Image by Erich Röthlisberger from Pixabay
HERE are two questions about reading. Both were posed by women, neither of whom I know. Have the ‘damn phones’ harmed our ability to concentrate on literature – and do older men still read books?
The first was put by the novelist Naomi Alderman in a newspaper article; the second in a post on Threads by a woman called Carmen.
Alderman feared modern life was leading people away from books. She told a friend who suggested a couch-to-5k style plan to revive the joy of reading. So she set up just such a scheme through her Substack.
It is worth pausing to explain what Substack might be. Broadly, it is a media platform that allows writers to publish their thoughts in essays or commentaries. Slower and longer in form than is normal on social media platforms, Substack can be an interesting place to hang out.
As for Alderman, she worries that even those of us who love books have been seduced by the lazy distractions of our phones.
Now if you seek an ageing man who never fritters time on his phone, you’ve come to the wrong corner of the old-guy room. The hours I have burnt on that nonsense could have been spent on something useful. But that hasn’t put me off reading novels, newspapers, factual books, and enough crime novels to construct my own locked room.
As a member of the book group in our local bar, I read at least one book a month, often more. Here is a rundown of this year’s reading. And to explain, at our book club we set a theme each month, and then all read different books inspired by the topic. The theme for the next one is capital cities, as seen in my choice below…
London Clay, Journeys In The Deep City, by Thom Chivers (unfinished at the time of writing).
An unusual but fascinating account of what lies beneath the streets of London. History, geology and subterranean exploration, from buried rivers to lost Tube stations, touched by the writer’s grief for his mother, who died when he was 13. If the second half is as good, it’s a deeply engaging and captivating dive into the hidden landscapes of our cities.
The Glassmaker, by Tracey Chevalier (also unfinished at the time of writing).
This came from our shelves and was a present from me to my wife; it had to be put aside, reluctantly, to read the book above. This time-skipping historical novel tells the story of Orsola Rosso, a Venetian glassmaker working in 1486; and, in a bold twist, across subsequent centuries. The writing is sparkling, and deep research brings everything to life, as Orsola, another of Chevalier’s wily female protagonists, wrestles with societal constraints. Looking forward to resuming the story.
River of Shadows by Valerio Varesi
An atmospheric Italian crime novel set in the frozen and waterlogged north as Commissario Soneri investigates the deaths of two elderly brothers with a shared suspicious past. Great atmosphere, good food, an eccentric policeman – and sex in surprising places.
The Silk Stocking Murders by Anthony Berkeley
A Golden Age detective novel, written in 1932, and one of the first to feature a serial killer, as hunted by the crime writer turned sleuth, Roger Sheringham, who outwits his friends at Scotland Yard. Almost modern in feel, although some social attitudes give off a loud clang.
A House for Mr Biswas, by VS Naipaul
This lively, funny, dark and very human novel was written in 1961 and tells the story of a man who claws his way free of abject poverty, fighting his in-laws at every turn. It’s a tremendous evocation of Caribbean life, and Mr Biswas is a tragi-comic hero of Dickensian proportions, a lowly man lifted by his delusions, his boiling rage, and buoyed by malice.
History of the Rain, by Niall Williams
A holiday read back in May. This magical, funny, tragic Irish novel is set on the banks of the river Shannon, in Faha, County Clare, “where everyone is a long story”. Confined to bed with an unidentified, debilitating blood disorder, 19-year-old Ruth Swain becomes the omniscient recorder of her community, through recounting the convoluted history of her own family. It is also a book filled with literature, especially Dickens and Robert Louis Stevenson.
There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak
Another holiday read, as just as captivating as History of the Rain. Elif Shafak composes a hugely ambitious novel told from many perspectives, ranging from ancient Mesopotamia and Vitorian England to contemporary London. A drop of water links three main strands that seem separate but wrap together in the end. Politics and the preciousness of water fill these poetic pages.
The Crow Trap by Ann Cleeves
Another holiday read and a jump back in time to catch up with the first Vera Stanhope novel. Three women from different backgrounds come together at an isolated cottage on the North Pennines to complete an environmental survey. Each knows the meaning of betrayal, and no-one knows who that woman who resembles a mad bag lady might be, until she formally introduces herself halfway through the murder mystery. It’s Vera, of course, and she’s a tremendous creation, more interesting, more tortured, than her TV self.
The remaining books are:
This Sporting Life by David Storey, the brutal 1960s classic about rugby league player Arthur Machin who becomes something of a celebrity and rises above the restrictions of his class, only to become disconnected from everything.
An Evening of Long Goodbyes by Paul Murray. A properly funny novel from the Irish writer who rarely disappoints. Charles Hythloday sets about the heroic squandering of his family inheritance. Drinking, greyhound racing, vanishing furniture, old movies, Dublin lowlife, eviction and the perils of community theatre all feature.
Christine Falls by John Banville. Originally published under the pen-name Benjamin Black, this is the first in a series of crime novels set in the boozy, dank Dublin of the 1950s, and featuring his hero Quirke, who runs the pathology department of Holy Family hospital. Superbly written and plotted with panache (although the ending is odd).
And not to forget Midnight Blue by Simone van der Vlugt, a Dutch historical novel that resonates with the Glassmaker; The Progress of a Crime by Julian Symons, a classic murder case; and The Nancys by RWR McDonald, a charming and funny novel about Tippy Chain, an 11-year-old New Zealand girl and super-fan of the Nancy Drew books.
Oh, and two gathering dust by the bedside, which I believe were read this year…
How To Be Right by James O’Brien (enjoyably scathing political essays); and The Narrow Bed, Sophie Hannah’s bleak, funny and ambitious take on the procedural crime novel.
So, yes, Carmen, on Threads. Here is one older man who definitely reads books.