A lovely day

When things start to look a bit gloomy - reading the news too often, autumn coming, running out of Cheerios - it is always good to have a good book to pick up (which can pick you up in return). Who would have thought that a book as data-driven and dry-sounding as Factfulness by Hans Rosling could be one of those?

To be honest, I never thought it would be dry, and I don't think you think that either. Reading the blurb is enough.

Hans Rosling was the king of TED, in a way. Most of us common people will have heard of him through that channel. But in reality, he was a professor of international health, a renowned educator and one of the founders of Gapminder, a project that helps unveil "the beauty of statistics for a fact-based world view". (It's definitely worth playing around with this.) Also a sword swallower. And many, many other things. A fascinating life and many years of research back up this book, published just after Hans passed away - it's his final attempt to convince us that the world isn't as dark of a place as it may seem.

Using data, charts and his immense experience, in this book, Hans outlines the reasons why we think the world is in worse shape than it really is. It starts with a quiz that you can fill out: it includes questions on extreme poverty, schooling, vaccination and other vital, global issues. Following the quiz, the book proceeds to analyse why you answered the questions the way you did - and what you can do to change the way you think. And why you should do so.

What did I like about it?

When someone says 'data-driven', I usually wince. Not because I don't know that data is vital to understanding, but because I worry whether I will get it. Not so with this book. Hans has a deep love of statistics and numbers-based analysis, and it is precisely this that allows him to demonstrate how things are really looking. In a four-page spread, for example, he uses clearly readable charts to demonstrate things that are, in fact, looking much better than what we thought (including the number of guitars per capita, demonstrating human progress - he's better at explaining why than I would be if I tried).

What Hans does in this book is identify ten of our instincts that influence the way we think and see things. Instincts such as negativity, fear, destiny (assuming things are predetermined) or line (assuming that charts will continue in a straight direction as opposed to changing all the time). It's nothing we weren't vaguely aware of, but something that needed pointing out. What's more, he finishes each chapter with a short summary and some easy to follow action points on how to employ factfulness in our day-to-day lives.

Besides the good structure, Hans' writing is entertaining and accessible at all times. Human, interesting anecdotes help demonstrate his points, and he doesn't shy away from admitting his own mistakes in these stories. Some are downright terrifying. This is what keeps the book close to the reader - none of the content is distanced from us, it is truly showing the world we live in today.

What was I not massively fond of?

Perhaps the one thing I thought from time to time is that by keeping the language so accessible, the book sometimes tips over to the fluffy side, running the danger of not being taken seriously. Of course, that will be the shortfall of the reader - because this book is overwhelmingly fact-based - but there's a risk. We just need to be careful not to assume that everything is already on track to improve by itself. Hans calls himself a "possibilist" as opposed to an optimist, as his beliefs are rooted in real-life data - and that's his main message, as opposed to 'everything is bliss'.

Some of the instincts also felt a little like repetition - some of them perhaps could have been grouped into one instinct, instead of pulling them into two separate chapters. One such example for me was destiny and generalisation - but I suppose that, although some elements may be similar, they still both have some elements that merit deeper analysis. So ultimately, I'm happy to leave the ten instincts as they are without disputing them further.

Overall...

Bill Gates pledged to gift a copy of Factfulness to every US college graduate this year; Obama put the book on his summer reading list. Do you need more convincing to give this book a go?

Will it change your life? Probably not. It wasn't the gigantic eye opener many hyped it up to be. But it is a fascinating and educational read, and in the right mindset perhaps we'll all be a bit more motivated to help change the world - because, as Hans points out, it may be bad and better at the same time, but there's still time to improve.

Guy Gunaratne on London

I wasn't familiar with many books on this year's Man Booker Prize longlist. I spotted The Water Cure; I spotted the new Sally Rooney. I didn't spot In Our Mad and Furious City by Guy Gunaratne. You may be forgiven if you didn't either: this is another debut, continuing the string of stunning first books that I've come across this year. 2018: the year of the debut. I mean, really.

Interestingly, many people are prejudiced against the book, and I have to admit I was too. In his booktube video on the longlist, Eric (whose videos I would highly recommend by the way) made the assumption - like me - that it's probably a story that's been told too many times before. But he gave it the benefit of doubt, and so did I when I went to see Guy at the Edinburgh International Book Festival this year. And I was so very happy that I did.

Despite the blurb - which mentions the main characters 'growing up' on a London estate - this book spans a very short time frame (two days). It is written from five perspectives: two adults and three young boys, all from different backgrounds, all from different minority groups. The premise is simply this: a young, white man is killed by a young Muslim boy. An extremist. The backlash, the different perspectives and consequences is really what the book tells us about.

What did I like about it?

I enjoy books that take something I know very little about and give me a closer glimpse - and Guy does exactly that with the side of London I'm completely unfamiliar with. The psychological effects of immigration. The clash of cultural heritage and settling in a new community. Being stuck in a certain life and desperately trying to break out of it. This is happening right now, just an hour's tube ride away from me, and I think it takes a certain bravery and sensitivity to take on something so relevant and present. This book does it very tactfully.

The structure of the book is beautiful. There are three large sections, divided into sub-sections with titles such as Ends, Defilement or Square. These are then divided into the different characters' chapters - but each of these will include the title of the sub-section in some subtle or symbolical way. It's gorgeous.

Another point is the pacing and the building tension. Although the two older voices mainly talk about their past - as opposed to the boys, who speak of the present - these draw a perfect parallel. And the story continuously builds towards an inevitably violent end. It's not a surprise, but it is arresting. Short, burst-like chapters characterise the penultimate sections, keeping you turning the pages, unable to pause.


What was I not massively fond of?

Writing a book with five different perspectives, credibly, is not an easy task. (For a good example, read Leone Ross' Come Let Us Sing Anyway - her mastery of language is amazing.) I think Guy does it truly well, for the most part; the two adults certainly sound very different from the younger ones. It's just the boys - more precisely, two of the boys - who I think could have used slightly more differentiation in language. Their defining hobbies (sport/music) helped navigate between them more than their voices.

Around halfway through the book, Yusuf - the third young voice - I feel tips over a bit too much to the artistic side. Although it is true that he is probably the most mature one of the three, the 'ennet's and 'bruv's seemed to stop quite abruptly, to be replaced by "The purity of the spires and sweeping arches, the intricacies of the art gave me mad galaxies to drift away within". It's beautifully written, just felt a bit out of place for a young character.

One cringeworthy scene I would have perhaps avoided: a rap battle taking place at the back of a bus. It made me smile.

A final point on the final chapter (without spoilers): I felt this would have worked better if it mirrored the first chapter, which is written from a collective perspective.

Overall...

I think Guy Gunaratne's book is absolutely worthy of the Man Booker nomination. It rings true, it is extremely well written and - although I hate using this term - it's very timely. It puts pressure on the reader's shoulders. Guides us through a world many of us don't really know.

At his event, Guy said that most of the feedback he got on the book from people who saw themselves in it was 'finally'. Finally, as in there's finally a book about them. And I agree.

To anyone considering reading this, I would say avoid the blurb, because it is misleading. This is not a book about religious extremism. It is an intense, brilliant piece of literary fiction about who we are behind the surface, and our determination.

8/10

#EdBookFest 2018 recap

My first time in Edinburgh! And my first time at the Edinburgh International Book Festival too. It was a blast.

I attended talks on the penultimate and the day before the penultimate day (is there a word for that?), and was lucky enough to sit in on some amazing discussions. The weather was extremely kind on the day that I arrived - don't let the above rain clouds fool you, it was warm and sunny and people were lounging and sitting on the lawn. It was a true festival buzz.

John Boyne

The first discussion I saw was with John Boyne, author of the well-known The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas - which I've actually never read. In fact, I've never read anything by John Boyne, but his new novel, A Ladder to the Sky, sounded intriguing. And this is what a book festival is for, isn't it? Getting to know authors.

John is a very fun person to listen to (and was given some very good questions by Lee Randall), and he gave good insight into his writing process. He admitted that he never really plots a novel out in advance - he would instead create a character and let them roam free, following them to see where the book was going. He also talked about the fact he aims to create characters on the whole range of the spectrum: nobody is pure evil or good, and although the Guardian debates that one of the main character's aims in the new novel (to become a father) "feels more like a plot contrivance than a plausible feature of his character", I think I'd like to see for myself before I agree with that.

Had this not been the first event I attended, I would have purchased the book on the spot - but seeing as I arrived only with a small backpack, I had to make a careful decision about the one book I set myself as a maximum I could buy.

J.R. Carpenter & Alicia Kopf

My next event was a discussion with Alicia Kopf and J.R. Carpenter, titled Polar Explorations. That's really why I booked, although not much was actually said on that specific topic. (However, I did meet a lady called Jenny beforehand, who told me about her scientist brother's adventure to Antarctica - how he and his team got stranded there because radio communications had broken down, and yet how he went back the next year for further study of the local flora. She was very nice.)

Both of these authors' books are literary explorations, playing with form, genre and language. Alicia's semi-fictional autobiography aimed to build on the epic polar adventures of the past and to bring them into the present. She reminded me of Frida Kahlo in her passionate mannerisms. J.R., on the other hand (whose name seems to be, in fact, J.R.?) didn't convince me. Her poetry is not my cup of tea; it just felt a bit too far-fetched into the experimental.

Two highlights from the event: first, when Alicia said that for her, "writing a book felt like telling you a secret". Second, she made an amazing analogy that left the room umming and ahing: she said that a writer is like an oyster. A grain of sand causes it pain, and it works hard through it to digest and swallow that pain to finally make it into a shiny pearl. (Right?)

Steve Brusatte / Pat Barker

Although two separate events, I'm going to draw them into one subtitle. Steve's talk was amazing. Not much was said about writing but loads on dinosaurs (his new book is called The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs), and the joy and enthusiasm in his eyes when he got onto the topic was just a pleasure to watch. What I did want to know was how his book is different from the other dinosaur intro books that have been written before - but that's not something you ask at an event. Regardless, I'd definitely be up for reading his book.

Steve was decidedly giddy and giggly, and the event was expertly chaired by Philip Ardagh. One of the highlights: did you know that there isn't actually much info about the sex of dinosaurs? Bet you've never thought about that before.

Pat Barker's event was extremely popular, but I wasn't convinced to buy her book. She is a funny lady, and the talk was really quite interesting (example: at one point, she asked whether it really mattered if Achilles was real or not. I felt oddly offended by the idea that he wasn't). And I thought her book would be right up my street. But after her reading I wasn't sure - especially when it touched on the "smell of period blood". Mmmmaybe I wouldn't have picked this section to read?

Guy Gunaratne & Imran Mahmood

I was personally offended that this event wasn't sold out - but it seemed people cared more about Gina Miller than an author whose very first book was long-listed for the Man Booker Prize this year. Humbug.

Although Imran (a real-life criminal barrister) got more speaking time, it was ultimately Guy Gunaratne who won my one-book-only prize. (It is decidedly NOT because he is so handsome.) He claimed that, once finished, he was able to distance himself from the book and to let the world take it from there - despite the Man Booker nomination, he said he didn't feel tied to the book and was ready to start something new. He also talked about his upbringing and how it inspired In Our Mad and Furious City  (currently reading - very good so far, stay tuned). To have such a good insight into the real world is extremely hard. There's lots of talent here.

...and that's a wrap! My main observations about Edinburgh:

1. Pedestrian red lights are ridiculously long. And the traffic system doesn't make sense. Two lights that could operate simultaneously just never do. It does not. Make. Sense.

2. Much like in the Netherlands, people do not move out of the way. It's not an aggressive thing: it's just that they're so busy with their own thing that they don't think ahead. It's quite annoying.

3. Nobody told me that Edinburgh had such a deep connection with Harry Potter. So stumbling on shop after shop filled with wands and trinkets, I wanted to weep with joy.

4. Everybody sounds like Malcolm Tucker. (In the best possible way).

A twentieth century tale

Although I know I stated previously that I don't read much historical fiction, I am seeing a change of pattern. In fact, I can now confidently say that I do enjoy historical fiction, very much indeed. but Frances Liardet's We Must Be Brave is quite a different breed from my previous post, both in terms of period, topic, approach and style.

A word on the proof cover: I don't know if this will be kept for the hardback when it comes out in February next year, but kudos to the cover designer. Who, by the way, seems to be impossible to identify. Is this the case for most books? Should this change? Surely cover designers should be included in the proofs and finished books?

We Must Be Brave tells the story of Ellen Parr, a young wife who, during the bombing of Southampton in 1940, finds a little girl sleeping at the back of an empty bus. Unable to track down her parents, she takes little Pamela in - if only temporarily, until her real family shows up. Meanwhile, we learn about her past and marry it up with the present; and trace almost the entirety of the 20th century throughout the book, in the first half interchanging between present and past, and in the second half taking bigger jumps forward.

What did I like about it?

Liardet has a writing style that is extremely comfortable to read. I say comfortable because I never lingered; her sentences flow into one another, and there are no pauses or roadblocks. I wouldn't say her style is outstanding, but is very easy and well-structured - and therefore enjoyable.

Oddly enough, I enjoyed the sections about Ellen's past the most, as opposed to the main storyline. Hers is a fascinating story, going from luxury to extreme poverty and describing how a young girl adapts to these changing circumstances, how she gets her first job, the things she appreciates in life. Young Ellen is an interesting character - as well as her best friend, Lucy, who I found to be a complex personality with the most interesting sides to it, both in past and present sections.

In addition, Liardet's attention to detail really helps make this a believable piece of historical fiction (if not the war period itself, more the post-war times). She takes care to include everything from typical habits and hobbies to meals that would be cooked and household objects to be had: Ellen having to borrow black shoes for her first interview (and stockings); bread tins to bake loaves which would 'kiss' in the oven without them; dolls made out of pegs. It's all these little things that help construct a beautiful picture.

What was I not massively fond of?

I have to admit that in the multitude of characters that appear on the scene (often with more than one name to them) I had a bit of trouble remembering who's a friend, who's a foe and who's a dog. I often had to go back to double-check.

The character of Pamela - the little girl found on the bus - just did not work for me, both in terms of character and her relationship with Ellen. It might be that she's a typical eight-year-old, but because she seemed to show no reciprocity for Ellen's immense love, it was hard to believe that she would be the thing that crippled Ellen's soul for the rest of her life.

Which brings me to my third point: the aim of the story. I think Liardet juggles too many ideas at once in this book. All good ideas, mind you, but because she didn't give any of these enough spotlight, I think they overpower each other. There's the Ellen-Pamela relationship; there's the Ellen-Selwyn relationship (her husband) into which we hardly get any true insight; there's Ellen's character by itself, which turns sour in the second half of the book, although this isn't truly explained nor justified in my opinion. Then there's the fairly unnecessary Ellen-Mr Kennett relationship. His character felt like he'd just walked out of a Disney book, if I'm perfectly honest.

A point on the historical element: I think the war feels quite forced onto this book. It is there as a framework, but not much more, and it slowly drifts out of the picture without any true effect on the main characters or their lives. In the beginning, yes, there is bravery, and the effects are felt very strongly. It also affects the lives of some of the supporting characters. But as for the main storyline, I feel this could have been set in any period.

And a final thought: the last section on Ellen in 1974 could have been a tad shorter. Okay, perhaps quite a bit shorter.

Overall...

This is a good story and a good read - it's captivating and draws the reader in quite easily. However, I think the inconsistencies jumble the book up a bit, and what could have been a very touching, honest story instead turns into a platform for ambitious ideas.

None of the characters really resonated with me, and it left me asking too many questions. My main wonder is whether Pamela would really hold a grudge against Ellen, even as an adult, despite now understanding the circumstances under which she was finally taken away from the Parr household. I don't believe so - or if she would, then I should be right in not liking her, not one bit.

6/10