Time of the Child by Niall Williams, Bloomsbury, 2024
Initially I got Niall Williams and Alistair MacLeod mixed up. I ordered this book on the back of my love for McLeod’s No Great Mischief. What a beautiful mistake. The writing in this is so rich you could lick it off the page.
This is 1960s rural Ireland where a lot is noticed but unsaid and the sudden appearance of an abandoned baby isn’t going to be a secret which is easy keep. The child of the title only appears at the midpoint of the book but it doesn’t matter, because you’re with these characters, the stoic Doctor Troy, his daughter Ronnie with a rich inner world and young Jude Quinlan who has had to grow up too fast in the shadow of a drunk father. Any journey with them is a joy to take.
Brother of the More Famous Jack by Barbara Trapido, Bloomsbury, 1982
I only got a recent tip about Barbara Trapido but everyone else got the memo way-back. This edition had an introduction by Rachel Cusk who said it’s been in her mind since reading it at uni. I can see why. It’s sharp and witty and British in a Nancy Mitford or Brideshead Revisited outsider-falling-in-love-with-a-sprawling-and-vivid-family way.
It also spans the intense social and political change from the late 60s to 80s with a female protagonist who hasn’t quite realised the power she could now demand. The generations show how time has changed (or not) with the evolution of gender roles.
Here is the matriarch talking to the narrator, “I know all about these clever chaps like yours and mine you see. I know all about their nice impressive commitments to the rights of women and the division of labour, because they’re very good at articulating these things and it costs them nothing to say it all as nicely as they do…..Jonathan must mind that babe for you, either every morning or for four whole working days a week. Not as a favour mind, but as a necessity. Along with the shopping and the cooking and cleaning and laundry. Just as women do it. Make him earn the right to sit at his typewriter.”
Passing by Nella Larsen, Penguin 1929
This book charts Irene Redfield’s conflicted friendship with Clare Kendry. The two grew up together in Harlem but fell out of touch when Clare moved away. Years later they meet by chance in a hotel. Clare has ‘passed’. She is married to a white man who thinks she’s also white. This puts Irene in a difficult situation where she isn’t sure whether she owes her loyalty to her race, gender or friendship. Things becomes even more intense when Irene’s husband and Clare start to get along too well.
The internal psychological reflections in this feel so modern and the themes or race and identity land with as much relevance now as back when it was written in the late twenties.
The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood, Sphere, 2021
This. Was. Fun. (Lots). And exactly what I needed. It’s a grumpy meets sunshine STEM romance set in the Stanford Biology Department and anyone who’s spent time in academia will recognise the intense landscape of being a higher degree research student.
Olive Smith kisses a random guy in an attempt to convince her best friend Anh that she’s over the last guy she dated (and that Anh can now go out with him). The guy she kisses is Adam Carlsen, young wunderkind Professor who is great at what he does but notoriously difficult to work with. Cue a fake-dating agreement leading to real feelings.
How to be an Artist by Jerry Saltz, Hachette, 2020
Jerry Saltz was the chief art-critic for New York magazine. This book is his advice about how art can be for anyone. He uses ‘art’ to mean creative expression across disciplines and mediums. From his own artistic work to his years watching others, he shares what he thinks it takes to be an artist. This is a collection of rules, recollections, tips and exercises to keep going. I’m dipping in and out of this one, so can’t deliver a verdict yet about if this will make it into my go-to creative motivation books but it was on someone else’s, so we’ll see.
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Nina Cullen 