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Showing posts from February, 2020

We Are Made of Diamond Stuff by Isabel Waidner - my review from goodreads

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We Are Made Of Diamond Stuff by Isabel Waidner My rating: 4 of 5 stars Now longlisted for the 2020 Republic of Consciousness Prize. When you complain that you haven't been paid your wages, and are told, 'It happens'. That's where we're at. But the narrator and their companion's resilience to the indignities the system throws at them is the diamond stuff that shines through this trippy, thought-provoking narrative, which had me both cringing and laughing out loud. Siting the narrative on the Isle of Wight: genius. View all my reviews

Adults by Emma Jane Unsworth - my review from goodreads

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Adults by Emma Jane Unsworth My rating: 4 of 5 stars Very funny, satirical, not laugh-out-loud-on-the-bus funny. As a study of a woman addicted to social media, it is actually somewhat disturbing; or fascinating maybe: certainly a page turner. Fun . View all my reviews

Allotment Announcement

The allotment will be given over to someone else in the next few weeks. I had been planning to semi-retire when I took it on, but now it looks like I'll be working full time until I retire, in about 7 years time. And to tell the truth, my heart's not in it lately. The underlying anxiety: do we really want to be eating foodstuffs grown a few hundred yards from the busy M8? All those bloody big lorries... Mostly, now, I'm reading novels, and I'll post my reviews from Goodreads here.

The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste - my review from goodreads

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The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste My rating: 4 of 5 stars The first movement of Shostakovich's seventh symphony came to mind during the first half of this book, a slow melancholy prelude to the madness of invasion and resistance. The central characters during that phase are the cook and Hirut, who has been to all intents and purposes enslaved by the local lord and lady of the manor when she is orphaned. Hirut and the cook are like the servants in Moliere, but without the humour; indeed the lack of anything by way of light relief, apart from the occasional dance, is the novel's only real flaw. All of the characters as we move into the second half of the novel, the occupation and insurgency (it might be better characterised as an actual war, there is nothing amateurish about the Ethiopians fighting to free their country), are finely drawn, no one is spared a three dimensional presence, even the war criminal Italian colonel has an abusive father by way of back story. There is so