Monday, 23 April 2018
Somewhere Towards The End, may we be forgiven and Final Demand
The reviews were good. The book won the Costa Book Award for best biography. So I was looking forward to what is actually a short memoir of what it is like to be eighty plonk. However, I found Somewhere Towards The End to be dull, repetitive and mainly boring. I don't want to know about her drawing, what she watches on TV (only Wimbledon and Tiger Woods) and illnesses (Barry's prostate). She talks about not reading novels (they might have helped with her prose). Although, like her, I'm not a big fan of "thrills, puzzles and fantasies". There are other types of novels.
There are the occasional lovely pieces about age, but in the main this book does not encourage me to read non fiction. Although I'm getting ready to wade through a huge volume of letters written by Dirk Bogarde. But then, he can write really well.
Masquerading as a quaint family drama, there is something frantic, crazy and weird going on underneath. I raced through the first forty pages of may we be forgiven, something that is rare for me. So much happens that it was good when this completely linear story (very unusual these days) settles into a more relaxed rhythm. Somewhat episodic, but none the worse for that.
There are multiple characters who wander in and out, and it's sometimes hard to remember who is who. But I managed it, just. I found the last section quite disappointing which was a shame, as up till then I loved this book. Ultimately a cautionary tale, the vast repercussions of a single act of selfishness.
Brief but powerful, Final Demand is a fairly short novel that follows the repercussions of Natalie's fraudulent plan. But how someone as attractive, bright and strong, as she is, having to resort to crime is beyond me. But it is an entertaining and pacy story with clever, precise and witty writing: "If the brewery had it's way ..... this last genuine local would be revamped into some themed Slug and Lettuce bollocks ....".
I liked it when the author referred to Colin's mother (a family of Yorkshire farmers) "had no truck with displays of feeling" but "fiercely loved her son". It resonated with my own childhood. A note to the editor: "Love Me Do" never reached number one.
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