User Profile

At first I wasn't sure how well I would get on with a novel, well, a novella really, which is predominantly narrated by such a young protagonist. As it turned out, I felt that the concept worked brilliantly well with the child's obvious naivete about what was really happening in the world around them being such a powerful contrast to the encroaching war. Through their eyes, Dhaka is a magical place of brightly coloured flowers, butterflies and fairies, but for older readers such as myself, the excitement of many hundreds of people marching with their brand new nation's flag is tinged with the expectation of imminent violence.

Set in 1971, I Remember Abbu is a poignant rendition of Bangladesh's fight for independence from Pakistan. A conflict born of Britain's failure to understand what we were unleashing with our ill-thought-out Partition of India, Azad shows how the war was long in the making with a sense of inevitability about what occurred, but this is also an intensely personal story which, I feel, is what I loved so much about the book. One family's experiences reflect those of their nation and reflects those of all families caught up in civil wars. On one hand there was a depressing familiarity about several scenes in I Remember Abbu as a foreign army occupies the city and desperate refugees must walk for days in search of safety. On the other hand, I Remember Abbu also has such an atmosphere of love in the way the child, grown to a young woman, attempts to recall every glimpse of her adored father. He has gone, but she lives on and in that, there is hope.

I am surprised that I Remember Abbu is not more widely known outside of Bangladesh. It was originally written, beautifully written, over thirty years ago and, to my mind, this story should be a modern classic of war fiction. Emotionally it is not an easy read, but I am delighted to have discovered Azad's work here and hope that more of his books have also been translated so I might read them.

The Young Woman And The Sea is a graphic novel on a very different emotional scale to the previous one by Catherine Meurisse, Lightness, that I read. That work was driven by grief whereas The Young Woman And The Sea focuses on artistic discovery and has a lovely gentle humour to its narrative. Inspired and partially based on Meurisse's own sojourn in Japan, I loved her recollections of cultural and linguistic misunderstandings, and the beautiful way in which she portrays Japanese landscapes. The cartoon-style depictions of human characters - which I now know to be typical of Meurisse - contrast so effectively with her gorgeous natural scenes. In fact, there are several single page images which would be stunning if framed and hung on a wall. I was amazed to find them within a graphic novel!

There is a kind of artistic coming of age story in The Young Woman And The Sea which felt poignant when I considered it in relation to Lightness. I particularly appreciated moments such as when the Young Woman is comparing the familiarity of things, such as wisteria, between France and Japan. She recognises them, but the way in which they are situated allows her her to see them afresh, thereby sparking her artistic drive. I found The Young Woman And The Sea gave me inspiration to get out in nature again, albeit only locally to my home. I really enjoyed reading this quirky graphic novel.

On spotting French Rhapsody at a campsite book exchange I remembered how much I had enjoyed reading Antoine Laurain's previous novel, The Red Notebook, so eagerly picked it out. Unfortunately French Rhapsody didn't appeal to me anywhere near as much, actually leaving me more feeling like I did after reading A Long Blue Monday by Erhard von Buren. There are similarities to The Red Notebook in that Laurain explores ideas of what might have been and the narrative is again driven by a lost object, but Laurain didn't seem to employ the same light whimsy touch that I previously appreciated. There are humorous moments, but also a lot of slow scenes where aging men bemoan how the success they achieved isn't the success they wanted. I could have done without several pages of a far right extremist's speech as well. Initially Laurain seems to ridicule this character's bigotry, but by the end of the novel I had a suspicion that we readers might actually be being asked to sympathise with it.

The Art of Traveling Strangers was a wonderfully rewarding novel to read and I am delighted to have had this opportunity to review a copy. Leading character, Claire, has such an infectious enthusiasm for the historic artworks that she and Viv go to see that I frequently found myself wishing that I could follow in their footsteps, together with such a knowledgeable guide. I hadn't considered myself a Renaissance or Medieval art fan prior to reading The Art of Traveling Strangers, but now I think I just never had the right teacher!

I loved both Claire and Viv as characters to spend time with. Neither is actually particularly likeable as a person, but the complexity and depth that Disigny gives to each one made them feel convincingly authentic and I really appreciated being able to watch how each helped the other to overcome their personal demons. This novel is set in the 1980s and clever details, such as European currencies prior to the Euro and unashamed eating of foie gras, gave the story its historical credentials, however the problems that Claire and Viv struggled to overcome are just as pertinent today. Claire's toxic relationship with her husband rang especially true with me so I could completely empathise with her difficulty in breaking free.

While The Art of Traveling Strangers does explore challenging issues surrounding personal identity and the best way for each of us to be ourselves, it manages to do do in a very readable and engaging way. My own struggle while reading was to make myself stop and set the book aside from time to time. Disigny's writing so swept me up into Viv and Claire's adventure that I became deeply invested in these characters and didn't want to leave them for a moment. I highly recommend this book for fans of Italian-set novels or of art history, for readers who enjoy stories about women finding their true selves, and for road trip fans. If you have ever fancied going on an Italian art tour, The Art of Traveling Strangers could be inspirational.

Return To Blackwater House is the fourth of Vikki Patis' books that I have enjoyed. It features a minor character, Kate, from her earlier thriller novel, The Diary, now in a significant role as the Family Liason Officer assigned to Ava's case when the teenager mysteriously disappears from a New Year's sleepover. Other than this link, however, the two novels are standalone stories. I'd highly recommend reading them both!

While I didn't feel that Return to Blackwater House had quite the same degree of tension as The Diary, it is still a cracking good read with an original and convincingly plausible plotline. We see most of the story from Rebecca's perspective with Kate taking over narrating for some chapters. I loved being inside Rebecca's thoughts because she is somewhat of an unreliable narrator and carries a lot of demons from her neglected childhood. Patis deeply explores how our formative experiences shape our adult psychology, and how we often recreate the familiar even when such scenarios are self destructive. The relationship between Rebecca and her husband, Daniel, is brilliantly portrayed and I appreciated how Blackwater House almost becomes a character in its own right. The memories that just being there again dredge up for Rebecca add a great depth to her character and the atmosphere of this isolated place perfectly focuses the tone for this whole novel. There's a strong sense of Cornishness throughout Return To Blackwater House as well - true Cornwall, not just cute holidays!

I don't want to say too much more about this book and then inadvertently spoiler something. The more I think back over the story though, the more enthusiastic I get in remembering how well plotted and written it is. If you enjoy psychological thrillers depicting strong, realistic women then Return To Blackwater House will be a rewarding read.

I've followed Rebecca Mascull's Facebook page - where she is wickedly funny - for ages, but have only just now gotten around to reading one of her novels, her first in fact, The Visitors. It is a genre-defying blend of historical fiction, ghost story and mystery tale which I found to be wonderfully evocative of its era and a strongly compelling read.

The first half of the book where Liza recalls her childhood from its earliest years through to meeting Lottie and her subsequent discovery of her full potential was my favourite part. Liza is a fascinating narrator and I was in awe of Mascull's talent in vividly portraying her world to me. I felt as though Liza was actually speaking directly to me, rather than me 'just' reading a book! This immediacy seemed somewhat muted once The Visitors location shifts to Boer War South Africa, however this was possibly because Liza herself is now a more self aware adult. It was a shame to lose the vibrant, energetic child, but also rewarding to see how her deep friendship with Lottie transformed Liza's life - both their lives.

While its supernatural element is a vital part of The Visitors, the storyline wasn't as ghostly as I had expected and I would have liked some explanation of why Liza had her gift. That aside, The Visitors was a rewarding and historically interesting read which benefited from great research. On the strength of this novel, I will certainly be reading more of Rebecca Mascull's work, hopefully sooner rather than later.