Tag Archives: Meg Wolitzer

Books to Look Out for in June 2018: Part One

Cover imageIt’s often tricky to decide which title should lead these previews but not this time. Written when she knew her death was imminent, Helen Dunmore’s gorgeously jacketed short story collection Girl Balancing, and Other Stories explores family ties, motherhood friendship and grief. ‘Capturing the passion, joy, loss, longing and loneliness we encounter as we navigate our way through life, each story sets out on a journey, of adventure, new beginnings, reflection and contemplation. With her extraordinary imagination and masterful storytelling, Girl, Balancing & Other Stories offers us a deep insight into the human condition and our place in history’ say the publishers and I’ve no doubt they’re right. Dunmore’s characteristic empathy and perception shone through her quietly graceful writing.

Hard to follow that but I’ve chosen a writer whose work I think Dunmore may have enjoyed, although it’s very different from her own. In Meg Wolitzer’s The Female Persuasion a young student is taken up by a prominent feminist and finds herself treading a very different path from the one she’d expected to be on. ‘Expansive and wise, compassionate and witty, The Female Persuasion is about the spark we all believe is flickering inside us, waiting to be seen and fanned by the right person at the right time, and the desire within all of us to be pulled into the light’ say the publishers, promisingly. I’ve long been a fan of Wolitzer’s novels, reviewing The Interestings here way back in 2013. Cover image

Kenji Tanabe, the protagonist of Thomas Bourke’s The Consolation of Maps, also finds himself on a surprising path by the sound of it. Tenabe sells antique maps in a prestigious Tokyo gallery but is presented with an unexpected offer of a job in America working for a woman who has never recovered from the death of her lover. ‘Moving across countries and cultures, The Consolation of Maps charts an attempt to understand the tide of history, the geography of people and the boundless territory of loss’ say the publishers which sounds interesting if a little woolly.

Quite a brave move to make your first novel a fictionalised account of Truman Capote’s career, focussing on the ‘literary grenade’ he threw into the circle of  socialite confidantes who had entrusted him with their gossip and secrets but that’s what Kelleigh Greenberg-Jephcott has done in Swan Song. ‘A dazzling debut about the line between gossip and slander, self-creation and self-preservation, SWAN SONG is the tragic story of the literary icon of his age and the beautiful, wealthy, vulnerable women he called his Swans’ say the publishers confidently although Paula at BookJotter begs to differ.

I’m bookending this first batch of June titles with a second collection of short stories, also with a splendid cover. This one comes from Joseph O’Neill, author of the much-lauded Neverland. Good Trouble’s characters are brought face to face with both who they are and who they will never be, apparently. ‘Packed with O’Neill’s trademark acerbic humour, Good Trouble explores the maddening and secretly political space between thoughts and deeds’ say the publishers, whetting my appetite.

That’s it for the first batch of June goodies. As ever, a click on a title will take you to a more detailed synopsis should you be interested. Second selection soon…

 

Upstairs at the Party by Linda Grant: Familar territory for some of us

Cover imageThere’s a very clear, concise disclaimer at the beginning of Linda Grant’s new novel – ‘This novel is inspired by a particular time in my own life, but the characters and the events are the product of my imagination.’ Whether under instructions from the legal department or because of her own concerns she reiterates it in the acknowledgements at the back of the book, and I’m not surprised. 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.

Narrated by Adele Ginsberg, it begins with her chequered history. Adele is the spoiled daughter of an exuberant charmer who robbed, conned and embezzled to give her everything she wanted and a mother who looks grimly on while finding solace in her friends, united in their stoic acceptance of their men and all their faults. When one of his schemes backfires, her father hangs himself and Adele’s life changes: no more promise of a glittering future. Then she hatches a scheme worthy of her father – she and her mother send a copy of her prize-winning poem to every Ginsberg they know, including Allen from whom she receives a postcard addressing her as ‘cousin’. She sends a copy to a northern university (Grant went to York – see what I mean about the legal department) in the hope that they will ignore her dodgy A-Levels and admit her, which they do. Cue snort from H, my very own in-house academic – but this was the ’70s. Set in what might as well be the middle of nowhere, the university leaves its students to their own devices – none of this loco in parentis stuff as Adele discovers later. Soon a group of friends forms: Gillian, the innocent ripe for radicalisation; Dora, the fiercely idealistic Marxist bent on revolution; Rose, quietly well-connected but determinedly socialist; Bobby, gay and equally determinedly decadent; while Adele remains the enigmatic outsider – a little hard-nosed – who never reveals her own past. Early on she encounters the androgynous Evie/Stevie and becomes fascinated with the ethereally beautiful Evie apparently in thrall to her dominating male counterpart who has an opinion on everything. What lies behind the pivotal event that takes place at Adele’s twentieth birthday party and the mystery of Evie/Stevie is finally unravelled forty years later when their relationship is revealed as very much more complex than it first appeared.

The structure of Grant’s novel is one which I find perennially appealing – a group of young people form intense friendships then we follow them through their lives into adulthood as they deal with vicissitudes of life. Meg Wolitzer did this beautifully last year in The Interestings. Here, Adele and her fascination with Evie is the constant while other characters flit in and out of her life. Towards the end, the surviving members of her group are brought together satisfyingly at a university reunion although Brian seemed a little out of place to me, perhaps brought into make a few points. The characterisation is spot on – readers of a certain age are likely to find themselves both smiling and cringing in recognition – and there’s a nicely wry wit running through it all. As she did in We Had it So Good, Grant has things to say about the boomers and takes the odd swipe at modern life too. It’s a very satisfying read – I wonder what she’ll have in her sights next.

This isn’t the first  novel which made me come over all nostalgic this year. Louise Levene’s excellent The Following Girls took me back to my school days in February. Are there any novels that resonated with your own childhood or youth recently, and if so, would you like to share them with me?

The Interestings: more than lives up to its title

Cover imageHaving read all but one of her novels I was looking forward to Meg Wolitzer’s new book. It has the kind of structure much beloved by film and TV writers – a group of young people form an enduring friendship which survives the buffeting of adulthood and all that the outside world throws at it – putting me in mind of that old 80s favourite thirtysomething but Wolitzer keeps it fresh. In her novel six teenagers meet at a summer camp run by a couple determined to foster artistic talent. Julie is the aspiring comic actress, ashamed of her background a few rungs down from her new friends. Ash is the privileged beauty, determined to work in the theatre while her arrogant brother Goodman is the bad boy. Cathy is the sexy girl already lumbered with a body too voluptuous for her longed-for dancing career. Jonah is the beautiful boy, son of a fading folk singer, quiet and musically talented. And Ethan is both the artist who devises the cartoon world of Figland to escape his parents’ eternal rowing, and the moral compass of the group. These six dub themselves the interestings in that ‘ironic’ way that fifteen-year-olds do, while Julie becomes the altogether more acceptable Jules. Over three years, Jules and Ash become best friends, while Ethan falls first for Jules then Ash whom he will marry. Life happens: Jules is saddled with envy of Ash and Ethan’s extraordinary wealth as Figland becomes a worldwide TV phenomenon and her acting dreams fail; Dennis, Jules’ husband, struggles with depression; Jonah’s musical talent is stifled by a horrible act of exploitation. Friends come and go but these central four remain steadfast, even under the strain of Goodman’s sudden departure in dreadful circumstances which throws a long dark shadow over them.

Beginning in 1974, The Interestings criss-crosses the fifty years it spans with the greatest of ease, filling in a back story here, flashing back to a memory there, all the time weaving in details of the enormous social change taking place with the lightest of touches. This is the post-Vietnam generation – indeed it’s Woltizer’s own. She was born in 1959, the same year as her characters. It’s a time of huge social upheaval: changing expectations for women and their disappointments, the horror of AIDS and its easing, 9/11 and its fallout, the internet and its effects, the financial collapse are all touched on but never with a heavy hand – the only surprising omission is the election of Obama which hardly gets a mention. Wolitzer’s characters are engaging and fallible, her story utterly absorbing – if there’s a quibble it’s that Ash is a little too good to be true but it’s a small one. This is a novel to sit back and lose yourself in. The interestings may not have become what they had hoped back in 1974 – and who does manage to achieve everything they wanted at fifteen – but I found them riveting and I’m going to miss spending time with them.