“The problem with cliches is not that they contain false ideas, but rather that they are superficial articulations of very good ones… Cliches are detrimental in so far as they inspire us to believe that they adequately describe a situation while merely grazing its surface. And if this matters, it is because the way we speak is ultimately linked to the way we feel, because how we describe the world must at some level reflect how we first experience it.”

Alain de Botton in How Proust Can Change Your Life

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Spare and Found Parts – Sarah Maria Griffin

This is a fine piece of science fiction, rich in detail, that slowly subverts ideals around work and family.

It focuses on Nell, a teenage girl, in a world where advanced technology is no longer allowed after it caused an epidemic resulting in people losing lives and, significantly, limbs.

After ‘the Turn’ – as its known – Nell’s Dad becomes a revered doctor / scientist who has created prosthetic limbs that allow people to live as they used to.

Everyone needs to make a ‘contribution’ to the city, to get it back on its feet. Neil’s friend Ruby is focused on fashion, her irritant-stalker-friend Oliver on prosthetics too, but Nell is unsure. Then she stumbles across a mannequin hand that gives her the idea to build a boy; and, after finding computers from before the Turn, she rigs up a functioning android called Io.

At the heart of the book appear to be two very conservative ideas – the nuclear family and work – but both are subverted by the end. Nell’s Mum has died and her father looks after her when not working. But it appears that actually her Dad, Julian, is a duplicitous plagiarist and a thief in his work, and her Mum, Cora, was so obsessed with scientific work that she effectively brought on her own death. Neither work nor family come out of this too well.

It’s a good plot, a nice subversion on the themes, but the book’s really brought alive by the detail of Nell’s cobbling and creations – limbs, wires, screws, all the stuff of basic electronics and (I guess, fantasy prosthetics) that give it a real hands-on feel.

“The lesson? To hang on to the performance, to read the newspaper as though it were only the tip of a tragic or comic novel and to use thirty pages to describe a fall into sleep when need be. And if there is no time, at least to resist the approach… which Proust defined as, ‘the self-satisfaction felt by “busy” men – however idiotic their business – at “not having time” to do what you are doing.'”

Alain de Botton on the need to take time, in How Proust Can Change Your Life

“Out beyond the glistening green of the forest the city cracked open with light against the darkened sky, a pomegranate with a split gut, all jewels.”

Sarah Maria Griffin, Spare and Found Parts

Books I’ll never write #2: is an inner life enough of a life?

How far can you be said to have lived a life if most of it has been in your head?

Like many people I’m torn between an active life of doing stuff and a more contemplative life of reading and thinking. Likewise, authors are often advised to write what they know. Stephen King suggests otherwise, saying he’d not have written most of his books if he’d followed that advice.

To me this tension between thinking and doing, imagining and experiencing, begs the question: if you’ve got a rich and active inner life, is that enough? Does reading and thinking about interesting things offer as good or better alternative to doing things? In fact, what is the difference between doing things and thinking things?

So this is an exploration in answer to these questions. It looks at philosophy, psychology, neuroscience, literature, and tries to get to the bottom of whether an inner life is life enough.

Moshin Hamid – Exit West

This is a humanising story about immigration and the effect it has on people – a brilliantly written book that feels so right for the times.

It focuses on two young people in an unnamed but presumably Middle Eastern city – Nadia and Saeed. Nadia’s a bit of a rebel, riding a motorbike, though she maintains safety by wearing a long black robe. Saeed is not so rebellious but is an honest man, interested in girls and a little weed like most his age.

They get together slowly, and then quickly, before their city begins to resemble a war zone as militants attack and the government defends. They see less of each other and Saeed’s Mum is killed in a bombing.

Then they hear about doors popping up all over the city, ones that lead to other towns and cities. First they travel to Mykonos in Greece, then London, then San Francisco. We see the stress and isolation and hardship takes its toll on their relationship, in time growing irritable with one another and ultimately apart.

The first thing that’s striking about the book is its style – short, yes, but importantly very readable and the author all-knowing. It’s written in this style, arguably, in order to present their experiences as objective in some way, or at least to be dispassionate in the telling.

Also striking is the richness of the two main characters, their depth. At no point are they stereotypes but instead are a complex mix of fun, and sadness, and music, and rebellion, and piety, and fun. Unlike say, Rose Tremain, whose plot and main character in The Road Home are gripping but follow the familiar story of the East European migrant, Hamid’s characters are of their own – as of course all migrants, all people, are.

Rose Tremain – The Road Home

This is a solid story that gets into the mind and under the skin of a migrant in search of work and hope.

It tells the story of Lev, a father and widow from Eastern Europe who travels to the UK in search of work, the lumberyard in his home town of Auror having closed down.

The novel follows Lev’s arrival in London, his search for work which he finds in kitchens through a mix of good luck – Lydia, who he travels over with on the bus is well-connected – and hard work – and his relationships with his landlord and friend Chrisy, and girlfriend for a while, Sophie. Eventually he develops cooking skills and raises enough money to go back home, where can help his family and friend Rhudi.

There’s an element of stereotype about the story though – the hardworking immigrant, slightly aggressive at times, doing all he can to help people back home.

But psychologically, emotionally, this is a great read. Lev is a strong character and Tremain really gets under his skin – his desires, his sadness for his wife, the difficulties of being foreign, his kindness, his aggressive streak – all of it. It’s the richness, the detail, that elevates the story and makes it a compelling read.

Partly this book seems to be humanising or subjectifying the migrant experience, but it’s also much more personal – about loss and memory. Perhaps Lev has to leave what he’s familiar with in order to get over the loss of his wife, Marina, and it’s only when he gets back to Auror and Baryn that he can move on with his life?

Steve Tolz – Quicksand

This is an incredible piece of writing brilliance and a wise and often hilarious read.

Liam’s best friend is Aldo Benjamin, a force of nature who has more life packed into his thirty or so years than whole generations of people at a time.

Liam, a wanna-be writer, needs a subject and so Aldo becomes it, with Liam telling Aldo’s story – the failed businesses, time in prison, his drinking, his lost child, accusations of rape, his relationship with lover and wife Stella, his crippling disabilities and illnesses, and his eventual martyrdom and death on a rock as he begins to and eventually gives up setting up a new religion.

There’s no simple plot; rather snapshots of Aldo’s incredible life, told with such energy and a kind of joyful cynicism, if that’s possible.

What’s great about Aldo is he is constantly speaking unlikely or oxymoronic truths about life that read like aphorisms. In fact, knowing that Tolz’s last book was quite philosophical, it was easy at times to see Aldo like a twenty first century entrepreneurial, nihilistic Nietzsche, one raised on reality TV and art and poverty.