How to be a Woman

There's never been a better time to be a woman; we have the vote and we have the Pill, and we haven't been burnt as witches since 1727. However, a few nagging questions still remain... Why are we supposed to get Brazilians? Should we use Botox? Do men secretly hate us? What should you call your vagina? Why does your bra hurt? And why does everyone keep asking when you're going to have a baby? Part memoir, part rant, Caitlin Moran answers these questions and more in How to be a Woman-following her from her terrible 13th birthday (I am 13 stone, have no friends, and boys throw gravel at me when they see me) through adolescence, the workplace, strip-clubs, love, being fat, abortion, TopShop, motherhood and beyond.

I love Caitlin Moran. Her Twitter feed frequently makes me laugh and her Times columns are pretty much the only thing that I miss now that there's a paywall up. So when I heard that a) she'd written a book and b) it was kind of about feminism, I was definitely buying it.

The book starts with Moran being 13 and turning up to her house, which she shares with numerous siblings, having had rocks thrown at her and blowing out the candles on a birthday baguette. Each chapter generally begins with an anecdote about her own experiences and then goes on to address each 'issue'-abortion, brazilians, lapdancing, dieting etc-as a whole. One of the most interesting things that she does is to argue that you have to attack the little issues; following a 'Broken Windows' theory; that if the small issues don't get tackled then it will lead to bigger problems. This is certainly an interesting idea; and makes feminism more accessible than perhaps those who talk about issues that are still hugely important and relevant; but that do not really affect everyday women.

In general, I really enjoyed the book. Moran has an amusing tone throughout; and reading about her own experiences as a poor young woman stood in direct contrast with a lot of feminist material that I've read, that generally is written by well-educated and generally well-off women. She defines feminism as pretty much 'wanting to be in control of your vagina' and to think of humankind as being 'The Guys'; a big group of people who should also just get along and be generally polite to each other. Her way of working out whether or not something is generally sexist is to think whether men are either doing or are bothered by this; if not then it's probably some form of barrier that is aimed solely at women.

Her musings on lapdancing clubs were great; having recently read an article basically saying that the new Playboy bunnies at the new Playboy Club in London are 'empowered' women; it was great to see a journalist pointing out that no, lapdancing is no empowering. It was also really interesting to read about her own experience with abortion-something that must have taken considerable bravery to include, due to the fact that her abortion would be classified by a lot of people as the 'wrong' type.

There were, however, also times when I disagreed with what she had to say. For instance, arguing that women's issues have come from being 'losers' throughout history; from the fact that women never had a Gandhi. However, she doesn't address why this is the case; she seems to ignore that the fact that women have been 'losers' is because they never had the opportunity to become, to borrow a phrase from Charlie Sheen, 'winners'. Also, whilst I liked that she shunned the idea of Katie Price being a female role model, her lauding of Lady Gaga seemed a little strange. Earlier in the chapter she'd commented on how awful it was that numerous young, female artists were achieving huge success very young, and then burning out due to too much pressure. Then she proceeds to celebrate how successful Lady Gaga has become at the age of just 24; suggesting that she is better than Madonna because Madonna wasn't famous at that age. I think I may also be one of the few people who doesn't think she's particularly a beacon of feminism either; it's great that she campaigns for equal rights and that she uses her massive fanbase for good, but when I see her dressed in leather and not much else I don't think "Wow! She's doing that for the great big sisterhood! She's snogging Beyonce to stick it to the patriarchy". Sure, she rejected a sexy cover art for her album; but faux lesbianism (between her and Beyonce; apparently she herself is bisexual) isn't a feminist statement. At least, I doubt the men watching the pop video wouldn't see it that way.

Despite my objections to some of Moran's ideas, I enjoyed this book far too much to give it a low rating. Whilst there were some parts of the book that didn't really impact me; I've never considered what to name my boobs and I'm not fat (I do kind of wish that Moran had also explored the negativity received by girls who are naturally skinny; but no matter), they were still entertaining to read. The best bit about all this, is that a book that deals with women's issues and isn't afraid to talk about feminism is getting so much publicity and that so many people love it. Because that can only be good for the whole movement of feminism.

The Amber Spyglass

Will is the bearer of the knife. Now, accompanied by angels. his task is to deliver that powerful, dangerous weapon to Lord Asriel-by the command of his dying father.
But how can he go looking for Lord Asriel, when Lyra is gone? Only with her help can he fathom the myriad plots and intrigues that beset him. The two great powers of the many worlds are lining up for war, and Will must find Lyra, for together they are on their way to battle, an inevitable journey that will even take them to the world of the dead...

Spoilers (probably) for Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife and maybe some for this book too.

So, this was the final installment of Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy and after really enjoying the first two, I was pretty excited for this. I was a little disappointed.

However, the good things come first. Lyra and Will continue to be really interesting protagonists, with their strengths and weaknesses nicely balanced; meaning that they are not always strictly great people and it really does make them feel more human. It was also kind of nice to see Roger, Lyra's friend from Oxford who dies at the end of Northern Lights when Lord Asriel uses the energy gained from separating him from his daemon to create a window between the worlds. To see a character who believes so wholeheartedly in Lyra was nice, especially as Lyra herself was already having some self-doubts by that part of The Amber Spyglass.

The new characters and creatures introduced in this novel were also rather fascinating. The two angels that are sent to guard Will; Balthomas & Baruch are pretty cool, especially the former; Pullman's angels are not the literal types that we generally imagine, rather they are almost ghost-like beings. I also really liked the Gallivespians; tiny spies who fly on dragonflys or hawks and who have venom in their spurs that they can use to attack fully-sized people and the mulefa; a strange non-veterbrae, gazelle/elephant type being who actually use wheels to travel about.

The plot generally kept rolling on, but for me lacked the pace of The Subtle Knife, and lacked the expected epic war that kept being hinted at throughout the trilogy; the ending was a bit of an anti-climax to me. It also hinged on the idea that a 12-year-old girl and a boy of roughly the same age could fall deeply, deeply in love, in a kind of 'soulmates' style and thus save the world from ruin. Whilst I could handle mild crushes, the idea that two-essentially children-could be described as desperately kissing each others hot faces I'll admit I felt slightly uncomfortable. To me, Pullman's desire to re-enact Adam and Eve, and the Fall, is all well and good; but perhaps he should have selected protagonists that were slightly older; but then this would have messed with his whole Dust idea.

I especially disliked how the characters of Mrs Coulter and Lord Asriel suddenly changed either at the beginning of or midway through this novel. The reader has seen Mrs Coulter desperately grasping power within the church, developing a machine that would separate children from their daemons and casually snapping a witch's fingers in order to extract information from them. Then all of a sudden, we get Mrs Coulter being all maternal and desperate for Lyra to survive when the church decides that the way to save themselves is to kill her. This came from just about nowhere. Whilst Coulter saved Lyra from Svalbard, the reader didn't see any form of care from her. I actually really enjoyed Mrs Coulter as a villain, and when that was removed from her she seemed a little bit...meh. Lord Asriel was similar. Whilst he began Northern Lights as some glamorous, mysterious explorer; he ended it as a man who would go to any length to bring about what he wanted. For the most part of The Amber Spyglass he is pretty anti-Lyra; his only interest is in getting Will and his knife on his side; but then suddenly he is in awe of his daughter and is ready to sacrifice himself in order to bring about her happiness.

I'm gutted about the ending of this series, because I really enjoyed the first two. I am still in awe of Pullman's attention to detail and his creation of numerous worlds is brilliant; and I find the idea of a daemon really clever. I do recommend this trilogy, because it's brave and vast in scope; it just didn't quite live up to my expectations in the end.

The Shadow of the Wind

Hidden in the heart of the old city of Barcelona is the 'Cemetery of Forgotten Books', a labyrinthine library of obscure and forgotten titles. To this library, a man brings his ten-year-old son, Daniel, one cold morning in 1945. Daniel is allowed to choose on book and from the dusty shelves pulls 'The Shadow of the Wind' by Julian Carax. But as Daniel grows up, several people seem inordinately interested in his find. What begins as a case of literary curiosity turns into a race to find out the truth behind the life and death of Julian Carax and to save those he left behind.

This novel was perhaps one of the strangest reading experiences I've had in a while; I adored it, but for a great deal of the novel had no idea what was going. Ruiz Zafon manages to create a brilliant mystery novel that holds writers and writing at its centre.

The book is told mainly from the perspective of Daniel Sempere, who begins the novel at the age of ten; a young, naive boy who lives with just his father, his mother having died. He's a brave, cheeky, everyman protagonist; mainly sympathetic and as a reader you truly desire for him to triumph over all the adversity he faces. Indeed, Daniel is the character that I would wish that Pip in Great Expectations would be; especially when Zafon references the novel in Daniel's early interactions with Clara, the blind daughter of his father's friend who is beautiful but manipulative. The characters in the novel are all pretty well-drawn; from the vibrant Fermin Romero de Torres, who begins the novel as a man sleeping rough who Daniel literally falls over; to the enigmatic Julian Carax himself and Inspector Fumero, perhaps the creepiest villain of the novel.

Aside from the characters, Zafon's tale is a real mystery that remains gripping, despite giving only a little bit of information away at a time; the real truth isn't revealed until near the end of novel; when the full story of Carax, Fumero and others are fully revealed in a wonderful and fascinating way. Zafon also brings to life Barcelona in the late 1940s and 1950s, after the Civil War and World War Two in a really compelling way, and made me itch to visit the city. He also touches with the Spanish attitude towards the Civil War, whereby precious few people really talk about it; Daniel's father rarely talks about it, and it is even brushed over by the character's describing events in the past.

I quite enjoyed The Shadow of the Wind, especially when the final twists were revealed; some of which I guessed, others were real surprises. It's really worth holding out for the final revelations, and Zafon keeps the tense atmosphere going really well.

The Subtle Knife

Will is twelve years old and he's just killed a man. Now he's on his own, on the run, determined to discover the truth about his father's disappearance. Then Will steps through a window in the air into another world, and finds himself with a companion-a strange, savage little girl called Lyra. Like Will, she has a mission which she intends to carry out all costs. But the world of Cittagazze is a strange and unsettling place. Deadly, soul-eating Spectres stalk its streets, while high above, the wingbeats of distant angels sound against the sky. And in the mysterious Torre degli Angeli lurks Cittagazze's most important secret-an object which people from many worlds would kill to possess...

This review may contain spoilers for Northern Lights.

The end of Northern Lights finished with Lyra heading off 'beyond the Northern Lights' to explore other worlds and to discover for herself what exactly 'dust' is. The Subtle Knife, rather than pick up directly up from its predecessor instead opens in 'our' world, the Earth that the reader recognises as normal and introduces a new lead character; Will. However, when Will commits an accidental murder he finds that he can hide through a strange rip in the air, in an apparently abandoned world named Cittagazze, where he meets Lyra, and then the plot really kicks off.

I think I probably enjoyed this more than Northern Lights, probably because it was a lot more pacey. There was less need to really set up the two worlds; the reader is obviously familiar with how the contemporary world works and once the Spectres are explained the world of Cittagazze is pretty easy to understand as well. Indeed, the novel focuses on Will becoming the bearer of the mysterious subtle knife, what said knife does and then preventing it from falling into the hands of Mrs Coulter (shudder). Running on a second parallel is the story of the Texan aeronaut Lee Scoresby trying to track down the explorer Grumman in the hope that it will help Lyra.

As a new character, Will is interesting. He's just as brave as Lyra; having faced tough times at home with a mother who is suffering from mental illness and he is fiercely loyal. At the same time, he's not all 'good'; many of the other characters are fearful of him, and really he reminded me a little of the ambiguity surrounding Lord Asriel. The other characters that move over from Northern Lights remain the same; although Lyra's self-centered quest is put on hold when she meets, and is fascinated by, Will. It was nice to see more of Scoresby and the character of Grumman was also really interesting (although it's hard to talk about him without there being epic spoilers for the novel).

One thing I would say is that if you found Northern Lights too 'anti-religion/God' then you should probably not read The Subtle Knife. I found the message in Northern Lights to be quite subtle until the last pages, yet in this novel it becomes more clear-Asriel wants to destroy Dust/original sin, and his way of doing this is by launching an attack on Authority (God), in a war unprecedented for thousands of years. There is also further revelation surrounding who Lyra is in the legends of certain parts of her world-primarily among the witches, which also hints at a fresh Genesis, a new beginning. My only problem with the novel was that these ideas all seemed to come out of the left field right near the end and left me being a little bit confused during the final pages.

However, The Subtle Knife is certainly a great continuation of a really bold and fascinating young adult series and sets up the final novel The Amber Spyglass brilliantly.

Everything is Illuminated

A young man arrives in the Ukraine, clutching in his hand a tattered photograph. He is searching for the woman who fifty years ago saved his grandfather from the Nazis. Unfortunately, however, he is aided in his quest by Alex, a translator with an uncanny ability to mangle English into bizarre new forms; a 'blind' old man haunted by memories of the war; and an undersexed guide dog named Sammy Davis Jr, Jr. What they are looking for seems elusive, a truth hidden behind the veils of time, language and the horrors of war. What they find out turns all their worlds upside down.

I pretty much adored Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, and really wanted another Safran Foer fix. Everything is Illuminated was his debut novel, published in 2002, and is certainly different from his latter work; but almost as good.

It is told in three different voices. The first is that of Alex, telling the story of The Hero (also named Jonathan Safron Foer)'s visit to the Ukraine in order to try and find a woman named Augustine, who saved his grandfather from the Nazis and in turn discover more about where his family came from. The second voice is also that of Alex, but this time in letters written to Jonathan some time after the events told in his narrative take place; therefore we know from the first letter that Augustine is not found. The thing that makes Alex's narrative stand out the most is his rather unique command of the English language. He frequently uses incorrect words in his second language English; such as 'rigid' instead of 'hard' (as in this will be difficult). Alex is also slightly unreliable; you discover in his letters that things he presented about himself in his narrative are not true and thus messes with the reader's opinion of him. Although his tale becomes slightly more touching and sad as the novel progresses, there were times when it seemed that Foer was straying into Shteyngart territory which caused me to panic a little bit, although fortunately Foer manages to rein in the crude humour.

The final voice is that of the tale of Trachimbrod, and in turn 'Jonathan Safran Foer's' family. It begins in around the 1700s and goes right up to the shetel's destruction during the Second World War. This is a fascinating community history with some very interesting characters popping up throughout it; although it is difficult to fully understand what is fact and what is fiction.

Part of what I really liked about Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was Foer's depictions of people suffering with loss, and this is also a huge part of this novel. From the baker who takes in Brod, an apparent relation of The Hero who is the sole survivor of a cart crashing into the river, Brod's own experiences and then the grief that eats up Alex's grandfather as he begins to reflect on his own part in the war. Foer's prose is beautiful and sensitive as it deals with these issues, and the tales of the Nazi massacres of the Jewish in Eastern Europe were horrible, and heartbreaking.

Whilst I didn't love it as much as his later novel; there were a few ideas that were introduced that weren't really developed, Foer's writing is still stunning and he manages to weave a fascinating if tragic story.

Northern Lights

When Lyra's friend Roger disappears, she and her daemon Pantalaimon, determine to find him. The ensuing quest leads them to the bleak splendour of the North, where armoured beasts rule the ice and witch-queens fly through frozen skies-and where a team of scientists is conducting experiments too horrible to be spoken about. Lyra overcomes these strange terrors, only to find something yet more perilous waiting for her, something with consequences that may even reach beyond the Northern Lights...

I first read Northern Lights several years ago, but for some reason I never got round to reading the other two novels in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. Therefore, in order to read The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass I thought I'd re-read this first to get back into the series. I really enjoyed it, and will admit to be blown away by Pullman's ideas.

Lyra's world is like a parallel world to our own. It seems to be several years behind our own, almost Victorian, but with some rather amazing technology thrown in. Several (rather large) differences exist; the church (or Magisterium) virtually runs the world, being hugely powerful; there are witches and there is an entire kingdom of apparently vicious armoured bears that live in the North. Perhaps the greatest difference is the existence of something called a daemon (still pronounced demon) which is essentially someone's soul but in physical form. As children, these daemon's can change shape depending on the circumstance, but as an adult they settle into one specific shape-usually saying something about the person themselves. This difference between adults and children becomes increasingly importance as the story progresses; eventually turning into a sickening plot point through which Pullman introduces the idea of original sin.

The plot in general, whilst containing mild tones of a fight against religious oppression, is really a mystery adventure story, beginning in a parallel Oxford and heading up to the North, with Lyra at the heart of it, experiencing all sorts of misadventures and meeting all kinds of characters. Essentially, children begin to go missing, including Lyra's best friend, and after escaping from the company of the more than dodgy Mrs Coulter she joins the gyptians in heading north to find her friend and all the other missing children. It's pacy, and whilst Pullman is not afraid of using pretty tough language considering the novel is aimed at children, the plot speeds along at a good pace.

This is partly because the central character, Lyra, is pretty awesome. She's a young female character who reminded me a little of Mary Lennox in her stubbornness, but she's also brave and fearless and it was really refreshing to see a strong female protagonist. Alongside her; Mrs Coulter is a wonderful antagonist, and Lord Asriel-a relation of Lyra whose appearance at Jordan College kicks off Lyra's interest in the North-is an equally fascinating character, his 'goodness' becomes less and less certain as the novel continues. Also interesting are Fader Coram, an elderly gypsy and Serafina Pekkala, a head witch in the North. But pretty much all the supporting characters are well-fleshed out.

If you haven't yet read Northern Lights, or have only seen the film adaptation The Golden Compass, I strongly urge you to read the novel. The ending is hugely powerful in the novel and Pullman's prose is brilliant.

Incendiary

A distraught woman writes a letter to Osama bin Laden after her four-year-old son and her husband are killed in a massive suicide bomb attack at a football match in London. In an emotionally raw voice alive with grief, compassion and startling humour, she tries to convince Osama to abandon his terror campaign by revealing to him the desperate sadness and the broken heart of a working-class life blown apart. But the bombing is only the beginning. While security measures transform London into a virtual occupied territory, the narrator too finds herself under siege. At first she gains strength by fighting back, taking a civilian job with the police to aid the anti-terror effort. But when she becomes involved with an upper-class couple, she is drawn into the psychological maelstrom of guilt, ambition and cynicism that erodes her faith in the society she's working to defend. And when a new bomb threat sends the city into a deadly panic, she is pushed to acts of unfathomable desperation-perhaps her only chance for survival.

Wow. That is probably how I would sum up my experience with this novel, which I read in about five hours flat having just finished To Kill A Mockingbird.

I read Chris Cleave's second novel The Other Hand (also titled Little Bee) last summer, and have been keen to read his debut since. Cleave clearly doesn't mind dealing with tough subjects; whilst The Other Hand explored immigration and foreign politics, Incendiary deals with terrorism and class warfare, to name only a couple. So whilst it is in no way a 'light' read it's brilliantly paced, which means that you can make your way through the book quickly, but still have chance to pause and think about the issues that Cleave has presented.

The novel is told in letters to Osama Bin Laden written by the unnamed (I think) narrator, a working class woman living in London. The narrative is therefore void of much grammar, due to the fact that the woman doesn't necessarily have the best grasp of the English language. The lead character is also not the nicest woman in the world either; she's obsessive and she has affairs to remove her anxiety about her husband, yet Cleave still manages to make her compelling and keep you interested in her story. The same is true of Jasper Black and Petra Sutherland, the aforementioned middle class couple; she has an affair with Jasper (she's having sex with him when the bomb explodes that kills her husband & son) and Petra becomes involved when she is desperate not to let him go. Both are journalists for the Telegraph (a Conservative UK paper), and both are pretty slimy. Yet still, they are interesting characters faced with some hard choices.

The novel is a fascinating look into 'what might be' if there was to be a massive terror attack on London; it was published only a few days before the 7/7 bombings. Fortunately, the government didn't react in quite the way that Cleave's does; which is to introduce curfews and barrage balloons over London. Whilst the novel does lose it's way a little in the last few pages; it gets a bit overwrought and there are some slightly unbelievable events that that take place; in general Cleave's exploration of people's reactions after a horrific event is fascinating; especially his reasoning on Islamophobia and post-traumatic stress which the main character definitely suffers from-to the point that she actually 'sees' her son.

I highly recommend reading this, and not watching the 2008 film which is entirely different from this. Cleave has a brilliant ability to deal with big topics in a compelling way; and to also create female characters that are really believable.

To Kill A Mockingbird

'Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird' Atticus Finch gives this advice to his children as he defends the real mockingbird of this classic novel-a black man charged with attacking a white girl. Through the eyes of Scout and Jim Finch, Harper Lee explores the issues of race and class in the Deep South of the 1930s with compassion and humour. She also creates one of the great heroes of literature in their father, whose lone struggle for justice pricks the conscience of a town steeped in prejudice and hypocrisy.

During GCSEs, the year was split in half with one half (my half) studied John Steinbeck's (wonderful) Of Mice & Men, and the other did Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. This means that I've come to this novel a bit later than a lot of other people; and I think this impacted my general response to the novel.

For the most part, I really liked it. For a start, Harper Lee's ability to bring to life a Southern town (Maycomb, Atlanta) to the point that the reader can really visualise the buildings and even feel the heat of the weather is remarkable. Tied to this is Lee's wonderful ability to bring to life all the supporting characters; all the weird and wonderful characters who live in Maycomb, including Miss Rachel the town gossip and Miss Maudie the eccentric opposite neighbour to the Finch's.

A second aspect of the novel that I loved was the character of Scout, apparently based a little on the author herself, who was an innocent narrator but also a very 'real' and believable young girl. Part of the novel could be seen as her own growing; whilst she does remain mostly innocent and thus does not fully understand all the events, Scout moves to a form of understanding by the end of the novel and is a fascinatingly vibrant character. I also loved Lee's description of the relationship she had with Jem, her older brother.

Of course, the novel's main message-that everyone is essentially the same-is one that is hugely important, especially in the sense that Lee published the novel in 1960, a time when the Civil Rights movement was gaining momentum, but also when many people's attitudes still hadn't changed from the ones they held in the 1930s. It's also an important message for school children to learn, which is probably why the novel is hugely popular in schools. However, there were times when the novel felt like a Message Book, in that many times the message was repeated over and over and over again.

In particular, Atticus Finch comes across the majority of the time as a character whose main purpose is to say that all people are the same, and (most) are generally good. In addition, it did occasionally feel as though I was reading a novel aimed at someone younger than me; the first part of the novel really dragged for me.

Yet all in all, To Kill A Mockingbird is really good with a great young female protagonist and worth reading for the trial scenes alone.

Lolita

Poet and pervert, Humbert Humbert becomes obsessed by twelve-year-old Lolita and seeks to possess her, first carnally and then artistically, out of love, 'to fix once for all the perilous magic of nymphets'. This seduction is one of many dimensions in Nabakov's dizzying masterpiece, which is suffused with savage humour and rich, elaborate verbal textures.

Lolita is a novel that I'm glad I read, but I did not strictly enjoy reading it. For starters, it is so linked to immoral behaviour that I felt guilty even reading it in public. Then there is the fact that the novel is told from the perspective of Humbert Humbert, a man in his late 30s who sees nothing wrong in admiring 'nymphets'; girls between the ages of nine and fourteen who (somehow)give off a sexual allure.

Humbert is, I felt, a far from sympathetic character. He made my skin crawl with his fascination with young girls and his obsessive knowledge of what young girls liked to wear. The thing that added to my general distaste towards him was the fact that he went so far as to place the blame for his behaviour on the young women-not unlike those men today who claim that rape victims 'asked for it'.

This in turn leads to the reader looking at the titular character in two ways. Dolores Haze (a.k.a. Lolita) is a 12-going-on-13 year old girl when the novel begins, is slightly spoilt and like many other young girls is prone to throwing strops. She's a little headstrong and decides that Humbert, the new lodger at her house that she shares with her mother, looks a bit like one of her favourite film actors. Humbert insinuates that it was Lolita that seduced him, as opposed to the other way around. This seems a pretty bizarre statement for him to make, especially when the reader has seen him plotting to drug Lolita in order that he can satisfy himself without her knowledge. There is no doubt that Lolita is not a totally innocent child; and she seems to quite enjoy the power she realises she has over Humbert as she grows up; but to suggest that she encouraged Humbert seemed to me a little strong.

However, what kept me reading was the Nabakov's compelling writing style. He makes Humbert's tale almost like a train wreck; it's dreadful but you have to keep watching, especially in that the reader learns pretty early on that Humbert is in some kind of detention facility. Nabakov also brings vividly to life the journey that Humbert and Lolita take; each seedy motel, palatial hotel and even poor Charlotte Haze's home; they are all vividly created in a way which allows the reader to almost feel the heat emitting from the pages.

Lolita is certainly a novel that raises a lot of questions; particularly around the 'normalness' of sexual habits, and the involvement of psychiatric treatment, especially as the novel was published at a time when 'curing' homosexuality was seen as just as important as 'curing' pedophilia. Whilst I'm glad to have discovered Nabakov's prose and to tick another novel off the 'modern classics' list; I probably won't be returning to it.

When Will There Be Good News?

In a quiet corner of rural Devon, a six-year-old girl witnesses an appalling crime. Thirty years later the man convicted of the crime is released from prison.
In Edinburgh, sixteen-year-old Reggie, wise beyond her years, works as a nanny for a G.P. But her employer has disappeared with her baby, and Reggie seems to be the only person worried. Across town, Detective Chief Inspector Louise Monroe is also looking for a missing person, unaware that hurtling towards her is a former acquaintance, Jackson Brodie, himself on a journey that is about to be fatally interrupted.

This is the third in the Jackson Brodie quartet (the previous two being Case Histories and One Good Turn); and with this one I'd say that reading One Good Turn before would probably be a great help. The novel opens with the description of a bloody murder of Gabrielle Mason, along with two of her children, as they are walking home, with Joanna Mason being the only survivor. It then moves to some thirty years later, and a few years after One Good Turn. Joanna Mason is now Joanna Hunter, married to 'businessman' Neil Hunter with a baby son and who hires Reggie Chase as a nanny. Louise Monroe is married, although not necessarily happily. Then the also newly married Jackson Brodie (literally) crashes into Edinburgh, and ends up being confused with Andrew Decker, the newly released murderer of the Mason family.

I preferred this to One Good Turn; it was less a murder mystery, and whilst there is an escalating issue, it seemed to be more of an exploration of the characters than anything else. That isn't to say that the escalating tension surrounding Joanna Hunter isn't frightening; in fact it may be more nerve-jangling than One Good Turn due to the fact that it grows steadily in the background, and Atkinson weaves cryptic chapters from Joanna's perspective into the narrative. This novel probably made nursery rhymes far more creepy than I ever thought they could be.

But, as I said, characterisation is important in this novel. Atkinson has created a seriously awesome protagonist in Reggie Chase; a girl whose mother drowned on holiday and whose brother is involved in dodgy dealings. Reggie, despite having left school at 16, is intelligent and brave, and has dreams of having an idyllic family life with Joanna Hunter and her son. It is her stubborn pursuit of the dodgy elements of Joanna's disappearance that forces the powers that be to actually properly explore it. Then we have Louise Monroe, who I quite love, and who is seemingly trapped in a marriage that she regrets to a guy called Patrick, who seems utterly overbearing. Whilst Louise can occasionally be less than lovely, Atkinson gives her some snappy dialogue and makes her fallible, which is lovely. Then there's Jackson, whose character-growth is basically through the fact that after a train crash he cannot remember who he is, and thus must rediscover this; and it's always fascinating to see how his past has shaped his desire to help; especially lost women.

As with Behind the Scenes at the Museum, Atkinson brings forward numerous intertextual references to the novel. There's Great Expectations in the exploration of Ms McDonald's home (Reggie's tutor) and most obviously Rebecca in Louise's marriage to Patrick, whose first wife died in a car crash and whose presence can still clearly be felt in their new home. I also quite loved the self-awareness shown in having Louise watch an episode of CSI.

Of course, as is typical of an Atkinson novel there are numerous twists and turns and nothing (or no one) is exactly as they seem; which seems to be perhaps the overriding theme of this novel. I think I'll be giving Atkinson a break before I pick up the fourth novel (Started Early, Took My Dog), but I really, really enjoyed this.

One Good Turn

It is summer, it is the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. People queuing for a lunchtime show witness a road-rage incident which changes the lives of everyone involved. Jackson Brodie, ex-army, ex-police, ex-private detective, is also an innocent bystander-until he becomes a murder suspect.
As the body count mounts, each member of the Dickensian cast's story contains a kernel of the next, like a set of Russian dolls. They are all looking for love or money or redemption or escape.

I loved Case Histories, and I was desperate to read this follow-up partly because I love Kate Atkinson, and also because the BBC have seralised the first three novels in the Jackson Brodie series (there are currently four novels, but I'm not sure if Atkinson is writing more) and I wanted to read the novels before I watched the TV series so all the twists and turns weren't spoiled.

This novel takes place two years after Case Histories and as the synopsis states, an incident of road rage throws together multiple characters whose lives all intersect in various ways. There's the aforementioned Jackson Brodie, in Edinburgh because his girlfriend Julia is performing in a play at the Fringe; Martin Canning, who writes crime novels under the alias Alex Blake and who is running from a bad experience in Russia; Gloria Hatter, the wife of Graham, the owner of a fraudulent housing company and Louise Monroe, the inspector assigned to the increasingly complicated deaths which start with Brodie discovering a body of an island.

On the crime side of things the crimes of One Good Turn are not quite so believable as those in Case Histories; the idea of serial patterned murders seems slightly more CSI than the average newspaper; so it certainly lacked the horrible 'ordinary' nature of the previous novels crimes. Atkinson also doesn't tie everything up nicely; in the end we know who committed the murders but we don't really fully understand why. I couldn't decide whether I liked the fact that the full facts had to reveal themselves, or whether I found it slightly annoying as I couldn't quite gain the closure on the crimes that took place.

That being said, one thing to know about the novel is that it is incredibly fast pace and takes place over just four days; meaning that it was pretty easy to devour it. Despite the pace, Atkinson, as usual, fleshing out all her characters in a way that means that they almost seem real. Only one of the characters, Tatiana, is a little bit of a stereotype, the rest are all hugely interesting and may start seemingly stereotypical (snobby rich woman; isolated writer) and then turn out to be much more; although none are especially likeable, with perhaps the exception of Louise and Jackson.

One Good Turn was certainly an enjoyable, heart-pounding read and I'm already enjoying the third novel in the series; When Will There Be Good News?

Fall of Giants

Five families are brough together through the world-shaking dramas of the First World War, the Russian Revolution and the struggle for votes for women.
It is 1911, and the coronation day of King George V. Thirteen-year-old Billy Williams begins his first day at work in a coal mine. The Williams family is connected by romance and enmity to the Fitzherberts, aristocratic coal-mine owners. Lady Maud Fitzherbert falls in love with Walter von Ulrich, a spy at the German Embassy in London. Their destiny is entangled with that of Gus Dewar, ambitious young aide to U.S. President, Woodrow Wilson. Two orphaned Russian brothers soon become involved, but Gregori and Lev Peshkov's plan to emigrate to America falls foul of war, conscription and revolution.

I loved the television adaptation of The Pillars of the Earth, and whilst I haven't actually managed to read that I was really keen to pick up Fall of Giants, as the 20th century is probably one of my favourite periods of history. Follett's novel begins with a Prologue in 1911, but starts properly in 1914 and finishes in early 1924 and for the most part is pretty wonderful.

Follett creates some wonderful characters, although there are lots he doesn't skimp on details about each of them. Perhaps my favourite was Maud Fitzherbert; Follett seems to have a good skill at creating strong female characters and Maud is definitely strong-willed and also rather romantic as well; her relationship with Walter is lovely. I also quite enjoyed the story of Ethel Williams, a one-time Welsh housemaid for the Fitzherberts, although at times her choices frustrated me. Follett also created characters that I was ambivalent towards, Gus Dewar for instance, seemed generally to be used as a cipher to bring in the American view and was not as well developed as his British, German or Russian counterparts. Finally in 'Fitz', Maud's older brother, Follett made a character that was incredibly unlikeable (in my opinion), and whenever he was mentioned I had to literally force myself through his sections, because all I wanted was for him to get out of the story and so I could read about the characters I actually cared about.

The character's are particularly important, as we see the unfolding chaos of World War One through their eyes and from their perspectives, entwined with some more personal dramas and this works pretty well; it's especially interesting in telling the story of some of the War World 1 offensives, when you gain the perspectives of both sides.

For the most part, the history aspect of the novel is well weaved in. However, the one thing that I didn't really like was probably due to the fact that I have studied aspects of the history told in the novel pretty closely, and unfortunately sometimes this distracted me from the action; for instance, it's insinuated that one of the main characters is basically the mastermind for a lot of the basics of the Petrograd Soviet, which was far from true. Sometimes character's often served as just placers for the exploration of certain historical events, although Follett did weave real characters such as Churchill, Lenin and Lloyd George into the narrative with ease.

Ultimately, the novel is a great story of the changing social background in the early 20th century, with the very human side of history perfectly portrayed. I'm really looking forward to the sequel, which will apparently deal with World War Two.

The Handmaid's Tale

The Republic of Gilead offers Offred only one option: to breed. If she deviates she will, like all dissenters, be hanged at the wall or sent out to die slowly of radiation sickness. But even a repressive state cannot obliterate desire-neither Offred's nor that of the two men on whom her future hangs.

It's been quite a while since I read this novel, and whilst I enjoyed it it shook me up so much that I struggled to write a proper review on it, and even almost a month later I still find it difficult to quite sum-up my experience of reading this.

Margaret Atwood's world of Gilead is utterly terrifying in the way that George Orwell's 1984 is, in that it seems like such a world could be created. The novel was written in 1985, but with the rise of political movements such as the Tea Party, having an extreme Christian group running the country does not seem quite as utterly bizarre as one could hope. Atwood also managed to balance information about the new world with an actual plot really well; as opposed to sacrificing one for the other.

The novel moves backwards and forwards in time; with Offred reflecting on her life before the new government with her husband and daughter, then on her time in a type of weird high school where the 'handmaiden's' were taught how to live their new life and finally in the present in her new 'job' of sorts. This basically entails becoming pregnant for the infertile couple of the Commander and his Wife, Serena Joy; or facing banishment for being an 'unwoman'. This whole notion is clearly lifted from the biblical story of Sarah/Abraham/Hagar; in which an infertile Sarah instructs Abraham to sleep with Hagar in order for them to have children. Whilst the story already is pretty barbaric, Atwood's interpretation is pretty chilling; the rather vivid description of how exactly attempted conception takes place is horrifying, but also an incredibly clever idea-which is nearly repeated in her exploration of birth ceremonies in this 'new' country.

Another interesting aspect of the novel is its nods towards the feminist movement. By the 1980s certain facets had become incredibly radical and were advocating things like female separatism and lesbianism (not that being a lesbian is radical, but to use it as a political statement is). The novel features plenty of twists on the idea of a 'woman's only society'. In this world women are generally not treated as sexual objects, and biologically speaking are highly prized. Yet it is hardly a world that feminists would be happy about. On the flip side, Atwood very much does not condone the use of the female body as a commodity and so takes a more moderate (and understandable) stance-in that separatism and the assumption that men are somehow 'lesser' is wrong, but so is the fascination that circles through society with the female body.

Offred herself is an interesting narrator. One cannot help but feel sympathy for a woman placed in a hellish situation largely against her will (although she states she had one-I can hardly imagine that being placed out to die in radiation could be much of a choice). There are times when she slightly frustrated me, but in general she was a really interesting narrative voice.

I did really enjoy this book-to the point that her lack of speech marks didn't actually annoy me. It's certainly one of the best dystopian novels.

A Visit from the Goon Squad

It was the hat. He looked sweet in the hat. How could a man in a fuzzy blue hat have used human bones to pave his roads?

A Visit from the Goon Squad' is the most recent winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Literature; and it was that that really pushed me to buy the book having wanted to sink my teeth into it for quite some time. The book was really worth waiting to read.

The synopsis on the back of the book would suggest that Sasha and Bennie Salazar were the two central characters and whilst they pop up throughout the novel, I would say that this is a novel with an ensemble of characters whose lives all intertwine at some certain point in each others lives. The books time span spreads from the punk-rock scene of the 1970s to a not so distant future; although the novel does not run in a linear manner. Despite only popping up in a couple of characters, or having on one character to develop as a character, all seem very three dimensional with their own individual traits. Some of my favourite story strands included the story of Dolly, a one-time PR agent whose career was ruined after a disastrous party and who is now working to keep up the appearances of an African general guilty of genocide; the first wife of Bennie, Stephanie, and her life in the world of the country club, and the final chapter which brought all the strands together through the character of Alex, who first appeared as a young man in the first chapter.

In addition to spreading across time, Egan also plays with various tenses and perspectives. There is normal third person narrative, first person narrative, even second person narrative (where you the reader are the character)and, as was widely reported, an entire chapter told in Powerpoint, which is really clever within the context of the novel.

I really enjoyed this novel, and pretty much raced through it. I loved each of the individual story strands and the way that they all intersected, with characters mentioned once in the previous chapter being the centre of the next. Egan has a brilliant writing style; and I really want to track down more of her writings.

Never Let Me Go

'Memories, even your most precious ones, fade suprisingly quickly. But I don't go along with that. The memories I value most, I don't ever see them fading'.

I first wanted to read Kazuo Ishiguro's novel in the wake of the announcement of a film adaptation starring Carey Mulligan, Keria Knightley and Andrew Garfield in the three central roles of Cathy, Ruth and Tommy. However, work load and a load of other books got in the way, and so I only managed to pick up the book some time after the film was released.

The story is told from the perspective of Cathy who is looking back at her past first at Hailsham, a kind of boarding school and then at the Cottages, a kind of university/holding pen before the students go and train to be carers or are called to become donors. Whilst I pretty much knew who the characters were from all the film promotion, Ishiguro doesn't come straight out and tell the readers the nature of Hailsham and why the characters have very strange lives. The novel is set in a strange parallel England, the practices shown in Hailsham are certainly not taking place now, but stores such as Woolworths still exist.

Whilst the book is generally a kind of sci-fi novel, but Ishiguro doesn't go into explaining the world so the emphasis is not on the world, but the lasting, complicated friendship between Cathy, Ruth and Tommy. Their relationship is only seen through the eyes of Cathy, so Ruth is generally a kind of cipher throughout the novel, although she really does seem to be a rather fascinating character. Then there is Tommy, who is viewed as quite volatile and not necessarily normal for much of his time at Hailsham; he becomes the boyfriend of Ruth as a young person but Cathy remains his main confident.

Ishiguro's lack of explanation of the world around him is in part due to his narrative technique, which is a very informal dialogue from Cathy, who makes the assumption that the reader is the same type of person that she is and thus doesn't explain the intricacies of the world, rather only the things that she understands. I did quite enjoy this form of storytelling, as it made the novel pretty accessible, an also meant that we occasionally had tangents of Cathy's thinking that make her a really fleshed out character.

All in all, I quite enjoyed 'Never Let Me Go'; I just sort of wish there had been more of a dynamic plot, as it seems to peter out a little towards the end and there is quite a great deal of things that are skipped out (I'd have liked to know more about Cathy's training as a carer), but in general it was a really good tale of enduring friendship.

The History of Love

'The truth is the thing I invented so I could live'

I was attracted to this book by a follower on Tumblr who, after putting up with incessant gushing over Jonathan Safron Foer's 'Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close' pointed out that Nicole Krauss was his wife, and that this novel had some similarities to Foer's. This is true in some ways. There are two strands of the story; with one featuring and older man and one featuring a young girl, and both are in some way about relationships with parents and those around us, but 'The History of Love' is still a different book.

Leo Gursky is an elderly man who fled Eastern Europe to escape the Nazi occupation and found himself living in New York, pining for the love of his life, trying to connect with his son who is a famous novelist, and desperatly hoping that he will not be forgotten if he dies. The other strand features Alma Singer, whose father has died, who lives with her brother, Bird, and her mother who is working on translating a copy of the novel 'The History of Love' (which is not the same as Krauss' novel) for a mysterious travelling man. There is also a third strand which is an almost biographical tale of the author of 'The History of Love', Zvi Litvinoff.

It's been a while since I actually read this book, but it was packed with twists and turns; as more about Gursky's life is revealed and how he had many rivals for his beloved Alma's affections. His story is definitly one that is deeply sad and his total loneliness is only saved by his discovery of his old friend Bruno who lives next door to him and they attempt to keep each other going; although we soon discover that their friendship isn't as tight as first thought. Meanwhile, the story of Alma Singer really touched me; her desperation to preserve an ideal life for Bird and her worry as his grief seems to manifest itself through claiming that he is the Messiah and his project of building an ark. Reading pieces of 'The History of Love', Alma decides to try and track down the real Alma and the author of the novel.

I'll admit to finding Leo an occasionally hard character to sympathise with, especially in the beginning, however he really grew on me as the novel progressed. Alma was also a really well drawn character, although the listing style of her narrative didn't really do much for me, it may have been better if Krauss had just stuck to a traditional journal format. I also loved Bird, as well as Krauss brilliant portrayal of human relationships in general.

There were aspects of the novel that I don't think quite gelled, and the final twist to me was a step too far; although I guess I'm going to have to pick up the novel again to see if Krauss hints towards it, because to me it came a little bit suddenly with no foregrounding. All in all though, it's a great story and I'm really, really looking forward to reading 'Great House'.

Case Histories

She should have done science, not spent all her time with her head in novels. Novels gave you a completely false idea about life, they told lies, and they implied there were endings, when in reality there were no endings, everything just went on and on and on

I think this novel has really made me realise that Kate Atkinson is probably going to become one of my favourite authors. Case Histories opens with three 'cold cases'; the disappearance of Olivia Land, the random murder of Laura Wyre and the teenage wife Michelle murdering her husband with an axe. All these cases become interwoven with the life of Jackson Brodie, an ex-police officer who now works as a private investigator; watching spouses suspected of having affairs and dealing with Binky Rain, an elderly lady with hundreds of cats. He is approached by Amelia & Julia Land who want to look for their sister, by Theo Wyre who wants to know why his daughter was killed and by Shirley Morrison, the sister of Michelle, who wants to find Michelle's adopted daughter.

Whilst Atkinson's previous novels I've read (Behind the Scenes at the Museum and Emotionally Weird) were family mysteries, this novel is both a family mystery and a crime mystery novel, meaning that Atkinson's twisty narrative is even more applicable here. The novel is split between the perspectives of Jackson, Amelia and Theo, with another perspective named Caroline, being weaved throughout, the importance of which is revealed near the end of the novel. Atkinson's ability to embody different characters never ceases to amaze me. There's the cynical outlook of Jackson, Theo's life haunted by the idealised memory of Laura and Amelia's slightly uptight outlook, no doubt impacted by her dysfunctional past.

Typical of Atkinson's novels there are numerous plot twists, with some hinted at clearly for the reader and others which seem set up to purposefully trick the reader into thinking one thing; whilst it really means another. She also doesn't do the typical crossing over of plotlines that people are generally familiar with; instead the characters (aside from Jackson) all brush up against each other accidentally, for example, Theo has an asthma attack in a park and Julia gives him her inhaler.

Jackson Brodie is a perfect anti-hero; he is a fallible, frequently going against 'ethical' practices and isn't the 'typical' detective of the CSI mold, who turns up and solves a case within seconds. His affection for his daughter Marlee is believable, as his lingering pain from his divorce from Josie (Marlee's mother) and his own tragic back story regarding his sister Niamh gives Brodie a real element of softness beyond his cynical exterior. I really also felt for Theo, Laura's story almost led me to tears when I read the second case, with the constant listing of Laura's favourite things. Amelia and Julia were both products of their upbringing, which we discover to be increasingly twisted, I'll admit to not really warming to Julia's constant flirting with Jackson; but then this may be because we saw it from the perspective of Amelia, who also hated it due to her own personal interest with Brodie. Their sister Sylvia is also well realised, and I quite liked the cameo from Jackson's friend Howell in the latter pages of the novel.

I really recommend Case Histories, I actually really recommend Atkinson's novels in general. She has a wonderful ability to write complicated, twisting plots with compelling characters and beautiful prose.

Chronicle of a Death Foretold

So, about a month ago The Book People was running a promotion where you could buy the complete works of Garcia Gabriel Marquez for £9.99. I'd really wanted to read Love in the Time of Cholera and One Hundred Years of Solitude, and so it seemed like a reasonably good deal to collect the whole set. I picked Chronicle of a Death Foretold up first because it was reasonably short and had some good write-ups on it. I was a little unsure as to what to expect, but I did really enjoy this novel.

From the very beginning the reader knows that Santiago Nasar is going to be murdered by Pablo and Pedro Vicario. The motive for this crime is the return of Angela Vicario to her home on the night of her wedding when her new husband, Bayardo San Roman, discovers that she is not a virgin. Angela names Santiago as the 'perpetrator', and so Pablo and Pedro decide to avenge her honour.

You would think that knowing the entire plot of a novel from about the first page would make the reading of the rest of the book seem pointless. However, Marquez manages to keep the novel compelling, through the protaganist's (an unnamed friend of Santiago) search to discover the truth about what happened to his friend, and why it took place. This means that almost every person in the small town where the murder took place has a say in what they thought happened; from workers at the market where Pablo & Pedro were seen sharpening knives, to Santiago's mother, to Pablo & Pedro themselves and even Angela herself. It is certainly interesting to see the basic plot seen from different ways, and to get into the heads of numerous characters and perspectives. Plus, Garcia Marquez also touches on issues of community guilt; in many cases the community at large agreed with the actions of the Vicario twins, however, certain individuals attempted to warn Nasar, yet didn't for various reasons, many are still haunted by their inaction some years later.

Chronicle of a Death Foretold also raises some interesting ideas (at least to me) about sexual activity. The very fact that a woman is expected to be a virgin on her wedding night says something about the society (the novel takes place some time in the past), as does the fact that there is a brothel, where a prostitute is said to be responsible for the majority of the young men losing their virginity when they were around 16. Further, it is seen that the women who work in the brothel are mixed-race (so seemingly, it's okay for them to have sex with many men, because they wouldn't be seen as 'pure' anyway) and also that men such as Santiago Nasar almost expect to be able to sleep with their servants, because that's apparently the done thing.

There have been many associations, at least on Goodreads, between Santiago and Jesus (apparently a common theme in Garcia Marquez's novels is to have a 'Jesus' figure, which makes me slightly less keen to read them). Whilst I see the connection (innocent man, died because of someone else's 'sin') to me, Santiago is an example of miscarriages of justice that happen every day, all over the world. His blindingly obvious innocence makes his brutal murder, which was seen by many in the town as the just thing to do, only furthers that connection for me.

Ultimately, Chronicle of a Death Foretold leaves as many questions unanswered as it does answered: Why does know one know anything about Bayardo? It is almost hinted that Angela has history with him, but that's never developed. Why did Angela name Santiago at all? Was she not away of how her brothers would act? In doing this, Chronicle is a depiction of the feeling felt by many after a great tragedy: Why?

The Phantom of the Opera

The Phantom of the Opera was published in serial in 1909-1910 by a French magazine, although nowadays the novel is probably more famous as the basis of Andrew Lloyd Webber's megamusical of the same name which has run for nearly 25 years in the West End, and over 20 on Broadway. It was the musical that led me to the novel, and so, as with Frankenstein, I thought I would know what would happen. I was a little wrong.

Whilst the plot of the musical and novel are similar, a great deal of it splits. Christine Daae is a young prima donna at the Paris Opera House who is revealed to have a brilliant voice at the night of a gala performance for the retiring managers. When she sings she re-captures the heart of her childhood sweetheart Raoul, a Vicomte. However, the Opera Ghost/Angel of Music/Erik is also deeply in love, and possessive of her. Thrown into the mix are two bumbling new opera manages, a hysterical ballet corps, the Spanish diva Carlotta, box-keeper Madame Giry, Raoul's older brother Phillipe and a mysterious Persian.

The novel is written in the style of a historian's report written by 'Gaston Leroux', which I think is different to Gaston Leroux, the author. It is far more chilling than the stage show, which is pretty melodramatic really. The character of Erik, or The Phantom, is also far more developed. He is frightening firstly because of his disfigurements but also because of his slightly deranged habit of murder and the fact that he has turned the underground lake into almost a torture chamber. The sequence where Raoul and the Persian are trapped in a strange mirror room was pretty frightening.

As far as the characters go, as I said, Erik is certainly an interesting character about whose past we learn a lot about in the final pages of the novel and it is certainly interesting to see how his experiences as a youth have led him to become somewhat crazy. Christine's character is also different; there are times when she appears to be very brave, but also manipulative and she generally comes across as quite confused; whilst Raoul, who does have a little more backbone than he does in the musical, is still a little flat. The character I found most interesting was the Persian, absent from the musical, whose authority is hugely important in the final movement of the plot.

Whilst there were some stylistic devices that were a bit weird (so many uses of '...') I thoroughly enjoyed Leroux's work, and it's a shame that is has been overshadowed by films and shows, as it is a very good, chilling book.

Frankenstein

Frankenstein is a story that pretty much everyone is aware of. The term has entered our figures of speech and is frequently referenced to. Plus, it has been made into plays, musicals and films. Mary Shelley was just 19 when she came up with the tale of Victor Frankenstein, a young student who discovers how to create human life. However, his creation is not up to his standards and he leaves it to (hopefully) destroy itself. Yet the creature does no such thing, and eventually returns to confront Victor.

It's not usual that I come to a book with a pretty solid understanding of exactly what happens. However, when I came to Frankenstein I had watched the dodgy BBC3 version and in particular had the Kenneth Branagh version firmly imprinted in my mind. Shelley did however still manage to keep up the tension throughout; even if I did know what event was being built up to. However, most interestingly to me was the fact that so much that is 'known' from Frankenstein-particularly the thunderstorm-IT'S-ALIVE moment-is not even mentioned in the novel, and thus has become a figment of the popular imagination.

Shelley, the wife of the poet Percy Shelley and the daughter of early feminist Mary Wollstonecraft, also has a gorgeous gift for description. She vividly describes the Geneva area and then the rest of Europe when Victor and Clerval went on a visit to England. However, there were aspects of her writings that I didn't really enjoy; such as her dialogue also being a touch overly dramatic.

Of course, the main point of the novel is Shelley's musings on the idea of human meddling with nature and as such I think sometimes the characters suffer. Elizabeth, Victor's love interest (his 'more-than' sister), is certainly a quite interesting female character-especially her speech to try and save Justine in the court room. However, Victor and the Creature seem respectively to be characters who stand and speak/think at length about the issues of creation. Shelley is pretty clear with her view on human meddling-don't do it-and also on human turning from God, which would be something rather brave to say at a time where science and reason were beginning to play more and more of a part in society.

I found Frankenstein okay. It was a compelling story with some lovely language, but in general, I wanted a little more. It is, however, a remarkable tale in light of the increasing developments in science in the modern world, and a cautionary tale against man going too far.