FICTION – Letters from Athens

The Booker Prize shortlist

The Booker Prize season has come around again, and the shortlist has been published. Let me say at once that I have not read any of these books, but last year the list contained some pretty good stuff, so I am hopeful of a repeat, especially since Roddy Doyle is Chair of the 2025 judges and he knows a good story when he sees one.

I don’t suppose I will read them all, and I will look at some on the long list as well, but one I am looking forward to tackling is 700-page The Loneliness of Sonya and Sunny, by Kiran Desai (who has won it before in 2006 with The Inheritance of Loss.) It reminds me of another doorstop, A suitable Boy by Vikram Seth, which I devoured at the time. Many years in the making, it is an epic tale of love and life.

Flesh, by David Slazay, is (I quote the Booker Prize site): “A propulsive, hypnotic novel about a man who is unravelled by a series of events beyond his grasp.”

The Land in Winter, by Andrew Miller, is about two couples, a doctor, a farmer and their respective wives, whose lives are upended in the middle of a harsh winter landscape.

The Rest of Our Lives, by Ben Markovits, is about a middle aged academic who goes on a road trip after his wife has an affair, trying to escape his problems.

The last three all seem to be about lives unravelling. Hmm…it depends how each writer deals with the subject.

Audition, by Katie Kitamura, is about the relationship between two very different people: an attractive actress and a man young enough to be her son. Intriguing.

Flashlight, by Susan Choi, is a saga about a father’s mysterious disappearance and the reverberations of this event on his family.

All six authors are deep into their literary careers, with a number of books to their name and, besides previous winner Kiran Desai, Andrew Miller and David Szalay have been shortlisted before.

If (or when) any of you read any of these books, I will be glad of an opinion. In any case, a pile of new books is always enticing, even if at the moment it is not on my shelf but only on my screen.

In praise of Penelope Fitzgerald

My days, darkened by the quasi-permanent absence of sunlight, were unexpectedly lit up by the discovery I had somehow missed reading a couple of Penelope Fitzgerald’s books, although she has long been one of my favourite writers.

Penelope Fitzgerald died in 2000 aged 83. In 2008 The Times listed her among “the 50 greatest British writers since 1945”. The Observer in 2012 placed her final novel, The Blue Flower, among “the ten best historical novels”, and A.S. Byatt called her, “Jane Austen’s nearest heir for precision and invention.”

Fitzgerald’s books are short, but within a few pages her prodigious powers of imagination create whole worlds. In The Beginning of Spring, she manages to describe the minutiae of life in pre-Revolutionary Russia as if she had been born there. But the research is worn so lightly it is imperceptible.

The Blue Flower, about the poet Novallis, has always been one of my favourite books. Based on the life of Friedrich von Hardenberg (1772–1801) it describes the time when, aged 22, before he became famous under the name Novallis, he became mystically attracted to the 12-year-old Sophie Von Kühn, an unlikely choice for an intellectual of noble birth given Sophie’s age and lack of education and culture, as well as her physical plainness and negligible material prospects. The couple became engaged a year later but never married as Sophie died of consumption a few days after her 15th birthday. The book is sad, subtle and romantic.

One of the books I had not read yet is The Golden Child, which is actually a murder mystery (she did not include it in her novels) with such a biting sense of humour that I found myself laughing out loud. The book is set in a museum, where “Even in total silence one could sense the ferocious efforts of the highly cultured staff trying to ascend the narrow ladder of promotion.” A perfect phrase if there ever was one. Or the description of the characters, even their names: “Hawthorne-Mannering, the Keeper of Funerary Art, was an exceedingly thin, well-dressed, disquieting person, pale, with movements full of graceful suffering, like the mermaid who was doomed to walk upon knives. Born related, or nearly related, to all the great families of England (who wondered why, if he was so keen on art, he didn’t take up a sensible job at Sotheby’s), and seconded to the Museum from the Courtauld, he was deeply pained by almost everything he saw about him.”

Her third novel, Offshore, won the Booker Prize in 1979. Based on her own years of living on an old sailing barge moored at Battersea Reach, it is about the mixed emotions of houseboat dwellers who live between the water and the land, fully belonging to neither.

Although she launched her literary career late, at the age of 58, Fitzgerald wrote nine novels, plus several biographies, short stories and articles. She had a hard life because due to her husband’s alcoholism she faced poverty, living for years in a houseboat which sank twice, and in public housing. She taught until the age of 70. Would she have been as good if she’d had an easy life? I think probably yes, because she was born in a scholarly family: she was the daughter of Edmund Knox, later editor of Punch, and Christina, daughter of Edward Hicks, Bishop of Lincoln and one of the first female students at Oxford. She was a niece of the theologian and crime writer Ronald Kox, the cryptographer Dillwyn Knox, the Bible scholarWilfred Knox, and the novelist and biographer Winifred Peck. She obviously also had great inherent talent.

She remains a unique, luminous voice in the literary firmament. I highly recommend her to anyone wanting to immerse themselves in her world.

We are made of Earth: a book for our times

A man and a boy, sole survivors of an inflatable boat full of refugees, wash up on a remote and unnamed Greek island. Before long they come upon the incongruous sight of a grazing elephant. It turns out the animal belongs to a circus which is stranded on the island due to its owner’s debts, but the owner still takes the strangers in and gives them food and shelter.

The boy, Jamil, who has lost his family at sea, dotes on the man, Mokdad, who has saved him. Mokdad feels responsible for the boy, but dislikes him and keeps him at arm’s length. The circus owners are, in a way, immigrants themselves—or, at least, aliens on the island—but still manage to provide for the strangers out of their meager means.

When more refugees arrive on the island, Mokdad avoids them, even though they are compatriots who speak his language. He feels guilt about having fled his country, and about an incident that happened at sea.

This slim volume, written by Greek-born author Panos Karnezis, deals in a terse but evocative manner with themes of alienation, hospitality (philoxenia, as it is called in Greek, being the antithesis of xenophobia), life and death decisions, courage and cowardice. Nothing is as it seems at first, and yet the novel brims with compassion. None of the characters are particularly likeable; even the child seems strangely unaffected by the death of his family. In fact the most likeable character, to me, is the elephant, who is also a migrant in an alien land, but is totally innocent. She is sad and lonely, but ever dignified, and makes us care the most about her fate.

The narrative is spellbinding. The physical details of the island are described sparsely but so evocatively that, for a Greek at least, they ring vividly true. As does the difficulty humans feel in connecting with each other.

Karnezis was born in Greece in 1967, and came to England in 1992 to study engineering. After working in industry, he studied for an MA in Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia. His first book, Little Infamies (2002), was a collection of connected short stories set in a nameless Greek village. This is his fifth.

Karnezis is a brilliant storyteller, and this book will stay with you for days after you’ve turned the last page. Its theme is a very current one, but he deals with it in a delicate and original way. Highly recommended.