Reviews and Comments

Four men, friends since childhood, come to grips with their modern way of life upon returning to Nigeria from years spent in other countries. The Interpreters, by the usually-poet Wole Soyinka, is funny, touching and compelling. The characters are intellectuals, and caricatures at times. Written as a whole generation around the world was entering what we can now recognise as massive states of change, this book doubles as an interesting historical document of ideas and attitudes told with the wry and witty voice of Soyinka.

The novel can be read as a series of vignettes with well-developed characters. It starts confusingly, mostly because there are a lot of people involved in a chaotic drinking scene. Like otherworldly figures, the friends seem for a while outside of the world of mortals, and then they increasingly become entangled in it. Each vignette is fascinating: a new power scheme for a village is cancelled by corruption; a high society party features plastic fruit-throwing; a faux religion made of criminals tries to reshape the world; a new philosophy of scatology is written.

Some of the delivery is dated (treatment of homosexual and female characters is insensitive, although not as poorly handled as many novels of the time) but other issues (modernity, race) are very cleverly placed as points of satire or story. Overall a brilliant, playful novel.

David Graeber is a master of taking a familiar idea, then leaving it precisely where it is, and moving you as a reader around it to see it from unexpected angles. In Debt he does this masterfully. Beginning with a critique of the moralistic perspective of debt ("one should pay one's debts"), followed with a sharp denial of a common claim by most modern economists (that barter preceded money), Graeber lays into five thousand years of economic history via meticulous research and his own brand of coy, enjoyable writing.

From an anthropological analysis of contemporary societies to a historical analysis that thankfully takes in European and non-European views, the book is appreciably ambitious. It seamlessly links debt and contemporary economics to war, plunder and violence, something that has been long discussed but rarely so eloquently. It is also not without its flaws or a few broad claims, but Graeber's way of writing was always to present a polemic argument that challenges a status quo. The final argument, well presented, infers that debt is maybe not as necessary as we all believe, or at least that it might be worth society trying to go without it for a little while.

Deborah Levy is a craftperson. Like in the Ancient Greek statues you can't see the marks of the chisel and the finished product looks effortless, but there is a life of craft and creativity hidden beneath the seamless veneer. Hot Milk is deceptively simple. It presents a maybe-hypochondriac mother Rose and her daughter Sofia (yes, wisdom), two English women sharing the Greek surname of Sofia's father.



The narration is mostly provided by Sofia. The story takes place in post-economic-crash Spain (and a little in Greece), where Rose is trying one last long-shot to find a cure for her legs, which don't work all the time. Sofia has cared for her since she was a child, and resents her position as carer. She seeks freedom but seems trapped as an anthropologist, doomed to observe. Her father ran away to his homeland years ago and now lives in Athens with a wife who is only a little older than Sofia, and a new baby daughter. In Spain, the (maybe quack) doctor Gómez, his daughter, two love interests and a couple of extras make up an ensemble cast, an entanglement of human, jellyfish and one dog actor who all play parts in this comic tragedy.



The familial struggles and simple concepts are a narrative base for a more interesting metaphorical play, and a clever use of classical storytelling to present a myth for our times.

Shaun Tan's imagination is superb. This is a book of short stories, essentially. Each chapter is a story of a different animal that sits in the most disjointed space of storytelling I have come across. The chapters each come with an image of a painting that visualises the ideas in the strange universe of Tan. The paintings are immaculate, both as narrative and craft, using line, colour and structure brilliantly to complement the writing.



It's near impossible to describe how this all plays out as an experience, other than it is a treat both in reading and visual. Fish that fly, bears with lawyers, pigeons doing economics, a yak in the snow, and dogs that wait...the stories are all different and each one opens a new world in just a few short pages. The writing and art are impeccable, and the analysis of the modern human condition through the eyes of uncanny animals is beautifully executed.

Annemarie Mol achieves two things in this book. First, she manages to make a text about living with diabetes, societally and individually, into something that is legible and fluid for someone who has no experience with this topic. Secondly, she constructs a whole theory (her Logic of Care) about how people can care for one another, and equally how people can care beyond one another, using living with diabetes as an example. To do this, succinctly, is a great achievement. To make it an enjoyable read is a bonus.



Mol contracts "care" with "choice". Her arguments are nuanced, and she is careful not to weight one over another, but instead highlight some of the problems with patients having complete choice (for example, over what medical equipment to buy), without having the care to go with it (guidance and personal advice from a nurse).



Her sensitivity to readers is also admirable, summarised in my favourite statement in the book: 'I want to avoid unmarked normality. To presume that you and I are healthy would go against the soul of what I seek to say.' (p11).

James Rebanks is a historian and farmer. English Pastoral is a memoir that presents a view of English farming beginning during his grandfather's farming days and ending in 2020 at the book's publication.



The book is divided into three parts, and these are subdivided into short sections that hold anecdotal tales or brief arguments about the benefits or problems with different farming practices. Rebanks presents a nuanced view, influenced by his reading of Rachel Carson and his life on his family's farm. The overall narrative is about striking a balance between industrialisation in farming and keeping traditions alive, presented with some suggestions for future farming in the last chapter.



The short sections can be enjoyable, but the writing is not very strong and the sections often jump from one topic to another or become repetitive, particularly in the first section. The book could easily have been edited down to about two thirds of its length. Also, as a character who is careful to maintain neutrality, Rebanks never acknowledges the extraordinary advantage he has with owning so much land (c. 185 acres) and just barely manages to acknowledge that women have a role in his tale. It's a difficult book - lively at times but overall a little disappointing.