The first, the hugely enjoyable We Had it So Good, is about the first wave who matured in the 1960s rather than us tail-enders. Upstairs at the Party has some familiar Grant hallmarks – young Jewish girl rebelling against her mother, a much-loved uncle figure, an attention to clothes – and is also a thoroughly absorbing, if darker, read. Hard to untangle my own enjoyment from nostalgia but if you’ve liked Grant’s other novels, I think you’ll enjoy this one, too.
That’s it for July paperbacks. A click on the title of the three books I haven’t reviewed will take you to Waterstone’s website for a fuller synopsis. If you want to see what I’ve picked out in hardback for July you can find part one here and part two here.
Like the look of Friendship and will maybe give Upstairs at the Party a go (loved The Clothes on Their Backs but gave up on The Cast Iron Shore).
I quite liked The Cast Iron Shore but could get nowhere with When I Lived in Modern Times. I practically inhaled Upstairs at the Part but I am of a certain age! Friendship was excellent and much overlooked, I think.
I really enjoyed Niven Govinden’s All the Days and Nights. Even though a good six months or so have slipped by since I read it, certain scenes have remained in my mind. A very impressive novel – it’ll be interesting to see what he writes next.
Me, too, Jacqui. A great deal of thought about creativity and the potential for self-absorption in creators seemed to have gone in to it, all beautifully expressed.
I love my monthly reminder of books I bought in hardback which I haven’t read yet! This month it’s the Murakami and Friendship. I also still have your copy of Niven Govinden’s novel which I will read soon.
I read and loved Upstairs at the Party. Wasn’t a fan of The Violet Hour – too little development for me.
I’m keen to read some Rebecca Makkai, both of her novels appeal.
Ha! I’d forgotten all about handing over the Govinden. No rush! I think you’ll enjoy Friendship.
I’m looking forward to reading Upstairs at the Party – I’ve heard lots of good things about it.
Absolutely loved it, but it is my generation. It’s the only book I’ve ever read that has a legal disclaimer at the beginning and again at the end – her characters are such recognisable ‘types’ of that time that I’m not surprised the publishers’ lawyers were a bit worried!