This is my review of No Time Like the Present by Nadine Gordimer.

Having admired years ago Nadine Gordimer's anti-apartheid novels which won her the 1991 Nobel Prize for Literature, I was impressed to find that, approaching ninety, she is still writing, dissecting the state of "free" South Africa.

This is the tale of a mixed-race couple adjusting to a world in which they no longer need to conceal their relationship, but also find that the freedom to make choices and lead a "normal" life often highlights cultural differences they did not notice when plotting undercover dissidence, plus there is the growing realisation that their new black leaders succeeding Mandela are often deeply flawed and corrupt, to such an extent that it might even be preferable to emigrate, the supreme irony in view of what Steve and Jabu have sacrificed for their country.

Although I wanted to like this book, to learn from Gordimer's deep knowledge and insights into South Africa, the stream of consciousness style proved a barrier that soon became insuperable. When I managed to tune into the fragmented phrases alternating with garrulous paragraphs, I could see that I was being enabled to sense the characters' diverse, fleeting thoughts as directly as if they were my own. However, the reading process becomes an exhausting labour rather than a stimulating pleasure, with the too frequent distraction of phrases that are oddly convoluted to no purpose, and dizzy-making switches from one heavy subject allusion to another.

Gordimer's style seems to have evolved over the decades, so one has to assume the current phase is deliberate. The prose reads as if written or typed "as it comes" without any attempt at honing or editing. In the end, I decided with great reluctance to abandon the effort for the time being – a great pity since there is a need for thought-provoking novels on the new South Africa based on first hand observation and understanding.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

This is my review of The Lifeboat by Charlotte Rogan.

This opens with Grace Winter on trial for some unspecified crime on board a lifeboat after the sinking of a luxury liner en route from England to the States in 1914. We expect murder at least and possibly cannibalism. Since a plea of insanity may be the best option, Grace is asked by her lawyers to write a detailed account of events on Lifeboat 14. This is a good literary device, although it requires the reader to suspend disbelief that a recent survivor of a prolonged trauma would be capable of producing such a coherent and analytical record – Grace may of course be an unreliable narrator.

Charlotte Rogan is very ambitious in her decision to interweave Grace’s recollections of events on Lifeboat 14 with those of her earlier life, aboard the ship before it sank, and details of the trial afterwards. This courts the risk of defusing moments of high drama and the effects of the oppressive hardship on the lifeboat, day after day, as well as that of confusing the reader. In the event, I found the gradual revelation of events intriguing, even if it was disappointing to find some threads unresolved rather than somehow woven into the denouement.

I agree with reviewers who feel that the full horror of the experience is at times underplayed, but the author succeeds in showing the changing relationships between the passengers, the shifting power play, the way gossip morphs into facts which can be used to depose a failing leader. Although these issues could have been developed more fully, Rogan prompts us to reflect on what makes a survivor, the extent to which the normal codes by which we live are a veneer, the situations in which killing some people to save a large number overall could ever be justified.

I found this book a page turner, despite reservations that at the most dramatic points, or when discussing complex philosophical points, the prose, although clear and accessible, does not seem quite equal to the task, if you set the bar at a high level. I did not mind Grace’s rather pragmatic, analytical approach nor the lack of the kind of crazy, poetical fantasy one finds in the lifeboat of “Jamrach’s Menagerie” since Grace’s thinking represents that of a “born survivor”. This is intimated by her honest admission that, after the financial ruin of her husband, she planned the seduction of the wealthy Henry Winter away from his long-term fiancée to marry her instead.

I felt that the quality of the writing tails off a little in the final chapters which seem a little too disjointed. The book might have benefited from being longer to give more scope to develop its complex themes, or perhaps it would have been enough to work more on the prose in some key chapters.

As a first novel, this is very impressive. For plot and insight, this book scores highly and the prose is just adequate to sustain these.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 Stars

This is my review of Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan.

"My name is Serena Frome….and almost forty years ago I was sent on a secret mission for the British security service. I didn't return safely. Within eighteen months…I was sacked having disgraced myself and ruined my lover."

These opening sentences hooked me, although I might have preferred not to know all this information in advance. Then, I found myself trying to engage with Serena as I waded through page after page of dense description of the "telling" variety, in the voice of a sixty-something, upper middle-class woman looking back to her early life with a somewhat cold objectivity as if writing about someone else – a voice which I did not find quite convincing (an interesting point to debate when you have finished the book). Small things bothered me, such as the way Serena always referred to her father as "the Bishop", or did not bother to go to one of his services during a visit home at Christmas. Surely even an atheist daughter would make it to a carol service for old times' sake? Or her parents would have had something to say?

I kept reading only because the writer is the celebrated Ian McEwan, and being about the same age as him and Serena it was interesting to be reminded of the political and social ferment of the `70s which I did not fully appreciate at the time, so I wonder how much Serena's lists of events and comments on them mean to younger readers.

This novel seems to fall between three stools. Presented as some kind of spy thriller, it proves somewhat low key and unexciting. This could be realistic in that a young woman in the MI5 of the 70s was likely to be given only mundane tasks, but does not make for a great read. As a sometimes polemical take on the life and times of the 1970s, this novel might have made more impact as a series of Jonathan Raban type essays. It may succeed best as being in fact another sort of novel altogether about the art of writing. In this respect, Serena's analysis of her lover's ingenious short stories provides one of the most interesting aspects of the novel, although I felt no doubt unintentionally patronised by the suggestion that someone like Serena who loves reading but has never studied English may be impeded by not knowing how to "read" a challenging text.

The final twist may redeem the book a little, but I did not find "Sweet Tooth" as original as say "Enduring Love" nor as well-constructed as " The Innocent".

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

This is my review of The Lighthouse (SALT MODERN FICTION) by Alison Moore.

In an attempt to take his mind off his failed marriage, the oddly named Futh (this appears to be both a German surname and urban slang) leaves England for a short walking holiday along the Rhine, but this only gives him too much time to brood on his sad childhood, dominated by his mother leaving home when he was about twelve. On his first evening at the ominous-sounding Hellhaus – literally "light house" – Hotel, Futh meets Ester with a parallel tale of an unhappy marriage and the price of passive acceptance of life.

In deceptively simple, plain and painstaking, unpretentious prose, Alison Moore dissects Futh's appearance, his thoughts, motivations, the events which have shaped him. All this is conveyed through his memories, behaviour, conversations with others, so we may come to different conclusions since the author never tells us what to think. Even the dramatic climax is ambiguous.

I believe the author has had success writing short stories, and this is very evident in the way that most incidents are like small, self-contained stories in their own right. In what is still a relatively short first novel, Moore has managed to produce what proves to be a tightly-structured overarching narrative, even if Futh seems to be bumbling around, often lost, much of the time.

Some readers have found Futh intolerably dull and the novel too mundane, but you could argue that the whole point is to make a very ordinary and in some ways unappealing man the subject of a story which may have all the pathos and ironical chain of cause and effect of a more flamboyant tragedy. Moore displays the power of an understated story, on a par with a first-rate minimalist painting or musical score.

There is perhaps a little too much symbolism e.g. the heavy use made of Muriel Spark's description of "the tall lighthouse sending out kindly beams which some took for welcome instead of warnings against the rocks" or the Venus flytraps. I admit this is not a page-turner, except towards the end when I knew that the "something bad" indicated at the beginning was about to occur. If you like action-packed thrillers or romance, this is not the book for you. It is also deeply sad, definitely not "feel-good", although Futh's continual failures – even the ducks don't want to eat his bread- is just about saved from becoming unendurable through the narrator's frequent flashes of wry humour. At times, I was reminded of Mr. Bean.

I agree that it is hard to believe that Angela would marry a man like Futh, but since she is seen through his eyes, we know he is too damaged himself to be capable of empathising with her or grasping the complexity of the emotions which drove her to marry him. In the same way, his perception of his relationship with Kenny is clouded by his own emotional stunting. All this may demonstrate the subtlety of Moore's writing, when you pause to think about it.

I admire this novel without much liking it, and suggest it as a good choice for a book group if you are interested in discussing the craft of writing, debating what makes a good ending, and understanding polarised viewpoints.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 Stars

This is my review of Swimming Home by Deborah Levy.

A beautiful, mentally sick young woman is caught swimming naked in the pool of a French villa rented by a famous poet, his dysfunctional little family, his wife's old school friend and her unappealing husband. Why is the young woman invited to stay when this is so clearly unwise? Just what form will the inevitable resultant tragedy take? Or will it simply prove to be a lightweight farce?

Although this may not be an entirely original scenario, there is plenty of scope for a compelling drama for which the author creates a cast of potentially interesting characters. The plot is revealed obliquely, in short chapters with continually changing viewpoints, disjointed scenes like fragments of glass which are often quite surreal. This approach may be what led to the Man Booker shortlisting, but combined with a style that flits in a sometimes jarring fashion between parody and caricature, psychological drama and even a touch of magic realism, the result left me feeling unengaged with and unmoved by the main characters, although I thought the adolescent Nina and the lonely old doctor observing them all from her balcony were well drawn.

At first, I was annoyed by the author's habit of telling the reader too soon and too baldly what is going to happen. I later realised that she is often setting red herrings in our path, which could be quite clever, except that the climax proves too abrupt and inadequately foreshadowed and explained. Then the final chapter seems too much of a sentimental footnote.

I think the book may improve on a second reading, but it was seriously marred for me by a lack of subtlety in the development and some surprisingly gauche prose, which read as if the author wrote what first came into her head without any reflection and redrafting. These factors would have caused me to give up midway if the novel had not been so short and Booker-listed. I believe that Deborah Levy has achieved success as a playwright and perhaps this story would work well on the stage, although it would be hard to create the sets for some of the locations which add flavour to the story.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars

This is my review of The Map of Love by Ahdaf Soueif.

Lonely and at a loose end after her return to Cairo, Amal assists the thirty-something American Isabel Parkman to translate some of the papers left by her great-grandmother Lady Anna Winterbourne who married an Egyptian nationalist a century before at a time of great political unrest when Egypt was still "under the yoke" of the British Empire. Fascinated by Anna, Amal begins to reconstruct her story, although it is often hard to know where fantasy ends and real scenes from the past begin. To a lesser extent, she applies the same approach to Isabel's meetings with Amal's suave elder brother with whom she is becoming infatuated.

The prospect of gaining a perspective on Egyptian history and politics seen through the eyes of an Egyptian woman, the author Ahdaf Soueif, is what drew me to this book, although I agree that the combination of somewhat soft-centred romance with serious historical and political comment may cause it to fall between two stools. The theme of examining love affairs between different cultures across generations against a complex political background is very ambitious, and perhaps the price paid is that the reader's attention is stretched over too many people, rather than engaged with a few fully developed central characters.

The author's style may be typically middle eastern and therefore all part of the experience to be gained, but I found my growing impatience with it a real barrier to reading the book. Despite my strong desire to like this novel, I felt smothered by its embroidered wordiness, the often banal dialogues and overdetailed descriptions as a substitute for dramatic action, the convoluted structure clanking back and forth in time. At one point Soueif goes off at a tangent on the nature of colour and the impossibility of defining the point at which, say, blue becomes green. Why not simply express this fascinating idea in a few pithy words on the lines of, "How strange that one cannot see exactly when blue turns into green"?

This is, as a reviewer described another of her books, an acquired taste. If you enjoy long, slow, rambling, gentle even in the midst of violence, reflective family sagas with frequent little digressions this may well appeal. Also, apart from its length, this could be a good choice for a book group as it provides scope for discussion of both plot and style, and is likely to divide opinion.

⭐⭐⭐ 3 Stars