A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

Two weeks after Marlon James won the Man Booker Prize, I was on holiday in Oxford. I walked into Blackwell's bookshop and he was there, giving a last minute talk. The room was treated to a reading from his prize-winning ode to Bob Marley and I managed to bag myself a signed copy.

During the Q&A James cursed. It was a mild selection from the variety of four letter words available in the swear vocabulary, nevertheless it raised eyebrows around the room. Halfway through A Brief History I wondered if any person in the room had actually read the book. Pumped full of language that would make characters from a Quentin Tarantino film blush, gratuitous sex scenes and weighty descriptions of gang violence this masterful epic deserves all of the praise it has received.

Marlon James is a brilliant writer. Not only is he gifted with story-telling, he is a funny and articulate speaker. One moment during the Q&A at Blackwell’s illustrates this perfectly. A man shot up his hand, and when it was his turn to ask a question he went on a five minute rant about the book “ignoring significant moments in history including Henry Kissinger’s visit to Jamaica”. He concluded with “I’m angry with your book”.

“Have you read my book?” Marlon James asked.

“No” the man replied.

The laughter that followed certainly broke the tension in the room.

“Well if you read my book” Marlon James followed with, “you would know Henry’s Kissinger’s visit is in there… I did my research”.

In fact the amount of research that went into this novel is staggering. The book is the result of a four year project and spans decades of history surrounding the attempted assassination of Bob Marley. It is actually impressive he has managed to relate a history with such depth in under 600 pages.

At the front of the book there is a character list which evokes Shakespearean themes. The opening chapter is a monologue from an ethereal spirit of a murdered man, Sir Arthur George Jennings, who asks his audience to “Listen”. He wanders in and out of scenes of death narrating key points in the timeline and closes “Acts” reflecting on death and changes in the wind.

Also among the cast is a cynical young woman from uptown Kingston (my personal favourite), several fearful gang leaders, a child criminal and a journalist from Rolling Stone magazine looking to get an interview with the Singer.

Marlon James mentioned that an HBO series is in the works and I can see how this book would translate brilliantly to the small-screen. There are parts which filled me with a sickening dread and I turned the pages realising I would not find out a character’s fate until I reached the next chapter.

That said I would highly recommend you read this book. It ticks all the boxes for every content warning you can think of, yet it is intelligent, hilariously funny in parts and written with a sterling soundtrack in mind.

In Defence of Dogs by John Bradshaw

I’ve always wondered whenever a new scientific study crops up in the news about dogs whether the scientists involved just spend their working days just playing with dogs. Then I rethink my life choices.

The conclusion after reading In Defence of Dogs by John Bradshaw, is yes the scientists who conduct such studies entitled “Can dogs read human emotions?” do spend their waking hours with man’s (or woman’s) best friend. In Chapter Seven alone Bradshaw describes at least twenty separate case studies, a couple including litters of puppies.

While the scientists have to remain objective watching collies, springers and spaniels work out contraptions with levers and pullies and quantifying how tug-of-war games occur, my brain would explode with the urge to cuddle them all. Then I conclude that my life is better spent watching funny dog videos and walking my Labrador.

In Defence of Dogs succeeds in what it aims to do: dispel the myths surrounding the origins of our favourite companions and dismiss harmful training methods which are grounded in those myths.

The domestic dog is not…not, Bradshaw repeats, the ancestor of the modern day wolf. This assumption has led to the prevalent theory of the “top dog” and that your pet dog seeks to take control of your household. The training principles that follow this premise can cause anxiety and hinder Bradshaw’s own hypothesis, that your dog sees you, its owner, as its family.

There were parts of the book which had me nodding in heavy agreement. In particular, the sentence that dogs are “expected to be simultaneously better behaved than the average human child and as self-reliant as an adult”. The idea of punishment as a method of training is done away with as well as my own personal favourite, “shock-collars”.

The letter I have included at the beginning of this review mentions “devices on the market that can be used to silence a dog.”  I acquired this letter from a previous job at a newspaper. It is a Letter to the Editor from one reader who did not want to have their name published in the paper. As a consequence his vent about his neighbour’s “pampered brutes” could not be published. Instead it has served as a suitable bookmark for this book.

On page 118 Bradshaw refers to one such device arguing that it will result in aggressive behaviour which could lead to euthanasia. The noisy neighbour’s dog is suffering from ‘separation anxiety’, a condition which is explained in the case of Bruno, an emotionally dependent Labrador on page 164.

As a dog lover I was promised I would love this book and I do, mainly because it allows me to have an informed opinion when defending the honour of my pampered brute and it is written by a scientist who I can tell was fighting the urge to play with his furry workmates.

The Dressmaker by Rosalie Ham

A quarter of the way through The Dressmarker by Rosalie Ham, I was reminded of a scene in Sex in the City. Carrie is dating Aleksandr Petrovsky, the pompous artist who whisks her away to Paris in the final series. He reads her some Russian poetry (Joseph Brodsky) and in true “city-girl” fashion Carrie responds by reading an article in Vogue…

“Oscar de La Renta sleeveless silk full skirted dress with black patent leather bow belt.”

“Now that”, she finishes “is pure poetry…”

In The Dressmaker Rosalie Ham supplies poetry for the fashion-magazine reader who also likes some scandalous gossip on the side. The pages swish through “frosty-ice green tulle skirt[s]”, “magenta silk organza” Dior copies and my particular favourite “a white silk satin jumpsuit with frock printed roses”. The chapters are labelled with matching fabrics: “Felt”, “Shantung”, “Brocade” and even the landscapes “curve” and lean “provocatively”.

The story, as opposed Sex and the City’s glamorised Big Apple setting, takes place in set in rural Australia, in the small town Dungatar. 

Myrtle Dunnage, a young woman, returns to the town after being forced to leave when she was ten. Tilly, as Myrtle is now known by, has come back to look over her frail mother, the town outcast. While fending off busybodies and gossips Tilly wows the locals with her dressmaking skills.

The book is the perfect glossy mag. Rumour and dirty laundry laid up next to a description of a designer copy – available at an affordable price.

Although it sometimes feels like the plot hemlines are unfinished and the details are not up to scratch, the story is what it should be, just a bit of harmless fun and escapism.

In the Heart of the Sea by Nathaniel Philbrick

I have never read Moby Dick, and to enjoy Nathaniel’s Philbrick account of the fate of the Essex whaleship and its crew you don’t really need to.

In the Heart of the Sea is a fact-brimming narrative of the fascinating and gruesome true story which eventually inspired Herman Melville to pen his entry in to the literary canon.

Harpoons on display at the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford

At the time, the news of Captain Pollard and his crew’s fate shocked whaling ports and the story quickly became one of the most notorious maritime legends of history.

In the comfort of my own home, surrounded by the festive treats Christmas had to offer, I found Philbrick’s rendition both harrowing and incredible. In fact, I did feel a little guilty devouring pages which eventually revealed the crew’s gradual starvation in between my bouts of assorted chocolates, mincepies, turkey and whateverIcouldstuffinmygob binges, but in my defence the book is really really good.

In 238 pages Nathaniel Philbrick manages to pack in a thoroughly researched history, not only what happened to the Essex but of the character of the crew, the extreme perils of their work, the community they grew up in and the legacy they left behind.

Philbrick begins with an in-depth chapter on Nantucket, the home port of the doomed whaleship. This small island off Cape Cod, Massachusetts, was the centre of the whale-oil industry in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Those with sway in this tight-knit Quaker community were descended from the whalers-dynasty. Philbrick litters the passages with interesting and funny facts about the nature of these townspeople. For instance the young Nantucket women formed secret clubs, scheming marriage alliances with whaling men they would not see for years on end.

When a whaling ship set sail on its voyage it was an occasion for the whole settlement. Omens, folklore and superstitions often foreshadowed the outcome of the expedition for many. The departure was a moment of pride for the Nantucket families and a display of sailing prowess. When the town waved goodbye to the Essex in August, 1819, little did they know they were saying goodbye for the last time.

Even if you do not particularly enjoy non-fiction I can guarantee you will find this particular seafaring yarn captivating and you may even remember some interesting whaling facts for next Christmas.

Slade House by David Mitchell

To quote one character in David Mitchell’s latest offering, “Tonight feels like a board game co-designed by M.C. Escher on a bender and Stephen King in a fever”.*

Slade House, the published result of Twitter serialisation, is the tale of evening which occurs every nine years; a guest is invited to Slade House, for what purpose they are unsure.

I haven’t read Bone Clocks, so any relation this book has to the plot went over my head. However, as a contained short story, published on the approach to Halloween, Slade House is both a satisfying chilling and hilarious read. Plus, it served as a nice break from the 800 page whoopers I have been tasking myself with this year.

The mystery of the house I will leave unspoiled. What I will say is that there were parts which filled me with a slight unease. What I’ve always enjoyed in horror, is not what is finally revealed to be behind the door but the slow intake of breath the character makes before turning the door handle. Mitchell delivers expertly in this regard. He also delivers an eclectic group of voices with such fantastic clarity it makes me wonder if he has several personalities rattling around in his brain. He probably does.

The book starts with the grammar, worries and funny observations of a young English boy. Statements containing juvenile classics such as “poo” and “willy” had me unashamedly laughing and then pointing out to others so they could laugh too.

Slade House also has moments of poetry. On page 142 Mitchell makes the “unloved flats of the sixties”, “gasworks” and the “tarmac-grey clouds” hanging over them sound like verse.

With decades of architecture, hairstyles, music and politics to play with, David Mitchell has fun with Slade House and also creates something which may be later serve as an ode to the 21^st century psyche.

*How he can fit such range and imagination in 140 characters is slightly baffling.