After a non-fiction fest (Jon Snow, Tony Benn, Charlie Brooker alors) I’m appreciating ‘the novel’ this year. I completed Then We Came To The End at the weekend and am able to recommend it wholeheartedly. There are dark moments within its pages and, for the first time in my reading life, I had to fold down the corner of a page at the end of a chapter I was on: the subject matter was so affecting that I needed to know how much longer I had to cope with the poignancy. Coward. There are some wry, marvellous and, importantly, believable set pieces to appreciate and the characterisation is a witty triumph. It’s all fantastic.
I’m now onto Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections.