2007 - My Year In Books

Written by:Ben Granger.

Looking back at my supposed intentions for 2007 I reckon I succeeded in just under half my “projected aims” – 4.5/10 for trying old boy.  Dostoyevsky, Dickens, Nabokov, Hardy and Gogol will have to wait. I also failed in reading – never mind reviewing – new novels out this year (though I did do better with new and new-ish short stories, having read both Perverted by Language and The Edgier Waters, both having some very good stuff within.) 

Part of the reason for this was that I was reading a lot more factual books in my sneaky newfound moonlighting roles of doing a few reviews for both Bookmunch and Red Pepper magazine. Censored 2006, The Lost World of British Communism, Nationality: Wog, and Chomsky’s Interventions were all good reads, as were The Time of the Rebels and The Studs Terkel Reader (both of which I’ve not got round to sending the reviews in for yet. Some things never change! Soz!) From the struggles the trade unionist communists of 30s London to the death of a hapless African vagrant in 60s Leeds, from Chomsky’s dissection of the current hideous machinations of the Bush gang, to the East Europeans revolting against their leaders supposedly with George’s backing. Interesting history and commentary all, though mostly good rather than spectacular. The closest to  standing out from the crowd was Studs Terkel, an excellent slice of social history from a strangely unsung master of the form. Back over at Spike, Dorril’s epic history of Oswald Mosley was a treat, and I am always, always happy to return to the weird delights of English as She is Spoke.  

[NB: I’ve stuck to books for this overview by the way, as musically, despite going to some great gigs, its been a bit of a fallow year for new discoveries, both for new "new stuff" and new "discoveries", the Long Blondes being from 2006. The Fall's new one had great moments as always was but was by far from their best, and I wasn’t taken by the Von Sudenfed project. I did belatedly fall in love with the Arctic Monkeys though, which was wonder enough, both the "old" album and the new one. Alex Turner is a genius. As different as you could get, but also enchanting was the other new album I got, Learn To Sing Like A Star from Kristin Hersh. If, like me, you were an old Throwing Muses fan who'd lost touch with the gal, do get it.. The twisted old magic is still there, in abundance.]    

I did manage to return to Ballard, and High Rise lived up to expectations, chillingly satisfying. Nancy Mitford’s Love In A Cold Climate was another minor gem, icy in a very  different way. I will earn a torture session from boss-man Chris here for rank heresy, because I also finally got round to Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas…and was slightly disappointed! Bring out the rack! I did enjoy it in parts, especially when the man Thompson actually starts engaging his with broader US society as a whole. But I’m afraid the whole “I’m on Drugs” knockabouttery narrative did grate at times. Oh, I’ll give him another go, have mercy! Arthur Machen was another long-awaited discovery which I was not fully impressed by with the parts I read, thought this time the intrigue was greater when it was there. A man by the name of Tom Wooton recently sent me a wonderful essay about Machen, which has led me to give him another go. A scaled own version that essay just might make it onto Spike, watch this space……. 

I greatly enjoyed both Julie Burchill and Daniel Raven’s new book about Brighton, and Julie’s much older collection Damaged Gods, but as I’m mates with Julie now I shall not enthuse any further lest I be accused of drowning my critical ardour in the dank water of nepotism.  

Aside from all these though,  there were three stand-out books I read in 2007 – two novels and a selection of stories and essays. The novels were Herzog by Saul Bellow, and Tarr by Wyndham Lewis, see my links for decidedly scrappy, limited and tenuous observations on each. Tough tits, sometimes I’d rather just read than review, often in fact. As I said of Tarr, I thought it was something to marvel at, but it was too brutal to love. With Herzog a warmer feeling emerged along with the admiration. Still better than both of these though was the collection of stories and essays. I’m cheating by including it really as I’m only two thirds of the way through, but I just find it so….fantastic, (in every sense)  that I will have to finish on it.

My book of the year is Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges.  If I feel the strength I may write about it in the new year.  If not, just be assured its an absolute masterpiece, and read it. 

So there we are. Once again, as always, there’s more to life than books you know but not much more. Take care darling Spikers, and may the abyss of the next year stare less into your soul than the last. 

Posted on December 30th, 2007.

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