The Fortnight In September R.C. Sheriff Mr. and Mrs. Stevens honeymooned in Bognor Regis and every September since—this is set in the 1930’s—they have returned with their children. This particular year Mary is nineteen, Dick seventeen, and Ernie twelve. The novel begins on the eve of their holiday, a night made special by its rituals and preparations and the anticipation of all the enjoyment to come. Each year they stay at the Seaview guest house, which never fails to provide comfort despite its increasing shabbiness and the fact that running it has become rather too much for the widow who owns it. As a family their lives are changing, but so is the world—a world we explore through the inner musings of each of them as they revel in the hot sun and the salty sea air on this, their two precious weeks away from London and the realities of life. There are no plot twists, no surprises, no dramatic revelations. This is a story that simply delights in the ordinariness of the Stevens, enchanting us with nothing more than the delicate intricacies of the everyday. How will they extricate themselves from the lonely neighbor who looks after their bird? Will this be the year to splurge on a cabana at the beach? It’s sweet and nostalgic, its quiet magic provided by the simple beauty of the writing and its piercingly sharp insight into the human mind and spirit. Time and again it leaves you smiling inwardly at a tiny thought or detail which you fancied belonged to you alone.
The Piano Tuner Daniel Mason In 1886, an 1840 Erard grand piano is shipped at huge expense and hauled by elephant to a remote military outpost in Burma, delivered to one Surgeon-Major, Anthony Carroll. It arrives (unsurprisingly) out of tune and Dr. Carroll, considered indispensable by the British Army, refuses to work until the piano is fixed. Hired for the task is Edgar Drake, a staid forty-year-old piano tuner who specializes in Erards, and who must now travel for weeks into distant jungles to minister to the pianos needs. It’s an unusual premise told in a straightforward yet quietly beautiful way. The writing draws you in with its consummate attention to detail, immersing you completely in the world of Victorian travel and Burmese colonialism. Rich in history, politics, nature and culture, it’s a contemplative book that derives its inherent drama by juxtaposing a man so used to the ordinary, with the complexities of military life, an exotic locale and a climate utterly unlike his own. That said, the author does throw in a tiger hunt and a fanciful Arabian storyteller for good measure.
Columbine Dave Cullen A terrifying account of the 1997 high school massacre at Columbine. With first hand accounts from students, parents, local officials and the journals of the boys who carried out the shootings, Cullen puts together the killers’ history, motives and preparations for the atrocity they commit. Incredibly well written and researched, its most fascinating reveal is the role that the media played in perpetuating myths and the devastating loop of misinformation which transpired, ensnaring a variety of people in its net. With several fascinating side stories which fit alongside the main one, Columbine is a chilling exposition of a tragic incident which everyone hoped would never happen again – only to discover that it would become (almost) the first in a never ending barrage of them over the next several decades.
The Potlikker Papers John T. Edge Potlikker is the leftover broth fed to enslaved people after the greens that were cooked in it were enjoyed by their owners. In what can only be described as poetic justice, the slave owners were utterly unaware that the broth was the part rich in nutrients. And for generations it sustained the poorest people of the South, Black and white alike, eventually becoming a classic Southern staple. This book traces the history of the American South from slavery and the civil rights movement through to the present day, using food as its guiding thread. Along the way it introduces many of the influential figures who helped shape Southern food and restaurant culture from the 1950s onward. It’s a bit dry at times which can make it a struggle to stay fully engaged, but overall it’s a fascinating look at the social and political history of this region and how it shaped its food —or, perhaps more importantly, how food shaped its social and political history. An illuminating read if you’re a fan of history and food culture in general, and the south in particular. Especially compelling are the chapters on immigration showing how the food culture of the Mexican and Vietnamese communities directly influenced modern southern cooking. Oh, the irony.
The Cactus Sarah Haywood Susan Green has created a perfectly ordered world for herself. At forty-five, she’s fiercely independent, lives alone in a meticulously tidy flat, and does her job with the utmost efficiency. In short, she is in complete control of all aspects of her life. But then her mother dies. And she discovers she’s pregnant. Suddenly, annoying human beings are tossed into her path at every turn. She tries to ignore them, step over them, or slam the door on them. To no avail. Meanwhile, her brother inherits their mum’s house, prompting a lawsuit; his best friend refuses to leave her alone; and her neighbour, overwhelmed by small children and an absent husband, pesters for babysitting help on the daily. And then, to top it all off, the mother of all secrets upends her world entirely. The mess. The chaos. The people. Susan is forced to come to terms with it all. Entertaining and well written the novel’s dry humour springs from Susan’s strident and uniquely uncompromising view of the world.