sharkybookshelf's reviews
446 reviews

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by Agatha Christie

3.0

Poirot’s dentist has dramatically committed suicide, but as one of the last patients to see him alive, Poirot isn’t so sure…

This was a solid murder mystery - the solution was ingenious, as ever, and I certainly didn’t figure it out. The tie-in to the nurses rhyme was clever, too. But I just didn’t feel particularly invested in all the secret service intrigue, which escalated rather quickly and was presumably a bit more exciting to read about in 1940 than it is now. I did very much enjoy the very last detail to be revealed though - an amusing finishing touch on Christie’s part.

Very solid murder mystery - clever, but didn’t quite draw me in and the stakes felt rather overblown.

Touring the Land of the Dead by Maki Kashimada

2.0

Two novellas: Natsuko and her husband visit a resort frequented by her now bitter mother during her affluent childhood; The lives of four unmarried sisters living in an old-fashioned Tokyo neighbourhood are interrupted by a newcomer.

These two novellas really didn’t do it for me. The titular story didn’t particularly grip me and rapidly became too repetitive. There were some interesting insights into the financial expectations of supporting family and in-laws as well as societal attitudes towards disability, and there’s a lot around the importance of keeping up appearances and shame, which seem to be driving forces in Japan. Such societal insights are one of the reasons I love translated fiction, but they weren’t enough to compensate for a story that just didn’t hold my interest.

As for the second novella, well… It was incestuously erotic and weird and uncomfortable to read. I haven’t read the original story on which it is based (The Makioka Sisters), but I am not sure what the point of it was - the subsumption of one’s identity into one’s family? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t really care - it was not for me.

Two novellas with interesting glimpses of Japanese societal expectations, but respectively too dull and too weird to hold my interest.

Animal Life by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir

4.0

In the days leading up to Christmas and with a terrible storm on the way, Dómhildur, a midwife, delves into her grandaunt’s written reflections on life, death and human nature…

There’s not much of a plot to this one - it kind of quirkily meanders around, but I found it enjoyable nonetheless. Since Dómhildur is a midwife from a long line of midwives, I had expected more of the story to revolve around that, and certainly with more detail. However, the story (insomuch as there is one) is more of a fairly abstract series of reflections on life and death, our relation to animals and human nature more generally.

I loved the moments of daily life in Iceland, but also the glimpses of life for previous generations of midwives. With the darkness of winter hanging over everything and the impending storm, it’s an atmospheric read, too. But there’s the glimmer of Spring on the horizon - unsurprisingly, a thought-thread around light vs darkness runs through the book.

An atmospheric, meandering series of reflections on life and death, human nature, and light vs darkness.

Dispersals: On Plants, Borders and Belonging by Jessica J. Lee

4.0

This one came to my attention when it was longlisted (and ultimately Highly Commended) for the Wainwright Prize - the themes of identity, belonging and travel are all catnip to me, so it jumped out at me and I immediately ordered it.

It’s an enjoyable essay collection, with Lee using her own experiences as a Canadian born to a Taiwanese mother and Welsh father as jumping-off points to touch on how we relate to plants culturally, the use of plants as instruments of colonisation and how that feeds into our own identity and sense of belonging (or not). It’s also a celebration of the joy certain plants can bring us.

Lee’s introspective reflections on the plants we encounter in childhood books were particularly interesting - there’s a lot to unpack in the confusing nostalgia over British plants that are actually invasive (or downright pests) elsewhere.

I was left wanting to read more about the use of plants as tools of colonisation, whether through the exploitation of plants from colonies or the introduction of plants to colonies. Other than a few examples, it’s an aspect of colonialism which I rarely see discussed in depth, but which has shaped the current ecology of the world rather more than we realise.

A considered, intelligent and enjoyable collection of essays exploring our cultural and personal relations to plants, and how this shapes our identities and sense of belonging.

There's Going to Be Trouble by Jen Silverman

4.0

After a professional scandal, Minnow flees the US and takes a job in Paris, where she falls into a love affair with a young activist, unaware of the parallels with her father’s past…

I really enjoyed this one, which explores protest and its role within society - what it can achieve and when it goes too far, becoming detrimental to the original goal. It also touches on passion (for a person or a cause), legacy and consequences. I’d have liked the story to delve a little into the ethics of getting involved in the internal protests of a country that isn’t your own (I’m talking protests about pension reforms, not another country committing human rights abuses or going to war).

The mirroring between generations was neat (though almost veered towards too neat at times) - of the two storylines, I was more interested in Minnow’s as the direction was less…straightforward.

Silverman’s writing was enjoyable to read, and kept me engaged throughout but the ending left me with a few too many questions - the story would have benefitted from an epilogue.

An engaging, dual timeline story of protest and its role in society, as well as passion, legacy and consequences.

Comrade Papa by Gauz

3.0

1880, to escape factory life, Dabilly sets off for a colonial adventure in Côte d’Ivoire; a century later, Anuman, a Black boy born to communist parents in Amsterdam is sent to Côte d’Ivoire to visit his grandmother…

I absolutely loved Standing Heavy (one of my Top Ten reads last year), but this was quite a different experience. Granted, picking it up within a fortnight of having a baby was an idiotic choice on my part, but even so, this one was an uphill battle.

It is a (deservedly) brutal critique of France’s colonisation of Côte d’Ivoire in the form of intellectual political literary satire. There is absolutely no hand-holding of the reader - not to be too dramatic about it, but know your shit or perish in the reading of it. You’d better be familiar with the history of communism to make any sense of Anuman’s chapters - they’re exceptionally well written in that Gauz’ perfectly captures the way children can parrot what they’ve heard without actually understanding it or indeed completely misunderstand it, but if you don’t have the reference points, they’re also pretty opaque. Dabilly’s chapters are easier to navigate, though basic knowledge of France’s colonial endeavours in Western Africa is helpful.

Regardless of my poor choice of timing, ultimately, this was just a little too intellectual for me. Although it does come together right at the end, it was such hard work to get there and a fair bit probably went over my head. And yet I didn’t hate it - it was undeniably clever and the political critiques shrewd.

It must be said that Wynne’s translation is incredible. A remarkable amount of skill would have been required to bring across the word-play, the phonetic homologues and Anuman’s made-up words.

A literary satire of France’s colonisation of Côte d’Ivoire and its legacy and a political critique of communism - very cleverly done, but ultimately a little too intellectual for me.

Tremor by Teju Cole

3.0

Tunde, a Nigerian photographer living in New England, reflects on moments and places that have shaped his life.

This was interesting enough with keen observations and myriad moments touching on the philosophy of life. But ultimately it was too disparate, the different parts too disjointed, and it never came together into something cohesive. The occasional jumps in POV didn’t help.

I most enjoyed Chapter Six with all the snapshots from such a diverse range of voices and experiences of Lagos. Ironically, it completely cut the flow of the rest of the book (insomuch as there was any flow), but I absolutely loved the rich portrait of Lagos that it presents.

A meandering exploration of how history, art and our personal stories intersect each other, but it never quite came together into something cohesive and satisfying.

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo

3.0

This was a decent sequel, although I should mention that I went into it with veeery little memory of the details of the first. In hindsight, reading at least a recap would have been smart since there were definitely events referenced that I could not remember anything about.

I wanted a book to keep me awake in the middle of the night and keep me entertained, and it did do the job, for the most part. The dark academia fantasy was there in full force, but the pacing was a little inconsistent and there was a bit too much going on. My interest was held though, even if I wasn’t as gripped as by Ninth House.

Something I did remember about the first one, and which happens again here, is the regular referring back to Alex’s trauma. Much of the time it felt like mentioning the trauma for the sake of it, rather than for valid plot/character development reasons. It’s an adult book (as opposed to Bardugo’s YA offerings), we get it.

A decent, if not as thrilling, second offering in this dark academia fantasy trilogy.

Barbara Isn't Dying by Alina Bronsky

2.0

Walter Schmidt has proudly spent his whole marriage firmly entrenched in clear gender roles, and has never cooked, cleaned or done any other household chores - until one day, his wife Barbara is taken ill and he is forced to figure out how to make himself coffee…

I usually avoid referencing other books in my reviews as it’s not exactly helpful to anybody who hasn’t read it, but I’m going to make an exception here. This felt like German knock-off of Fredrik Backman’s A Man Called Ove. But with a main character who was far more of a truly odious curmudgeon and no real pay-off - the MC was just a total dick pretty much until the end.

There was some levity such as when Schmidt tries to use Facebook and the commentary around his attitude towards Poles was cleverly done, but it was not enough to rescue the story.

That’s all I really have to say about this one. Basically, if you want a book with a curmudgeonly or intransigent MC, choose one of Fredrik Backman’s standalone novels instead.

Home Stretch by Graham Norton

3.0

1987 small-town Ireland, six young people go for a drive the day before a wedding but there is a terrible accident - Connor, one of the three survivors, leaves the only place he knows to make a new life for himself elsewhere but must, eventually, face the past…

This was fine - nothing ground-breaking (then again, that’s not why I’m picking up a Norton novel), but certainly not terrible either and the writing is decent, easy and enjoyable to read. It’s the sort of book that’s ideal for me when ill, travelling or…whilst feeding a newborn in the middle of the night and feeling a little brain-dead - well enough written and easy to follow.

Norton tackles themes of shame and guilt, and the characters and their actions felt believable. But to be honest, the story didn’t feel particularly fresh - I’m fairly sure all the elements of the story have been done before and I saw the various revelations coming from quite far off. That said, it did the job and kept me interested enough (if not riveted) to stay awake in the middle of the night.

A decent, capably-written story of secrets, shame and self-acceptance which doesn’t require too much concentration.