The Music Shop – Rachel Joyce

Rachel Joyce writes wonderful books. Not necessarily with the most beautiful, flowery language (although they are good words, honest and accessible) but with characters, plots and emotional sucker-punches which make me very, very happy. I’ve never met a Rachel Joyce novel (so far) that I didn’t love but, boy, do they bring a tear to the eye. In an oddly satisfying way. It feels quite hard to describe why I love these books so much beyond the fact that they get me right in the feels (as the kids no longer say…) – lets hope I can convince you to read them and find out for yourselves…

51yytgdLxSL._AC_US218_This book opens in 1988. In a music shop which is resisting the rise of CDs (although not modern music) and the march of progress generally. It is on a street with a small parade of the kind of shops which are closing down all the time – the book opens in a sort of dead-end. But it is the kind of glorious dead end that I, for one, would love to have on my doorstep. The owner of the shop, Frank, is a bit of a lost soul who is still mourning his beloved (but rather difficult) mother, who shies away from relationships and who, despite all this lives to help others through music. The man with the unfaithful wife who listens only to Chopin is reminded that he is not alone via the work of Aretha Franklin; a bank manager’s baby is lulled to sleep by The Troggs Wild Thing. He is, in the early days, pretty astute about music – he’s the only shop locally to stock the Sex Pistols and stocks all the big indy labels – but the rise of CDs is a problem. Frank won’t stock them and he becomes persona non grata with all the reps from record companies.

Of course, if this were just the story of a shop it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying (apart, possibly, to those of us who work in shops and have a vested interest) so there are also some fascinating characters to meet. Frank himself is a gentle, rather shabby, giant of a man who, despite trying to avoid relationships, is essential to the lives of all those around him. Then there are the other residents of Unity Street – a Polish baker, an ex-priest running a religious gift shop, a pair of elderly undertakers, a combative tattooist, little old Mrs Roussos – who are all given life and character and who all become part of Frank’s ‘family’ (for want of a better word). Add into this his hapless (but big-hearted) assistant Kit and a mysterious German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, and it seems that Frank hasn’t been able to avoid all relationships after all.

I loved this book because of those wonderful, warm and complicated human relationships. I loved it because it made me cry as much as it made me smile and I loved it for the music. Frank’s approach to music is unusual, to say the least, since he is possibly the total opposite of High Fidelity’s obsessive alphabetiser but his tastes are broad. I loved the fact that its four parts are presented as being the four side of a double album (a concept album, obviously). And, for my money, any novel which opens with a quote* from Nick Drake deserves all the praise I can give it…


*Time has told me
You’re a rare, rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind

Nick Drake – Time Has Told Me


The Time Traveller’s Guide to Restoration Britain – Ian Mortimer

Sometimes I’m a total fool to myself. Case in point: I love reading history books but I have painted myself into a metaphorical corner which means I hardly ever read any actual history any more. Here is my problem – see what you think.  I like to post reviews of as many books as I can – I’ve often been given access to books for free by publishers and authors, the least I can do is feedback what I think. I aim to post reviews here once or twice a week and if I don’t post here I do review on Netgalley, or Goodreads. I didn’t used to interact with Goodreads much but, at the beginning of this year my eye was caught by their ‘reading challenge’ where contributors were saying how many books they planned to read in a year. Many were pledging to read 30 or 40 books and, if you work, have children or other responsibilities, this is an impressive target: but I don’t have any kids and I work 4 days a week in a bookshop so I thought I’d go a bit higher. And because I’m daft I decided that one book a week wasn’t enough – my target is 126 books in 2017. Two books a week. And, because a really good history book can take me a week or so to fully appreciate, I thought I’d have to miss out on all the fabulous publishing on the subject coming out this year. Sad face. However, I managed to get myself two or three books ahead of schedule, so I decided to treat myself to an author whose history books I have previously enjoyed (and found very easily readable). My 2017 history duck has been broken!

17thThe first Ian Mortimer book I read was his Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England and I loved the way that it covered all the aspects of history which are often overlooked. I used to enjoy a bit of light Live Role Playing – which mostly involved being a medieval-style peasant for a weekend – so it was great to be able to read about the food, clothes and toilet facilities I was role-playing. I have never dressed up and pretended to be a Restoration lady (apart from the odd bit of corsetry, but that’s another story) but I think this book would give me some excellent pointers on how to do it. This is a history of all the people – the Kings (and their many hangers-on, wives, and mistresses), the rich and the poor – and it is the history of their whole lives – what they eat, wear, do for fun and where they…well…poo. Mortimer is convincing about why the late 17th century is a period of revolution: not just in terms of Royal succession or religious tolerance but also in the realms of science, literature, the belief in reason as a higher priority than religion in many areas, and also just in attitudes to life. Women are still very much second-class citizens, the property of some man or other, but some of them become the earliest female actors, authors, painters, and travel writers.

The world Mortimer describes is often ( as 17th century philosopher Thomas Hobbes said) ‘nasty, brutish and short’. It is full of things we find unfair, ridiculous or even barbaric; it is very smelly, unhealthy and downright dangerous but it is also exciting, full of change and development and contains some brilliant writing (note to self: read some Pepys). It is also starting to become more and more like the world we know today.


More Booker bookish goodness

I posted recently about my fairly appalling record with Booker Prize winning/shortlisted titles so I decided that this would be the year when I broke my apparent one book rule. I prowled around the shortlist table at work – shamelessly trying to work out which were the shortest/quickest to read – and then plumped for a couple of titles which the helpful folk at Random House had made available on Netgalley. One, Satin Island by Tom McCarthy, was on my personal wish list of ‘short books’ and the other was the slightly more substantial A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler.

satinLet’s start with Satin Island. Being rather shallow I decided that 176 pages wouldn’t take me long (the Anne Tyler is 480…)* so I threw myself into the world of U., an anthropologist working for a large modern company – only ever referred to as ‘The Company’ – and tried to ignore all the reviews that referred to the book as being avant-garde. Because I’m not sure I like avant-garde…

Maybe I’m better at the modernist/post-modernist/other sorts of -ist stuff than I thought, however, as I found the book to be quite absorbing. I have friends who studied anthropology to degree level and worked in a University bookshop where textbooks on the subject featured quite heavily so I felt fairly familiar with the basics. I think I even got to the fact that the study of material culture has given way to that of social and cultural anthropology before the plot did so I did feel like a bit of a genius. Briefly. Until I was bludgeoned down by all the references to Leibniz, Nietzsche and Levi-Strauss. Oh well, it was good while it lasted…I was particularly amused by the fact that the study (and associated ‘Smart Thinking’ type book) which made U.’s name in the 90s was on the tribes of club culture – I reckon if I searched hard enough I could find the real life version.

What I got from the book as a whole – since it didn’t really do plot – was mostly the fact that modern businesses, and much of modern life, seem to need people with backgrounds in a number of subjects if they are to understand how they operate (especially in the wider world). Although I have a feeling that Sir Alan Sugar would not agree. He certainly wouldn’t employ someone who basically did so little at work that even Dirk Gently would have trouble justifying his salary. In fact, in the end, the book seemed to me to be a critique of the way that the world of business and money and modernity can suck all the goodness out of any academic discipline and make it, well, undisciplined. The modern world is not about what you know but about how you present your findings.

SpoolA Spool of Blue Thread, on the other hand, is a novel about, on the face of it, very normal people to whom not very much happens. The Whitshanks are a family who are not brilliant, beautiful or rich – they are average and familiar. While you may not know the whole family you know aspects of them – the bossy older sister, the mother who, by trying to draw her children to her, can make them resent her interference or the one child who doesn’t quite fit in (or, indeed, want to). It is not that you dislike them or that they are bad people – they are just people.

I have seen some listings which describe this as ‘women’s fiction’ but that would seem to deny the place that men take in building a family. And the menfolk in the Whitshank family are easily as interesting as the women – the relationship between brothers Denny and Stem is dealt with in far more detail than any of their two sisters’ connections – and have most of the secrets as far as I can see. And secrets seem to be at the heart of the story. The family seems so ordinary and there is very little that actually happens but we do gradually dig deeper into those secrets. They are, on the whole, not major revelations but they do mean a lot to those involved and they shape how the family is formed.

I think I have picked a good year to expand my Booker repertoire as I have enjoyed all three of the shortlisted titles I have read. I still feel that A Little Life will win (it has that special something and it does tick so many of the boxes which win prizes) but the judges this year, hopefully, will have enjoyed their work…


*I read the 480 pages in a day less than the 176. Go figure, Anne Tyler is just very, very readable.