I currently have three books in my reading sphere: Edward Carey’s Edith Holler, his latest novel with his customary drawings, Gill Paul’s Scandalous Women, a very kind gift from Gill herself (thank you again!), and the book I’m often reading aloud to my rabbit because she likes it, Sarah Marsh’s A Sign Of Her Own, which is a book I read in full last year.

I’m going to start with Edith Holler. This book is very much in line with what I’ve previously read of Carey’s work, albeit that my experience is limited to one non-fiction (with illustrations) and some knowledge of a backlisted novel. It’s… kooky. I prefer that word to ‘strange’ even if kooky is a synonym for it because it’s more odd than anything eerie or creepy. It has its eerie moments – there’s a veil of the paranormal – but it’s unknown, at least at 270-odd pages in as I am currently as I write this, whether the paranormal is real.

I think I’d better include a premise – Edith is a 12-year-old girl in newly-Edwardian Norwich who lives in her father’s theatre along with a plethora of staff members. She has a great knowledge of her city but it’s knowledge she’s gained through books as she’s not allowed to leave the theatre – she was cursed by a scary child-disappearer that if she left the theatre, the theatre would fall down. It’s a novel where you know instantly you’ve got an unreliable narrator but you’re not sure by how much, especially as you get dialogue from the various members of the theatre family.

What I’m liking perhaps the most about this book is the way Carey’s used his drawings to supplement the purposefully limited evidence the reader has with which to form a conclusion as to what’s going on – the drawings are, by and large, of cardboard theatre cut-outs, child’s toys. Edith’s words suggest mental illness, or child abuse, or a play-within-a-book. The drawings add a suggestion of bog standard playtime.

It’s a fascinating novel – totally bonkers and full of internal monologue (fitting for a theatrical novel, really), with a very slow but steady build up to the truth. There’s some constant irritation for you, the reader, in Edith’s story, but never enough to make you want to give up. It reminds me rather of Paula Lichtarowicz’s The First Book Of Calamity Leek which had a similar flavour to Carey’s book but not – at least I believe at this point – the same reveal. (I wrote a second post on Lichtarowicz’s book in what is now way back in 2015. I ended up reading the novel again a few years later.)

My latest read – a secondary book on the go – is Gill Paul’s Scandalous Women, which is out tomorrow insofar as my writing this post goes (29th August). I had previously banked on Paul’s Another Woman’s Husband being my favourite of her books – though, disclaimer, that is still on my to-be-read – but having begun her tale of Jacqueline Susann and Jackie Collins, I have a feeling this latest one may end up being it. I’m at page 18 and already have something to discuss; the prologue creates a fictional TV interview (chatshow host variety, just with two guests going at it while the host looks on) between Paul’s entirely fictional editor character, Nancy, and the entirely factual Truman Capote. Paul notes Capote as a ‘longtime adversary’ of Susann’s – I double-checked this fact and, as it turns out, he didn’t much like Jackie Collins either – and has written a fictional interview that sounds very real in terms of structure and overall content. (This probably shouldn’t be a surprise because she also writes non-fiction; one of the things I love about Paul’s work is the way that you can never be sure – unless you know already or have read her author’s note – exactly what is fact and what is fiction.) I think it’s the boldness of the end of the interview I like the most; it involves what we’d now call assault and is quite shocking, while the host continues to look on. There’s a general misogyny subtext in the act, too, adding to the more blatant misogyny in chapter one.

I also like the way Paul has included a third person in a similar way as she did in A Beautiful Rival. In the latterly-mentioned book, the person is a real person but most of her story is fictional because history doesn’t say much about her; in Scandalous Women the person’s entirely fictional but has a job that was a very real position.

Lastly, Sarah Marsh’s A Sign Of Her Own which is about Ellen, a fictional pupil of telephone inventor Alexander Bell, who studies his ‘Visible Speech’ method of teaching deaf children how to speak because, in sum, we can’t possibly allow deaf people to speak in sign language oh the horror they must speak properly and integrate with the hearing population! Reading this aloud has made me appreciate language and the way words sound so much more than any other book I’ve read extracts aloud from. (My rabbit also likes The Great Gatsby but has shown a distaste for Pride And Prejudice – I’ve come to the conclusion it has to do with how much dialogue there is in any given book and how animated I am therefore or there-not. She is against hearing about Mrs Bennet’s poor nerves as much as Mr Bennet is.)

Through Marsh’s honing in on the way words are pronounced, the way the lips are shaped, and words that look similar or the same on the lips, you end up with a prose unlike any other and one that is interestingly perfect to be read aloud. (The first chapter is mostly dedicated to Ellen’s wondering why the two men with her are going on about peaches until they remember she exists and notice her confusion – it’s speeches, not peaches.) I suppose this is in tandem or a continuation of my interest in the way Marsh uses language in general – written, spoken, signed and, in the ARC, where quotation marks were included or left out – but I don’t think I would have appreciated this aspect of the book if I hadn’t actually read it aloud.

There is definitely something to be said for reading books aloud and A Sign Of Her Own is the absolute pinnacle for me in this. There is probably a whole post on this somewhere in my mind – Carey’s book is proving to be very fun and fittingly theatrical to read aloud. I’m loving it.

(My rabbit hates it.)

If you’ve made it this far in my ramblings, I salute you because I’m aware this is indeed very rambly! I definitely notice more and more, the more I read, and the more I read with different purposes (reading for pure pleasure is very different to reading for review which is very different to reading for interview which is very different to reading aloud) the more literature continues to become alive and the further the concepts and skill and application of both seem to reach.

Episode 105: Natalie Jenner

Charlie and Natalie Jenner discuss the war years and 1950s Italian film industry and the Vatican’s authority over it, changing working practices after being accused of discrimination, and including still-living celebrities in your book.

If you’re unable to use the media player above, this page has various other options for listening as well as the transcript.