The Tin-Can Tree (by Anne Tyler)

I find Anne Tyler's novels intriguingly different from most others. She uses rather bizarre characters, on the whole, and very little plot. Her situations are caricatured, and also very American. Yet her writing is extremely good, her observational skills excellent, and I keep finding myself coming back for more.

Having said that, 'The Tin Can Tree' was not one of my favourites. It opens as a funeral ends: it's the funeral of six-year-old Jenny-May. Her mother is griefstruck, and the novel really revolves around Simon, Jenny's ten-year-old brother, who begins to feel unloved and unimportant.

Simon and his parents live in a close community of three joined houses. One is owned by two elderly spinsters; one by two young men: the likeable James and his hypochondriac brother Ansel. Simon's family have his grown-up cousin Joan living with them for a while, and she spends a lot of time with him. She tries to hold the family together as they grieve, and also wonders where her long-standing relationship with James is going - if anywhere.

It's nice writing, as always with this author, and some issues do get resolved by the end of the book, though not all. It's probably a good pen-portrait of working people in that part of the USA in the 1960s, so useful from the social history point of view. But it didn't really move me much. I felt that there was a bit too much minute detail for my tastes, and it was rather slow-moving.

Still, pleasant enough as a light read for odd moments.

The Castle on the Hill (by Elizabeth Goudge)

It's years since I last read this book, one of my teenage favourites. It's long out of print now, but often available at charity shops or online places like Amazon UK which have a second-hand section.

Elizabeth Goudge's books are gentle, character-driven stories which I find I have to read deliberately slowly, or I miss a great deal of her observations. 'The Castle on the Hill' is about Miss Brown, who is forty-ish, and has lost her home and livelihood in World War II. She comes across Jo Isaacson, who is fifty-ish, a Jewish refugee, a brilliant violinst, and almost suicidal.

Then there are the delightful sisters with the unlikely names of Moppet and Poppet, aged six and four, who are Cockney children brought up very 'nicely', and who adore the story of Peter Rabbit.

These diverse characters and others are brought together by the historian Mr Birley, who lives in a small castle in Torhaven with two great-nephews. They all find peace and a haven from their fears and worries; yet there is still some violence in their lives: bereavement and tragedy, as was almost commonplace during the war.

The characterisation is very good, as always with this author's work. The story is long-winded in places, but the descriptions are good. I found it compulsive reading once I had got past the first couple of chapters: it was clear that horrors were going to occur, yet they were so sensitively handled that I found myself with a tear in my eye rather than feeling disgust of any sort.

Hope for the future is given despite present difficulties and tragedies; the ending was very encouraging on the whole. Recommended.

A Place Called Here (by Cecelia Ahern)

I wasn't totally impressed with the first - and best-known - novel by Cecelia Ahern (PS I love you), but thought it well-enough written that when I saw other books she had written in second-hand or charity shops, I was happy to buy them.

I read 'A Place Called Here' on a couple of flights, and overnight in an airport. It was the ideal kind of book for that situation: light enough that it didn't require deep thought, interesting enough to keep me turning pages, yet not so gripping that I couldn't put it down when I needed to sleep.

The story is about Sandy Shortt, who is something of a misfit. She is extremely tall, for one thing, in sharp contrast to her surname. She is also very logical and organised, and has a compulsion to search for missing things - and people. It all started when her neighbour Jenny-May vanishes when they are both ten years old.

By the time the story starts, Sandy runs a missing persons agency. She has reunited various lost family members, but there are still several unsolved cases which she has studied extensively.

Then Sandy herself disappears, and finds herself in a different world: one filled with people and objects that have mysteriously gone missing from the real world.

It's bizarre and surreal... and yet somehow the story works. In this strange other world there are socks, phones, wallets, even sofas... all of which have vanished without trace. There are also some of the people whose cases Sandy was working on. They have settled down, sometimes even married and had children, accepting their new lives after they've been there for a while.

The writing is very good; the story delightful, and unexpectedly moving in places. It's also strangely believable - it doesn't feel like fantasy at all. In some ways it's a bit like another of Ahern's novels, 'If you could see me now'. Recommended, though it appears to be out of print in the USA.

A Rare Benedictine (by Ellis Peters)

I'm not a huge fan of mystery and crime novels, though I enjoy the occasional Agatha Christie. Nor am I really a fan of mediaeval history. However I do find myself, now and again, picking up one of the delightful Cadfael novels by Ellis Peters (pseudonym for Edith Pargeter) and becoming engrossed.

'A Rare Benedictine' features three medium-length stories featuring Brother Cadfael, the mediaeval Welsh monk with remarkably good observation skills, who solves a lot of mysteries.

The first story features his call to the monastery, returning to England after fighting in the Crusades. So it's et chronologically before all the other novels about him. There's nothing overtly religious in the story, despite Cadfael receiving his call to monastic life. In his gentle way he ensures that justice is done and problems solved, even at the start of his ministry.

The second story is about a wealthy man of sixty who decides to give some very expensive silver candlesticks to the Abbey as a form of penance. Then the candlesticks vanish. Cadfael quietly spots the person who took them, and ensures that the right thing happens. Motive is much more important to him than legalism, and I found myself entirely agreeing with him.

The third story is about Brother William, who collects the rents, and is attacked one day. There's lots of interesting observation in this story, which include characters such as William's rebellious son, a closed-faced new monk, and a young and enthusiastic clerk. Cadfael himself is shown as a soothing, healing person, who knows instinctively who to trust and who is a likely villain.

Well-written, interesting, and clever plots. Recommended, even if you don't think this genre would appeal to you.

Lady Susan, The Watsons and Sanditon (by Jane Austen)

I have read all the completed classics by Jane Austen at least twice. However I had never read her unfinished work or epistolary novel, thinking they would be rather frustrating. But when I saw this Penguin edition, with notes at the end, I thought it would be interesting to see what they were like.

'Lady Susan' is a short novel composed entirely of letters. The main character, Lady Susan, is manipulative and selfish, as quickly becomes apparent from her writing. She plans to steal someone's husband, and also to marry her sixteen-year-old daughter to a man her daughter dislikes and fears. Lady Susan is beautiful and deceptive; her letters are a very clever way of seeing into her mind. She writes differently to different people, depending on what kind of image she wishes to portray.

It's very well done, with brilliant characters. However it's also rather melodramatic, and the ending a bit sudden as the letters cease and there's a brief conclusion. I imagine Jane Austen would have changed this somewhat had she lived to see it published.

'The Watsons' features Emma Watson, newly returned to her family after being brought up by her aunt. Again, there are excellent pen-portraits of the characters, and an interesting plot which had a lot of potential, had it been finished. As the fragment ends, there's a note suggesting the likely outcomes of the book, which made it rather less frustrating.

'Sanditon' is a bit different, starting with a carriage wreck and dealing with some amusing hypochondriacs who converge on the new seaside resort of Sanditon. Written in Austen's last year when she was ill, and very interesting; it would have been nice to have more of it.

The Penguin edition has excellent notes in the back which explain some 18th century terms, games and customs, as well as giving sections which Jane Austen had crossed out or altered.

There's a long introduction too, which gives the historical background to the book; however as it contains several plot spoilers it's much better read after the rest of the book rather than before.

Holding On (by Marcia Willett)

It's been a couple of months since I re-read the first in the Chadwick trilogy ('Looking Forward") by Marcia Willett. So I thought it a good idea to read the sequel, 'Holding On'.

The three orphaned children of the first book, Fliss, Mole and Susanna, are grown-up now. Fliss is married to the much older Miles, expecting their first baby. Mole is enjoying a naval career. Susanna is an art student. Their family home, The Keep, is still presided over by their grandmother Freddy who is now almost eighty.

It's a saga type of novel, taking is through the years focusing on the various members of the Chadwick family and their loved ones. There are several sections, each four years apart, from 1972 up to 1986. Each one begins with a brief summary of what happened in the intervening years.

There are, inevitably, several sad losses as the older generation become more frail and elderly, including a particularly moving section of the book towards the end. But there are also births, and new loves, and lots of hope for the future.

It's not quite Rosamunde Pilcher, but very enjoyable light reading with memorable characters. Stands alone, but definitely better after reading the first book. Recommended.

(The last in the Chadwick trilogy is 'Winning Through')

View from a Bouncy Castle (by Adrian Plass)

I always enjoy books by Adrian Plass. Some are so funny I laugh aloud, others give me tears in my eyes. All of them combine wry observational skills with pertinent theological comments and honest reflections about life and God.

'View from a Bouncy Castle' contains general anecdotes and fascinating ramblings that show clearly how Plass combines his observations on life with his ability to spot God working at all times. He admits with candid honesty how often he fails: how he makes mistakes and gets things wrong, time after time. His wife often despairs, but his children - especially his youngest, daughter Katy - continue to trust him wholeheartedly.

Beginning with a description of a bouncy castle for adults, where even the most uptight and rigid were eventually tampted to take off their shoes and lose their inhibitions, Adrian Plass takes us on a somewhat random devotional journey. I smiled, I felt moved, and I found much that provoked me to think. No deep theology, but plenty of reality. Recommended. Currently out of print, but can be bought for good second-hand prices at both UK and USA Amazon.

Gut Reaction (by Gudrun Jonsson)

I've always been interested in nutritional remedies for any kind of illness, and have picked up quite a few relevant books over the years. Gudrun Jonsson, who was born in Sweden, is a biopath.

'Gut Reactions' has been sitting on my shelves for a couple of years now, but I decided to read it recently after feeling a bit bloated a couple of mornings. The premise of this book is that digestive disturbances, and many other illnesses are related not just to what we eat, but to how we eat it. There's a fair amount of biological explanation in the book, which was a little beyond me although I assume it's accurate. But what interested me was the recommendations.

I was surprised to find that the most important thing of all, according to this book, is to chew food well so that it begins the digestive process in the mouth. The author recommends chewing everything fifty times. I don't think I can manage that, but thirty is more than I would normally do, and it's easy enough to implement.

She also recommends smaller meals than most people eat, and - in general - a form of 'food combining' - or rather, not combining proteins with starches at the same meal. This rather goes against some nutritional advice, but apparently it's much easier to digest if they're not eaten together. Most vegetables and salads can be eaten with either, and fruit is in the list with proteins, although it's a little more complicated. But in a nutshell, the author recommends breakfast as mainly fruit, with added nuts, yogurt, and perhaps oats. Then one meal based on starch - potatoes, or rice, or pasta, or possibly bread (although apparently gluten is not recommended for anyone with digestive disorders) plus salads, and the other meal protein-based with lightly cooked veggies, and perhaps some fruit, but no potatoes, pasta, bread or rice.

Then there are individual recommendations for various conditions which, it is claimed, are related to faulty digestion: from migraine to ME. Other alternative remedies are suggested in addition to dietary requirements. And there are several anecdotes showing remarkable improvements in patients who have followed these ideas.

I liked the book - it was written in a very readable style, without the hype that can sometimes be found in nutritional guides. It also had a sort of general overview for people who didn't want to follow every recommendation: basically, people need to give up cigarettes, most caffeine and sugar, and junk or over-processed foods. Then they need to concentrate more on vegetables, and ensure everything is thoroughly chewed. All of which seems eminently sensible, and relatively easy to implement.

Sadly out of print in both the UK and USA, but relatively easy to find second-hand.

I have no idea how much success these methods would have, but would suggest that anyone suffering from any kind of digestive problems should read this book, and perhaps try out the suggested dietary recommendations. They certainly won't do any harm.

These Old Shades (by Georgette Heyer)

I always enjoy re-reading Georgette Heyer's novels, particularly the historical ones. 'These Old Shades' is one of her very earliest - first published in 1926 - and I'm pleased to see it's still in print, although of course her novels are widely available second-hand too.

It's the story of the rather arrogant (and decidedly immoral) Duke of Avon. One night, on a whim, he buys Leon - a lad escaping a beating from his rather harsh brother - and adopts him as his page. Leon is not the usual kind of page, and indeed is not at all what he seems - but he develops an extreme devotion to the Duke of Avon, which the rest of his servants find very strange.

The world is that of the upper classes in the 18th century, in both Paris and the UK. There's inevitable snobbery, and the conviction that birth is more significant than upbringing in building someone's character and desires. There are also far too many minor characters described, for my tastes. I assume that most of them are in fact real historical figures (certainly the royalty are) but found it a bit overwhelming reading about them when they appeared in public.

But it was still an enjoyable novel, once it got going - and it took me nearly half-way through before I found myself reading it compulsively. There's a lot of excitement, kidnappings, a chase through the countryside... and a very low-key romance too.

Avon is not a particularly likeable hero, and the villain of the piece - the Compte de St Vire - isn't quite evil enough for his eventual fate. But there are some delightful characters, and some clever plotting. This book is certainly worth having if you're a Georgette Heyer fan, but I wouldn't really recommend it as an introduction to her work.

Ten Fingers for God: the Life and Work of Dr Paul Brand (by Dorothy Clarke Wilson)

I had not come across Dorothy Clarke Wilson's writing before, although she seems to have been fairly prolific, particularly in biographies. I had heard of Paul Brand, mainly due to reading just about everything by Philip Yancey. He was an orthopedic surgeon who was also a pioneer in leprosy research and surgery. moreover, he was the person who first showed that leprosy itself does not cause deformities: it's the lack of pain, a result of leprosy, that causes people to be unaware of situations when they are damaging themselves. This is well known now, but back in the middle of last century nobody had any idea.

When I read 'In the Likeness of God' earlier this year - by Paul Brand and Philip Yancey together - I determined to learn more of this remarkable man. So I put 'Ten Fingers for God' - the full biography of Paul Brand - on my wish-list.

There's an excellent introduction by Philip Yancey, but the main part of the book is by Dorothy Clarke Wilson, and covers Brand's life from birth up to the late 1980s when he had retired. It's very thorough, with plenty of family background and some interesting incidents and anecdotes, although the best of them have been used elsewhere - probably in one of Philip Yancey's books.

I found the book mostly interesting, but a bit heavy-going in places. A huge number of people are mentioned by name - relatives, colleagues, patients - and I found it impossible to keep track of them all. Sometimes a leprosy patient was introduced, with a moving or fascinating story told about him. But then he might be referred to several chapters on - by which time I had totally forgotten who he was. However, since biographies deal in real life and factual incidents, this is perhaps inevitable.

I read the book over about three weeks; I found that a chapter at a time was often enough, as there was so much information and so many people involved. I didn't feel myself drawn to the people as I do in some novels - perhaps this isn't possible in a biography, or perhaps the problem is that the author wasn't herself a fiction writer who specialised in characterisation.

Nonetheless, it's a very readable account of the life, work and ministry of this incredible man, and well worth having. Recommended to anyone who wants to know more about Paul Brand, or about the development of leprosy medicine in the latter part of the 20th century. The Christian emphasis is low-key - Brand was a living example of a man who cared about following God by doing his work, and ministering in practical ways to those who were suffering.