This is a very strange tale. Throughout I felt uncomfortable and even more so after reading the letter in the appendix at the end. I suppose I should have expected it; this is classic McEwan: disturbing, well written, well researched and razor sharp when it comes to thoughts and interactions. There isn’t anyone I’ve read who can take you into a character’s mind like McEwan can. So, while it’s not a happy read and doesn’t seem as polished as On Chesil Beach or Amsterdam, it’s still worth a read. When you’ve finished it, (re)consider the meaning of the title.

(38th in 2012)

What I enjoyed about this book was the sharp dialogue and clear prose. What I didn’t enjoy was that it is all somehow a little bit flat and unsatisfying.

The plot is like something from The Wire set in Scotland, which made me realise that I would prefer this story in the form of a stylish serialisation on screen rather than a book. There are so many characters and places, some with very similar names to each other, that it would be easier to differentiate between them in on TV because of the visual aspect.

In summary, The Complaints is not a bad read but it is far from remarkable. Having said that, it has the potential to be great on television.

(37th in 2012)

I came across this book through the Kindle Daily Deal emails. It bills itself as ‘the inside story of the Olympic experience’. It certainly is very revealing and honest to the point of making me dislike the author in places.

I loved discovering what it takes to become an Olympian, what goes in in the Olympic Village, what’s happening in the world of doping and what athletes go through psychologically, before, during and after the Games. Everything is very well articulated and written with great insight. It makes compulsive reading.

(36th in 2012)

This book is a little dark and mildly menacing. The characters aren’t particularly likeable but I enjoyed reading about this family with all their flaws, interspersed with sumptuous descriptions of food. Although I am sure that it’s very common in real life, I haven’t read many books featuring dysfunctional relationships between mothers and daughters. The interactions between all the characters feel very real. I think that shows the quality of Joanne Harris’s writing: she makes everything convincing and a pleasure to read about.

But ultimately this book disappointed me. I had hoped that it would be of the same calibre as the only other book by Joanne Harris that I’ve read: Gentlemen and Players, which is a deliciously dark and atmospheric mystery set in a boys’ school. Five Quarters of the Orange just doesn’t come close to that. Yes, here there also is hatred, fear and passion. Again, this is very well written. But the story itself just didn’t quite make the grade. I couldn’t help but compare it to The Book Thief, also a set during the German occupation with a young girl as narrator, which is a far more striking piece of work.

(35th in 2012)

I bought this book on Amazon Warehouse Deals, which sucked me in with its bargains even though I had pledged not to buy physical books this year. I was supposed to borrow books from the library and, if I was going to buy fiction, buy it for the Kindle. Anyway, I only paid £1.27 for this book and I’m glad I didn’t pay any more than that because it wasn’t that good.

The writing is honest and sharp – I will give it that. But I saw the ‘surprises’ coming a mile off and I found the subject matter so trivial. I’d read reviews saying that this book tells the truth about the first year of motherhood so I was ready for something deep and affecting, possibly with a dark side. I’m not a mother but plenty of my peers are so I do glimpse into that world, even if I don’t have first hand experience. So some of the motherhood stuff was familiar. I had a problem with the main character though. She seems so selfish and superficial, especially the way she always notices people’s appearances. Her friendships with her friends mostly seem very shallow too, though there are a couple of touching moments.

I wanted to enjoy this book. Maybe I would have if I was a mother, but reading this book made me grateful that I’m not one. They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Well, if I’d paid attention to the cover (or at least the title) before buying, it would have registered that the books I love do not have covers like this. I don’t like books about women who don’t seem to think about anything apart from babies and relationships and bitch about other women. Perhaps chick lit is not for me.

(34th in 2012)

I’d become interested in Michael McIntyre’s journey to stardom when I heard him on Desert Island Discs. (I love how that programme brings out the human and honest side of the celebrities featured on there. Possibly the best one was when Morrissey was on it.)

Anyway, Life and Laughing is ok. Some bits are quite interesting; I never knew that his family knew Kenny Everett or that he came from ‘a broken home’. Some bits are funny; I laughed out loud a couple of times. But other parts that are supposed to be funny just aren’t. I’ve come to the conclusion that Michael McIntrye is best when he does stand up. His comedy isn’t best showcased in the written word. That may say something about the level of sophistication of his comedy. But, although he’s a bit mainstream, I do like his stand up. He’s not as good as Jason Manford or as cool as Stewart Lee but he is undeniably funny.

But the book’s only ok. I mean, it’s not as good as How Not To Grow Up, which I read last year. I liked it because it was funny and also honest to the point that it made me not like Richard Herring. Oh and I almost forgot Shappi’s book, which wasn’t particularly funny but I enjoyed it a lot more than this one.

One thing I have to say is that I hate the cover of the book. It’s completely bland and seems to be designed to cash in on the fact that he’s a household face.

In summary, there’s nothing that is awful about this book but only proper McIntyre fans will truly love it. Otherwise, there are plenty of better books by comedians out there.

(33rd in 2012)

I read most of this book in one day. It seems short though it claims to be 315 pages long.

It starts off well. The subject matter is original; there aren’t many books out there about a child, Daniel, who allegedly murders a child. But the story is that of the accused’s solicitor, Leo Curtice, and the effect that defending Daniel has on his family.

There are some tense parts in the book, like when the car Leo is in gets mobbed or when he and his family are being stalked on a day trip. The dialogue mostly feels very real. But there’s nothing that makes the book any more than just reasonablly well written. The ending felt out of place because most of the book until that point focusses on Leo’s situation and also Daniel’s to a lesser extent but the conclusion – here I don’t want to spoil the ending – doesn’t.

Something that annoyed me at various points in the book is the use of the pronouns he or she without naming the character so that the reader isn’t clear, at least for a short while, who is being written about. Sarah Winman also does it in When God Was a Rabbit. I don’t know whether it’s deliberate or not but I strongly dislike it!

In summary, compared to the other books I’ve read, I’d say that The Child Who is only average.

(32nd in 2012)

This December it will be 20 years since I went to India. The White Tiger brought back many memories from then.

In the book Aravind Adiga tells us the truth about India. About how poverty and ignorance crush most of the poor and corruption ensures most of the rich remain that way. The protagonist – The White Tiger – pulls off a rare trick: he escapes his position as a servant and becomes a master.

There’s nothing that feels fictional about this book. The superstitious beliefs, the mannerisms, the way characters talk and so on…all feel very familiar to me. Yet there is something more that marks this book out as special: it’s very angry but breathtakingly articulate. The sarcasm and wit is dazzling. At other times the book is rather touching and even tragic. It’s quite a journey.

The Guardian interviewed Adiga when The White Tiger won The Booker Prize in 2008.

(31st in 2012)

I bought this book for my Kindle mostly because it only cost 20p but also because I was intrigued that a book by the rapper 50 Cent had such good reviews. It’s a children’s book, or perhaps a teenager’s book given that the protagonist Butterball is thirteen years old.

I enjoyed the language, which reminded me a little of how they talk in The Wire. The prose is very fresh and real; I could hear Butterball talking to me. There is a shock in the book, which perhaps others will see coming a mile off, but it was certainly a jolt for me. I loved the illustrations too. I’m now wondering how much is autobiographical and how much is fiction.

In summary this is a very cool (or should I say tight?) tale which teaches valuable lessons without being preachy. Playground an unusual choice for me, but I was pleasantly surprised.

(30th in 2012)

I had heard about this book on The TV Book Club and thought it sounded intriguing. Mark read it on holiday and reported that it was good.

I loved Parts 1 & 2. They are very unsettling; there is a tension throughout. My imagination ran wild as I read, conjuring all sorts of scenarios for protagonist Christine. I felt as paranoid as she is. The book very successfully puts the reader into her mind. I experienced paranoia, fear, relief and hopelessness numerous times.

Part 3 somehow doesn’t fit in with the previous parts. The plot becomes unfeasible and silly. The other thing that bugged me was Christine’s journal. Not only are the entries incredibly lengthy, they aren’t written in a diary style either.

I have to mention that it reminded me strongly of the film Memento, right down to the note to him/herself that says ‘Don’t trust (insert character’s name)’

But, in spite of the flaws, Before I Go To Sleep is a thoroughly enjoyable, gripping read.

(29th in 2012)