The Bright Side To Moving (5 Forgotten Masterpieces)

I moved house last week.  Anybody who has been through that particular brand of hell will be all too aware of the stress and short tempers that the situation provokes.  But there is an upside to deconstructing your life, packing it into boxes and transporting it elsewhere.  You discover things you had previously forgotten.  Things that had once meant a great deal to you, and subsequently vanished from your mind.  I found a number of items which I had not thought about for years: academic reports from my first year at grammar school, photographs from a childhood holiday with my dad that I barely remembered, aftershave I've never worn, a Nirvana t-shirt that was once the height of cool, a small mountain of condoms from a very optimistic youth...

And books.  Heaps and heaps of paperbacks that I had long thought condemned to charity shops throughout Shropshire.  Below are five of my old favourites that have been put on the "To Be Re-Read" list.

Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite
I've blogged about Brite a fair few times before, so it's not exactly accurate to say that I'd forgotten about her work.  The packing process last week was greatly slowed, however, when I came across her debut novel; I was unable to resist the urge to flick through the pages, read a passage or two.  I can only hope that when I come to revisit Missing Mile in North Carolina, Brite's tale of vampires, rock stars and bromance (an awful term unknown at the time of publication, thank goodness) reads as well today as it did when I was fifteen.

A Density Of Souls by Christopher Rice
With this slice of American Gothic, Christopher Rice stepped out of his famous mother's shadow and earned a place in my heart in his own right.  A Density Of Souls is a coming-of-age story complete with burgeoning teen sexuality, dark family secrets, natural disasters and even acts of terrorism.  I first read it shortly after my father died, when I was feeling particularly alone.  The central character Stephen resonated with me for that reason and many others.  I've read Souls a handful of times since then, and will probably continue to do so.  It perfectly encapsulates the raw, flawed wisdom that comes with being not-quite an adult.

The Daydreamer by Ian McEwan
A youthful and optimistic alternative to McEwan's more adult fare, The Daydreamer is a series of stories about a boy who possesses either an incredible power, or an equally impressive imagination.  He switches bodies first with a cat, then with a baby, gaining incredible insights into their worlds.  Later, he visits his future self and learns about love.  In the hands of any other writer, The Daydreamer could have been awful.  Luckily, with McEwan, we know we're in safe hands.

Tales Of The City by Armistead Maupin
I had a few problems with Tales Of The City when I first read it in 2005.  Mainly, I felt that there wasn't a whole lot of plot and some of the characters were thinly drawn stereotypes.  However, I also felt that Maupin made up for these flaws with his iconic creation, Anna Madrigal.  Matriarchal, mischievous, secretive and seductive, everybody should have a landlady like her.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Need I say more?

Father's Day Reads

To celebrate Father's Day this coming Sunday, I've put together a list of books that examine the role of a father in literature and in life.  From complicated father-son relationships to daddy's girls, the father figure is a compelling one - below are some of the best (and one or two not-so-great ones).

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I've commented in a previous post on my affection for Atticus Finch as a character and role model for fathers.  What I particularly like in Harper Lee's portrayal of him is that there are occasions where Atticus and his daughter do not see eye to eye; the narrative is coloured by Scout's perceptions, and it is only after the fact that she realises her father was in the right all along.  One excellent example of this is when Atticus forces Scout to spend time each day reading to their cantankerous old neighbour, for seemingly no reason at all - but of course, Atticus knows better.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

The story of a father and son's journey across a post-apocalyptic America, The Road uses economy of plot and language to show the simplest and most profound of relationships.  The father in this story is the kind of man who would throw himself in front of a train to save his own son.  It's a rather grim read, yes, but an incredibly moving one too.

Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

The protagonist of this novel and three more after it is Jackson Brodie: ex-army, ex-police, private detective and most importantly father to Marlee.  Whilst the core plot of the novel centres on investigating murders and disappearances, Kate Atkinson uses the relationship between Jackson and his daughter to speak out against the sexualisation of preteens and to comment on the loss of innocence that seems to be occurring at a younger age in each generation.  Burdened by the knowledge of what some men are capable of doing to young girls, Jackson is torn between keeping Marlee in blissful ignorance and preparing her for potential danger.  If all little girls must grow up, he muses in my favourite passage, why can't they all turn into action heroines like Ripley and Sarah Connor?

A Spot Of Bother by Mark Haddon

I must admit to reading this novel with a growing sense of frustration.  The soap opera style plot centres around a family that threatens to fall apart in the lead-up to daughter Katie's wedding.  Mother Jean is having an affair and son Jamie is in the middle of his own romantic crisis.  But the father, George, takes the biscuit.  He chooses this time to descend into madness, convincing himself he is dying of cancer and running away to live in a hotel.  If he were my dad, I'd have cut off contact a long time ago.

Notes From An Exhibition by Patrick Gale

Patrick Gale's novel is ostensibly about Rachel Kelly, a bi-polar artist and mother, and the aftermath of her death.  In her children's recollections, Rachel is remembered as both their favourite person and a tyrant, depending on her state of mind.  Forever in the background of the story is Rachel's Quaker husband Antony, a quiet and unassuming man who, it soon becomes clear, is a constant source of strength and support for the entire family.