Yesterday, in the wake of the librarians’ shushing, some might have taken advantage of the ensuing silence for a nap. Now, yawning ourselves awake, we can resume our chat about the overlap between fiction and non-fiction, in sprawling and slightly chaotic stacks and shelves. In the opening story of
It was late when I picked up Emmanuel Mbolela’s memoir Refugee (2021), nearly time for bed; it occurred to me that another book might make more suitable bedtime reading. I’ll just start, I thought, because it was a borrowed copy and due back soon at the library. Straight away,
Even though I should have known better, I started to read Miriam Toews’ new novel, Fight Night, shortly before bed and then stayed up to finish it. Because Shiv’s voice is irresistible and the story of life with her grandmother and her mother was so hilarious and moving. But
“It is August now, towards the end, and the weather can no longer be trusted.” The gentle rhythm in MacLeod’s sentence is responsible for its being a favourite of mine. Such an ordinary opening to such a startlingly subversive –and topical—story. With the findings of the IPCC report and
This year I re-directed my focus away from a couple of years of determinedly reading from backlists (so that new books comprised only about 30% of my reading) back to freshly published and forthcoming books.* What I hadn’t anticipated was how delicately I would need to balance my library
