The book's the thing

Here are a few titles to take you through to summer

 

There is something so thrilling about a bookshop, isn’t it? There are all those authors waiting to be discovered, all those titles ready to be devoured, and a hundred different worlds that you can lose yourself in. For me, the high point of any trip to a great city is a leisurely trawl through all the book stores it has to offer. And last fortnight, that city was Singapore and the bookstore, Kinokuniya, one of my all-time favourites.

 

The first thing I discovered on the shelves was the latest Elizabeth George, titled Something To Hide, which came out last month, but whose release I seemed to have missed. I snatched it up and eagerly read the synopsis of the plot, happy to discover that this was another Inspector Lynley mystery. This was the perfect read for the flight back to Delhi, I thought. 

 

There was only one problem. This was an absolute doorstopper of a book and lugging it on to a flight seemed a bit of a challenge. So, with utmost reluctance, I put the physical book back and later downloaded it on my Kindle – with due apologies to all good bookstores anywhere.

 

But, I consoled myself later, it was the book that was important, not the form in which I read it. And if it’s reading that matters to you as well, here are some suggestions from among the books I have enjoyed over the past few months. Read them in any format that works for you – satisfaction guaranteed.

 

Something To Hide by Elizabeth George

 

This is vintage Elizabeth George, a murder mystery that is about so much more than murder or mystery. The theme that George tackles this time is the harrowing subject of female genital mutilation (FGM) that is ostensibly outlawed but practiced on the quiet by some among the Nigerian and Somali community in London. The murder victim, a police officer, has been ‘cut’ as well as a child though this fact only surfaces after her death. And the investigation into her death reveals so much more than just the identity of her killer.

 

Silverview by John Le Carre

 

Published after its author’s death, this has been touted as the last ‘completed’ masterpiece from Le Carre’s pen. This has all his usual hallmarks: there is a Smiley-type character (complete with unfaithful wife) who has been tasked with ferreting out secrets from an old retired MI6 hand. And there is a young investment banker turned bookshop owner who finds himself caught between these two spymasters. This is a splendid read in the Le Carre tradition but the somewhat abrupt end makes me wonder if the manuscript was ever, in fact, ‘completed’.

 

Apples Never Fall by Liane Moriarty

 

When Joy Delaney, a 60-something mother of four, goes missing, suspicion alights on her husband, Stan. It doesn’t help that Stan looks as if he’s been in a fight, though he insists it was only with a hedge. But as her disappearance lengthens, the children start to questions his protestations of innocence, and old family fractures come to the fore. Domestic drama has always been Moriarty’s strength but this book also works as a study of the everyday violence that women face.

 

The Christie Affair by Nina de Gramont

 

It is the one mystery that Agatha Christie never solved. And that’s because she lived it. In December 1926, the mystery writer packed a small attache case and drove away from her home. Her car was later discovered in a ditch, leading to speculation that she may have killed herself, heartbroken because her husband, Archie, had announced that he wanted a divorce to marry his mistress. Christie was discovered living in a hotel a week later but she never spoke – or wrote – about this period in her life. So, this is the next best thing: a speculative take on what might have happened.

 

Both Of You by Adele Parks

 

Two women, who seem to have nothing in common, disappear in the same week. Both their husbands claim to be distraught, and insist that they know nothing of why their wives have gone missing. So, what went wrong? Did the women leave on their own? Were they taken by someone? When the investigation throws up a link between the two women, the story takes an unexpected turn with a twist you won’t see coming.

 

Comfort reading

Trust me, it’s the best way of keeping calm and carrying on in the midst of a lockdown

Whenever I am going through a period of stress – and it will surprise precisely no one that this lockdown period has been a unique stressor – I always seek succor in my comfort reads. 

You know what I mean, right? Comfort reads are those books that transport me to better worlds, minutely imagined parallel universes, where all problems have resolutions, and every loose end can be niftily tied at the end of the narrative. These are books I have re-read so often that I know some of the dialogue by heart and yet the punchlines leave me chuckling each time. And these are the books that I have been turning to, to keep my spirits up, during this enforced stay-at-home period.

I am happy to report that they have done the trick quite nicely. I usually spend about an hour or so with them in the late afternoon after I have done my writing for the day and need to decompress. And I turn to them last thing at night, when I read myself to sleep. And they soothe and calm me much more than actual meditation ever does.

So, on the off chance that you may benefit from this remedy too, here’s my list of go-to books and authors. I hope they bring you the same comfort they do to me.

• I have always been a fan of Margaret Atwood, but it had been a long time since I read her seminal work, The Handmaid’s Tale. But after bingeing on the three seasons of the TV show on Amazon Prime, I had this irresistible urge to go back and re-read the book the series was based on. And I am ever so glad that I did. The sparse prose, the easy cadences, and the effortless grace of Atwood’s writing left me in awe yet again. To read this book is to see the author at the height of her powers. And marvel once more at the imagination from which the dystopian world of Gilead sprung, fully-formed and full of horror.

• The other TV series that sent me scurrying back to the book it was based on was Little Fires Everywhere on Hotstar. I had read Celeste Ng’s bestseller when it was first published but given that my memory is like a sieve these days, going back to it was like reading a new book. So, I could appreciate afresh the universe that Ng had created, with two intertwined families at the centre of the narrative, which spooled in a direction that was entirely unexpected. The show has deviated at many seminal points from the book, so even if you have seen the series, the book will still provide you with many surprises.

• I had mentioned in my last column that I intended to explore the entire oeuvre of Elizabeth George, to chart the progress of Inspector Lynley and Barbara Havers’ careers as they went about solving murders across the decades. I have since begun reading A Great Deliverance, the very first Inspector Lynley mystery, which came out way back in 1988, and I am astonished to see just how much the characters have evolved since then. In this book, for instance, Lynley is portrayed as a dashing ladies man, who has slept with most of the women in his department, and Lady Helen Clyde is described as his ‘longest-running mistress’. As someone who rejoiced at their wedding and (spoiler alert coming up!) and cried tears at Helen’s passing, this throwback was startling to say the least.

• As regular readers will know, whenever I need cheering up, my go-to author is Georgette Heyer. Her Regency romances have been a staple of my comfort reading list ever since my teenage years – and that hasn’t changed even though I am now well into my middle age. This time round, I first sought refuge in Venetia, in which the heroine of the title falls prey to the charms of a well-practiced rake, only to win his heart – and his hand – in the end. And then, I dived right into The Grand Sophy, in which the redoubtable heroine re-arranges the lives of all those around her, much to their consternation and my delight. 

• Now that I am cooking more than ever, given that there is no other way to put food on the table, I keep dipping into food books to find inspiration (not recipe books, I am afraid, because I like to make things up as I go along, rather than follow in well-trodden paths). Some of the books that have provided food for thought in this period are Salt Fat Acid Heat by Samin Nosrat (she has a show by the same name on Netflix, which you could check out), Pasta Pane Vino by Matt Goulding, and closer home, The Flavour of Spice by my old friend Marryam H. Reshii. I like to think that the information I have gleaned from these worthy tomes has made me a better cook – the botched experiments, needless to say, are entirely of my own making.

If you too want to read yourself out of a lockdown-induced depression, then I can’t recommend comfort reading enough. Start with some of the books I have recommended, or find your own. But do read for a couple of hours every day – and no peeking at your phone while you do it. Believe me, it will make a world of difference to your day.

Reading List

Here’s a handy list of my top reads last year: try them if you haven’t; you won’t regret it

If you are a regular reader of this column then you know by now that books are my drug of choice. There is nothing quite as wonderful as discovering a brand-new writer, except perhaps discovering a new book by an old favourite. And there is nothing more comforting that finding solace between the pages of a tried-and-tested comfort read when you are feeling low.

Over the last year, I have had my fill of both new writers and old favourites. And yes, I have revisited many classics as well, in the hope of discovering something new in them. But here, for your benefit, is the list of my best reads of 2013.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

This was by far one of the best thrillers I have read in a long time. The story unravels through the first person accounts of the two protagonists: the husband whose wife has gone missing; and the diary entries of the ‘gone girl’. But as the tale unfolds, it becomes clear that nothing is quite as it seems. Since I hate spoilers of any kind, I won’t say much more than assure you that this is a book like no other. If you haven’t read it yet, then do so NOW.

The Silent Wife by ASA Harrison

Another psychological portrayal of a marriage that isn’t quite what it seems, and in fact, turns out not to be a marriage at all. The characters are acutely drawn, the plot moves forwards slowly but menacingly, and the ‘silent wife’ of the title proves that old adage of still waters running deep.

Longbourn by Jo Baker

I am generally not hot on conceits like rewriting an old classic from the viewpoint of a different character. But I have to say that Jo Baker has pulled off a cracker of a novel, retelling Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice from the viewpoint of the servants of the Bennet household. The maid, Sarah, is the central character, whose most memorable line is that Miss Elizabeth would be more careful of her petticoats if she had to wash them herself! A brilliant retelling of a classic; which should become a classic in its own time.

The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling)

Confession time: I first read The Cuckoo’s Calling before J.K. Rowling had been outed as its author. And while it was a good enough story, I have to admit that I didn’t think Robert Galbraith was going to be the next Harlan Coben or even Lee Child. After the author’s identity was revealed, I re-read it. And no, I didn’t change my mind. This was a good enough book as far as murder mysteries go, but  ‘Robert Galbraith’ still has a long way to go.

Just One Evil Act by Elizabeth George

I really don’t know how she does it. But with every novel in her Inspector Lynley series, Elizabeth George manages to up her game just a little. This, the latest in the series, has Barbara Havers at the centre while Lynley plays a sort of supporting role. Set in Italy, the story gallops forwards furiously, taking twists and turns when you least expect them, the characters evolve in ways you could barely imagine, and in true Elizabeth George fashion, the ending is far from the happily-ever-after variety.

The English Girl by Daniel Silva

Yes, I know. Daniel Silva has gone a tad formulaic on us. But I guess that’s a risk you run when you have the same hero, Israeli agent Gabriel Allon, and are committed to churning out a potboiler every year. So, this book has much the same elements. Allon is put into impossible situations and manages to fight his way out, and save the world while he is at it. But that said, the book is a page-turner, the kind that will keep you up till 3 am, as you read on to find out what happens next.

Mapping The Edge by Sarah Dunant

I have to admit that I had mixed feelings about this one. It started off well, but then got a bit too clever by half, and two-thirds into the narrative, I was more confused than ever. But despite my reservations, I am glad that I read it. Dunant attempts the brave – even impossible, some might say – feat of offering two alternatives to a woman’s abduction without ever indicating where the truth actually lies. But while her writing is, for the most part, assured, there is a real sense in which the reader ends up feeling manipulated by her trickery. Well, at least, I did. You can read it and make up your own mind.

The Golden Egg by Donna Leon

There is something ineffably soothing about the gentle pace of Donna Leon’s murder mysteries. She spends as much time evoking the spirit of Venice, describing the family life of her hero, Guido Brunetti and his wife Paola, detailing the meals they eat and the wine they drink, the books they read, as she does investigating the death that is at the heart of the story. This book is no different, with the story telling us as much about the corruption at the core of Venetian society, as it does about the murder itself. If you haven’t read her, you should start now. (But remember to start at the beginning, and work your way through the 17 or so books she has written.)

Ho, Ho, Ho

What I would like Santa to get me for Christmas...

Sometimes I wonder just how stupid we were as kids to actually believe in Santa Claus. Wasn’t it obvious that the fat Indian man (who looked suspiciously like Uncle Chatterjee from next door) with the fake white beard couldn’t possibly have travelled down from the North Pole in his reindeer-driven sleigh? Did we ever stop to think why every shop we visited while Christmas shopping had a Santa Claus who looked completely different from the one before? Or did we just wilfully ignore all these alarm bells because we needed to live in a world where Santa came around annually bearing gifts that we had longed for the entire year.

I like to think it was the latter. And so, in the same child-like spirit, I decided to compile a list of all the things that I would like Santa to bring me this year. So here it is: my own Christmas wish list (in no particular order of importance)

* A longer attention span. I’d like to revert to the days when I could watch a movie without feeling tempted to tweet my views about it half an hour into the show. I’d like to read a book with stopping to dip into Facebook to see what my friends are up to. And I’d really like to be able to finish my writing without breaking off every 15 minutes to ‘research’ something on the Net.

* An internet connection that times out automatically. I often wonder how people procrastinated in the days before the Internet was invented. How did they waste time before the Google search engine came along? And by ‘people’, of course, I mean myself. I have lost count of the number of hours I have wasted on news sites, on following threads that lead me into the darker corners of the Net, and looking through picture albums of people I barely know. And given my complete and utter lack of self-discipline, the only thing that will free me is a net connection that turns itself off when I am unable to do so. 

* High heels that I can walk in without throwing out my back, crippling my knees, and mutilating my feet. Yes, I know every woman always insists that her stilettos are comfortable enough to run in; but believe me, she lies. The pair of high heels – and I mean really high heels – that both look and feel good are yet to be invented. Which is why I am pinning my hopes on Santa.

* A machine that exercises all my muscle groups for me. Come on, admit it. You’d like one too. Just imagine the joy of lying supine, reading a book or listening to music, strapped to a contraption that stretches your hamstrings, tones up your abdomen, tightens your bum, and elongates your legs, without your ever having to make any effort whatsoever. Bliss!

* A new neck: Yes, this one has given me great service for many decades but truth be told, it is beginning to look a bit tired now. So tired, that it can barely keep my double chins in place. (And if I am wishing for things, how about a brand-new jaw-line as well, all taut and jowl-free? And all the hair I have lost since my 20s, in its original black colour.)

* A magic carpet that whisks me away to Venice every January. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. Why January? Isn’t it cold as hell? And raining? And flooding, thanks to the acqua alta? Yes, right on all counts. And yet, that is the month that Venice appears most magical to me. There are no hordes of tourists jostling you aside in Piazza San Marco. The streets are deserted so that you can actually gaze on undisturbed at the many architectural gems carelessly displayed on them. And the hotel rates are, relatively at least, affordable.

* A device that wipes my memory clean of all my favourite books so that I can discover them anew. I can still remember the joy I felt when I read my first Elizabeth George or Donna Leon. I had to restrain myself from calling up all my friends late at night and sharing my discovery with them. It’s been a long time since I felt that way about a book (the last time was when I devoured Hilary Mantel’s marvellous Wolf Hall in one big gulp) and I miss that slow burn of excitement that comes with stumbling upon a bright new literary star.

* A time machine to whisk me back to my college classroom. All those great writers and poets I read then in my English literature course – William Shakespeare, Leo Tolstoy, James Joyce, Charles Dickens, John Donne, T.S. Eliot – would make so much more sense to me now that I have lived a little.