Friday Five: Books read in June

 

Books read in June:

1. A Month of Sundays by Liz Byrski - it was left in my street library so I read it. Four people who have met as part of an on-line book group meet in person at a cottage in the Blue Mountains to take a month to talk about books – what bliss! The books they choose are supposed to “tell us all something significant about you”. They will then discuss the book, but of course, “it’s true that we all bring something of ourselves to what we read” so they learn more about each other as the book progresses. They are all reaching retirement age so they have the luxury of time, and they can indulge in self-reflection and learn more about female friendship and feminism. All of the books they choose are by celebrated and acclaimed novelists. They are also all white, Western and middle class. That’s definitely the territory in which we find ourselves, and there's not a lot of diversity, plot or character development.
2. Thanks for the Feedback by Douglas Stone & Sheila Heen - I listened to this as an audio-book while I was walking in the hills. The subtitle is The Science and Art of Receiving Feedback Well (even when it is Off Base, Unfair, Poorly Delivered, and, Frankly, You're Not in the Mood), which pretty much sums it up. We can all dish it out, but it's a lot tougher to take it, even when we ask for it. And yet we receive it all the time, from friends and family, colleagues, customers, coaches, bosses, doctors, teachers, and even random strangers. Feedback is essential for personal and professional development, yet we dread it because we don't want to be criticised. This book is really helpful in suggesting how to differentiate between appreciation, coaching, and evaluation; how to recognise that triggers that stop you from being open to feedback; and how to deal with feedback that is destructive, offensive or simply absurd. I'm trying to be calmer, more confident and a generally better person, but I think it's going to take more than this book.
3. The Borgias: The Hidden History by G. J. Meyer - Whenever an author claims a story is 'hidden' or 'untold', it usually isn't. I read this because I was travelling to Spain and wanted some historical context, and there is plenty in this (431-page) book. We’ve all heard of the Borgias, mainly due to reports of their depravity, ranging from torture and murder to insanity and incest. G.J. Meyer writes a rebuttal to all of that, as he questions whether they were really as bad as their reputation suggests. “The great challenge of Borgia history: the need to distinguish between what can be accepted as true or at least probable on the basis of credible evidence and what was fabricated after the fact but has been endlessly repeated because of its usefulness in showing yet another Borgia to have been odious.” Chapters are interspersed with ‘background’ information describing the situation at the time including topics such as the cultural history of Rome, the battle between church and sovereign, the creation of ambassadors, how to choose a pope, and every schoolchild’s favourite: The Western Schism and the anti-popes. It's a little but dry, but extremely informative.
4. A Clear Conscience by Frances Fyfield - Helen West is a prosecutor in domestic violence cases, and this is her fifth outing in novels by Frances Fyfield, although that is not obviously apparent from this edition. The fast-paced and bleak thriller is set in the world of back-street boozers, wife abusers, ex-boxers, and knock-off perfume. The crime is both petty and serious, as passion erupts into fights over office romance and much darker offences. The characters are criminals, cleaners, bar staff, ex-army personnel, lawyers, policemen and caseworkers. The writing style is almost breathless, and grammar seems optional as the prose gathers pace along with the narrative. The author constantly switches point of view so it appears to be third-person omniscient but we are always in the mind of the subject, blurring the lines between reality and perception. Written in 1994, the novel has an end-of-the-century feminism feel as the author questions women’s roles and their need to validate themselves in society. Although short and sharp, this is an oppressive novel in which women are struggling to stand alone without being defined by men – partners; bosses; social constructs. There is a menacing tone and a fear that they will never be enough – but by whose standards? 
5. Transcription by Kate Atkinson - In 1940, Juliet is employed by MI5 to transcribe recordings of meetings in a bugged flat between a group of fascist sympathisers and a man named Godfrey Toby, whom the fifth columnists believe is a Gestapo agent but is actually a British spy monitoring his informers. The second strand of the narrative, set in 1950, begins when Juliet – now working for the BBC – encounters Toby again, and his reappearance seems to trigger a series of reckonings for the lies she told during the war, and is possibly still telling. The style is almost stream-of-consciousness as we are informed of every fleeting thought of Juliet's permanently irritated inner monologue. It's full of Shakespearean references, repeated refrains, pithy sayings, and biting commentary on gender inequality, which feels too modern for the time.