Favourite books of the year so far..

Given that we are now halfway through the year, I (like pretty much every other book blogger/vlogger) decided to compile a list of the best books I've read during the last six months. Of the 28 books I've read since January, to be honest, there have been many that I didn't enjoy or can't even remember reading (see my earlier post A frustrating reading year). But, I have managed to come up with five that I actually rated five stars on Goodreads - so, in alphabetical order (according to the author's surname), they are as follows:  

Maurice by E.M. Forster
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A wonderful and courageous (given that it was written in 1914) novel. There were definitely some moments of implausibility, but you could say that about many a book that features a heterosexual love story.

What is painfully realistic is the torture that Maurice goes through realising he is "different" and the loneliness he feels because of that difference. His attempts to overcome his difference (i.e. his sexuality) are utterly heartbreaking.

There's a line in the book that England would never legalise homosexuality because the English have an inclination to ignore human nature. It's comforting to know that Forster was wrong on that score (he did actually live long enough to see homosexuality be decriminalised). While things are far from perfect in terms of accepting that some people are gay (or bi or don't otherwise fit into the heterosexual bracket), we have certainly come a long way.

 The Emancipation of B by Jennifer Kavanagh
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I bought this because I know and like the author, Jennifer, so wanted to support her work. My plan was that I would be nice about it on Goodreads if liked it but keep quiet about it if I thought it was rubbish. What was I not expecting was to love it but I did.

This book is amazing. I was genuinely hooked from the first page. Most authors if their plot, as this book does, revolved around a modern-day hermit, would make the said hermit mad or bad - or probably both. But Jennifer's B is neither; he's someone who is fulfilling a lifelong desire for complete solitude. The story focuses on how solitude enables him to truly know himself and to truly understand his life. However, it is also reassuringly realistic. B struggles with the lack of contact with others and, as you might expect, with the sheer boredom of it all.

As an introvert, I've often want to shut the world out - in fact, today, I opted for staying at home by myself to read this book rather than go to a social event where, gasp, I might have to speak to people. Therefore, it was fascinating to read something that explores the idea of total solitude and, more importantly, how it wasn't necessarily a terrible thing.

I am know I biased because I consider Jennifer a friend (with a lowercase f; she'll get the reference), but I think this book probably would have been nominated for award had she'd been more of a "name". She's known as author in Quaker circles and is known for work as a literary agent, but it's a shame she's not better known as a novelist in more general circles. Her work is really interesting and deserves more recognition.

Annie's Ghosts: A Journey into a Family Secret by Steve Luxenberg
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An absolutely fascinating story of how Luxenburg tries to find out what happened to his mother's "secret" sister Annie - only finding out about her existence a few month's before his mother's death. More than that it explores why his mother kept her sister hidden and how a woman, as Annie was, could be committed to a mental asylum and essentially forgotten about.

I think the book also taps into a fear that you have when someone you love dies - did you really known them? Will some secret come out that changes how you view them? How Luxenberg comes to terms with the fact that his beloved mother kept a major secret from him and his siblings (and possibly his father) is another intriguing element of the book.

The only downside of this book is that it's difficult to get hold of in the UK (I had to order it via Amazon)

My Own Story: Inspiration for the major motion picture Suffragette by Emmeline Pankhurst
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Emmeline Pankhurst, these days, has a reputation for being stern and deeply unforgiving of those who have the temerity to disagree with her - a reputation that's probably deserved given that she cut off all ties with two of her daughters (even packing one off to Australia).

But, what this book shows is that she was undeniably a great leader who galvanised women into action. While her militancy tactics may or may not have done more harm than good in getting woman the vote, she certainly was instrumental in raising the issue in public consciousness.

I can't help but feel that, like the double standards she so often refers to in this book. history would have treated her differently had been male. There's been many a male leader with just as many personality flaws as Pankhurst but who are remembered for their achievements rather than the fact they were difficult customers.

 The Last Act of Love: The Story of My Brother and His Sister by Cathy Rentzenbrink
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I was totally engrossed with this heartbreaking account of a sister dealing with her brother's accident and the aftermath from the moment I read the first chapter. So much so that I sacked off doing usual Saturday morning chores and spent time reading this instead.

Anyone was ever lost anyone they love will relate to this book - whether their loved one died suddenly or died after a long illness (or in the brother's case, died after being in a permanent vegetative state). The decisions that Cathy and her parents have to make are torturous: if they need to accept all hope is gone and their son/brother will never recover, if they should believe that he is "there" in some form (even if he can't communicate the fact), and what they action they should take if he really is gone. Does make you realise that just because you can keep someone "alive" with modern medicine, you sometimes perhaps shouldn't (note I am not talking about someone who has been left severely disabled; I am talking about someone who has no signs of conscious thought).

What Rentzenbrink does so poignantly is to showcase hard the grief process is, particularly when you're grieving for someone who is technically still alive. The recriminations about what you did and did not do, that you should be coping better, or that you should be living your life a certain way. She doesn't really provide any answers to these questions (because there are none); just that you need to be kind to yourself and learn to accept you'll never be "over it".

How I read (not that much)

This year, so far, I've read 19 books

Having watched several "How I read" - a tag that's currently doing the rounds - vlogs. I've realised that I really don't read that much for someone who claims to be an avid reader. Obviously, I probably read a lot more than someone who doesn't claim to be into reading but, compared with other "avid readers", the amount of books I get through seems somewhat paltry. For example, in her March Wrap Up video, the vlogger Lauren  ("from Lauren and the Books" as she tends to introduce herself) says she read 15 books "in the month of March". That's only four fewer books than I've read (19) since January (and I thought I was doing pretty well to read that much)!

I could claim lack of time as a reason for reading so comparatively little, but that's a bit of a cop out. Yes, I have a full-time job and several commitments outside of work, but I am guessing those who read 100 books plus a year have various commitments that they have to juggle as well. The reality is - like with anything in life - if you truly want to do something, you try to find ways of doing it. Therefore if I wanted to read more books, I would find ways of reading more. In fact, there are plenty of times when I could be reading but I choose not to.

For example, unless I am particularly engrossed in a book, I tend to watch telly than read in the evenings. After a long day, I just want to disengage my brain and watch something a bit mindless. I find the prospect of attempting to understand a plot or characters too taxing. That said, I do always read a few pages of whatever book I'm reading before going to sleep; I just rarely - if ever - spend a whole evening reading.

My daily commute to work - one hour each way (the joys of living in London, hey) - probably provides the greatest opportunity for reading, but actually I tend not to get that much done. Well, it is probably more accurate to say I don't get much book reading done as I tend to read other things when travelling to and from work. I read a newspaper in the mornings - unless the news is too scary and likely to trigger my anxiety (which, funnily enough, has been happening quite a bit of late) - and often read a magazine on the way home. Mind you, during rush hour, reading anything at all can be physically impossible at times. When you've squeezed yourself onto a Tube train, reading a book/paper with one hand while you cling onto a pole with the other is a bit of an art form - particularly if you're rammed up against other commuters and can barely move.

Another opportunity to read more would be to listen to audiobooks. I used to be quite snobby about the idea that audiobooks counted as reading, but I am now beginning to realise that they provide just a different way of "reading". For some people of course, such as those with visual impairments, audiobooks are the only form of reading available to them. Therefore to say that listening to audiobooks is not reading is to be dismissive of how whole sections of society experience books. I have, in fairness, considered listening to audiobooks but I find the price prohibitive. On Audible, they can be as much as £20 each and I don't think I would use the service often enough to warrant paying for a monthly subscription (about £8 per month). So for the time being, at least, I am content to download the odd narrated book off the BBC iPlayer Radio app (wouldn't be accurate to call them audiobooks given that they're often abridged).

Sometimes I not only ignore opportunities to read more books, I also wonder if I should read fewer books (which surely must amount to sacrilege for a book blogger!). I've read 19 books this year and, to be honest, I'd struggle to remember what they all were without checking my Goodreads list. I don't think this is a reflection of a quality of the books (though some, admittedly, were quite forgettable) but more that, as a human, I can only recall seven thing at any one time. Does seems a tad pointless to read more books if I am only to forget that I've read them afterwards! (Ignoring the whole counter argument that you don't need to remember a book for it have a lasting impression, obviously.)

Ultimately, of course, reading is not a competition and there are no rules about how many books you should read in a month. The amount of books you get through in a month is entirely down to you.

How I read reviews

Before I start reading a new book, I only want to know two things about it: its basic plot and its average Goodreads score - a book that has an average score of 1 star doesn't exactly sound promising. What I don't want to know is the specifics* of why a person did or did not like a book, which is why I tend to only read a review of a book until after I finished reading it. 

I am particularly averse to reading the lengthy (and frankly, long-winded) reviews you see in broadsheet newspapers and supplements. I've never understood the appeal of reading someone else's in-depth interpretation of a book when I could be coming up with my own interpretation by reading the book myself. For the same reason, I don't read introductions to well-known books - particularly as they often contain spoilers. I know that there are some people out there who prefer to read these types of reviews rather than read the book itself, but that seems a pretty pointless exercise to me. If they can't be bothered to read the book, why go to the trouble of reading a review of it? (If it's so that they can pretend that they've read the book, that's really quite pathetic)

That said, I do read reviews (but on Goodreads or blogs rather than in newspapers) when I am not sure whether or not I want to continue reading a book. Sometimes, a book really only gets going after the first few chapters; therefore, when struggling to get into a book, I read a review of the said book to see if it will get better if I persist with it.

Reviews in this context can also help you to know when you definitely don't want to keep reading. Recently, I was reading a book that I wasn't finding as compelling as I thought I would. Given that it had an average 4.76-star rating on Goodreads, I decided to read what other people thought of it. While most people gave glowing reviews, one person noted that how uncomfortable they were that, essentially, one character RAPES another character and then these two characters, after much remorse on the part of the rapist and forgiveness on the part of the victim, fall in love. Also, according to another review I read, the rape victim never gets to have a voice. OK, so the story is based on folklore and the victim is a nymph-like creature rather than an actual woman but I really don't understand how that makes that type of story acceptable. If the author wanted to raise the issue of redemption and forgiveness after rape, why didn't they tell the story from the rape victim's point of view? Obviously, the huge caveat is that I haven't read the book and I am basing my views on those of someone else rather than my own interpretation of book. But, nope, sorry, not prepared to give such a book a chance.

Back to the point in hand,  as mentioned, I mainly read reviews after finishing a book. This is basically to see if someone agrees with my view of a book. I once went to an event where The Guardian columnist Tim Dowling was giving a talk. He said that most people only read columns that share or support their views - which pretty sums up my approach to reading reviews. That's not to say I don't read reviews that disagree with my view of a book; I just tend to keep reading reviews until I find one that does agree with me. (I might be shallow and egoistical in this respect, but at least I'm honest). I'd be very interested to find out how other people read reviews - so if you're reading this, let me know!

* = I hope my sister doesn't read this; she always takes the mick out of me for my inability to pronounce the word "specific"

Cold-induced library haul

Feeling sorry for myself because I was - again - suffering from a grotty cold, I decided to visit my local library. I figured that as I had to venture to the shops anyway to buy yet more tissues (at this point, I had already gone through one box's worth and at least one bog roll), I might as well as do something pleasant while I was out of my sick bed. I ended up only borrowing three books because, to be honest, I couldn't face lugging back a load of books in my plaguey state. Mind you, considering that this was my second cold in as many weeks, grabbing one or two books from my library's display of "optimal health" books - rather than just giving them a cursory glance - would not have gone amiss. Ah well, these are the books I did get,

Vinegar Girl by Anne Tyler - Goodreads description

I've been wanting to give this retelling of Taming of The Shrew (part of the Hogarth Shakespeare project) a go ever since it came out last year. I was interested to see how Tyler would tackle the really rather sexist plot of the original  - gobby woman gets put in her place by bloke (though I have read Shakespeare was being ironic or something). Plus I really liked Tyler's A Spool of Blue Thread, so I wasn't averse to reading more of her work.

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier - Goodreads description

Having failed to re-read Rebecca for my Jane Eyre project because I couldn't face reading about someone else's anxieties (I have enough of my own), I felt I owed it to Du Maurier (not quite sure why to be honest) to try to read another one of her books. As My Cousin Rachel (boy meets girl he suspects of doing in his cousin; falls in love with said girl) has been made into a (soon-to-be-released) film, it seemed the obvious choice. 

Man at the Helm by Nina Stibbe - Goodreads description

I absolutely loved Stibbe's memoir Love, Nina - to the extent I once foisted it upon an unsuspecting member of my bookgroup as a secret Santa gift - but I was sceptical that I'd like this work of fiction about two girls trying to find a husband for their mum. Funny, insightful non-fiction writers aren't necessarily gifted fiction writers (and vice versa) as fiction and non-fiction are two very different mediums. Therefore, I decided to pick up this library edition  - the great thing being that I could try it without fear of adding to my "bought but won't read" pile. 

How I rate books

A couple of BookTubers have posted videos (1,2) about what, for them, makes a five-star read - the highest rating on Goodreads. Their videos have not only got me thinking about I consider to be a "five-star" book but also about my general process for rating books. One thing I've realised is that my system for rating books doesn't match-up with Goodreads' rating system.

WARNING: Some spoilers below

One star

Goodreads = "Did not like it"

Me = "I absolutely hated it"

Somewhat perversely, I only give one stars to books that I think are well written. I tend to hate a book when I vehemently disagree with its themes or how the characters are portrayed. The author has to sufficiently portray both the characters and themes for me to understand them to disagree with them! After all you can only disagree with a set of policies if you know what they are. 

An example of this is Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell. It's an undeniably compelling book but it's also undeniably racist. You do have to judge a book by the moral standards of when it was written rather than the standards of today; therefore, given Mitchell wrote it in 1936 -  a good 28 years before US legally-enforced public segregation was abolished by the 1964 Civil Rights Act - it's not totally surprisingly that she's not exactly championing equal rights for black people. But I felt that in Gone With The Wind, she doesn't just reflect the racism of her day (which would have been bad enough), she reflects the racism of the South during the Civil War. The subtitle of the book might as well be "slavery: black people preferred it that way". Given the horrific race-related events (such as Scottsboro Boys case) that happened in the USA in the 1930s, I couldn't keep reading.

Two stars

Goodreads = "It was OK"

Me = "A total let down"

I give two stars to books that I am frustrated with or disappointed by in some way. I got totally hooked by SJ Watson's Before I Go To Sleep until the big twist was revealed. The whole way through as I was like "that can't be the twist; it's too flipping obvious" but oh no, the twist was that obvious. The twist may as well have been "it was all a bad dream" it was so unoriginal. If you're going to go for a predictable ending, don't con your readers into thinking your book is anything other than your average  airport thriller paperback. Actually, that's unfair. Airport thrillers don't have delusions of grandeur and just get on with being your bog-standard page-turner. 

Three stars

GoodReads = "I liked it"

Me = "It was OK"

Three stars tends to be the lowest rating I give a book on Goodreads as I tend not to finish those that I consider to be one- or two- star reads. Life's too short to be reading a book you hate I say. Therefore, I give three stars to books that I enjoyed but I felt had one or two flaws that keep me from being that enthusiastic about it. The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley, which is the last book I read, was a good read but I did find it lost its way towards the end. As I mention in my review, I would be interested to read other books by Pulley (this is her first one, so she's allowed to be less than brilliant) but I don't think I would rush to recommend this one. 

Four stars

GoodReads = "I really liked it"

Me = "Nothing to complain about here"

I give a book four stars when there's nothing I would criticise about it - I enjoyed it, the plot was good, and characters were well developed etc. The only reason I give it four stars rather than five stars is because I am not passionate about it. As much as I enjoyed it, the book is not one that will stay with me. I really enjoyed Andrew Miller's Pure and wouldn't hesitate to recommend it but, a few years after reading it, I'd struggle to say what happened or why it was I liked it.

Five stars

GoodReads = "Awesome"

Me  = "Wonderful"

A five-star book is not necessarily the most well written but one that I feel connected to in some way. And having looked at the books I've given five stars to, they all seem to share a common theme - lonely outsider finds their place in life. Jane Eyre, of course, is my favourite book of all time.. I am not quite sure what that says about me; probably that I still haven't, at 36, quite got over being the misfit at school. 

Mind you, I am also partial to books featuring redemption in some way. The House of the Spirits, by Isabelle Allende, is one of my favourite books that I've read this year. I loved that the "baddie" in the book isn't as all out horrible as he initially appears. Again, not sure what that says about me. I am going to pretend it's because I am a Quaker and thus duty bound to see the divine in everyone rather than because I've got psychological issues going on. 

Links

1. Elena Reads Books - What Makes a Book a 5 Star Read 

2. Lauren And The Book  - What Makes a 5* Book?