"Excellent Women" by Barbara Pym - book review

Barbara Pym has been on my radar for a while, ever since I read about her correspondence with Philip Larkin. The fact that he was a champion of her work means something. She came back to my attention earlier this year when my father-in-law, Tom, recommended an old BBC programme called Miss Pym’s Day Out, starring Patricia Routledge, which we watched on iPlayer, a weird fictionalized documentary about her nomination for the Booker Prize for Quartet in Autumn in 1977 on the back of endorsements from Larkin and Lord David Cecil after a 14-year hiatus when her publisher refused her manuscripts because she was too old-fashioned for the 60s. I'd also been saving the Backlisted podcast episode about Excellent Women, which I listened to after watching the TV programme. Then, when we were in Wales for my birthday in early May, we raided the shelves of the bung for all the Pym we could find, plus Fran bought this lovely Virago paperback edition of Excellent Women.

I'm glad I've been saving Pym until now. I'm not sure I would have appreciated her fully as an undergraduate. She is delightful. Her subject matter, on the surface, may be about spinsters, church gossip, jumble sales, clergymen's daughters and wives, learned societies, and endless cups of tea; but it's so much more than that. She has the clear and crisp, unfussy prose of Nevil Shute and W. Somerset Maugham; the heartachingly unrequited love of my lost 20s. Her characters live and breathe off the page and stay with you for the duration of your reading and then linger with you.

There is something very quaint and dated about the era she describes: London shortly after the war, when men were still returning from Europe; churches are partially in ruins but are still filled by keen congregations; women were very definitely subjugated by men, always expected to bear the burdens of domestic labour, but not without protest, however private.

There is a plot: new neighbours, a fractious marriage, the vicar getting engaged, invitations to lunch with various men who may or may not be interested in marriage. But the plot isn't really the point. It is nevertheless compelling reading in its delightfully digestable 10-page chapters - perfect for reading one or two over breakfast and lunch. A very fine companion. Utterly Pymsical. I'm looking forward to much more Pym in the weeks, months, and years to come.

"A Carnival of Snackery: Diaries: Volume Two" by David Sedaris - audiobook review

This second volume of David Sedaris's diaries (2003-2020) follows on from Theft by Finding (1977-2002). His life is much more settled. He lives in France, England, and New York; and travels widely across the US, Europe, and east Asia. His career as a writer and performer is routine, with regular book tours. Much of his material comes from his travels (particularly his drivers) and from his interactions with people who stand in line to get their books signed. This audiobook version is narrated both by David Sedaris and Tracey Ullman. Initially I found the switching between two voices a bit uneven and distracting, but I eventually got used to it and appreciated that Tracey Ullman could do a more varied range of non-US English accents. A very enjoyable and funny listen, which made me laugh out loud numerous times. The 17+ hours whizzed by.

"How to Watch Football: 62 Rules for Understanding the Beautiful Game, On and Off the Pitch" by Tifo - The Athletic - book review

I really enjoyed this short picture book. Some of the stuff was a bit obvious, but I actually learned quite a lot about modern football. The game has changed since my heyday in the 90s. I've enjoyed the Tifo videos on YouTube for a while. Intelligent analysis and a real artistic style. I zoomed through this book in a couple of days. It kinda left me wanting more: a bit more depth on interesting topics. Worth a read for anyone: both experienced and inexperienced football fans.

"Tilting at Windmills: How I Tried to Stop Worrying and Love Sport" by Andy Miller - book review

I've been wanting to read this ever since I finished Andy Miller's The Year of Reading Dangerously. It was quite hard to get hold of: I could only find it secondhand, which is probably because it's slightly dated (originally published in 2002). I'm glad I read it though. It's a non-fiction book about someone who doesn't like sport but forces himself to watch and play it for a year. Andy Miller's hatred of sport stems from being humiliated at school - particularly when he tried to make the hockey team. Over the course of a year he goes to the Boat Race, watches Queens Park Rangers Football Club, and plays a lot of minigolf. It reminded me a bit of Lynn Truss's Get Her Off the Pitch! (2009). In some ways, it's like a travel book: a foreigner visits a foreign land. I understand why some people don't like sport and feel alienated from it. But I'm not one of them. That said, there are times when I go off certain sports for a time. It's funny and entertaining. The best bits were about his love of minigolf, which takes him to international tournaments in Denmark and Latvia.

"My Family: The Memoir" by David Baddiel - audiobook review

David Baddiel is incredibly good company in this audiobook. It made me laugh and cry. I felt like I was missing out by not having the physical book because it is full of photos of his family and his mum's golf memorabilia, but I love the way that Baddiel stops reading at these moments and casually and unscriptedly describes the image, like a rambling and lovingly composed HTML alt attribute. He invited me to go and look at the images in a bookshop, which I might well do.

This is the book version of his My Family: Not the Sitcom theatre show. It's mostly about his parents, Sarah and Colin Baddiel, a bit about his brothers, Ivan and Dan. Sarah had a long-running affair with a man called David White, a pipe-smoking golfing enthusiast and memorabilia dealer. Colin seemed not to notice or care. Both of them were neglectful by today's parenting standards, but, as Nora Ephron would say, they provide good copy. Sarah was shameless in the broadcasting of her sexuality ("My clitoris is on fire!"). David admits he spent much of his 30s in therapy. Sarah died 7 years before her husband, who had dementia and Pick's disease, which exaggerated his worst qualities of rudeness and swearing - often hilariously.

I've always liked David Baddiel. He played an important part in the formation of my sense of humour via The Mary Whitehouse Experience and Fantasy Football League with Frank Skinner. I remember that my brother, Gregory, read his first novel, Time for Bed, which seems to be the thinly fictionalized version of this memoir. I admire his thoughtfulness and honesty. He admits in this book that he has to tell the truth and lacks the common Jewish trait of shame, which leads to some funny anecdotes about his life as a celebrity.

I zoomed through this book in a few days, often smiling and laughing as I listened on my daily walks around the estate. It's touching and moving - particularly towards the end when he describes the death of both his parents and a beloved cat. But some of the biggest laughs come in these dark times. May you live a long life. What a great hang!

"The Restaurant at the End of the Universe" by Douglas Adams - book review

This is the second book in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series by Douglas Adams. It's more of the same space-based comedy with the same characters and a journeying plot. Adams remains at his best when domesticating the alien. It's full of amusing lines - my favourite being: "It has been said that Vogons are not above a little bribery and corruption in the same way that the sea is not above the clouds". I think my view is tinged by knowing how hard Adams found it to write these books to a deadline. It does feel like some of the chapters are mailed in / reeled off, and that there's no overall direction; just a series of scenes with some funny bits. But it is worth it for the funny bits.

"An Italian Education" by Tim Parks - book review

I first read this book in March and April 2022. I wanted to re-read parts of it that mentioned Pescara, which is where we're going on holiday this August. I searched through the book on Kindle and bookmarked all the chapters that mentioned Pescara, re-read them all, and then read continuously from "Il cambio della guardia" to the end (about 100 pages), which describes Tim Parks's visit with his daughter Stefi and son Michele in June 1994.

I really love Tim Parks's non-fiction. This follows on from Italian Neighbours and focuses on the education of his two children (and the imminent arrival of a third). It's about moving to a newly built home an a housing co-operative and his new neighbours there. But, as I said, I was re-reading it for the Pescara mentions, which come early in the book because that's where his in-laws live and where his wife, Rita, is from.

There's nothing particularly remarkable about Pescara as a holiday destination. Sun, sand, sea, Italians at the beach. But Parks make it special and in his inimitable way turns the particular into the whole, somehow giving you a taste of Italian culture and its people. And he does so with such affection and commitment.

A delight to revisit, even if I finished it in the middle of a hot night in May, unable to sleep.