Reading matters

'The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit' by Sloan Wilson

Fiction - paperback; Penguin; 288  pages; 2005.

Sloan Wilson, who died in 2003 aged 83, wrote 15 novels, but his most famous was The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, first published in 1955.

I picked this book up several years ago, attracted more by the black and white photograph of Gregory Peck on the cover and the lovely silver spine that is the trademark of a Penguin Modern Classic than the name of the author. Indeed, I had never heard of Sloan Wilson, whom, it seems, had become one of those neglected writers recently championed by the modern literary elite -- in this case, Jonathan Franzen, who writes a brief but very good introduction to this edition. (Franzen did something similar for Paula Fox's Desperate Characters a few years back, which makes me wonder whether that might explain his lack of recent fiction: he's too busy writing introductions for long-forgotten authors than concentrating on his own literary career.)

The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit is described as the quintessential 1950s novel, mainly because that's the era in which it is set and written, but putting aside the sexism and the "traditional" family life -- man goes to work, woman stays at home and looks after the children -- depicted within its pages, it is still highly relevant and tackles themes and issues that are pertinent today.  For instance, at what point does one acknowledge that it is more important to enjoy one's work than it is to make as much money as possible from something you detest? When do you stop worrying about the future and start enjoying the present? Should you tell people the truth or tell them what they want to hear? Is rampant consumerism the path to happiness?

The book follows Tom Rath, a veteran of the Second World War, who is married to Betsy. They have three young children and live in suburban Connecticut, but are desperate to move up in the world, to "afford a bigger house and a better brand of gin".

'The Reluctant Fundamentalist' by Mohsin Hamid

Fiction - paperback; Penguin; 209 pages; 2008.

Visit any bookstore in London right now and it's hard to miss the displays of Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist -- it seems to be everywhere. The careful positioning of it -- especially on the "3 for 2" tables -- obviously works, because against my better judgment I recently bought a copy and devoured it in one sitting. Easy enough to do, actually, because at just 209 pages and typeset in a relatively large font, this is more a novella than a novel, and hence it's a very quick read.

An international bestseller that has been translated into some 16 languages, The Reluctant Fundamentalist has also been shortlisted for a host of literary awards including the Man Booker Prize 2007, the Commonwealth Writers Prize 2007 and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize 2008. But it has also attracted much flak centered around its alleged anti-American stance (it's no plot spoiler to say that the main character smiles when he sees the collapse of the World Trade Towers on TV, pleased because "someone had so visibly brought America to her knees").

In my opinion, this is shallow criticism, because the book's greatest failing is not its content, but the way in which the story is narrated. This is a fictional account of a young, intelligent and ambitious Pakistani who is educated at Princeton University and secures a highly desirable job in New York. When he falls in love with a troubled rich white girl he begins to realise that her material trappings cannot alleviate her pain. Then, following the attacks on the World Trade Centre, when the entire city is in mourning, he begins to question the purpose of his own life and the Western values that leave him feeling so cold, detached and unfulfilled. He returns to Lahore, and it is here that his story begins: a first-person narrative that is addressed to an unseen acquaintance (effectively you, the reader) in a little cafe as dusk descends.

It is this narrative device that I found particularly troublesome. The tone of the voice is cool, arrogant and slightly menacing, which is fine. But every now and then the narrative flow is interrupted by rather clunky direct addresses to the unseen acquaintance -- "But observe! A flower seller approaches. I will summon him to our table. You are not in the mood? Surely you cannot object to a single strand of jasmine buds." -- which act as unwanted reminders that you are reading a book which means you can never fully lose yourself in the story.

This is a great shame, because it's a good story about an issue not much discussed in popular literature, that of the foreign man who's turned his back on the American dream. If nothing else it's a thought-provoking read and would certainly make great fodder for a book group discussion, but on the whole I found The Reluctant Fundamentalist disappointing and nowhere near as exciting or as provocative as I had been lead to believe. And the conclusion, which is as predictable as they come, left me feeling like I'd been terribly short-changed.

'The Ghost' by Robert Harris

Fiction - paperback; Hutchinson; 310 pages; 2007.

My very short relationship with British author Robert Harris has been a bit of a hit and miss affair: I absolutely loved the compulsively readable Fatherland (1993) but struggled to finish the dull and plodding Enigma (1996), and so I've not been inclined to read his other novels -- Archangel, Pompeii, Imperium -- for fear of wasting my time. But his latest book, The Ghost, has received so much press attention and been lavished with equal amounts of praise that I admit to being intrigued enough to give the man a second shot.

The Ghost was published last September among a flurry of reports that it was based on Harris's one-time friend, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair and his wife, Cherie. This is a claim that Harris denies.

But reading this book it's difficult not to think of the the two main characters --  Adam Lang and his controlling wife Ruth -- as thinly veiled versions of Tony and Cherie. The difference is that in this novel the couple are immersed in an extremely wicked plot that even the conspiracy theorists would have a hard time dreaming up!

'The Music Lesson' by Katharine Weber

Fiction - paperback; Phoenix; 162 pages; 1999.

The Music Lesson is the second novel by American writer Katharine Weber, who, in 1996, was named one of the 50 Best Young American Novelists by Granta. She has since gone on to write two other critically acclaimed novels, the latest of which -- Triangle -- is on the long list for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. Which is a roundabout way of saying, she's got some kudos in the book world.

Typically, I had never heard of her before, and "mooched" this novel on the sole basis that it was set in Ireland and the synopsis on Amazon.co.uk seemed intriguing. It's been sitting in my pile of unread books for months, and yesterday, seemingly on a whim, I picked it up half expecting to read about 20 pages before getting on with the day's chores. Alas, I read it cover to cover, unable to pull myself away from the mesmerising story within its pages.

At just 162 pages in length The Music Lesson is an almost perfectly formed -- and quick to read -- novel, which tells the story of Patricia Dolan's unwitting involvement in an IRA splinter group known as the (completely fictional) Irish Republican Liberation Organisation (IRLO). But it's also a story about 17th century Dutch art and the murky world of Irish-American identity.

'Forever' by Pete Hamill

Fiction - paperback; Back Bay Books; 613 pages; 2004.

Sometimes you pick up a book and get totally swept away by the story that you forgot all sense of time or place. So it was with this critically acclaimed novel by the former editor in chief of the New York Post and the New York Daily News.

At 613 pages I expected this hefty tome to last me a couple of weeks but I was so caught up in the life of Cormac O'Connor, an Irish immigrant who lands in New York in 1740 and remains...forever, that I raced through it in less than a week -- and even then I tried to draw out the last hundred or so pages because I didn't want it to end.

I'm not sure how to describe Forever. It's part swashbuckling adventure, part romance, part historical drama, part fable. It spans more than three centuries and tells the story of a poor rural Irish lad who is granted immortality, as long as he never steps foot off the island of Manhattan. And because part of his deal is to ensure he lives a very full and active life, rather than sitting on the sidelines merely existing, he throws himself into all kinds of situations.

Over the course of some 300 years he witnesses (and sometimes partakes in) many great scenes in history, including the American Revolution and the destruction of the World Trade Centre on 9/11. During this time he also meets and falls in love with several women, learns many different trades, carries out various professions (printer, artist, journalist) and teaches himself a host of languages.

But this is no fairytale. Violence and mayhem follow Cormac throughout the ages, particularly as he is on a quest to avenge his father's brutal murder. According to Celtic code this means he must not only seek out and kill his father's murderer, he must also ensure that all of the murderer's heirs are slain. (I admit that I quietly struggled with this aspect of the storyline, because it seemed too brutal for my liking -- and I wanted Cormac, such a well-rounded and likeable character in so many respects, to learn that revenge does not solve anything. I won't spoil the plot by revealing whether or not he succeeds in achieving his goal.)

'Ghost Town: Tales of Manhattan Then and Now' by Patrick McGrath

Fiction - paperback; Bloomsbury Publishing; 256 pages; 2006.

I have long wanted to read something by British-born New York-based writer Patrick McGrath if only because his subject matter, often dark and Gothic, intrigues me. I bought this one on a week-long trip to Manhattan last October when I prowled the city's book stores looking for novels set in New York. This one practically leapt off the shelf at me, so I bought it, but not without reservation: I'm not a huge fan of the short story.

I needn't have worried. The three stories in this collection could best be described as novellas (63 pages, 112 pages and 68 pages apiece) and each was incredibly gripping in its own distinctive, haunting way. Each first-person narrative is set in Manhattan, but at different time periods, beginning with the American Revolution and ending in the days following 9/11.

'The Kept Man' by Jami Attenberg

Fiction - hardcover; Riverhead; 304 pages; 2007. REVIEW COPY.

The Kept Man by first-time novelist Jami Attenberg is published tomorrow, but I was lucky enough to read it before its release date. I think it was the opening line -- "I have been waiting for my husband to die for six years" -- that intrigued me most, quickly followed by the setting (New York -- Williamsburg and Brooklyn, to be precise).

The story is about a woman, Jarvis Miller, married to a highly successful artist, who, one day, falls off a ladder in his studio, bumps his head and ends up in a coma. Jarvis spends the next six years in limbo, married to a man who is no longer the man she married but is still faithfully devoted to him.

But one day, when her washing machine breaks down, she is forced to use the local laundromat, where she meets -- and befriends -- three attractive men who turn out to be house husbands. For the first time since her husband's accident, Jarvis gets a taste for the real world, where the possibility for new relationships and new experiences makes her feel alive again. It is only when she discovers some of her husband's secrets -- in the form of three mysterious collections of photographs -- that Jarvis feels it is time for her to let go of the past and embrace the future...

'Don't I Know You?' by Karen Shepard

Fiction - paperback; Harper Perennial; 230 pages; 2006.

This fascinating murder mystery, which is set in New York in the 1970s, opens with a 12-year-old boy, Stephen, coming home to his Upper Westside apartment to find his mother dead on the floor. Gina has been raped and stabbed multiple times. The TV is still on and all the windows are open.

Outside, it was getting darker. Inside too. He was crying.
Her black hair was still in its ponytail. It was spread out like she was jumping. She was making a face that he didn't like to look at. He thought about touching her, but didn't.
Down the hall, a quiet thud and two creaks.
His feet and hands tingled. Get out, he thought. He stood; his knees cracked, and he headed toward the front door. The sound of something heavy being lifted and put down again. He was still crying. He started down the hall. He couldn't believe he was doing it.
There was blood. Streaky patches of it. And then it stopped. His foot hit something that rolled. Glass beads. He recognised them from the necklace she liked to wear.
Her bedroom door was open a little. Shadows moved behind it.
He ran the last few feet. His head felt like he'd been holding his breath too long. 'Hey,' he called. 'Hey'.
One leg was disappearing out the window onto the fire escape. Jeans. A white sock. Adidas sneaker. White with green stripes.

'Theft: A Love Story' by Peter Carey

Fiction - hardcover; Faber and Faber; 274 pages; 2006.

The wonderful and intriguing world of art forgery is explored in Theft: A Love Story, the Booker shortlisted novel by Australian author Peter Carey.

In my experience, reading anything by Peter Carey can be a bit of a hit or miss affair. There are certain books by him that I love (Jack Maggs, Oscar and Lucinda) and certain books I've struggled with and eventually abandoned (The Illywhacker, The True Story of the Kelly Gang). Fortunately, I found Theft: A Love Story to be immediately accessible and highly entertaining. I loved it's balance of humour and melancholy, and the twist at the end was a joy.

'Detour' by James Siegel

Fiction - paperback; Time Warner Books; 406  pages; 2005.   

First things first. If you read this book you need to check your brain at the door. Detour is not highbrow literature. Instead it's a fast-paced plot-driven romp that reads like a movie screenplay. It's well written in the sense that it's effortless to read. But if you're expecting something that will rock your world or make you see things in a different light or have you reassessing your life, then give this one a wide berth. It's enjoyable and entertaining. No more, no less.

Like Siegel's previous effort, Derailed (which was turned into a movie starring Jennifer Aniston), Detour is about ordinary people caught up in extraordinary circumstances. In this case, a young New York couple, Joanna and Paul, travel to Colombia to adopt a baby as part of a fast-track scheme set up by their lawyer. Of course Colombia is a dangerous country -- a point which Siegel labours again and again throughout this long novel -- and there's a menace around every corner. Not surprisingly, the couple and their new adorable baby girl, Joelle, are kidnapped by left-wing militia -- and then things really heat up.

Paul enters into a deal to secure their release: he must travel to New York as a drug mule with 30 condoms of cocaine inside him. He has 18 hours to deliver them to an address in Queens and once the drugs are safely handed over, Joanna and Joelle will be free to return to the USA. If he doesn't hand them over, he will never see his wife and daughter again...

Of course -- you guessed it -- things don't go according to plan, but to say any more would spoil the plot...