Spufford

As usual, I’ve fallen behind a bit with the books I’ve been intending to review – and so, partly for A Century of Books, partly just to mention some others, here are some books that I’ve read in the past few months, in brief.

Girl with Dove (2018) by Sally Bayley

Sally Bayley was my DPhil supervisor and we’ve kept in touch since, now and then, so I was certainly intrigued to read her childhood memoir (and thank you for the review copy). The subtitle, ‘A life built by books’, was also calculated to intrigue me. It tells of Sally’s fraught upbringing – as the bio says, she put herself into care at 14 – and does so with the confusion and melding of worlds that a child would face. So the characters in the books she loves (Agatha Christie, Jane Eyre etc.) elide with the real relatives and figures in her life. The whole book is a touching maelstrom, completely unlike traditional memoirs. You might end not really knowing a huge amount of facts, but you’ll certainly understand how it all felt.

Golden Hill (2016) by Francis Spufford

I didn’t think I’d like this book for book group, and I was right. It’s set in 18th-century New York, as the main character turns up with a cheque to cash for a large sum of money. On it wanders, with his various exploits, in a sort of half-18th-century-half-not tone that I found frustrating. And, frankly, I found the whole thing quite dull and a little confusing. I’d rather just read a book from the 18th century.

Leadon Hill (1927) by Richmal Crompton

I know a few Crompton fans say this is their favourite of her books, and the last few of hers I’d read had been a bit sub-par. This one is about (of course) a small village – and the ways their worlds change when an exotic and bohemian Italian woman starts renting one of the cottages. I don’t think I was quite in the right mood to read Crompton when I did, and this isn’t among my favourites, but I have read 28 of her novels now, so perhaps it’s just a question of a surfeit? Bless her, she doesn’t vary her canvas much.

When Heaven Is Silent (1994) by Ron Dunn

I bought this years ago, and have dipped in and out over time. It’s about living the Christian life through times of difficulties – written largely because of Dunn’s experience of losing his son to suicide. Nothing close to that dreadful has happened in my life, so I read it more out of interest than for personal help – but I think I’d return to it if I needed that help for any reason, because Dunn writes well, sensitively, and with a great knowledge of the Bible and of God’s nature.

Family Man (1998) by Calvin Trillin

I read this on holiday earlier in the year, and really enjoyed it, but had almost forgotten it by the time I got to the last page. It’s a collection of essays about his family over the years – and a little on how he feels about mentioning his children, as they get older. It’s all fairly incidental, and it’s only Trillin’s wonderfully engaging and warm tone that made it such an enjoyable (if forgettable) book.