sharkybookshelf's reviews
481 reviews

1980s Glasgow, Shuggie Bain spends his childhood in dubious public housing - his alcoholic mother is both light of his life and source of despair…

Stuart paints an undeniably accurate portrayal of some of the utter desolation wreaked by Thatcher’s policies in the 80s. Scotland seems to be romanticised more often than not in books (and other media), but these devastated communities deserve to have their stories told - it’s a very real but overlooked side of Scotland.

But…I found myself wondering at what point does something become misery porn? Because this felt like it was veeeery close to the line - none of it was unrealistic (sadly), but it started to feel like every possible miserable experience was included simply because it could be. There was just so much misery that, paradoxically, the impact was somewhat lessened.

A bleak, moving portrait of devastated communities, the impact of addiction and the hollowness of pride.

Described as an essay collection, I found this sat closer to memoir (or “creative” memoir perhaps) as it was firmly in the vein of millennials writing about their lives with zippy millennial humour (though I wouldn’t describe it as a comedic memoir). As a millennial myself, that means that there will almost always be some aspects that resonate. In this case, the vibes are of the “liberal city millennial” variety - you probably already know if that’s a category that speaks to you, and thus whether this one is likely to interest you or not.

Overall, this collection was enjoyable enough to read, though it didn’t especially wow me, perhaps as a result of expecting essays but getting memoir that was a little more navel-gazing than introspective. I found the bits about Feltham’s archival job the most interesting to read about.

A slightly self-indulgent, memoir-heavy collection exploring family, relationships and memory from a Wellingtonian viewpoint.

On waking to find a young woman’s body on the hearth rug of her library, Mrs Brantry calls her good friend Miss Marple…

This was clever - I never guessed whodunnit or how the whole thing was orchestrated. So, a great puzzle of a murder mystery, which also highlights changes in society at the time around class and money.

But, for a Miss Marple mystery, she hardly features - her inclusion almost felt like an afterthought. I’m fairly apathetic towards Miss Marple (sorry to the fans) and even I was mildly dismayed by that - luckily the actual mystery was a good one!

A clever, twisty and scandalous murder mystery couched in the gossip of village life.

This is a transcript of Jon Fosse’s Nobel lecture, and it feels odd to rate a speech; actually, I doubt you could really call this a review.

Anyway, I enjoyed this - it’s an interesting glimpse into how Fosse sees language and its use both in novels and plays, but honestly not really worth reading if you haven’t previously read any of his work. I had not realised quite how prolific he has been as a writer!

By day, the new book censor spends his days combing manuscripts for anything deemed unfit by the regime; by night, he finds himself drawn into the worlds of pilfered, forbidden books…

I very much enjoyed this one - hardly a surprise given that it’s a book about books, the importance of reading and the human need for storytelling… But it’s also a serious critique of censorship and book-banning and an exploration of the role of literature in resisting oppression and prompting critical thinking - ultimately, one’s inner thoughts can never be fully controlled. (But that can also have consequences…)

I loved the writing - it was immersive but easy to read and entertaining. The strong, satirical streak of absurdity very much worked for me - scenarios are taken to the extreme, and yet…it didn’t feel unbelievable or too far-fetched. It feels like a possible future (sans rabbits). Which is terrifying.

Unsurprisingly, books are referenced throughout, but the complete overrepresentation of the anglophone literary canon was rather unexpected in a translated book and actually a little disorienting - surely works of dissent and critiques of autocracy have been written elsewhere, too? The flip side is that the story lends itself remarkably well to translation for an anglophone audience.

An immersive, absurd and pertinent satire of book banning, the human need for storytelling and the power of imagination.

This is a snack-sized introduction to Piketty’s research-based thoughts on how historical changes in cultural and societal norms have fed into inequality (and how inequality has changed over time) - things such as inheritance, tax structures and access to education. It’s an overview rather than a deep dive, which was ideal for me as it’s not an area I know much about, and I found it interesting overall.

I particularly appreciated the European focus - it makes a nice change from reading about the US and UK - and since Piketty is French, there was a decent amount about France, which, again, I appreciated.

A snack-sized, data-based introduction to the effect of culture and societal changes on inequality.

Thirteen interconnected short stories of Mexican women of varied backgrounds and status taking life by the horns…

I appreciate what de la Cerda was doing with this collection and her clear, absolute and (obviously) justifiable rage regarding the ubiquity of femicide in Mexico. I enjoyed the inter-connectedness of the stories - it was quietly satisfying every time I picked up on a link between characters.

But, with the exception of the last part of the very last story, I did not get on with the writing, which lacked a bit of maturity. The book felt a little performative - as if it was written (or translated?) to reinforce preconceptions of cartels and the marginalised already held by middle-class readers far removed from such lives and struggles.

I don’t mind a bleak read, but the blunt and crude language here felt more forced and “shock value” than authentic. Perhaps some intricacies of the dialect and slang didn’t translate effectively or perhaps I missed something because I’ve mostly seen reviews describing this one as incredible and honestly what do I know of the realities of life for these women.

A blunt, brutal collection of interconnected stories about Mexican women either living on the margins or connected to cartels.

Exactly one year after a baffling series of murders and a theft, Kiyoshi Shimada finds himself at the isolated River Mill House alongside those who were there - can he deduce what really happened…?

This was a great puzzle, though I did figure some of it out - when you’ve read enough murder mysteries, certain suggestive clues will start to jump out at you, and that was the case here, though I did not manage to fit it all together.

But, while it was a clever solution, I wasn’t entirely sold on the set up of the story. What was the deal with 40-year-old Kiichi and his 19-year-old wife - she’s been kept holed up in this Mill House for a decade, but it was never quite clear to me exactly why. It was a bit…bizarre.

I also see what the author was doing with the flip-flipping between the past and present, and while the change in POV helped separate the two, ultimately I didn’t love it as a storytelling strategy.

A clever closed circle and locked room murder mystery puzzle with a slightly unconvincing set-up.

After reading a number of excellent books on motherhood over the last couple of years, it was refreshing to read a broader view of parenthood and a (positive) account of the wonder of fatherhood. I thoroughly enjoyed this one - I happened to pick it up at exactly the right time for me (I read much of it whilst walking loops around the living room to settle a three-month-old…) but there’s also something about Zambra’s writing that I love, a seam of darkly quirky irreverence threading through the book that perfectly chimes with my sense of humour.

As a mix of personal essays and fictional pieces, there’s no plot, but (perhaps with the exception of The Boy With No Dad) they come together into a cohesive account of navigating fatherhood, the wonders and absurdities of watching a small child grow and develop and how that can change how we, as adults, look at the world and ourselves. There are musings throughout about raising a child in a country not your own and all the various implications in terms of family relationships, a sense of identity and belonging, and language - unsurprisingly, I very much appreciated these.

I have to mention the piece French for Beginners - we also have the referenced children’s book at home and I find it truly wonderful to think that two strangers on opposite sides of the world, a Chilean in Mexico and a Franco-Scot in New Zealand, both spend plenty of time reading their respective toddlers the same French translation of the same story. There’s a comfort to stumbling across such a completely minor but unexpectedly shared experience.

A warm, reflective and quietly quirky account of the wonders and amusing absurdities of an attentive fatherhood and embracing changes in perspective offered up by small children.

Octogenarian Evie Beaulieu is a renowned champion of the marine world; Ina Aroita has grown up around the Pacific and finds refuge in art; two high school friends obsessed with Go have followed radically different paths - their stories all converge on the French Polynesian island of Makatea which has been chosen for an ambitious seasteading project…

A book about the oceans should have been a slam-dunk for me, but while the story was interesting enough, it felt rather…listless and stereotyped. Now, perhaps this was on purpose to make a point about the revelation at the end. But if so, the result was a bit dull, when the potential was certainly there for an exciting read about the impunity of tech moguls, the wonder of the oceans and the conflict between small communities and the legacy of colonialism in the Pacific and how that ties into the environment. Yes, the themes are important, but neither the story nor the storytelling felt particularly innovative or refreshing.

So basically, that’s all to say that it was fine. Until the end, which was an absolute cop out and I just cannot get over it - I read through 400 unremarkable pages for THAT?! I am still so incensed that I deducted a whole star from my rating.

A slightly listless, ultimately dissatisfying story of the ocean’s wonders intersecting with tech moguls.