John Boyne "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas" (Definitions)

I reread The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas before starting All the Broken Places and it had an even greater impact on me second time round.
The stark contrast between Auschwitz seen through the eyes of a naïve, 9-year-old forced to leave the luxury of his 5-storey home in Berlin when his father is promoted to the rank of camp commandant and the vivid images stamped on my mind from newsreels showing the liberation of the camps and the horrors of the atrocities committed there, from documentaries about the holocaust and the final solution and from interviews with survivors made this book a chilling and compelling read.
When Bruno innocently ponders why the hordes of passengers being forced to board an already packed train on the opposite platform can’t just cross over and join him on his empty train going in the same direction, I pictured the grim reality with a sick feeling in my stomach.
The characters are all really well drawn: the repetition of phrases, mispronunciation of key words and gripes over the lack of playmates, lessons and The Hopeless Case perfectly portray Bruno as a self-preoccupied and privileged young boy while the depiction of his new friend Schmuel on the other side of the fence is simply heart-breaking. The coldness and cruelty emanating from Lieutenant Kurt Kotler send shivers down the spine while Mother’s medicinal sherry and Father’s iron fist create a real impression of home life.
For a relatively short book The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas packs a powerful punch and poses many questions for adult and younger readers alike. A harrowing and haunting work of fiction, a tense and atmospheric read and a unique perspective on this unforgettable period in history.

I reread The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas before starting All the Broken Places and it had an even greater impact on me second time round.
The stark contrast between Auschwitz seen through the eyes of a naïve, 9-year-old forced to leave the luxury of his 5-storey home in Berlin when his father is promoted to the rank of camp commandant and the vivid images stamped on my mind from newsreels showing the liberation of the camps and the horrors of the atrocities committed there, from documentaries about the holocaust and the final solution and from interviews with survivors made this book a chilling and compelling read.
When Bruno innocently ponders why the hordes of passengers being forced to board an already packed train on the opposite platform can’t just cross over and join him on his empty train going in the same direction, I pictured the grim reality with a sick feeling in my stomach.
The characters are all really well drawn: the repetition of phrases, mispronunciation of key words and gripes over the lack of playmates, lessons and The Hopeless Case perfectly portray Bruno as a self-preoccupied and privileged young boy while the depiction of his new friend Schmuel on the other side of the fence is simply heart-breaking. The coldness and cruelty emanating from Lieutenant Kurt Kotler send shivers down the spine while Mother’s medicinal sherry and Father’s iron fist create a real impression of home life.
For a relatively short book The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas packs a powerful punch and poses many questions for adult and younger readers alike. A harrowing and haunting work of fiction, a tense and atmospheric read and a unique perspective on this unforgettable period in history.
Jacqueline Harpman "I Who Have Never Known Men" (Vintage)

For years, 39 women and 1 younger girl have lived in an underground bunker in a cage. Patrolling guards are their only contact with the outside world, and at this point they despair of ever escaping, resigned to death in prison. Most of the women can remember their former lives, but the younger girl remembers nothing but the cage. But one day, a mysterious siren goes off just as the guards are opening the hatch to deliver them food, and after the guards disappear, the women are able to escape. But will they find freedom outside of the bunker?
This is a bleak dystopian novel that is less about what happens to its characters and more about the human spirit in the face of despair. The writing is beautiful, and every word is tense. My only complaint was that I desperately wanted to know more, to understand why and how, but Harpman does not answer these questions and leaves them to her protagonist and the reader to ponder.

For years, 39 women and 1 younger girl have lived in an underground bunker in a cage. Patrolling guards are their only contact with the outside world, and at this point they despair of ever escaping, resigned to death in prison. Most of the women can remember their former lives, but the younger girl remembers nothing but the cage. But one day, a mysterious siren goes off just as the guards are opening the hatch to deliver them food, and after the guards disappear, the women are able to escape. But will they find freedom outside of the bunker?
This is a bleak dystopian novel that is less about what happens to its characters and more about the human spirit in the face of despair. The writing is beautiful, and every word is tense. My only complaint was that I desperately wanted to know more, to understand why and how, but Harpman does not answer these questions and leaves them to her protagonist and the reader to ponder.
Book 48 - Terry Eagleton "After Theory"
Sep. 20th, 2025 02:03 amTerry Eagleton "After Theory" (Penguin)

When the very foundations of your civilisation are literally under fire, however, pragmatism in the theoretical sense of the word seems altogether too lightweight, a laid-back response.
After Theory begins as an intellectual history and concludes as a cautionary tale. Unfortunately, in between there is a messy didactic midriff where Eagleton labours to define Truth and Morality. Such an exploration undercuts the wonderful narrative of the opening chapters, where Eagleton paints with tremendous skill and never avoids landing a quick jab:
The most avant-garde cultural journal of the period, the French literary organ Tel Quel, discovered an ephemeral alternative to Stalinism in Maoism. This is rather like finding an alternative to heroin in crack cocaine.
and
Fate pushed Roland Barthes under a Parisian laundry van, and afflicted Michel Foucault with Aids. . .It seemed that God was not a structuralist.
Eagleton weaves his history of Theory and points out that its time has now passed. It thrived from 1965-80 and compares these fifteen years with the rupture of High Modernism from 1910-1925. He argues that Barthes, Derrida and others were the Joyce and Schoenberg of this later, messier time. He also notes how most of the Theory Gang were left-leaning, if not further radicalised. The proximity to May '68 isn't really confronted subsequently, nor the spot of bother which was both the Cultural Revolution as well as the Islamic Revolution of Iran 1979, the latter of which proved to be a pickle for Foucault. I suppose this is picking battles, but such remains distracting, especially given the strange turn the book takes to epistemology and ethics, which comprise chapters 4-7, nearly half of the text. Slightly flawed perhaps, but still a recommended read.

When the very foundations of your civilisation are literally under fire, however, pragmatism in the theoretical sense of the word seems altogether too lightweight, a laid-back response.
After Theory begins as an intellectual history and concludes as a cautionary tale. Unfortunately, in between there is a messy didactic midriff where Eagleton labours to define Truth and Morality. Such an exploration undercuts the wonderful narrative of the opening chapters, where Eagleton paints with tremendous skill and never avoids landing a quick jab:
The most avant-garde cultural journal of the period, the French literary organ Tel Quel, discovered an ephemeral alternative to Stalinism in Maoism. This is rather like finding an alternative to heroin in crack cocaine.
and
Fate pushed Roland Barthes under a Parisian laundry van, and afflicted Michel Foucault with Aids. . .It seemed that God was not a structuralist.
Eagleton weaves his history of Theory and points out that its time has now passed. It thrived from 1965-80 and compares these fifteen years with the rupture of High Modernism from 1910-1925. He argues that Barthes, Derrida and others were the Joyce and Schoenberg of this later, messier time. He also notes how most of the Theory Gang were left-leaning, if not further radicalised. The proximity to May '68 isn't really confronted subsequently, nor the spot of bother which was both the Cultural Revolution as well as the Islamic Revolution of Iran 1979, the latter of which proved to be a pickle for Foucault. I suppose this is picking battles, but such remains distracting, especially given the strange turn the book takes to epistemology and ethics, which comprise chapters 4-7, nearly half of the text. Slightly flawed perhaps, but still a recommended read.
Raymond Williams "The Long Revolution"(Pelican)

I've become very interested in critical theory recently, especially in the areas of Marxist Criticism and Cultural Studies. I've been reading some of the primary texts of these movements in an effort to understand where they are coming from and how they can be used in literary criticism and beyond. So far I have finished several short excerpts and essays as well as two books, including The Long Revolution by Raymond Williams. While all of this reading has been truly enlightening, The Long Revolution has stood out to me as one of the most interesting and mindblowing pieces of nonfiction I have ever read.
In this book, Williams sets out to describe the state of literature, democracy, education, and culture in England, how it got there, and where it's going. He does so by tracing the history of various institutions, including public education, the popular press, and standard English, and showing how they have become what they are. Using many (somewhat exhausting) pages of facts and statistics as evidence, Williams comes to stunning and revolutionary conclusions. I was absolutely blown away by his ideas because they seemed so right and felt so honest.
First, Williams sets down definitions for important terms that he will be using for the rest of the books. These terms have so many uses in casual speech that he defines the way he wants the reader to understand them in the context of his book. He defines what it means to be creative, and shows how all people create to some degree in their everyday lives. He also defines culture, not just as art and clothes and the lie, but as structures of feeling, the way people thought and felt about things, the general sense of what it was like to live in a time. Once those definitions are complete, he shows the various ways that an individual can relate to society as a whole, and the different ideas of what it means to be individualistic verses social. His great gift is subtlety, and he can show all the important social reasons why individualism became the dominant idea of how people relate to society while also showing how pure individualism has failed society and is now being reevaluated by a new generation of people. The chapters Individuals and Societies and Images of Society and the end of Part 1 left me literally speechless. It's Williams's balance and fairness, his reliance on research, his refusal to be pedantic or dogmatic, that makes this book so refreshing and so effective.
So often, when we talk about culture we blame low quality arts, be they books, movies, or music, on the masses, as if the working class were inherently less intelligent than the rich or entitled. Williams doesn't just argue against that, he shows with real evidence that much of that classist thinking goes against the actual history of these institutions. He shows, for instance, that the relatively low state of the popular press (magazines and newspapers) today is not, as many people think, the fault of the poor taste of the masses, but instead that the popular press has been affected by changes in printing, distribution, taxation, advertising, and consolidation of ownership more than anything else. The glut of sensational tabloids is sold just as much to the rich as to the poor, and the changes in newspaper styles and distributions are independent of education reforms that taught more of the working class to read. The proliferation of low-quality books, movies, music, and newspapers, he argues, is not the fault of the inherent bad taste of the masses, but a side-effect of the ownership of these cultural institutions by speculators who are only interested in making money. Quality artists, interested in furthering the art form, cannot compete with the scale of distribution that the large companies produce. The problem, it seems, is not that people are inherently stupid or that the lower classes have inherently bad taste, but that our current system of capitalism makes our cultural institutions into a matter of speculation and profit. Anyone who is interested in independent publishing should absolutely read Part 3, Britain in the 1960s, which looks at the publishing industry in a way I've never seen before.
Williams writes in a style that is easy to read and understand. Although there are some slow sections where he is setting down definitions or charting history using facts and figures, his conclusions are always strong and flow naturally from his research. The book is older, published in 1961, so I'm sure it has mistakes and is outdated in some places, but most of it still reads as being contemporary and relevant. His structure is perfect, his writing is incredibly readable, and his ideas are engaging. I don't know that I have ever enjoyed academic writing so much, and I thoroughly intend to read more of his books very soon.

I've become very interested in critical theory recently, especially in the areas of Marxist Criticism and Cultural Studies. I've been reading some of the primary texts of these movements in an effort to understand where they are coming from and how they can be used in literary criticism and beyond. So far I have finished several short excerpts and essays as well as two books, including The Long Revolution by Raymond Williams. While all of this reading has been truly enlightening, The Long Revolution has stood out to me as one of the most interesting and mindblowing pieces of nonfiction I have ever read.
In this book, Williams sets out to describe the state of literature, democracy, education, and culture in England, how it got there, and where it's going. He does so by tracing the history of various institutions, including public education, the popular press, and standard English, and showing how they have become what they are. Using many (somewhat exhausting) pages of facts and statistics as evidence, Williams comes to stunning and revolutionary conclusions. I was absolutely blown away by his ideas because they seemed so right and felt so honest.
First, Williams sets down definitions for important terms that he will be using for the rest of the books. These terms have so many uses in casual speech that he defines the way he wants the reader to understand them in the context of his book. He defines what it means to be creative, and shows how all people create to some degree in their everyday lives. He also defines culture, not just as art and clothes and the lie, but as structures of feeling, the way people thought and felt about things, the general sense of what it was like to live in a time. Once those definitions are complete, he shows the various ways that an individual can relate to society as a whole, and the different ideas of what it means to be individualistic verses social. His great gift is subtlety, and he can show all the important social reasons why individualism became the dominant idea of how people relate to society while also showing how pure individualism has failed society and is now being reevaluated by a new generation of people. The chapters Individuals and Societies and Images of Society and the end of Part 1 left me literally speechless. It's Williams's balance and fairness, his reliance on research, his refusal to be pedantic or dogmatic, that makes this book so refreshing and so effective.
So often, when we talk about culture we blame low quality arts, be they books, movies, or music, on the masses, as if the working class were inherently less intelligent than the rich or entitled. Williams doesn't just argue against that, he shows with real evidence that much of that classist thinking goes against the actual history of these institutions. He shows, for instance, that the relatively low state of the popular press (magazines and newspapers) today is not, as many people think, the fault of the poor taste of the masses, but instead that the popular press has been affected by changes in printing, distribution, taxation, advertising, and consolidation of ownership more than anything else. The glut of sensational tabloids is sold just as much to the rich as to the poor, and the changes in newspaper styles and distributions are independent of education reforms that taught more of the working class to read. The proliferation of low-quality books, movies, music, and newspapers, he argues, is not the fault of the inherent bad taste of the masses, but a side-effect of the ownership of these cultural institutions by speculators who are only interested in making money. Quality artists, interested in furthering the art form, cannot compete with the scale of distribution that the large companies produce. The problem, it seems, is not that people are inherently stupid or that the lower classes have inherently bad taste, but that our current system of capitalism makes our cultural institutions into a matter of speculation and profit. Anyone who is interested in independent publishing should absolutely read Part 3, Britain in the 1960s, which looks at the publishing industry in a way I've never seen before.
Williams writes in a style that is easy to read and understand. Although there are some slow sections where he is setting down definitions or charting history using facts and figures, his conclusions are always strong and flow naturally from his research. The book is older, published in 1961, so I'm sure it has mistakes and is outdated in some places, but most of it still reads as being contemporary and relevant. His structure is perfect, his writing is incredibly readable, and his ideas are engaging. I don't know that I have ever enjoyed academic writing so much, and I thoroughly intend to read more of his books very soon.
Seamus Heaney "Beowulf: A New Translation" (Faber & Faber)

This is just fabulous. I know the original derives from a oral tradition, and I feel that this is designed to be read aloud, not to oneself. the meter is unlike the iambic rhythm we're so used to now, but the alliteration works and the lines sort of trip of the tongue. It's never a dull "te tum te tum te tum" thing - the words almost have a life of their own.
Add to that it's a swashbuckling story from the heroic to the unbearably sad and it just sweeps you away. Takes a bit of concentration, but that's no bad thing in a book.

This is just fabulous. I know the original derives from a oral tradition, and I feel that this is designed to be read aloud, not to oneself. the meter is unlike the iambic rhythm we're so used to now, but the alliteration works and the lines sort of trip of the tongue. It's never a dull "te tum te tum te tum" thing - the words almost have a life of their own.
Add to that it's a swashbuckling story from the heroic to the unbearably sad and it just sweeps you away. Takes a bit of concentration, but that's no bad thing in a book.
Ashley Kahn "Love Supreme: The Creation of John Coltrane's Classic Album" (Granta Books)

A Love Supreme is one of the most important and influential jazz albums of all times, and, certainly, one of Coltrane's most praised records. This book is a kind of biography of that record, presenting, in Chapters 3 and 4, the history of the recording sessions of December 1964 (with recollections of, among others, Elvin Jones) and also describing the surrounding context (musical and otherwise): the early play of Coltrane, including his work with Miles, the formation of his Quartet with Tyner, Garrison and Jones, and the contract with Impulse, and the aftershocks of the album release, describing the influences the album had in the avant-garde jazz scene at the time and in the larger world afterwards. This is a excellent book and a fit tribute to a unique jazz masterpiece.

A Love Supreme is one of the most important and influential jazz albums of all times, and, certainly, one of Coltrane's most praised records. This book is a kind of biography of that record, presenting, in Chapters 3 and 4, the history of the recording sessions of December 1964 (with recollections of, among others, Elvin Jones) and also describing the surrounding context (musical and otherwise): the early play of Coltrane, including his work with Miles, the formation of his Quartet with Tyner, Garrison and Jones, and the contract with Impulse, and the aftershocks of the album release, describing the influences the album had in the avant-garde jazz scene at the time and in the larger world afterwards. This is a excellent book and a fit tribute to a unique jazz masterpiece.
Jeff Tweedy "How to Write One Song"(Faber & Faber)

Jeff Tweedy, frontman and songwriter for Wilco, demonstrates to readers in this wonderful, inspirational, short book just how the process of song writing works. This book focuses on the process of songcraft, and the joy of creation, and is full of helpful exercises and advice. It's also a fascinating read to understand the mind of one of the best songwriters of the last twenty years or so.

Jeff Tweedy, frontman and songwriter for Wilco, demonstrates to readers in this wonderful, inspirational, short book just how the process of song writing works. This book focuses on the process of songcraft, and the joy of creation, and is full of helpful exercises and advice. It's also a fascinating read to understand the mind of one of the best songwriters of the last twenty years or so.
David Barber "When the Fat Lady Sings: Opera History As It Ought To Be Taught" (Sound And Vision)

The subtitle says it all: Opera History as it ought to be taught. (Although it's really about the composers rather than their operas.)
As with his other books, it is a humorously engrossing book. You don't have to be a big opera buff to enjoy this exhilarating and entertaining book. If you feel down, this will definitely perk you up.

The subtitle says it all: Opera History as it ought to be taught. (Although it's really about the composers rather than their operas.)
As with his other books, it is a humorously engrossing book. You don't have to be a big opera buff to enjoy this exhilarating and entertaining book. If you feel down, this will definitely perk you up.
Book 45 - Iain Banks "Transition"
Sep. 7th, 2025 09:41 amIain Banks "Transition" (Abacus)

Banks usually splits his novels between contemporary fiction and science fiction, but here he publishes what is obviously a science fiction story under his 'contemporary' nom de plume. I'm unsure of the reasons for this, but it is certainly his most enjoyable novel in quite some time, an improvement on The Steep Approach to Garbadale, which was just The Crow Road reheated.
The story, told from the point of view of several characters, but mainly that of a man called Temudjin Oh, is about an organisation called The Concern, which intervenes in the affairs of alternate realities for supposedly benign reasons. They do this using the talents of 'Transitionaries', people who can flit between realities with the aid of a drug called Septus. With me so far? Good.
But the head of the Concern's central council, Madame d'Ortolan, has her own agenda, and Oh finds himself a hunted man. A renegade called Mrs Mulverhill comes to his aid, and he finds himself caught in a power struggle for control of The Concern. It's an ambitious storyline and thankfully free, for the most part, of Banks's recent penchant for making his characters mouthpieces for his political rhetoric.
Banks is no stranger to mixing genres; his earlier novels, such as Walking on Glass and The Bridge, featured fantasy elements, but here the whole story is fantastical.
However, I do have reservations. The structure is fragmented to say the least, and the start of the book is very confusing. You're not sure what's going on, and it takes perseverance to get a grip on the story. As ever, Banks can tell a good tale, but what I'd really like is for him to return to the form of Espedair Street or The Crow Road - brilliantly told contemporary fiction. However, well worth reading.

Banks usually splits his novels between contemporary fiction and science fiction, but here he publishes what is obviously a science fiction story under his 'contemporary' nom de plume. I'm unsure of the reasons for this, but it is certainly his most enjoyable novel in quite some time, an improvement on The Steep Approach to Garbadale, which was just The Crow Road reheated.
The story, told from the point of view of several characters, but mainly that of a man called Temudjin Oh, is about an organisation called The Concern, which intervenes in the affairs of alternate realities for supposedly benign reasons. They do this using the talents of 'Transitionaries', people who can flit between realities with the aid of a drug called Septus. With me so far? Good.
But the head of the Concern's central council, Madame d'Ortolan, has her own agenda, and Oh finds himself a hunted man. A renegade called Mrs Mulverhill comes to his aid, and he finds himself caught in a power struggle for control of The Concern. It's an ambitious storyline and thankfully free, for the most part, of Banks's recent penchant for making his characters mouthpieces for his political rhetoric.
Banks is no stranger to mixing genres; his earlier novels, such as Walking on Glass and The Bridge, featured fantasy elements, but here the whole story is fantastical.
However, I do have reservations. The structure is fragmented to say the least, and the start of the book is very confusing. You're not sure what's going on, and it takes perseverance to get a grip on the story. As ever, Banks can tell a good tale, but what I'd really like is for him to return to the form of Espedair Street or The Crow Road - brilliantly told contemporary fiction. However, well worth reading.
Billy Bragg "The Progressive Patriot: A Search For Belonging" (Black Swan)

Billy Bragg is a well-known singer-songwriter and activist, and this is a very personal account of English identity. He examines both the history of dissent in England and his own family history as a way of examining how he came to his own views, and rounds it off with a passionate plea for a proper, modern Bill of Rights in this country as a way of countering the rise of fascist organisations like the BNP (British National Party), who have been particulalry succesful, until recently, in his own East End of London. It's an interesting account of Englishness (rather than what it is to be British, for the Welsh and Scots seem more secure in their own identity), but it is rather uneven in the way it is written. At times, the account becomes too personal, almost autobiographical, with long sections on the rise of Punk music and his part in the music scene of the time. Interesting in itself, but too much detail compared to the more measured historical analysis of English identity.
Perhaps I was expecting more of the latter and not expecting the depth of autobiography; I certainly enjoyed that part more and became restless when the focus switched back to his own family. Probably this should be two books, not one, each one a little more focused.

Billy Bragg is a well-known singer-songwriter and activist, and this is a very personal account of English identity. He examines both the history of dissent in England and his own family history as a way of examining how he came to his own views, and rounds it off with a passionate plea for a proper, modern Bill of Rights in this country as a way of countering the rise of fascist organisations like the BNP (British National Party), who have been particulalry succesful, until recently, in his own East End of London. It's an interesting account of Englishness (rather than what it is to be British, for the Welsh and Scots seem more secure in their own identity), but it is rather uneven in the way it is written. At times, the account becomes too personal, almost autobiographical, with long sections on the rise of Punk music and his part in the music scene of the time. Interesting in itself, but too much detail compared to the more measured historical analysis of English identity.
Perhaps I was expecting more of the latter and not expecting the depth of autobiography; I certainly enjoyed that part more and became restless when the focus switched back to his own family. Probably this should be two books, not one, each one a little more focused.
A. K. Blakemore "The Manningtree Witches" (Granta Books)

Sadly, I could not get into this novel about witchfinder Matthew Hopkins and his investigation of witches in Manningtree during the English Civil War. It was doubtless quite beautifully written, but most of that beauty was expended on place and visuals, rather than on trying to understand the characters. It felt emotionally detached and a little boring. Unfortunately I think I have recently responded this way to several novels by contemporary poets. It is probably a "me problem" not a "them problem," but I have found that several poets approach novel writing in ways that just don't gel with me as a reader.

Sadly, I could not get into this novel about witchfinder Matthew Hopkins and his investigation of witches in Manningtree during the English Civil War. It was doubtless quite beautifully written, but most of that beauty was expended on place and visuals, rather than on trying to understand the characters. It felt emotionally detached and a little boring. Unfortunately I think I have recently responded this way to several novels by contemporary poets. It is probably a "me problem" not a "them problem," but I have found that several poets approach novel writing in ways that just don't gel with me as a reader.
Book 42 - Lisa Jardine "Worldly Goods"
Aug. 17th, 2025 11:06 pmLisa Jardine "Worldly Goods: A New History of the Renaissance" (Papermac)

This fascinating book is essentially a look at how important things, and money, were in shaping what we now think of as the world of the Renaissance.
It starts with an analysis of the National Gallery Crivelli annunciation, a "meticulous visual inventory of consumer goods" from across the known world as well as a beautiful work of art - and itself a desirable possession. Renaissance artists were craftsmen for hire, working to order for the rich and powerful - and sitting at table with the tailors, musicians and other salaried members of the household. Others who fell into this category were people who would now perhaps style themselves as lifestyle consultants. You could have a man to advise you on what paintings, antiquities or books to buy to display your wealth and taste. You could even have someone to pre-read the books for you - Sir Philip Sidney had a private reader who annotated a copy of Livy for him with marginal notes referring to modern parallels to the events in the text, and a number of cross-references to modern works on political and military theory.
Conspicuous consumption was an essential aspect of prestige and authority, often backed up by borrowing on a massive scale. Christopher Columbus' proposal to seek a shorter route to the Indies - and therefore bypass the mark-ups which the spice traders put on their goods - was attractive to Ferdinand and Isabella because they were deeply in debt after a series of costly military campaigns. (For the weddings of two of their children in 1495, Isabella had to redeem her crown of gold and diamonds which had been pledged to raise money for the war against Granada.) And fortunes were made for entire families of bankers because they had received trading concessions in return for loans to popes or kings - the Medici wealth was based on monopolistic access to alum, vital for dyeing cloth. You could also make a fortune by having access to the right piece of information - for example, if you knew that two great houses were planning a wedding, you could stock up on fine fabrics while they were relatively cheap.
I think that since this book was published in 1996, its thesis has become much more widely accepted. But even so, Jardine finds some eye-catching links between things - consumption and discovery - and broad historical changes. The rebuilding of St Peter's Church in Rome, involving some of the greatest artists of the day including Michelangelo and Raphael, was so expensive that Pope Leo X issued a particularly grandiose indulgence, granting remission not just from sins already committed, but "purchasers and their relatives were forgiven every conceivable sin they had committed, or might commit, and exempted from all suffering in Purgatory, advancing immediately to Heaven". The indulgences were sold particularly hard in Germany, because the papacy had agreed that half the proceeds would go to paying off the debts of the Archbishop of Mainz. It was after the issue of this particular indulgence that Martin Luther nailed his theses to the church door at Wittenberg.
This is definitely a macro-history, ranging across the European continent from Scotland to the Ottoman Empire and in time across a couple of centuries. I am not sure that there was a coherent argument running all the way through it - it's more of a bag of delights, studded with interesting facts that you feel Jardine couldn't bring herself to leave out. I particularly liked the story of a map which deliberately placed the Molucca islands in the wrong place to back up Spain's territorial claim to them - and the related treaty stated that "during the time of this contract, {the Moluccas} shall be regarded as situated in such place" as shown on the map. Even that was only a bargaining chip - as soon as the claim was established the Spanish relinquished them in exchange for cash - "far more valuable to Charles, beset, in established Hapsburg fashion, by enormous debts to his bankers, than monopoly trading rights on the far side of the world".
Illustrated with monochrome and colour plates, which adds to the appeal of the book, I would heartily recommend this as a good read.

This fascinating book is essentially a look at how important things, and money, were in shaping what we now think of as the world of the Renaissance.
It starts with an analysis of the National Gallery Crivelli annunciation, a "meticulous visual inventory of consumer goods" from across the known world as well as a beautiful work of art - and itself a desirable possession. Renaissance artists were craftsmen for hire, working to order for the rich and powerful - and sitting at table with the tailors, musicians and other salaried members of the household. Others who fell into this category were people who would now perhaps style themselves as lifestyle consultants. You could have a man to advise you on what paintings, antiquities or books to buy to display your wealth and taste. You could even have someone to pre-read the books for you - Sir Philip Sidney had a private reader who annotated a copy of Livy for him with marginal notes referring to modern parallels to the events in the text, and a number of cross-references to modern works on political and military theory.
Conspicuous consumption was an essential aspect of prestige and authority, often backed up by borrowing on a massive scale. Christopher Columbus' proposal to seek a shorter route to the Indies - and therefore bypass the mark-ups which the spice traders put on their goods - was attractive to Ferdinand and Isabella because they were deeply in debt after a series of costly military campaigns. (For the weddings of two of their children in 1495, Isabella had to redeem her crown of gold and diamonds which had been pledged to raise money for the war against Granada.) And fortunes were made for entire families of bankers because they had received trading concessions in return for loans to popes or kings - the Medici wealth was based on monopolistic access to alum, vital for dyeing cloth. You could also make a fortune by having access to the right piece of information - for example, if you knew that two great houses were planning a wedding, you could stock up on fine fabrics while they were relatively cheap.
I think that since this book was published in 1996, its thesis has become much more widely accepted. But even so, Jardine finds some eye-catching links between things - consumption and discovery - and broad historical changes. The rebuilding of St Peter's Church in Rome, involving some of the greatest artists of the day including Michelangelo and Raphael, was so expensive that Pope Leo X issued a particularly grandiose indulgence, granting remission not just from sins already committed, but "purchasers and their relatives were forgiven every conceivable sin they had committed, or might commit, and exempted from all suffering in Purgatory, advancing immediately to Heaven". The indulgences were sold particularly hard in Germany, because the papacy had agreed that half the proceeds would go to paying off the debts of the Archbishop of Mainz. It was after the issue of this particular indulgence that Martin Luther nailed his theses to the church door at Wittenberg.
This is definitely a macro-history, ranging across the European continent from Scotland to the Ottoman Empire and in time across a couple of centuries. I am not sure that there was a coherent argument running all the way through it - it's more of a bag of delights, studded with interesting facts that you feel Jardine couldn't bring herself to leave out. I particularly liked the story of a map which deliberately placed the Molucca islands in the wrong place to back up Spain's territorial claim to them - and the related treaty stated that "during the time of this contract, {the Moluccas} shall be regarded as situated in such place" as shown on the map. Even that was only a bargaining chip - as soon as the claim was established the Spanish relinquished them in exchange for cash - "far more valuable to Charles, beset, in established Hapsburg fashion, by enormous debts to his bankers, than monopoly trading rights on the far side of the world".
Illustrated with monochrome and colour plates, which adds to the appeal of the book, I would heartily recommend this as a good read.
Book 41 - Simon Reynolds "Retromania"
Aug. 17th, 2025 10:52 pmSimon Reynolds "Retromania: Pop Culture's Addiction to Its Own Past" (Faber & Faber)

Fittingly, there's a lot in "Retromania" that will strike many readers as pretty familiar. Reynolds engages in some righteous boomer-hating, asking if we'll ever be free of sixties-era musicians and their needless, endless nostalgia tours. He also goes neo-Luddite for a while, bitching about newer technologies' reduced fidelity and disregard for the album format. Though Reynolds presents his arguments well, you can get this stuff elsewhere. "Retromania" really gets interesting – perhaps even vital – when Reynolds posits that artifacts and music of the past function as a species of cultural capital and examines how rock scenes look to both their own pasts and society's collective future for inspiration. In doing so, he neatly turns some well-worn rock narratives on their heads. He's not afraid of the obscure, either, examining the role that vintage clothing and record shops played in the development of both the punk and hippie subcultures and delving deep into the history of Northern Soul, a scene I'd only heard about in passing. The problem – as Reynolds sees it – is that the technological and stylistic obsolescence that drove this economy is, thanks to YouTube, MP3s and torrents, now itself a thing of the past. Are new things, or even fresh takes on old things, a possibility in a world where the entirety of the past is available to all of us?
Reynolds doesn't really have an answer, of course, and I think he might have done well to include a clearer definition of what constitutes "newness." It doesn't seem that Reynolds is himself a musician, so much of his discussion, like so much rock criticism, seems to be a discussion of musical style rather than content. His arguments seem to chase each other around the text, too, perhaps even contradicting each other, but that is part of the book's appeal: the past, as Reynolds sees it, can either trap musicians in a permanent yesterday or provide inspiration for forward-thinking projects.
In the last chapters of the book, he examines how some retrophiliac acts like Broadcast and Boards of Canada have used the twentieth century's own ideas of the future to create hauntingly personal music that takes advantage of modern technology's ability to preserve large chunks of the recent past more or less indiscriminately. He also seems to argue that pop culture, and perhaps people in general, have lost faith in the future: while we get excited about techno gadgetry, most of us no longer believe that the future will be better, or substantially different, than the present. Still, when he examines the astonishing quantity of bravely experimental electronic music that followed the launching of Sputnik in the late fifties and the nineties' explosively creative, ruthlessly futuristic rave scene, he seems to conclude that a link exists between creativity and the belief that our tomorrows will be better than our yesterdays.
I can't say that I always found the author's case entirely convincing – indeed, I found myself arguing with him throughout the book – but he's provided some genuinely fresh ideas about pop music's relationship to its past and future that people who take their music collections as seriously as their mortgage payments won't want to miss, and from me , an addicted music collector this book is highly recommended

Fittingly, there's a lot in "Retromania" that will strike many readers as pretty familiar. Reynolds engages in some righteous boomer-hating, asking if we'll ever be free of sixties-era musicians and their needless, endless nostalgia tours. He also goes neo-Luddite for a while, bitching about newer technologies' reduced fidelity and disregard for the album format. Though Reynolds presents his arguments well, you can get this stuff elsewhere. "Retromania" really gets interesting – perhaps even vital – when Reynolds posits that artifacts and music of the past function as a species of cultural capital and examines how rock scenes look to both their own pasts and society's collective future for inspiration. In doing so, he neatly turns some well-worn rock narratives on their heads. He's not afraid of the obscure, either, examining the role that vintage clothing and record shops played in the development of both the punk and hippie subcultures and delving deep into the history of Northern Soul, a scene I'd only heard about in passing. The problem – as Reynolds sees it – is that the technological and stylistic obsolescence that drove this economy is, thanks to YouTube, MP3s and torrents, now itself a thing of the past. Are new things, or even fresh takes on old things, a possibility in a world where the entirety of the past is available to all of us?
Reynolds doesn't really have an answer, of course, and I think he might have done well to include a clearer definition of what constitutes "newness." It doesn't seem that Reynolds is himself a musician, so much of his discussion, like so much rock criticism, seems to be a discussion of musical style rather than content. His arguments seem to chase each other around the text, too, perhaps even contradicting each other, but that is part of the book's appeal: the past, as Reynolds sees it, can either trap musicians in a permanent yesterday or provide inspiration for forward-thinking projects.
In the last chapters of the book, he examines how some retrophiliac acts like Broadcast and Boards of Canada have used the twentieth century's own ideas of the future to create hauntingly personal music that takes advantage of modern technology's ability to preserve large chunks of the recent past more or less indiscriminately. He also seems to argue that pop culture, and perhaps people in general, have lost faith in the future: while we get excited about techno gadgetry, most of us no longer believe that the future will be better, or substantially different, than the present. Still, when he examines the astonishing quantity of bravely experimental electronic music that followed the launching of Sputnik in the late fifties and the nineties' explosively creative, ruthlessly futuristic rave scene, he seems to conclude that a link exists between creativity and the belief that our tomorrows will be better than our yesterdays.
I can't say that I always found the author's case entirely convincing – indeed, I found myself arguing with him throughout the book – but he's provided some genuinely fresh ideas about pop music's relationship to its past and future that people who take their music collections as seriously as their mortgage payments won't want to miss, and from me , an addicted music collector this book is highly recommended
Book 40 - Richard King "How Soon Is Now?"
Aug. 14th, 2025 06:16 pmRichard King "How Soon Is Now?:: The Madmen and Mavericks who made Independent Music 1975-2005" (Faber & Faber)

This is a dense and involving tome of roughly 600 pages. Even though this book is very long and took me two months to finish, it doesn't feel overlong; in fact, I felt it glossed over certain people and labels (Mute gets a chapter all to itself towards the beginning, then is barely mentioned until the end when it's sold off; meanwhile 4AD and Factory all get multiple chapters).
That said, this is a very interesting book on a subject I really had never thought about prior to reading. I loved the music covered in the book, and had never considered the people who ran the labels it came out on. I thought the book might get bogged down in business specifics, being about labels and all, but the author smartly focuses on the individual label heads and their sort of "character arcs" rather than deals and money (though that shows up too, of course).
In many ways this reads as a sort of British version of Our Band Could Be Your Life. That book, one of my favorites, profiles 12 bands in the 80s American Indie scene, but since many of those artists either ran their own labels or were close to the label heads, it ends up covering the business side as well. This book definitely focuses on the business end, but there is plenty of info about the bands as well (and when Blast First shows up, it even covers the same bands as OBCBYL).
I'm not sure I could recommend this book if you weren't at least interested in some of the bands mentioned on the back cover of the book, since it is quite long, but this expansive history of independent record labels is definitely not as dry as it may seem at first glance, and as with all good books about music, it inspired me to go away and explore or revisit some of the key tracks from the era.
For example, I'd completely forgotten about Colourbox despite loving their music when it was released - thirty years on they still sound wonderful. I was also very interested to read how a massive hit single effectively stopped their career in its tracks.
It was a remarkable era for popular music and this book is a compelling reminder of a glorious and important musical era. The book concludes in 2005 when, in a reverse of the rest of the music industry, many modern independent labels are prospering relative to the major labels. That said, if this book proves one thing, it's that it is very difficult to run a small and successful independent record label - and always has been.

This is a dense and involving tome of roughly 600 pages. Even though this book is very long and took me two months to finish, it doesn't feel overlong; in fact, I felt it glossed over certain people and labels (Mute gets a chapter all to itself towards the beginning, then is barely mentioned until the end when it's sold off; meanwhile 4AD and Factory all get multiple chapters).
That said, this is a very interesting book on a subject I really had never thought about prior to reading. I loved the music covered in the book, and had never considered the people who ran the labels it came out on. I thought the book might get bogged down in business specifics, being about labels and all, but the author smartly focuses on the individual label heads and their sort of "character arcs" rather than deals and money (though that shows up too, of course).
In many ways this reads as a sort of British version of Our Band Could Be Your Life. That book, one of my favorites, profiles 12 bands in the 80s American Indie scene, but since many of those artists either ran their own labels or were close to the label heads, it ends up covering the business side as well. This book definitely focuses on the business end, but there is plenty of info about the bands as well (and when Blast First shows up, it even covers the same bands as OBCBYL).
I'm not sure I could recommend this book if you weren't at least interested in some of the bands mentioned on the back cover of the book, since it is quite long, but this expansive history of independent record labels is definitely not as dry as it may seem at first glance, and as with all good books about music, it inspired me to go away and explore or revisit some of the key tracks from the era.
For example, I'd completely forgotten about Colourbox despite loving their music when it was released - thirty years on they still sound wonderful. I was also very interested to read how a massive hit single effectively stopped their career in its tracks.
It was a remarkable era for popular music and this book is a compelling reminder of a glorious and important musical era. The book concludes in 2005 when, in a reverse of the rest of the music industry, many modern independent labels are prospering relative to the major labels. That said, if this book proves one thing, it's that it is very difficult to run a small and successful independent record label - and always has been.
Camilla Gibb "Mouthing The Words" (Vintage)

Mouthing the Words is a powerfully engaging and highly readable novel about growing up in a dysfuctional family.
Thelma is five when the story opens. The family live in a village called Little Slaughter where they are ostracized as outsiders by the neighbours. Thelma's mother, Corinna, a former model, wants little to do with her daughter and relegates her "to the realm of the rather inconvenient", preferring to shower affection on her younger brother, the result of an affair with an Edinburgh solicitor.
Thelma is sexually abused by her alcholic father, Douglas, and made to play games of naughty secretaries and bosses. Unable to communicate this terrible secret to anyone outside the family, Thelma invents three invisible friends each representing an aspect of herself, who help her to cope. She longs, in vain, for another adult to adopt her.
The family move to Canada where things worsen, her parents eventually separating. There is a friendship with the hippyish family next door, and an all too brief period of happiness when her mother takes a Punjabi student as a lover, the first adult who really reaches out to the love-starved Thelma.
Thelma is institutionalised with anorexia - starvation is the only way she can physically prevent herself from becoming an adult woman, but recovers to win a scholarship to Oxford to study law. Although she proves to be a brilliant student, she rapidly descends into serious mental illness and self-mutilation.
Gibb is able to portray a descent into madness better than almost any other author I've come across (with perhaps the exception of Bessie Head in Maru) and her depiction of the psychological effects of abuse is extremely convincing. And we're right there to cheer on Thelma's slow journey to reclaim herself, and to be able to own her own words.
Sounds like a misery read? Far from it. The material is dark, but Gibbs has a lightness of touch and a humour (some parts are extremely funny!) that pulls the book back from being heartbreakingly sad

Mouthing the Words is a powerfully engaging and highly readable novel about growing up in a dysfuctional family.
Thelma is five when the story opens. The family live in a village called Little Slaughter where they are ostracized as outsiders by the neighbours. Thelma's mother, Corinna, a former model, wants little to do with her daughter and relegates her "to the realm of the rather inconvenient", preferring to shower affection on her younger brother, the result of an affair with an Edinburgh solicitor.
Thelma is sexually abused by her alcholic father, Douglas, and made to play games of naughty secretaries and bosses. Unable to communicate this terrible secret to anyone outside the family, Thelma invents three invisible friends each representing an aspect of herself, who help her to cope. She longs, in vain, for another adult to adopt her.
The family move to Canada where things worsen, her parents eventually separating. There is a friendship with the hippyish family next door, and an all too brief period of happiness when her mother takes a Punjabi student as a lover, the first adult who really reaches out to the love-starved Thelma.
Thelma is institutionalised with anorexia - starvation is the only way she can physically prevent herself from becoming an adult woman, but recovers to win a scholarship to Oxford to study law. Although she proves to be a brilliant student, she rapidly descends into serious mental illness and self-mutilation.
Gibb is able to portray a descent into madness better than almost any other author I've come across (with perhaps the exception of Bessie Head in Maru) and her depiction of the psychological effects of abuse is extremely convincing. And we're right there to cheer on Thelma's slow journey to reclaim herself, and to be able to own her own words.
Sounds like a misery read? Far from it. The material is dark, but Gibbs has a lightness of touch and a humour (some parts are extremely funny!) that pulls the book back from being heartbreakingly sad
Book 38 - Francos King "Frozen Music"
Jul. 25th, 2025 09:39 pmFrancos King "Frozen Music" (Arena Arrow)

A fairly simple little novella looking at India before and after independence. Rupert, recently divorced, is travelling around with his elderly father Philip and the latter's new wife, Kirsti, who is Rupert's age. They want to visit the grave of Philip's mother, who died during an earlier family trip to India in the 1930s, when Rupert was still a child. And of course it all leads to a lot of readjusting of perspectives and revising of memories.
It's really more an expanded short story than a compressed novel, and King uses the extra space to sketch in minor characters like the group's Indian driver, Rajiv, and the hotel manager Mr Solomon, whose father had worked for Rupert's uncle. Slight, but very nicely done.

A fairly simple little novella looking at India before and after independence. Rupert, recently divorced, is travelling around with his elderly father Philip and the latter's new wife, Kirsti, who is Rupert's age. They want to visit the grave of Philip's mother, who died during an earlier family trip to India in the 1930s, when Rupert was still a child. And of course it all leads to a lot of readjusting of perspectives and revising of memories.
It's really more an expanded short story than a compressed novel, and King uses the extra space to sketch in minor characters like the group's Indian driver, Rajiv, and the hotel manager Mr Solomon, whose father had worked for Rupert's uncle. Slight, but very nicely done.
Book 37 - Carl Hiaasen "Hoot"
Jul. 22nd, 2025 10:19 pmBook 37 - Carl Hiaasen "Hoot" (Macmillan)

Dare I say it? This book was a 'hoot'! This is a fun read with wonderfully developed characters that still offer ruminations for deeper thought. Three middle school youth band together to protect a species of endangered owls from corporate expansion and their neglectful attitude toward the environment in their rush to expand. It offers food for thought about resistance to corruption, care and protection for the environment and encouragement for those who think they might not be able to take a stand. The book is well written and reads fairly quickly as Hiassen combines intimate knowledge of the Florida landscape with wit and insight. A wonderful and worthwhile read!

Dare I say it? This book was a 'hoot'! This is a fun read with wonderfully developed characters that still offer ruminations for deeper thought. Three middle school youth band together to protect a species of endangered owls from corporate expansion and their neglectful attitude toward the environment in their rush to expand. It offers food for thought about resistance to corruption, care and protection for the environment and encouragement for those who think they might not be able to take a stand. The book is well written and reads fairly quickly as Hiassen combines intimate knowledge of the Florida landscape with wit and insight. A wonderful and worthwhile read!
Book 36 - Graham Swift "Last Orders"
Jul. 21st, 2025 09:21 pmGraham Swift "Last Orders" (Picador)

This is Swift's Booker Prize-winning novel from 1996, and for me it is a re-read. Some have noted similarities between it and Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, but that does not detract from its quality which has been evident in Swift's writing since his earlier success with Waterland (a novel that was short-listed for the Booker). While I found it a bit slow at first, it eventually evolved into a captivating tale of English working-class families in the four decades following WW II. When Jack Dodds dies suddenly of cancer after years of running a butcher shop in London, he leaves a strange request--namely, that his ashes be scattered off Margate pier into the sea. None could be better be suited to fulfill this wish than his three oldest drinking buddies--insurance man Ray, vegetable seller Lenny, and undertaker Vic, all of whom, like Jack himself, fought also as soldiers or sailors in the long-ago world war.
The narrative start is developed with an economy that presents (through the characters' own voices, one after another) the story's humanity and depth with a minimum of melodrama. The group is uncomfortable at first as evidenced by weak and self- conscious jocular remarks when they meet at their local pub in the company of the urn holding Jack's ashes; but once the group gets on the road, in an expensive car driven by Jack's adoptive son, Vince, the story starts gradually to move forward, cohere, and deepen. The reader gradually learns why it is that no wife comes along, why three marriages out of three broke apart, and why Vince always hated his stepfather Jack and still does--or so he thinks. As you might expect there are stories shared with topics like tales of innocent youth, suffering wives, early loves, lost daughters, secret affairs, and old antagonisms. There is even a fistfight over the dead on an English hilltop, and a strewing of Jack's ashes into roiling sea waves that will draw up feelings perhaps unexpectedly strong. Graham Swift is able to avoid artificiality by listening closely to these lives and presenting realistic voices that share stories of humanity with the proverbial ring of truth. If you have seen the film version, then you will know these characters, but if you have not, I totally recommend this novel forst.

This is Swift's Booker Prize-winning novel from 1996, and for me it is a re-read. Some have noted similarities between it and Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, but that does not detract from its quality which has been evident in Swift's writing since his earlier success with Waterland (a novel that was short-listed for the Booker). While I found it a bit slow at first, it eventually evolved into a captivating tale of English working-class families in the four decades following WW II. When Jack Dodds dies suddenly of cancer after years of running a butcher shop in London, he leaves a strange request--namely, that his ashes be scattered off Margate pier into the sea. None could be better be suited to fulfill this wish than his three oldest drinking buddies--insurance man Ray, vegetable seller Lenny, and undertaker Vic, all of whom, like Jack himself, fought also as soldiers or sailors in the long-ago world war.
The narrative start is developed with an economy that presents (through the characters' own voices, one after another) the story's humanity and depth with a minimum of melodrama. The group is uncomfortable at first as evidenced by weak and self- conscious jocular remarks when they meet at their local pub in the company of the urn holding Jack's ashes; but once the group gets on the road, in an expensive car driven by Jack's adoptive son, Vince, the story starts gradually to move forward, cohere, and deepen. The reader gradually learns why it is that no wife comes along, why three marriages out of three broke apart, and why Vince always hated his stepfather Jack and still does--or so he thinks. As you might expect there are stories shared with topics like tales of innocent youth, suffering wives, early loves, lost daughters, secret affairs, and old antagonisms. There is even a fistfight over the dead on an English hilltop, and a strewing of Jack's ashes into roiling sea waves that will draw up feelings perhaps unexpectedly strong. Graham Swift is able to avoid artificiality by listening closely to these lives and presenting realistic voices that share stories of humanity with the proverbial ring of truth. If you have seen the film version, then you will know these characters, but if you have not, I totally recommend this novel forst.
Grayson Perry "Playing to the Gallery" (Penguin Books)

A genuine attempt at an accessible work on understanding contemporary art for the average person, by one of Britain's more accessible and popular contemporary artists. I like Grayson Perry and his work, and I have a lot of time for anything he wants to say on this (and several other) subjects. I find myself nodding along to a lot of what he writes here, and he does raise some thought provoking points.
However, somehow it doesn't add up to more than the sum of its parts. There is no great overarching vision here, just a series of interesting points well made, so it ends up lacking a little coherence overall. Also, he is still very much an insider to the art world, so sometimes what he says seems to lack a little insight into what those who are truly on the outside might feel (lots of talk about making money out of the art world, and thinking about what curators value in a work etc; quite minority interests, even for other artists that don't exist in that rarefied strata) But, worth a look, not least for his humorous sketches that litter the book, and manage to capture some aspects of contemporary culture pretty neatly.

A genuine attempt at an accessible work on understanding contemporary art for the average person, by one of Britain's more accessible and popular contemporary artists. I like Grayson Perry and his work, and I have a lot of time for anything he wants to say on this (and several other) subjects. I find myself nodding along to a lot of what he writes here, and he does raise some thought provoking points.
However, somehow it doesn't add up to more than the sum of its parts. There is no great overarching vision here, just a series of interesting points well made, so it ends up lacking a little coherence overall. Also, he is still very much an insider to the art world, so sometimes what he says seems to lack a little insight into what those who are truly on the outside might feel (lots of talk about making money out of the art world, and thinking about what curators value in a work etc; quite minority interests, even for other artists that don't exist in that rarefied strata) But, worth a look, not least for his humorous sketches that litter the book, and manage to capture some aspects of contemporary culture pretty neatly.