Book after Book

By Rose Tremain Published by Vintage Synopsis: Wallis Simpson, the twice-divorced American woman for whom Edward Vlll abdicated in 1936, ended her life as the prisoner of her lawyer who would not allow anyone - friend, foe or journalist - to visit her in her Paris flat. Rose Tremain takes this true story and transforms it into an imaginative and ironic fiction. Her thesis is that Wallis, gaga and bed-ridden, has forgotten the king who gave up an empire for love of her.  The other stories in this magnificent collection range over a variety of themes, equally original and unexpected. An East German border guard, redundant after the Berlin Wall comes down in 1989, imagines that he might still have a purpose in life: he tries to reach Russia by bicycling across the hostile wastes of Poland. A jilted man gets his revenge. A baby grows wings. A character in an Impressionist painting escapes from his 'frame' - or does he? And there's a Christmas story set in a seedy hotel…...

By Alexander McCall Smith   Synopsis: There are times when ladies must use all their wisdom and good sense to face life's problems and mysteries. With his trademark gift for storytelling, international bestselling author Alexander McCall Smith brings us five tales of love, heartbreak, hope and the cleverness of ladies. How did this book end up in my hands? I borrowed it from the library in view of a short train journey. I don’t read on electronic devices if I can help it and this little book was a perfect fit for my handbag. Was it a page-turner? You know how easy it is to finish a whole punnet of cherries in one go because you just can’t stop? Well, these five short stories are like cherries! Having read the synopsis, did the book meet my expectations? I didn’t even read the synopsis. The name Alexander McCall Smith was all I needed to want to read this book. Did I like the ending? Every short story has the perfect ending. Did the book leave me with unanswered ques...

Am I too late to write a post about my top 5 books in 2017?  Yes? No? I can't hear you so I'll just go ahead! Without further ado, here are the books I loved last year: 1) The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga Very simplistically, it could be described as a rag to riches story with the Indian caste system thrown in. Absolutely fascinating. I couldn't put it down.  2) Big Brother by Lionel Shriver This should really be in joint first place. Adoring sister helps obese brother get back on the right track. I drank every word of this book only to find myself chocking at the end. Only McEwan's Atonement has had this effect on me so far and that's another book I love! 3) Gloria by Kerry Young This was a book group read and I spent the first 50 pages wondering how on earth I would be able to read the Jamaican dialect it was written in. I just wanted to correct grammar and spelling - and I'm not even an English native speaker. And then it happened: Glo...

B y Charlotte Perkins Gilman Published by Penguin Group Synopsis: Based on the author's own experiences, The Yellow Walkkpaper is the chilling tale of a woman driven to the brink of insanity by the 'rest cure' prescribed after the Birth of her child. Isolated in a crumbling colonial mansion, in a room with bars on the windows, the tortuous patter of the yellow wallpaper winds its way into the recesses of her mind. How did this book end up in my hands? This book has been on my TBR list for many years and I decided to gift it to myself in January. Was it a page-turner? Yes, the three short stories in the book are all equally thrilling. Having read the synopsis, did the book meet my expectations? All three short stories in this edition ( The Yellow Wall-Paper , The Rocking Chair , Old Water ) have definitely exceeded expectations. Did I like the ending? Yes, all three endings were unexpected and perfect. Did the book leave me with unanswered questions? I would...

By Alan Bennett Published by Profile Books I first came across Alan Bennett’s writing a few years ago, when The Uncommon Reader was published. I don’t know why I’ve waited so long to repeat such a pleasant experience but I’m so glad to have come across Smut on its recent release in paperback. First published in April 2011, Smut is composed of two stories: The Greening of Mrs Donaldson and The Shielding of Mrs Forbes . In the former, Mrs Donaldson has a complete change of lifestyle when her husband dies, thus bringing a dull marriage to an end. To make ends meet, she starts working at the hospital as a patient simulator, participating in medical training scenarios. She also takes in lodgers: a couple who, despite not playing loud music, are not perfect and are often in arrears with the rent. But who said that a non-monetary arrangement cannot be worked out? Mrs Donaldson soon finds out that acting, for her, is not limited to the hospital environment. And she likes it! The Mrs Forbes...

By Alois Hotschnig Translated by Tess Lewis Published by Peirene Press First published in German in 2006, Maybe This Time was published yesterday in English thanks to the efforts of translator Tess Lewis and enlightened publisher Peirene Press. The author, Alois Hotschnig, is considered to be one the most important contemporary short story writers in the German language and his books have won several literary prizes. This little volume, which, like all other Peirene titles, promises to be “thought-provoking, well designed and short”, doesn’t fail to deliver. To properly savour each short story, I set out to read only one each day rather than one after the other. I did well but didn’t always succeed because some of the short stories just made me want to see what else Hotschnig had in store. Which boundaries he would break next. I normally get frustrated by short stories because I feel that – despite the clue being in their name – they end too soon, just as I’m getting involved and want...

It's time to say goodbye to our heroine, Senor Fernandez and Juan... The Zoo Keeper Part 10 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams At last he spoke again. ‘When the animals were all killed, the people wanted to forget, to pretend the past never existed, that the memories of Fascism, of the killings, belonged to a different place, another landscape. So, for the month of the anniversary of the death of Franco, I play recordings of their roars, their bellows, and screeches to remind people of what humans are capable of, to remind them of the past that they would rather didn’t exist at all.’ His eyes opened wide and for a short moment I thought I saw a yellow glint in them, before he blinked and waved his hands at us, ushering us out of the room. His neck retreated into folds of flesh as he slept, snoring like a hippo wallowing in shallow water. Juan knocked back his brandy and stood. ‘The old man gets very tired these days,’ he said. ‘Then we must leave.’ I bent to kiss Senor Fernadez on hi...

Don't let anybody disturb you while Senor Fernandez continues recounting the zoo's past... The Zoo Keeper Part 9 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams ‘Did you know the mayor?’ I asked. Finger to lips, Juan looked at me. ‘You must let him talk. He doesn’t get much chance these days to tell people about the zoo.’ I nodded. Senor Fenandez continued. ‘And so, the people of this city began to think of the animals in the zoo as representing themselves. They were the oppressed, the imprisoned in their lives of obedience, of poverty and deprivation, as the animals were imprisoned in their cages. When the animals howled and roared, desperate for their freedom, so did the people of the city. When they stared into the eyes of the caged lion, they saw themselves. But I fed the animals, I soothed them when they were ill, I watered them in the height of summer.’ I looked up at a picture of young apes wrestling in their enclosure and remembered my uncle. I thought of how he had been made fun of b...

Are you ready to find out about the history of the zoo? The Zoo Keeper Part 8 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams ‘Some people,’ Senor Fenandez said to me. ‘Are frightened of themselves. They think that if they change their outer appearance, their memories will vanish like the steam of a train as it chugs round a corner. But memories should pass from generation to generation. They must be kept alive, so that we can prevent it from happening again. So it is possible to learn from mistakes.’ For a long moment, his eyes closed and I thought perhaps he’d fallen asleep. ‘Juan will take over from me when I’ve gone,’ he said. ‘ And the zoo?’ I asked. ‘What happened to the zoo? Why-’ ‘Senor Fenandez will explain.’ Juan poured out three shots of brandy, handed them round. The old man scrutinized Juan, then drank his brandy ‘In 1960,’ Senor Fenandez said, ‘the mayor of this town, one of Franco’s men, ordered that the park should be turned into a zoo. He had grand ideas of self-importance, he though...

Are we going to trust the man in the park and follow him? Read on to find out... The Zoo Keeper Part 7 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams We left by an exit I’d not noticed before, where the apartments were older than mine, leaning in on each other, with rusted iron railings on balconies where sheets, towels and underwear hung out to dry. A lead stretched between the buildings dipping across the narrow street; a dog lay in the dust, its mouth slack, tongue lolling. The man turned into one of the buildings, waiting at the entrance and my heart began to pound. We climbed two flights of stairs. Standing at a little distance away from him, I watched as he opened an apartment door. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ I insisted on the door staying open. Rolling his eyes, he left the door ajar for me. I followed him into a shadowed room overlooking the street. Black and white photos of animals were stuck to the walls: a zebra, an elephant, a lioness, a tiger,...

A man is broadcasting zoo sounds across the park! What is he up to? The Zoo Keeper Part 6 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams Very slowly, he turned round to face me, just as the sounds of monkeys hooting, reverberated round the park. ‘Aha, a tourist,’ he said. I corrected him, noticing him stifling a yawn. The man was smaller than me with a head of disorderly curls and dark skin. ‘They kept me awake, these roars, all the animal sounds. I thought there must be a zoo.’ I said. ‘Why? Is it some sort of joke?’ ‘I can explain,’ he said. ‘Please do,’ I said in my teacher voice. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if he had just woken. ‘Better still follow me. Then you will understand. For some people it is important. For others…’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t possibly-’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Well. I don’t know you for a start.’ ‘You are frightened of me?’ The murmur of voices from the restaurant was dissipating, replaced by the clatter of plates ...

Ok, let's go and explore the park... The Zoo Keeper Part 5 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams I wandered over to the park, to the restaurant with its striped blue and white parasols. Waiters rushed from table to table, balancing plates as if executing part of a juggling technique, careful not to sweat too much, tea towels slung over an arm. Fish, lentils, rice, succulent juice from roasting, frying, or boiling, wine glasses never allowed to fall empty. The customers chatted and drank, preparing for their afternoon of love and slumber. I drifted past, following the path that wound round the park, trying to find a bit that I’d missed the day before. But I couldn’t imagine how a zoo could possibly function in a park of this size. I turned a corner in the park. There was a loud roar. Close this time. And another. I backed in the direction of the restaurant and the park gates. My hands were beginning to sweat and I broke into a run. I would go home and take a siesta. I wo...

Today is the official beginning of the " Italy in Books " reading challenge 2011 and I want to celebrate it by sharing a short and intriguing piece written by an Italian friend, Lara. She composed this as part of an assignment for her creative writing group, Terremoti di Carta , and has kindly agreed to having it published on Book After Book . I apologise to those of you who don't speak Italian. I want this blog to be as inclusive as possible but sometimes the choice is between sharing something that will be understood by a minority of people and not sharing it at all. In this case, the decision was easy; this is too good to be left out only because it's not available in English. So, here it goes... La mattina era uggiosa, cielo grigio e nuvole gonfie di pioggia. Attendevo che arrivasse il treno che mi avrebbe catapultato, come ogni giorno, nelle mie quotidiane incombenze. Eccolo, puntuale o quasi, al binario; salgo facendomi largo tra tanti altri pendolari e...

Do you think we are finally going to find out the truth about the zoo? The Zoo Keeper Part 4 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams She giggled and ran out of the room with her class mates. The director was at the door. ‘So your class went well, did it?’ she asked. She glanced around my room at the abandoned books scattered on the floor, up at the white board where I’d written out the learnt phrases. ‘A little different from where you used to teach, isn’t it?’ For a year, I’d taught in a hot dry southern city famous for its Moorish palace with fountains and domes rising to the sky like blown-up balloons. Beautiful though the palace was, I’d found the metropolitan hub too noisy, with its screeching cars speeding past my bedroom window every night. From a hamlet on the edge of Dartmoor, my tolerance for traffic noise was low. The director and I chatted about the class. All the time, I was checking the pauses in our conversation, searching for an opportunity. It didn’t c...

We have arrived in front of the school. Let's step in... The Zoo Keeper Part 3 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams Inside the school, the walls were covered in tiles. Red and green, like a sunset on a northern sea, they shimmered in the half-light of the shuttered room. The school director was pleasant enough, a Catalan woman with dyed blonde hair, protruding teeth and a strong belief that the entire Spanish population should become conversant in English so that the works of Shakespeare and Chaucer could be fully understood. Her love of language was derived from her father’s defiance during the Franco years, his insistence that she learn Catalan and study the great Catalan poets. She had travelled in England and visited Kipling’s house; after my interview for the teaching job, she’d exulted over the illustrations for his Jungle Book. And so, as I stood on the threshold of the school, adjusting my eyes to the cool interior, I thought she would be just the person to ask abou...

Welcome back! Are you ready to find out what the barman knows? The Zoo Keeper Part 2 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams ‘I didn’t realise there was a zoo in the park,’ I said to him in my exquisitely pronounced Spanish, learnt in an English university. He spent a great deal of time polishing a glass, rubbing and chafing it with a cloth until it squeaked like a frightened mouse. ‘There is no zoo,’ he said in a deliberate voice. ‘But I heard a lion’s roar in the middle of the night.’ I saw that his left eye was starting to twitch. ‘It came from just over there.’ I pointed to the park. ‘Dogs,’ he said. He licked his finger and smoothed down his moustache. ‘No zoo.’ I wanted to question him further, to engage him in a conversation about zoos. For I knew about zoos: my uncle had been a zoo keeper. A kindly man with hair sprouting, multi layered like an orangutan and eyes the same colour as a seal’s coat, his job was to look after the ape house. It is said that ...

It is with great pleasure that I am able to present The Zoo Keeper , a short story by Brighton-based author Amanda Sington-Williams . The story will be serialised on Book After Book twice weekly over the next five weeks. It has been read at Short Fuse live literature events at Brighton Komedia and is also available in downloadable format from Ether Books . So, are you sitting comfortably? Then let’s begin… The Zoo Keeper Part 1 of 10 By Amanda Sington-Williams It was before dawn when the first growl wove through my dream. A few minutes later a howl startled me out of sleep. I hurried over to the balcony that overlooked the park. This was my first night in my new apartment and it was the balcony with its balustrades and pots of flowering geraniums that had first attracted me to it. Chosen out of dozens advertised for renting in the local Spanish newspaper, the aspect was just what I was looking for. After I’d unpacked, I’d taken a walk round the park: a playground, a ...

This is such perfect timing! To celebrate my " Italy in Books " reading challenge 2011, Jeanette Winterson has kindly agreed to read The Night Driver , a short story written in 1967 by the famous Italo Calvino. OK, maybe that's just wishful thinking! Jeanette Winterson is simply one of the authors taking part in the Guardian's podcast to introduce their favourite short story by another writer. I believe that the English version is a translation from the Italian by William Weaver and it begins like this: As soon as I am outside the city I realize night has fallen. I turn on my headlights. So click here , sit back, close your eyes and enjoy the drive...