Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple

Jonathan Franzen said of this book: “I tore through this book with heedless pleasure.” Me too. It’s been a very long time since I sat on the couch and read a book right through. It’s utterly charming, slickly written (she’s a TV writer and it shows) and gripping enough to keep you going right through. It’s the story of Bee, her father Elgie and her mother Bernadette who all live in Seattle. They have a dysfunctional relationship to put it mildly but it’s a loving one. And the book it all about the complexities of their relationships. It’s funny and surprising and while it’s not literary fiction, it’s certainly fantastic fiction!

The Rehearsal by Eleanor Catton

Daunted by the size of the Luminaries, I decided to have a go at Eleanor Catton’s first novel instead. What a lovely writer she is. Her language is fabulous, so much so that you stop and re-read bits as you go. The story, while appearing quite simple, is actually a complicated tale of people exploring their sexuality, and developing relationships. It revolves around four main characters: Isolde, a young girl whose older sister has had an affair with a teacher at her school; her saxophone teacher; Stanley, a young drama student; and Julia, who goes to Isolde’s school and also learns saxophone from the same teacher. The dialogue is really odd. The further the book progresses the less sure you are about whether it’s someone actually speaking, or thinking about what they have said or might say in the future or under different circumstances. The timeframe is similarly odd, jumping around depending on whose point of view you’re experiencing at the time. There is a lot from the girls at school and I got about halfway through before it dawned on me that they are rather like a Greek chorus, more or less anonymous but mouthing the words that describe the action, what other people think, a commentary. The mothers who visit the saxophone teacher (who remains nameless all through the book) are similarly anonymous even though they have names. Their dialogue sums up attitudes and beliefs without them ever having an individual thought. I found this book utterly fascinating. I read it slowly, taking big breaks because you can’t really afford to leap ahead looking for the story, you must concentrate on the detail and you want to remember bits. In this way Catton’s writing reminds me a little of Julian Barnes.