Tag: Book Blogging

Strange Sally Diamond by Liz Nugent

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Strange Sally Diamond by Liz Nugent

Published by Penguin Viking on 2nd March 2023

Available From All Good Bookshops

What They Say

Sally Diamond cannot understand why what she did was so strange. She was only doing what her father told her to do, to put him out with the rubbish when he died.

Now Sally is the centre of attention, not only from the hungry media and police detectives, but also a sinister voice from a past she cannot remember. As she begins to discover the horrors of her childhood, Sally steps into the world for the first time, making new friends and big decisions, and learning that people don’t always mean what they say.

But who is the man observing Sally from the other side of the world? And why does her neighbour seem to be obsessed with her? Sally’s trust issues are about to be severely challenged . . .

What I Say

There are some authors who quite simply are auto read authors. For me Liz Nugent is one of them, because her brilliant writing where the domestic and the macabre are mixed together effortlessly, propel you into a world that is absolute proof of the saying that you never know what goes on behind closed doors.

Strange Sally Diamond starts with Sally throwing out her Dad’s body with the rubbish – because that is what he told her to do. From the opening paragraph, it is obvious to see that Sally is an unconventional protagonist, and that her literal translations of instructions, distance from the world outside and her awkwardness with people and social interactions mean that Sally is very much walking her own path in the world.

When the family doctor Angela discovers what Sally has done, having known Sally and her family for years, she steps in as Sally’s protector, navigating both the legal and personal minefield that Sally now finds herself in. As we fall deeper into Sally’s world, what becomes patently obvious is that from the moment she was born, Sally’s life has been a traumatic and incredible one, which means her own self awareness and understanding of what she has had to navigate leads her to deal with the world around her in a way that she feels she is in control.

Left alone in her family home, Sally starts to unravel her own history, and discovers how she became a member of the Diamond family – and with it, a whole barrage of secrets and things never told start spilling into Sally’s life. When Sally starts to receive mysterious presents, and messages she doesn’t understand, the past that she has no recollection of starts seeping into her present.

Little by little, as the narrative weaves backwards and forwards, and by the introduction of the character of Peter into the text, we are slowly able to see exactly what happened not only to Sally’s mother, but also the awful reality of what their life was like at the hands of her father.

As always, I think it is important to let you know that Strange Sally Diamond has some very dark themes that run through this novel, there is domestic violence, physical and emotional abuse, and a prevalent theme is paedophilia. While this is undoubtedly a very difficult and challenging novel to read, Liz’s incredible skill as a writer means that these are all tackled with extreme sensitivity, and the way in which they are the backbone of the narrative never feels anything other than absolutely integral to the plot and understanding what has brought Sally and Peter to this point in their story.

I thought it was interesting to see how Sally develops as a character as the narrative moves on, and how everything we do so easily and take for granted are huge victories for her. The confidence she gains comes from working with her therapist, and her own motivation to finally embrace the world she has been detached from for such a long time. Liz’s depiction of Sally always feels that it comes from a place of compassion and curiosity, wanting us to understand that this woman has endured so much, but in learning to process her past and know that people can be trusted, that a new world is waiting for her – which can be an amazing thing, or something that brings complications that no one could have envisaged.

Strange Sally Diamond is a novel that perfectly balances the gradual development of Sally’s character once she allows herself to open up to the world around her, set against the incredibly challenging history and life she has lived in a way that feels measured and controlled – much like Sally herself. It is a novel that show us the darkest and most macabre stories of human existence and survival are often so much closer to us than we could ever possibly realise. Liz Nugent brings us into Sally’s world so completely that as we are witness to every small victory and devastating setback she faces, and all the time want only for her to finally be able to embrace the normal life so many of us take for granted every day.

I absolutely loved it.

Thank you so much to Jasmin Lindenmeir and Ellie Hudson at Penguin Viking for my gifted proof copy.

Nothing Special by Nicole Flattery

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Nothing Special by Nicole Flattery

Published by Bloomsbury Books

Available from All Good Bookshops and Online

What They Say

New York City, 1966. Seventeen-year-old Mae lives in a run-down apartment with her alcoholic mother and her mother’s sometimes-boyfriend, Mikey. She is turned off by the petty girls at her high school, and the sleazy men she typically meets. When she drops out, she is presented with a job offer that will remake her world entirely: she is hired as a typist for the artist Andy Warhol.

Warhol is composing an unconventional novel by recording the conversations and experiences of his many famous and alluring friends. Tasked with transcribing these tapes alongside several other girls, Mae quickly befriends Shelley and the two of them embark on a surreal adventure at the fringes of the countercultural movement. Going to parties together, exploring their womanhood and sexuality, this should be the most enlivening experience of Mae’s life. But as she grows increasingly obsessed with the tapes and numb to her own reality, Mae must grapple with the thin line between art and voyeurism and determine how she can remain her own person as the tide of the sixties sweeps over her.

Nothing Special is a whip-smart coming-of-age story about friendship, independence and the construction of art and identity, bringing to life the experience of young women in this iconic and turbulent moment.

What I Say

I am always fascinated by fiction books that find their starting point in real events, and Nothing Special is the story of Mae, a young woman who finds herself working at The Factory – Andy Warhol’s studio in New York City.

Her job, along with another woman called Shelley, is to transcribe audio cassettes exactly as she hears them – every single sound and pause must be captured and typed, however insignificant they sound. This seemingly repetitive and cryptic task, was actually published as A, A Novel by Warhol in 1968. This forms the backdrop to Mae’s evolution emotionally and personally as she slowly falls under the spell of this cultural revolution, while attempting to navigate the difficult time in our lives when we are no longer children, but not yet an adult.

Mae has a problematic relationship with her erratic mother, who seems to go from no interest to an obsessive interest with her daughter. Home life veers between times of calm and times of chaos, as her mother deals with her own issues by drinking and dating, while at the same time keeping her ever present doting boyfriend Mikey hanging around – who in fact is perhaps the most stable parental figure Mae has in her life.

As Mae becomes more involved with her project, she starts to view the world differently, and feels that the life she has lived up til now has been so small and narrow. We see the power of celebrity and notoriety, and how much people want to be part of what is happening at The Factory, to be able to tell people that they are in some way connected to Andy Warhol – even if they are just famous for fifteen minutes.

Nothing Special is also about the notion of the artistic gaze, and how we view both the art itself and those who create and participate in it. Mae finds herself more involved with The Factory, and the reader become more aware of how important it is for those around her to be seen, and to be part of Warhol’s history whatever the cost. We see how many of the people – including Shelley, want to be immortalised by Warhol, and have no scruples in doing whatever he wants them to do on screen in order to be able to say that they have been filmed by him.

Mae and Shelley are only needed until they finish transcribing the tapes, and when A is published, they are not mentioned, so are eradicated from the history of the very place they were so desperate to be part of. Nicole Flattery’s understated style of writing works so well for me, in scenes like this, because when life changing and at times upsetting things do happen to Mae, they are made even more poignant by the fact the language used and the words chosen focus you explicitly on her.

Nothing Special captivated me from the very first page, and when I had finished reading it, I sat and spent time reading about Warhol and more importantly, the people who came and went from The Factory. The captivating thing about Nicole’s brilliant novel is that Warhol is a figure on the periphery, the enigma around which everyone else orbits, and Mae’s life becomes the focus. This is a novel which asks us to consider not only the notion of how art is made and the legacy of Warhol, but also makes us think about the people whose names we will never know, but without whom, Warhol would not have been able to create the art we admire today.

I absolutely loved it.

Thank you so much to Tabitha Pelly and Bloomsbury Books for my proof copy.

Other Women by Emma Flint

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Other Women by Emma Flint

Published by Picador Books on 23 February 2023

Available from West End Lane Books and All Good Bookshops

What They Say

Mesmerising, haunting and utterly remarkable, this is a devastating story of fantasy, obsession inspired by a murder that took place almost a hundred years ago.

In a lonely cottage on a deserted stretch of shore, a moment of tragedy between lovers becomes a horrific murder. And two women who should never have met are connected for ever.

Six years after the end of the Great War, a nation is still in mourning. Thousands of husbands, fathers, sons and sweethearts were lost in Europe; millions more came back wounded and permanently damaged.

Beatrice Cade is an orphan, unmarried and childless – and given the dearth of men, likely to remain that way. London is full of women like her: not wives, not widows, not mothers. There is no name for these invisible women, and no place for their grief.

Determined to carve out a richer and more fulfilling way to live as a single woman, Bea takes a room in a Bloomsbury ladies’ club and a job in the City. Then a fleeting encounter changes everything. Bea’s emerging independence is destroyed when she falls in love for the first time.

Kate Ryan is an ordinary wife and mother who has managed to build an enviable life with her handsome husband and her daughter. To anyone looking in from the outside, they seem like a normal, happy family – until two policemen knock on her door one morning and threaten to destroy the facade Kate has created.

What I Say

A very long time ago, when Years of Reading wasn’t even an idea rattling around my head, I picked up a novel called Little Deaths by Emma Flint. I was completely captivated by this novel of a woman called Ruth Malone, and whether or not she was implicated in the disappearance of her children. You know when you love a novel so much you can’t wait to read what the author writes next? Well, I have been waiting since then to read Emma’s next novel, and let me tell you, I think Other Women is even better.

Using a real life case as its inspiration, Other Women tells the story of Beatrice Cade and Kate Ryan. Beatrice is an older single woman, with no immediate family, living in London, with a room in Bloomsbury, and a job as a book keeper in the City. Existing but not really embracing life, she wants to find love and to have a family, but this is the world after the First World War, still reeling from cataclysmic events and processing the incredible loss so many people have had to endure as a result of so many men losing their lives.

Beatrice feels slightly out of place in her office, with the younger women so much more confident in themselves and what they want, and while she dutifully carries out her job, and tries to engage more with the women she lives with, it all just feels slightly forced, and you feel her discomfort as she tries to fit in.

When Tom Ryan comes to work in her office, she is totally and utterly captivated by him, and dares to think that he might feel the same way soon. Their tentative friendship slowly blooms into a relationship, and for the first time, Beatrice allows herself to believe that she might actually be able to get the domestic dream she has wanted for so long.

Their relationship is conducted privately, away from prying eyes and the possibility of being seen by anyone who shouldn’t see them. While to Beatrice this seems romantic and passionate, slowly it becomes clear that there is a very good reason as to why Tom doesn’t want anyone to know about their relationship.

Kate Ryan has always been the dutiful wife that Tom wants. She has created an idyllic home life for him and their daughter Judith, but Kate is not naive, and knows that Tom has had relationships with other women through their marriage. Kate is also very aware of the implications of not staying married, and that divorce is not an option. Their life may seem perfect from the outside, but only Kate and Tom know exactly what happens when they shut the door at night.

As Tom finds himself further involved with Beatrice, who is utterly besotted with him, and Kate realising that Tom is pulling away from her again, a desperate chain of events unfurl that leaves Kate reeling, as her carefully constructed world starts to implode. Tom has done something that she cannot believe or comprehend, but as the puzzle starts to come together, Kate is faced with a choice that brings her closer to Beatrice than she could ever imagined. After years of having to ignore what Tom has chosen to do to their marriage, she now has the power to change everything – if she is brave enough to do it.

One of the many things I loved about this novel is the way in which you are totally immersed in the women’s lives, and the society they inhabit. Emma’s writing transports you completely to post war London and you feel part of this strange new world where people are trying to get on with their daily routines, adjusting to what has happened to the world. There is always this ominous sense of tension right from the start of the novel, that never feels forced or calculated, but instead slowly seeps through the pages and as a reader you know something awful is going to happen – and when it does, it is all the more devastating because of the unwavering belief Beatrice has that Tom is the man of her dreams.

Undoubtedly, this is a novel about women and how they are treated by a society still reeling from the after effects of a World War. Beatrice never quite fits in – she is unmarried, has no children, and quietly goes about her business, but wants to achieve the domestic dream she believes Kate Ryan has – Beatrice even turns up on her doorstep once, desperate to see Tom. Yet as the novel progresses, we see how Tom also tires of Beatrice when she becomes too demanding of him, and he treats her appallingly, as an annoyance rather than a person. Even in court, she becomes an exhibit to procure evidence from, her life is reduced to a series of statements and reports, and Beatrice will be forgotten when the case concludes.

Kate seemingly has it all – a loving husband, beautiful daughter and a desirable home, but at what cost? The image of the dutiful and benevolent wife hides the fact that Kate is attempting to hold her marriage together by constantly excusing Tom’s behaviour and accepting that this is her life – because that is what good wives do. Emma’s understated and measured characterisation of Kate, and the way in which she perfectly captures Beatrice’s change from unassuming and invisible, to a woman who believes she finally has everything she wants with a man who doesn’t really want her is heartbreaking to witness, and testament to Emma’s absolute understanding of the women she is depicting.

Other Women is a truly unforgettable novel, that gets completely under your skin as soon as you meet Beatrice and Kate. As a reader you realise that in this world where a man’s word is deemed to carry more power than a woman’s, lives could be changed forever in a simple sentence. Kate and Beatrice may be poles apart in terms of the trajectories of their lives, but they both simply wanted the same thing. To love and be loved, and to live their lives believing that the man they had chosen to share it with loved them back too.

I absolutely loved it.

Thank you so much to Picador Books for my proof copy.

And Just Like That, 2022 is done

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I’m not quite sure why I am writing this blog post on the last day of 2022. I haven’t read a huge number of books this year, I’ve been at times lackadaisical in posting on my blog, and have often felt like Twitter and Instagram have been changing the rules so often that I have no clue as to what the best way is to shout about books anymore!

Book blogging has been my thing for such a long time now, and while it’s introduced me to a world where I finally feel that I belong, has given me opportunities I could never have dreamed of, and has given me incredible friendships I now couldn’t be without, I am ending 2022 feeling a bit lost.

I am a firm believer in being honest about my blogging, and as 2022 comes to a close, and 2023 looms large, honestly, I have been feeling overwhelmed with it all at the moment. It’s hard to keep the energy and enthusiasm sometimes – I still love reading but by December (probably like lots of you!) I felt a bit like I was back on the bookish conveyor belt of reading books in a certain order so that I am ready to review them for publication date.

I have taken a complete break from social media over Christmas – and it’s been lovely. I’ve watched a lot of films, spent a lot of time with my family and put my phone down for days – which not surprisingly has meant I have read a lot more! It has been so refreshing to just sit and read without constantly thinking of what I am going to say in my review, and instead have just read for the sake of reading!

There are a few things I know I want to do now. I need to feel confident in my voice again, and find the joy in blogging. For me, it’s hard to keep posting when you feel like no one is listening – I know it shouldn’t matter, but when I read a brilliant book, I just want to make sure as many people as possible know, and honestly, I still get frustrated sometimes because I don’t know the most effective way to do it, and feel like I have let the authors down.

Having a chance to pause over Christmas has also given me time to think and reflect on Years Of Reading Selfishly and what I want it to be going forward next year. I am sure no one is really bothered, but for me I need to feel enthusiastic about it or I just won’t do anything! Perhaps in writing this blog post I am making myself accountable and can look back on it in 2023 to make sure I actually do what I say.

When the brilliant author Harriet Evans wrote her article for The Bookseller this year about how women over 45 love books, and that the book trade should love them back, I was lucky enough to be quoted in the article, and I also felt that Harriet perfectly articulated what I have been thinking for a long time too. As a 52 year old woman, at times I have felt invisible, at one point this year seriously contemplated stopping blogging – but do you know what – I don’t want to lose my voice or feel my thoughts about books don’t matter. There should be room for everyone to talk about the books they love, however they want to do it, and my voice and opinions count – I need to remember that, and make sure that we support each other too.

The other thing I have been thinking about a lot, is how to combine book blogging with being a carer for my adult son. I told you all this year that I am going to keep talking about the realities of caring, because as a society we don’t, and books have given me the perfect peace and space I have needed to recharge this year – because it’s hard and full on sometimes.

In 2023, I want to read and share books written by people who are carers like me, to use my blog as a way to amplify the voices of people whose stories you may not know but need to be heard. I am pulling together a reading pile of books, and am having a think about the best way to do it – more on that soon, but in the meantime I’d also really love it if the publishing industry didn’t do away with online events. Just because book lovers can’t physically be somewhere doesn’t mean we don’t want to take part…

Looking back on what I’ve written it seems like such a lot. It’s up to me now to practise what I have been preaching, but the one thing I know for sure is that while at times I do feel like I am done, that there is also something that keeps me here – and that’s the fact that sharing my love of books and reading brings me joy – and I know that I need that in my life now more than ever.

Here’s to 2023, and all the books we have waiting for us, the love of books that we want to share, and to you, the incredible bookish community who absolutely understand the joy of books, reading and shouting about them!

Lots of love,

Clare

Xxx

What To Do in 2022?

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Here we are in 2022, leaving behind another year of highs and lows, of things that we could never have foreseen happening, nor would have chosen to happen, and yet 2022 hurtled out of nowhere before I really had chance to take in everything that 2021 threw my way.

Last year, I felt that I did quite well in reading lots of books – many of which I loved, and putting together my end of year #MostSelfishReads2021 proved to be even harder as my reading had been in fits and starts according to who I had at home and when!

Still, as always happens at this time of year, I sit and think about book blogging – largely because I am feeling increasingly like I am not very good at it, and as always that I spend too much time reading and not enough time reviewing. I also hit December and felt overwhelmed with it all – not just reviewing, but setting up Two Fond of Books with Amanda (which I am so extraordinarily proud of) and a series of personal events I could not have foreseen last year knocked me for six, including Covid and becoming a full time carer to my adult son when I least expected it .

I think all the things that were happening to me at home meant that for a time I had to put my reading as my last priority rather than my first, and had to admit that I just couldn’t keep up with everyone else who seemed to be posting and blogging so frequently. Then I did that thing I guess lots of bloggers do, and started to question what the point of it all was – I don’t mean that to sound melodramatic, but when life means you can’t read as much as you think you should, you start to wonder what the point of it is. Then I just lost every creative impulse in my body and simply stared at the screen, attempting to write blogs so I could at least have something to show for my reading.

I couldn’t find the words. I can’t tell you how many draft and deleted posts I have on here, but all I know is that for a woman that could previously produce blogs at the drop of the hat, now I was completely lacking in confidence – they all sounded the same, and I felt I was just regurgitating all my previous posts. So I stopped writing reviews, and instead of picking the next book off my pile to make sure I could read and review it for publication day, I picked up a book that I wanted to read, and I can’t tell you how much better I felt as I finally lost myself in a book again without the slightest inclination to review it.

Why am I telling you all this? I guess it’s because I need somewhere to write down what I am feeling – and to let other people know that if you feel that too, it’s ok to admit it. I forget a lot of the time that I am doing all this for free, and sometimes my worry of letting publicists and publishers down (who by the way are the kindest and most supportive people ever) means that I forget this is and always should be a hobby.

Anyway, I think what I am trying to tell myself and anyone else feeling baffled by the world and not quite sure where their blogging is going, is to maybe know that you are not the only one who feels like it, and theres no shame in admitting you can’t find the words at the moment. The books will always be there, and I love the feeling of finding that book that sparks something in me that means I need to write a review all about it to tell the world. I know it will come back, and in the meantime am just enjoying reading for reading’s sake again – and it feels wonderful!

Here’s to 2022, and whatever and whenever you feel like reading, and know that blogging will always be there for you whenever you are ready to return to it.

Lots of love,

Clare

xxx

When Is A Book Blogger Not A Book Blogger?

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This is probably the blog post that I have started to write and delete more than any other. I have to tell you that what I am going to say is not pretty, and to be honest, am probably totally messing up any chance of ever having any proofs ever again, but I can’t sit by and say nothing.

Ready? Deep breath..

Please don’t call yourself a Book Blogger if you don’t read and review books or as has quite rightly been pointed out, if you don’t talk about books or authors on your social media.

Collecting all the books and posting pictures of them is not reviewing them.

I am usually a mild mannered, perfectly likeable 50 year old woman, who came late to book blogging. However, in the three years since I started, there has been an issue that has got me more and more frustrated, and I’m just putting it out there.

There is a whole army of hardworking bloggers out there, who read, review and post about books constantly. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tweet, on goodreads, Amazon, Instagram, your own blog, a podcast, a YouTube video or a witty poem. You have read and reviewed a book and that is all that matters. I am very lucky that some of the Book Blogging community have become my incredibly close friends, and they understand my frustrations and it is with them that I have chatted about not understanding the shift that has happened over the last year or so.

What really got me thinking about this, was a Twitter thread I saw a couple of weeks ago, where a man was saying that he had just finished A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and wanting to know what people thought, had sought out some book blogger reviews. What I thought was really interesting, was that he found some reviews, which acknowledged how traumatic and challenging the book was, but that he also saw many artfully staged pictures, where the book was used as a prop, a cosy backdrop with a mug of coffee and arranged props, and he questioned if the person curating that picture actually understood what the book was about. That opened up a whole debate as to whether people were really reading and reviewing books, or whether it was more about getting likes for the aesthetic of the post. People were also discussing book bloggers generally, and whether they actually read the books they received, or whether it was a case of just being ‘seen’ with the latest books in order to boost their profiles.

This has been something that has been going round in my mind for a while, and I think as a genuine book blogger, it is always really important to step back and think about what I am doing, and how I am presenting myself to the Bookish Community. I have said it before, and I will say it again, it is so easy to get caught up in believing you NEED the latest releases, when in actual fact to be a Book Blogger all you need to do is pick a book, any book and talk about it – that’s it.

Why am I so agitated that I needed to write a blog post about it? Honestly because I think I don’t understand it. How can you call yourself a book blogger if you don’t review any books?

I know how much effort it takes to post about, read and review books. How annoying it is when you have worked really hard to write a review – then no one acknowledges it. What it feels like when you keep shouting about a book you want everyone to know about, and then worry that the author and publisher will get fed up of seeing you talk about it. How gutting it is to see people receiving a book you wanted to read and review, then never hearing them mention it again. The buzz you get when the author tells you they loved your review, the joy you get when they retweet or quote your review. The fact that sometimes the publisher or publicist you contact will agree to send you the book you ask for – because they know you will genuinely read and review it. The absolute best thing for me is when you have talked about a book, and someone contacts you to tell you that they bought a book you recommended – and loved it.

I guess what I’m trying to say is ask for and collect all the books you want, that’s brilliant that you love books just as much as I do. Fill your boots – take all the pictures you want, and get all the likes you can, and show them off however you want. Just please, for all our sakes, don’t call yourself a Book Blogger – because until you start reading and reviewing those books – I don’t think you can call yourself one.