Very Good, Jeeves (by PG Wodehouse)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s over forty years since my father first introduced me to the work of PG Wodehouse, and in particular his best-known series featuring Bertie Wooster and his valet Jeeves (later popularised in an excellent TV adaptation featuring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry). I read several of the books during my teens, and then when my sons were teenagers, we read some of them aloud and enjoyed them afresh.

However it’s been many years since I read ‘Very good, Jeeves’, which is not a full-length novel but a set of eleven short stories about the classic pair. Determined to re-read more of my favourite authors, I pulled this from my shelves a couple of days ago, and finished it today. My volume is a hardback which I apparently acquired from my father’s collection many years ago.

PG Wodehouse was a master of language, of irony, and of classic understatements. In Bertie he created a caricatured wealthy upper-class young man from the early part of the 20th century, who isn’t particularly bright, but has an extremely kind heart. He finds it hard to say no, particularly to his rather terrifying Aunt Agatha. Jeeves, by contrast, is seen as a man of high intelligence, always able to solve problems for Bertie and his friends, by applying the psychology of the individual, and thinking outside the box.

Even the prologue to this book is amusing; it explains that some of the author’s readers felt that he’d written sufficient Jeeves books, but he enjoyed writing them so much that he planned to continue. He then advertises two of his other books both in English and bad French…

The first story, ‘Jeeves and the Impending Doom’, sees Bertie and his valet travelling to stay with Aunt Agatha in her country home. To add to his apprehension about the visit, he receives a strange and incomprehensible telegram just before leaving. Shortly after he arrives he sees, to his astonishment, his close friend Bingo Little, whom he thought was abroad… only to learn that they mustn’t be seen hob-nobbing. The plot quickly thickens, and - as ever - Jeeves sorts everything out, to everyone’s satisfaction.

The same basic plot underlies the other stories too, and in the hands of another writer might become repetitive or dull. But with Wodehouse, the main plot or theme isn’t important; what matters are the brilliant asides, the poetical allusions (accurate or otherwise), and the unlikely situations in which Bertie finds himself, usually because he’s helping out a friend or acquaintance, from the best of motives. In this book he’s caught by a policeman when up a tree in the grounds of a girls’ school; he hides behind a sofa smelling of aniseed; he punctures someone’s hot water bottle with a needle; he sings ‘Sonny Boy’ on stage at a fund-raiser… the situations are almost infinitely varied.

Everyone is caricatured, of course; yet it doesn’t matter in this kind of book. One has to have a certain kind of sense of humour to appreciate this, and to ignore the fact that Bertie is one of the idle rich upper classes whom many despise. Jeeves usually wins, not just solving problems but subtly ensuring that his employer does what he wants - yet it’s impossible to dislike him too.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed this little volume. Some of the stories felt familiar, as did many of the characters, but there were some which I don’t remember ever having read before, although I’m sure I must have done.

Highly recommended. This volume seems to stay almost continually in print on both sides of the Atlantic, and is available in Kindle form as well as various paperback editions.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

Goodbye, Gemma [Gemma in Love] (by Noel Streatfeild)

(Amazon UK link)

I started reading Noel Streatfeild books as a child, after discovering some of them on the shelves at my grandparents’ house. She is probably best known for her classic ‘Ballet Shoes’, but in my early teens my favourites were the ‘Gemma’ series of four books featuring the Robinson family. I’ve been re-reading them recently, with the third, ‘Gemma Alone’ (aka Gemma the Star) a few weeks ago.

So I decided it was time to re-read the final book in the series, ‘Goodbye, Gemma’, which I had not read for about fifteen years. Unfortunately my paperback copy had been so well-read that it was starting to fall to pieces, so I took the opportunity of ordering a replacement from the AwesomeBooks site, which has a big ‘bargain bin’. 

My new copy is a modern version, re-titled ‘Gemma in Love’, perhaps to appeal more to today’s teenagers, with an unpleasantly garish green and black striped cover. It doesn’t contain the handful of line drawings that my older paperback did, but as far as I know the text is unchanged.

The series was written as contemporary children’s fiction in the 1960s. In this story, Gemma, a talented actress who is now fourteen, is asked to take on the part of Juliet in the local University production of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Meanwhile, Gemma’s cousin, Ann Robinson (also fourteen) and her younger brother Robin are asked to make a record, after doing well in a TV talent show. And Lydia is upset because her ballet teacher is going abroad for a few months, so she decides to find out whether or not she is good enough to be taught by a famous French ballet master…

The Robinsons are a likeable family who live in a small town in an undetermined English location within easy train distance from London. The father teaches music, the mother works in a hospital, and as with many families of the era, they can pay the bills and buy food, but had no money left over for luxuries or ‘extras’ of any kind. Gemma, whose mother has been working in the United States, is very much part of the family despite being rather better-off financially, but all are aware that things are likely to change as they begin to grow up.

While ‘Goodbye Gemma’ could be read as a standalone, it would be a bit odd to do so, as it ties up a lot of ends and provides a good finale to the sequel. Ann discovers that her talent at singing can be used in a positive way, Lydia learns the value of hard work and honesty, and Gemma falls in love; perhaps an infatuated crush would be a better way to describe it, but it gives a slightly different focus.

While a child of around ten or eleven might well enjoy the first couple of books in the series, this one is more thoughtful and more appropriate for young teenagers; not that many of today’s teens would be interested in such a tame, family-oriented series, but eclectic readers or those who prefer classic and ‘wholesome’ stories might well enjoy it. It’s inevitably slightly dated, but the family interactions are realistic, the people surprisingly three-dimensional (albeit in the ultra-gifted way Streatfeild was so well-known for) and one or two scenes were really quite moving.

All in all, I enjoyed reading this very much.

Not currently in print, but widely available second-hand; it's worth searching for both titles if looking for a copy at an online bookshop.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The Best of Friends (by Joanna Trollope)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve liked Joanna Trollope’s writing style since I first came across one of her books nearly twenty years ago. I found several in charity shops and gradually acquired almost everything she’s written. Now I’m working through them gradually, re-reading, interspersed with novels from some of my other favourite writers.

I first read ‘The Best of Friends’ back in 2000, just over fifteen years ago, after finding it in a second-hand shop. Each of Joanna Trollope’s novels stands alone; this one is slightly unusual in that the main protagonist is not an adult but sixteen-year-old Sophy. We meet her out walking with her close friend Gus, who is a couple of years younger than she is, but has something of a crush on her.

Gus, we quickly learn, has two older brothers. Their parents Laurence and Hilary run a thriving bed and breakfast business and they all live in a comfortable but somewhat chaotic flat connected to the main building. Sophy, by contrast, is an only child. Her parents, Fergus and Gina, seem to spend most of their time arguing, and it’s become increasingly bitter. She’s reached the stage where she doesn’t want to go home, so she takes refuge with Vi, her delightfully bohemian grandmother. And when she finally does go home, her father is waiting for her, to impart some devastating news…

That much is outlined in Chapter One. The rest of the book takes place in just a couple of months, over the summer. Sophy is a likeable girl, although I never felt that I really got to know her. Joanna Trollope isn’t the greatest at characterisation; nevertheless her situations and descriptions of events managed to pull on my emotions quite strongly.

Fergus’s decision has devastating effects that reach out to everyone Sophy cares for, and for a while it felt as if disasters were being piled up, each one worse than the previous one. Family life is threatened in many ways, and the situations were so awful that I could feel empathy even though none of the characters were really alive in my mind. It didn’t help that there are a few similar names (I confused Vi’s friend Dan with the barman Don for several chapters) nor that Sophy’s mother Gina is one of the least likeable main characters I’ve come across in this kind of novel.

Still, I’d totally forgotten the story and had no idea how the plot would resolve itself and by the time I was around half way through the book I was gripped. The writing is terse and well-paced, the conversations mostly believable; places and appearances are described with just enough sensory detail to make them memorable without so much as to become boring.

While there’s a sense in which this is a coming-of-age story for Sophy, it’s also classic women’s fiction of the kind that could be enjoyed by older teenage bookworms as well as adults. There’s some ‘strong’ language, but although plenty of bedroom scenes are mentioned, there are, thankfully, no details. I don’t think it would be of interest to boys, or to anyone under the age of about fifteen.

Other than the flat characters and depressing tone of the first two-thirds of the book, my one gripe was that the author seemed unaware of some parts of UK education law. At one point it’s declared that Sophy must legally go to school in term-times. This is incorrect on two counts: firstly, she could have been withdrawn from school and educated at home at any age. More significantly she’s 16 and in the sixth form; at the time the book was published (1995) she was beyond the minimum school leaving age, and thus no longer legally required to have education of any kind.

However, it’s a minor detail. In general I’d recommend this in a low key way as holiday reading; it’s not precisely comfort reading as it’s quite gut-wrenching in places, but the ending is encouraging, albeit perhaps a tad too neat and tidy.

Still in print on both sides of the Atlantic.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The Emerald Crown (by Violet Needham)

(Amazon UK link)

After my mother died, a couple of years ago, I acquired her collection of Violet Needham novels. They weren’t books I had read, on the whole, but they were some of her favourites as a teenager. She collected them from charity shops and when re-published, and had quite an eclectic selection. Some are historical fiction, some were contemporary at the time when they were written.

‘The Emerald Crown’, which I have in a 1970 hardback edition, was first published in 1940, and as far as I can tell was meant to be set in around that period. However, the location is a fictitious central European country called Flavonia, which has been without its rightful monarch for several decades.

Enter Alexander, a fourteen-year-old boy who has recently been orphaned, and who has come to live with his guardian, Count Trollac. Most of the story is seen through the eyes of the count’s 12-year-old daughter Christine, who is generally known as Pixie. She’s a loyal and determined girl, and quickly spots that there’s something strange about the way people react to Alexander. Could he be the long-lost heir to the throne…?

A somewhat predictable story-line is enlivened by the search for the mysterious missing Emerald Crown of the title. Legend says that the rightful King will only appear when the Emerald Crown is found; moreover, it can only be found by such a king. So the reigning monarch isn’t too worried that he might be usurped, even though most of the people would love to see the return of their ‘real’ King.

It’s an adventure story that I think would appeal to either boys or girls of around nine or ten and upwards, if they can manage the somewhat dated style and enjoy stories with some excitement and tension but nothing too serious. I enjoyed it very much, and once again am wondering why I didn’t read some of Violet Needham’s books when I was younger.

I liked Pixie very much; perhaps today’s sophisticated 12-year-olds wouldn’t recognise her as a contemporary, as she seems younger in many ways. On the other hand, her understanding of politics and world events is rather beyond her age, as is her courage and independence. Alexander, too, is a believable character, struggling with grief at the loss of his mother, homesickness, and a deep tension as he has to come to terms with his destiny.

Having said that, the style is a bit awkward in places, and some of the minor characters are very caricatured. That doesn’t matter too much in a children’s book, but it might be off-putting to parents wanting to read it aloud to those who aren’t yet reading fluently for themselves.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The Island Hideaway (by Louise Candlish)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve liked all the books I’ve read by Louise Candlish, a contemporary women’s fiction writer whom I discovered as long ago as 2009. So I’ve gradually added more of her novels to my wishlist, and was pleased to be given this one last Christmas.

‘The Island Hideaway’ was apparently the author’s first novel, originally published in 2004 under the name ‘Prickly Heat’. Ten years later, she decided to revise it, in particular to make the technology more up to date, and gave it the new title. It’s appropriate since the story takes place in the idyllic small Italian island of Panarea, which is apparently off the coast of Sicily.

Eleanor is the main character of the book, and we see events, both present and past, through her eyes. We meet her travelling on the hydrofoil to Panarea, feeling a lurch of panic at what she’s planning to do. We quickly learn that she is essentially stalking her former fiancé Will, who is holidaying on the same island with his new girlfriend. Eleanor has only the vaguest idea of what she plans to do if she sees him, and it’s clear that she’s quite overwrought, not thinking clearly, and has spent more money than she can afford on this trip.

She meets a pleasant young man called Lewis who’s an archaeologist, and staying in the same hotel as she is. She also gets to know a British couple on a second honeymoon, and an older German couple who have a young teenage daughter. The story features them all, in cameo scenes, alongside Eleanor’s increasingly desperate attempts to find out what Will is doing, and her decreasing hope of ever getting him back.

It’s an interesting storyline, well-written and very readable. My biggest problem is that Eleanor isn’t a very likeable person. She drinks and smokes extensively, as do all the people around her. At the end of the novel there’s a note stating that the author had considered removing some of the smoking in her revised version, now that it’s mostly banned in public places around Europe, but decided to leave it in. I think this was a mistake, as smoking is so unappealing, and the number of cigarettes mentioned is way beyond anything I’ve ever seen, even 20 years ago.

The amount of alcohol consumed also seems remarkably irresponsible; it makes the characters concerned look rather feeble and immature, as well as apparently rolling in money. Add to that that they seem to have almost no moral code or ethics, and I found it hard to believe in any of them; nor, indeed, in Eleanor's strange obsession with following Will.

It’s a testament to Louise Candlish’s writing that I kept reading, eager to find out what happened, wondering if Eleanor would end up with either Will or Lewis. I almost gave up when she decides to do something which seems entirely out of character, in a drunken state, that left a sick feeling in my stomach. But by that stage I’d realised I wasn’t going to like any of the characters much; yet I was even more intrigued to see how it would end.

The climax of the book, when it happens, seems unrealistic and - from the perspective of the people concerned - involves a badly thought-out expedition. But it leads to a reasonably neat and tidy ending, and a positive outlook for the future.

Overall, I thought this a bit disappointing after reading the author’s other books. Nonetheless, I finished it in just three days. I’m always interested to read debut novels, albeit edited and reworked, so am glad to have it in my collection. I wouldn’t particularly recommend it as an introduction to Louise Candlish, but those who enjoy her work might like to see how far her writing has developed over the years.

'The Island Hideaway' is available in Kindle form, but the paperback edition is no longer in print in the US.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The New Mistress at the Chalet School (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

(Amazon UK link)

After some quite intense reading, and a very busy day, I wanted something light and comforting to settle down with for an hour or two. I skimmed my shelves, and rejected several other favourite writers in favour of Elinor M Brent-Dyer, author of the lengthy Chalet School series set in the middle of the 20th century. I’m gradually re-reading my way through, and have reached some that I have not read for at least fifteen years.

The last one I read was ‘A Problem for the Chalet School’, so next in line was ‘A New Mistress at the Chalet School’. I enjoyed this one very much as a teenager, and again when I re-read some of them in my thirties. I had an Armada paperback edition of this previously, so was pleased when I managed to acquire my mother’s hardback version: quite a lot was cut for the paperback.

Rather than being about new girls at the school, this one, as the title suggests, is about a new staff member. Kathie Ferrars is 22 and has just qualified as a teacher, so she’s delighted to be offered the post of form mistress for ‘Inter V’ at the girls’ boarding school in Switzerland. The first chapters see her with her beloved aunt, and then meeting some of her colleagues as she embarks on the lengthy journey from the UK.

I liked the different emphasis; the author was herself a headmistress of a girls’ school, so I’m sure that much was drawn from her experience. Kathie is a likeable young woman, if a bit too easily led by unhelpful advice. She’s quite shy, too, but evidently a very good teacher, and well able to deal with the apparently modern outlook of the school’s methods though she struggles to accept the camaraderie that exists between the older girls and the staff.

The characterisation is good (albeit stereotyped in some instances), and the storylines good. The writing is, in places, a little repetitive, and features a bit too much author viewpoint, telling us what a pity it was that Kathie did or thought something as it was to lead to problems. Perhaps these were removed in the Armada paperback, but I’d still rather read the original. I might smile at the regular mentions of Miss Annersley’s beautiful voice that was one of her best features, or her blue-grey eyes that didn’t need glasses, but this kind of thing is part of the Chalet School tradition.

Definitely recommended to fans of the series, particularly those who dip in and out of the books; this one has a little something extra. The books all stand alone so it might even make a good introduction to the series, although there are so many references to earlier books (with footnote references) that it would probably be better to read at least a few of the earlier ones first.

The full text was re-printed by 'Girls Gone By' in 2006, but it's now out of print again and can be rather expensive to buy second-hand. The hardbacks such as mine seem to go for even higher prices. The abridged Armada paperback is still worth getting if you are collecting the series and can't find a full edition, although even these are sometimes rather pricey, unless you come across them in a charity shop.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The Welsh girl (by Peter Ho Davies)

(Amazon UK link)

I’d never heard of Peter Ho Davies; I would probably never have come across this book, but a friend gave it to me some years ago and I finally decided to read it. It was apparently long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2007 and was a Richard and Judy chosen book too, so it’s evidently highly regarded. My main concern was that it might be too ‘literary’ for my tastes.

‘The Welsh girl’ is set around the end of World War II. The prologue introduces us to a young man called Rotheram, the son of a Lutheran German mother. His father - long-gone - had been Jewish, but he had resisted leaving Germany until he realised that they would be in danger if they stayed. And now he’s working for the British, deputed to see if he can work out whether a major Nazi criminal has lost his memory or not.

Chapter one then brings us to the Welsh hillside, and a young woman called Esther who lives on a farm and works in a bar. There’s some animosity between the Welsh locals and the British soldiers who are stationed nearby, and Esther finds herself caught up in a very unpleasant situation that then shadows her life for the rest of the book.

The third main character is Karsten, a German soldier who’s been promoted to a high rank but is evidently kind and thoughtful; we meet him when he’s about to surrender, for the sake of his comrades, and he will then be taken to a newly formed POW camp in the village where Esther lives.

The novel follows these very different individuals in the final months of the war, giving some interesting perspectives on the period. We read about shame, from quite different points of view; we see evacuees and soldiers in their daily lives. The war itself is not really happening on stage in the book, and all the individuals, whatever their culture or background, are seen as flawed but likeable humanity.

The writing is good. I found the characterisation a bit superficial, but the story is all told in the present tense which makes for immediacy and quite a compelling tale. There’s an earthiness about it in places; the author doesn’t mince words in describing some situations, although in others he drops hints and leaves it to the reader to see what’s going on. I found the conversations believable, if a bit slow-moving - and felt that I had a better understanding of what it would have been like to live in the war, at least in a small Welsh village.

However, although I read it in just a few days, it didn’t particularly grip or grab me. I doubt if I’ll remember any of the people for more than a week or two, and already I’m wondering just what the story was about. That’s often the way with ‘literary’ fiction.

Still, it made a good read, rather different from my normal fare. Recommended to anyone interested in the war years, who doesn’t mind a fair amount of bad language.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

Notes from Over the Edge (by Jim Palmer)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve enjoyed reading books by Jim Palmer, the best-known of which is probably ‘Divine Nobodies’, which begins to explain why he became disillusioned with institutional church and religion, and found new ways of following God. Palmer has a Masters’ degree in theology and was a full-time pastor, so this was no light decision. 

I liked his second book, ‘Wide Open Spaces’, too. The author is open about his difficult and coercive childhood. He was quite damaged by some features of American fundamentalist churches but he has a knack for story-telling that makes his books compelling reading.

I was in two minds about his third book, ‘Being Jesus in Nashville‘, however. While the writing was still good, and the account of his experiment made interesting reading, he seemed to me to go just a bit too far in the direction of being one with Jesus. And so I wasn’t entirely sure about reading his most recent book, ‘Notes from Over the Edge’. It’s subtitled, ‘Unmasking the truth to end your suffering’, which seemed odd to me: I don’t think I suffer, particularly. No more than anyone else, anyway. Early reviews were mixed, too. But finally I put it on my wishlst and was given it for Christmas last year.

The book is a bit different from the author’s earlier ones; it’s not so much a coherent account but a mixture of notes, based on his journals during a period of intense reflection on his life and faith. I found the first section very annoying; not only was it repetitive, but it read like one of those scam adverts that keep insisting that we need to know (or buy, or do…) the One Thing that will change our lives! And then it goes on about what’s wrong, and how it was discovered, and it becomes increasingly irritating, as nobody has yet said what exactly it’s describing. Besides that, he kept telling me I thought this or believed that, about things that had never even occurred to me.

So I nearly gave up before I’d finished the first section, but I don’t like to do that. And I reminded myself that the author had a very damaging childhood, and some bad experiences with fundamentalism, so I should make allowances. And, indeed, he finally gets to the truth… which gave me more of a ‘duh!’ moment than anything else. The truth, he tells us, is that God is with us all the time, that God is love, that God is in everything and everyone. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is standard Christian doctrine.

I was a little disturbed by what seemed almost Buddhist thinking in places, but Palmer still returns to Scripture (albeit ignoring some quite significant parts) and most of all to the words and actions of Jesus. And while the writing in the main and later sections continues to be rather repetitive, and often not relevant to my own background, I kept reading, and thought he made some good points.

I’d certainly recommend this to anyone who’s been brought up in an angry or coercive religious environment; but don’t expect great coherence or profound thoughts. It’s essentially telling us to live in the moment, to look out for God in all situations, to respond as needs arise, and not to worry.

I'm not sure I'll read anything else by Jim Palmer, but on the whole, although it was hard-going in places, I'm glad I finally got around to reading this one.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

An Equal Music (by Vikram Seth)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m not entirely sure how this book came to be on my ‘to read’ shelves. I think it was given to me by a friend, who found it second-hand, a few years ago. I’d vaguely heard of the author, Vikram Seth, but had not read any of his books and they’re not in genres that would naturally appeal to me. So this particular book sat on my ‘to read’ shelf, until I randomly selected it for the next novel to read.

‘An Equal Music’ is told in the first person, in the present tense, by a thirty-something musician called Michael. He plays second violin in a prestigious string quartet, a demanding but enjoyable role. The people he is closest to, emotionally, are the other members of the quartet: the first violinist Piers, Piers’ sister Helen, who plays viola, and Billy, the cellist. Piers is gay, Helen has a boyfriend, and Billy has a wife and child. Michael has an on-off affair going with a rather younger student, but can never forget his first love, the brilliant pianist Julia, whom he has not seen for nearly ten years….

Chance - and music - brings them together. Julia is married with a child, and has a secret she isn’t, at first, willing to reveal; but she and Michael are drawn together in an illicit affair, cemented together by their shared love of classical music.

Michael loves Julia, but he also loves his violin, which is on long-term loan from an elderly friend who first taught him to love music. One day, she tells him, it will go to her materialistic nephew and his daughters…

And really, that’s it as far as the plot goes. There are many subplots; flashbacks and commentary about the past, a trip for the quartet to both Austria and Italy, the discovery of some little-known music, a recording contract… and many rehearsals where we see quite intimately into the way the lives of a quartet are intertwined, almost like a marriage.

I finished reading it today, and am still not entirely sure how I feel about it. It’s a powerful novel of love and loss, of friendship and betrayal, and - above all - of music. It’s draining at times, and also uplifting; in a sense it’s written like a piece of music, Michael’s music and his love-life reflecting and resounding from each other. By the end, I could barely put it down. The ending comes suddenly, after rather too much rhetoric (in my view) and didn’t quite tie up all the ends, but perhaps that was deliberate.

But although the writing is excellent, the story well-paced, and some parts quite moving, I found the characters oddly flat. Michael is believable enough; he’s highly emotional and rather volatile, but that does sometimes go with great artistes, and he’s exceptionally gifted as a violinist. But Julia doesn’t seem to have any motivation for what she does, and it was hard to see why Michael loves her so much. I can see he might have idealised her in their long separation, but when they meet again, he seems even more besotted with her, yet in a selfish way, wanting her to take risks and sacrifice her happiness for his sake.

Some of the music terminology went over my head, and I’m not familiar with most of the pieces mentioned, but that wasn’t a problem. However I’m sure that lovers of classical music would find a great deal more in this novel than I did.

My biggest problem, really, was that some sections were quite wordy, almost irrelevant. I realise this is a literary novel, and I’m never entirely clear what that means, nor what the motivation is for literary writing. But still, some short sections could, in my view, have been cut entirely without any loss to the novel - unless, perhaps, they were included to show Michael’s confused and sometimes wandering mind.

Overall, though, I'd recommend it; particularly for fans of classical music.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

Christmas at the Cupcake Café (by Jenny Colgan)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve enjoyed the handful of Jenny Colgan books I’ve read so far, and added this one to my wishlist some time ago. I was given it for my birthday last year, then forgot to read it in December, as I had planned to. So I decided to read it when the weather’s hot and humid instead…

‘Christmas at the cupcake café’ is a sequel to ‘Meet me at the cupcake café’ which I read a few months ago. I had vaguely remembered the story and people concerned, but was pleased to find a useful overview at the start, reminding me of the key characters and their families. Issy is the main protagonist; she started a café with some redundancy money and used her extensive baking skills to provide delicious treats for passers-by.

This book starts a year after the previous one finished. Issy has moved in with her banker boyfriend Austin and his 11-year-old brother Darny. Things seem to be going well… except that Austin has gone on a visit to New York where it becomes more and more evident that he’s being head-hunted. But there’s no way Issy would leave her café behind, even though she has competent staff in the form of Pearl and Caroline…

As the title suggests, the story begins mid-November and takes us through December, culminating in a Christmas celebration, and - eventually - a satisfactory conclusion. I hadn’t seen where the plot was going, and certainly hadn’t expected the final scenes, but it worked very well.

Pearl is a single mother bringing up a delightful four-year-old; Caroline is - or was - very image-conscious and has little idea about what it means to have financial problems. And then there’s Helena, Issy’s best friend, who has a year-old baby whom she’s bringing up by a wide range of theories… and hasn’t acknowledged that she’s struggling.

They’re all caricatured to some extent, but their problems and worries are real, and I found some of their trials quite moving. The people in New York are stereotyped even more; I found this mildly amusing but can imagine that some from the United States might find it insulting.

I did find the same minor annoyance that I had with the first book; the viewpoint keeps switching, even within a scene, so we’re told what everyone’s thinking but have no chance to get inside anyone’s head. But still, I liked the feeling of going back to read about people I’d come across before, and I enjoyed the story.

It’s a light-hearted book on the whole, and makes very light ‘chick-lit’ style reading. Each chapter begins with a recipe, some of them real and some obviously intended as a joke. My favourite Christmas cake recipe is there, used by permission, and I was pleased to see that the author, in the guise of Issy, explains that this is the perfect recipe, one which should not be deviated from at all. I entirely agree.

I’m not sure I’ll try any of the other recipes, except perhaps the sticky gingerbread, which is quite different from the recipe I normally use, but they make a nice feature of the book. As with the first, there’s also a very basic guide for cake-making beginners at the back.

Overall I thought this an enjoyable read. It didn’t require any deep thought, and it was light enough that I finished it in just a couple of days. It stands alone but I think is better read as a sequel to the first ‘Cupcake cafe’ book, and would probably appeal to anyone who likes this kind of fluffy ‘chick-lit’ with a baking theme.

There’s some bad language but it’s not excessive, and in other respects the book is pretty much PG although I doubt if it would appeal to anyone under the age if about 15.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The Thirty-Nine Steps (by John Buchan)

(Amazon UK link)

Although my mother was quite a fan of the early 20th century Scottish writer John Buchan, I had never got around to reading any of his books. I suppose the ‘thriller’ genre put me off; even though I knew his books were considered classics, and not particularly gory, I prefer to read character-based family saga fiction. But after losing my mother a couple of years ago, I picked up this little volume from her shelves, knowing it was one of her favourites and that she dipped into it regularly.

I’ve finally sat down to read ‘The Thirty-Nine Steps’, and what a treat it was! It’s more an adventure story than a thriller, although the ending is quite tense. It was published 100 years ago, so inevitably it’s dated, but that didn’t pose a problem for me. I’ve read and enjoyed Jane Austen and those of her era which are a lot more old fashioned. This is more in the style of PG Wodehouse or Conan Doyle: terse, but fast-paced, and oddly light-hearted.

The book, as is stated in a brief note at the beginning of my edition, was deliberately written as what the author calls a ‘shocker’ - an exciting adventure story where the hero keeps on escaping by the skin of his teeth, rather like the comic strip stories that appeared in weekly magazines. And that’s just what it is. Those who criticise it for being implausible (or just plain silly) have rather missed the point.

And the author does it very well. Richard Hannay is the protagonist, an engineer who has been living in South Africa, who has returned to the UK. He’s been living in London for a while but is utterly bored with the socially active lifestyle he finds himself adopting. He has plenty of money, but nothing to make life more interesting. Then, as he’s about to give up his flat and leave, a stranger arrives on his doorstep with a worrying story about international politics and intrigue, one which means the stranger is in danger of his life…

Hannay gets involved, and over the next few weeks his life is quite the opposite of mundane. He flees to Scotland, both from the British police and from enemies of the country. He takes refuge with a series of unlikely people, dons many disguises, and - as with the kind of stories the author is emulating - manages to escape each scenario by cleverness or luck, before finally returning to London in the hope of sorting everything out. It’s no spoiler to say that he escapes; the story is told in the first person, so we know that he must be alive at the end.

It’s not a character-based story, but by seeing everything through Hannay’s eyes we get to know him quite well. I felt a bit sorry for some of the people he meets, but they’re mostly caricatured. Coincidences abound, but that’s part of the rules of this kind of story. And the writing is good - fast-paced, exciting, with just enough description to set the scene. In many places there are stereotypes and politically incorrect commentary, but that’s par for the course with this era and style of writing.

‘The Thirty-Nine Steps’ is just over 100 pages long so I read it in a few hours. The final chapters, which are more about politics, went a little over my head, but that didn’t matter at all. The ending is rather abrupt; I’d have preferred a bit more detail, but the final paragraph slotted extremely well into the realities of world history.

This isn’t a thriller in the modern sense of the word, but it’s one of the earliest of the genre, and may have inspired more recent novels on similar themes. It has to be taken with a very large pinch of salt, but still, I would recommend it to anyone interested in literature from this era, teenager or adult.

Continually in print in many versions, including ebooks (although it’s worth checking reviews first; some, apparently, have been quite poorly formatted). This novel has also been made into various films.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

Black Earth City (by Charlotte Hobson)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of Charlotte Hobson, and I doubt if I would even have looked at this book in a shop. However, I was given it by a friend a few years ago. Then it sat on my to-be-read shelf waiting patiently to be chosen. I finally picked it up about a week ago, and have just finished reading it.

I had mistakenly assumed, at first, that ‘Black Earth City’ is fiction. I quickly realised as I started to read that it’s a biographical account of the author’s first year in Russia, in the early 1990s. She went to a small town called Voronezh with a fellow student as part of her Russian Studies university course. Names have been changed, as we’re told at the beginning of the account, and the details of some places and incidents also changed. But the bulk of the account is - I presume - factual and honest.

The author arrived shortly after the coup that began the fall of Communism, and spent her year amongst locals, learning the language and culture as part of the student community. So the account is a mixture of her personal life, the people she got to know, and comments on politics and the dissolution of the USSR from the point of view of someone living through it.

The writing is good, the pace works well. I’m no history buff and knew very little about the situation in Russia; I feel a little more educated about it now, with a great deal more awareness of the abject poverty and rampant inflation that made survival increasingly difficult for many.

However, it didn’t ever feel like a coherent whole. Some biographies tell stories, some tell facts. I prefer the story-telling ones, and there are elements of this; it begins very well with the story of how Charlotte came to be studying Russian, and why she decided to go to Voronezh rather than the much bigger faculty in Moscow. But it doesn’t really mention what she expected, or indeed much about her feelings at all. It’s told in the first person, through her eyes, and there are some interesting detours into other people’s story-telling or anecdotes.

But the characters all merged together in my mind. Evidently the author knew them all as individuals, but I found it impossible to remember who was whom. Maybe it was deliberate that they all melded into one, a relic of the Communist ‘proletariat’, but as one who prefers character-driven fiction, it didn’t make for very interesting reading, even though some of the stories told, by themselves, were fascinating.

I also found the endless vodka-drinking and joint-rolling to be tedious in the extreme. Perhaps this is what some students do; perhaps it’s what all Russian students did in the early 1990s. But it seemed to occupy far too much of the narrative, when I’m sure there must have been many interesting things left out.

Worth reading once; could be of interest to anyone who would like to know what Russia was like from an outsider’s perspective in this significant year. But I doubt if I’ll be reading it again.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews

The one plus one (by Jojo Moyes)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m never quite sure what to expect when I start a book by JoJo Moyes. She manages to write women’s fiction in quite a variety of genres, from historical fiction to stories set in Australia to one about training horses .. and also some set amongst more ordinary people in the UK. I like her style of writing, even though some of her books appeal more than others, so was pleased to be given this one for my birthday a few months ago.

‘The one plus one’ revolves initially around a single mother called Jess, who works both as a cleaner and in a bar simply to keep her head above water. Her ten-year-old daughter Tanzie is a very gifted mathematician who finds it hard to make friends. They also have Nicky living with them; Nicky is Tanzie’s teenage half-brother, but no blood relation to Jess at all. He dresses like a goth, complete with make-up, and regularly gets into fights with their highly unpleasant neighbours.

Tanzie’s maths teacher thinks she should be sent to a private school where she can be challenged. She’s offered a 90% scholarship, but it’s still way beyond the family’s means. Then it’s suggested that Tanzie could take part in a competition in Scotland; the only drawback being that they live on the South coast of England, don’t have a working car, and can’t possibly afford train or coach fares.

Into the mixture comes Ed, who has no idea what it means to struggle financially, but has made a stupid mistake and may lose everything. After some misunderstandings he finds himself offering to drive Jess and family to Scotland, although he doesn’t quite bargain for the large and sometimes smelly dog Norman…

Most of the story then takes place on the lengthy journey which takes considerably longer than it might be expected to. It’s cleverly done, each chapter focussing on one of these four, seeing life from their point of view and getting inside their heads. As they drive further north, Nicky finds himself relaxing, partly due to the influence of Ed as a very positive role model who understands how a teenage boy thinks; Tanzie becomes more stressed as she realises her entire future is at stake, and Jess wonders what on earth they’re doing, and why Ed is being so nice to them. Ed spends some time wondering exactly the same thing.

It’s a mostly light-hearted book, with some incidents and conversations that made me smile, although there’s a serious underlying theme, showing brilliantly the enormous gap between those who have always had plenty of money and those who don’t have enough, no matter how careful they are. It shows the loneliness of two children who are very different from each other, yet are both rejected by their peers.

The book is quite thought-provoking, bringing up several legal issues, showing how easy it is for even the most cautious or honest people to be tempted into wrongdoing, either for their own sanity or for the sake of their families. The book is mostly about families: the modern, complicated, blended style of family where it’s best to put aside prejudices and jealousies and see the best in each other.

There’s rather more bad language than I’m comfortable with, which was disappointing; I also felt that the ending was a little abrupt, leaving one or two threads a little too open. But despite these minor gripes, I thought this a moving and thoughtful novel, one which I could barely put down towards the end. Definitely recommended.

Review copyright 2015 Sue's Book Reviews