A charming and thoughtful book about life, family, nature and the joy of walking (0 more)
Nothing (0 more)
The Long and Winding Road
The relationship between fathers and sons is contested ground. An emotional boxing match with incomprehension at golden opportunities wasted in one corner, and frustration at being held to impossible standards in the other.
The sometimes awkward, but always close, relationship between journalist Christopher Somerville and his war hero father is at the heart of this hugely engaging mix of memoir and nature writing. Their shared love of walking was the bond that united two very different characters in a story that unfolds against a backdrop of profound social change.
The quiet stoicism that saw a generation of men through the war giving way to rebellion born of affluence, then morphing into the busy atomisation of twenty first century life. This could make for a maudlin exercise in chin stroking, but is saved from it by Somerville’s good humour and inherent optimism.
Added to this is a deep love of nature and the English countryside and the people who have painted, written about or made their living from it over the centuries. Somerville is able to translate this into nature writing that carries the message that we should value what we’ve got without being either sentimental or didactic.
As a memoirist, he has an eye for the eccentricities of family life and a welcome sense of empathy with the experience of his parent’s generation and how it shaped their outlook. Being reserved is not the same thing as being distant, love strong enough to last a lifetime doesn’t need to announce itself with flowers and candy hearts; it manifests in the little acts that make up a life.
This is also a resolutely practical book, something Somerville senior would have approved of, with several associated walks that can be downloaded. Even if the journey from the bookcase to your easy chair is the closest you get to hiking, it is still worth reading.
A brilliantly bleak book about spooks and modern Britain (0 more)
The awkward squad to the rescue
Slough House is the place where the secret service dumps those operatives who don’t’ make the grade. A bureaucratic limbo as far away from the glamourous world inhabited by James Bond as Biarritz is from the outer moons of Saturn.
The crew of misfits incarcerated there under the command of the objectionable Jackson Lamb are called back to active service when a terrorist gang kidnap a teenager and threaten to behead him live online. Suddenly the awkward squad are players in a deadly game with only one possible winner.
In this book, first published in 2010 and part of an award-winning quartet, Mick Herron delivers all the thrills you would expect as he pits his cast of oddballs against a chillingly plausible enemy.
Spy novels often describe hidden worlds as a way of talking about the one with which we are all familiar. In the Sixties Le Carre wrote about a secret service that resembled nothing so much as minor Oxbridge college down on its luck but clinging tightly to past glories. Any similarity to a Britain that for all the promises of wonders delivered by the ‘white heat of technology’ was starting to look decidedly seedy was entirely intentional.
Mick Herron writes about a service that has been capture by bean counters and career obsessed middle managers. Drowning in paperwork, stymied by procedure and inclined to try and be a little too clever for its own good.
He also creates delightfully complex characters, the ‘slow horses’ of the title may all be difficult individuals, but that gives them fears and failings that make them infinitely more interesting than monochrome supermen like Bond or Bourne. By the book’s end he even manages to provide them with if not redemption than the unexpected feeling they may have a purpose after all.
The best spy novels are always about more than just chasing after a McGuffin. This book is unafraid to look at troubling ideas and to present characters who don’t tick the boxes of traditional heroism. That puts it in the running to become a classic of the genre.
A chillingly believable thriller about the 'troubles'. (0 more)
Dangerous Games
London at the height of the IRA’s campaign on the British mainland and a government minister is assassinated, orders are send down from the highest level that retaliatory action must be taken. Gerald Seymour’s ground breaking 1975 novel tells the story of the resulting operation, in which a British agent is sent undercover in Republican Belfast.
For the most part thrillers are the literary equivalent of Danish pastry, enjoyable but not made to last. A few, and ‘Harry’s Game’ is one, are more substantial fare, food for the mind that may give you indigestion.
On one level it is a book in the tradition established by Frederick Forsythe, fiction played out as fact allowing the author to draw on his journalistic background. Seymour goes beyond this by creating characters who aren’t simply stock heroes and villains. Instead they are human beings engaged in a struggle that is squalid and futile rather than heroic and purposeful.
This combines to give a grimly believable picture of daily life in Northern Ireland at a time when a single word or action out of place could have deadly consequences. He also writes well about the machinations behind the scenes on both sides, with the British political and military establishment struggling to fight an undeclared war they don’t understand; and the IRA high command masking the brutality of their actions behind misty eyed romanticism.
Brutal, believable and still relevant more than forty years after it was first published this is a novel that is very much worth reading, even if doing so can be unsettling.
