September Releases: Gyasi, McKay, Sheldrake, Tremain, Woolfson

September is always a big month in the publishing world, but even more so this year because of all the titles delayed from the spring and summer – apparently 600 books were published in the first week of September in the UK alone.

Still, I only ended up with my usual, manageable five new releases (with a few more on the way from the library). I read a beautiful novel about addiction and religion in contemporary America, speculative fiction about communication with wildlife in mid-pandemic (!) Australia, everything you ever wanted to know about fungi, historical fiction about outsiders in England and Borneo, and a study of our broken relationship with other animals.

Two of these are from my most anticipated list for the second half of 2020. Four of the five can be linked by the tenet that humans are only one species among many others necessary to life on this Earth, and not in some way above and beyond.

 

Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi

This follow-up to Gyasi’s dazzling, centuries-spanning linked story collection, Homegoing, won’t be out in the UK until March 2021, but I couldn’t resist reading an e-copy of the American edition (Knopf) from Edelweiss. It’s altogether a more subdued and subtle book, but its treatment of themes of addiction, grief, racism and religion is so spot on that it packs a punch. Gifty is a PhD student at Stanford, researching pleasure and reward circuits in the mouse brain. She gets mice hooked on a sugary drink and then performs experiments to see if she can turn off their compulsion to keep pressing a lever for more. Sometimes when they press the lever they get an electric shock. Certain mice give up; others never will. Why?

People who know Gifty well assume she chose her field because of a personal tragedy. When she was 10, her 16-year-old brother, Nana, a high school basketball star in this Ghanaian-American family’s Alabama town, died of an opiate overdose. He’d gotten addicted to prescription drugs after a sports injury. At one level, Gifty acknowledges she is trying to atone for her brother’s death, but she won’t see it in those terms. An intensely private person, she shoulders almost impossible burdens of grief and responsibility for her mother, who has plunged into depression and, when she comes to live with Gifty, spends all her time in bed.

The most compelling aspect of the novel for me was Gifty’s attitude towards the religion of her childhood. Though they were the only black family at their Pentecostal church, she was a model believer, writing prayers in her journal, memorizing scriptures, and never doubting that everything happens for a reason. Nana’s death shattered it all. Though she now looks to science for answers, she misses the certainty she once had: that she was saved, that humans are special, that someone was looking out for her and her family, that it all mattered. I highlighted dozens of passages, but it’s possible the book won’t mean quite as much to readers for whom there’s no personal resonance. The complex mother–daughter relationship is an asset, and musings on love and risk are tenderly expressed. I wanted a more climactic conclusion to take this into 5-star territory, but I’ve still added it to my Best of 2020 shelf.

Favorite lines:

the species Homo sapiens, the most complex animal, [is] the only animal who believed he had transcended his Kingdom, as one of my high school biology teachers used to say.

At times, my life now feels so at odds with the religious teachings of my childhood that I wonder what the little girl I once was would think of the woman I’ve become … I am looking for new names for old feelings. My soul is still my soul, even if I rarely call it that.

the more I do this work the more I believe in a kind of holiness in our connection to everything on Earth. Holy is the mouse.

My rating:

I read an advanced e-copy via Edelweiss.

 

The Animals in That Country by Laura Jean McKay

McKay has a PhD in literary animal studies and serves as an animal expert and presenter on Australia’s ABC radio show Animal Sound Safari. Pair her academic background with the fact that this shares a title with a Margaret Atwood poetry collection and you’ll have some idea of what to expect here: mysterious but mostly believable speculative fiction that hinges on human communication with animals.

Jean Bennett isn’t your average grandma: a wise-cracking alcoholic, she drives the tourist train through the Australian wildlife park her daughter-in-law manages but wishes she could be a fully fledged ranger. Her ex-husband, Graham, left her and went down south, and eventually their only son Lee did the same. Now all Jean has left is Kim, her six-year-old granddaughter. Jean entertains Kim by imagining voices for the park’s animals. This no longer seems like a game, though, when news filters through of the “zooflu,” which has hit epidemic levels and has as a main symptom the ability to understand what animals say.

When Kim is kidnapped, Jean steals a camper van and takes Sue the dingo along to help her find her granddaughter. “There’s a new normal now,” a bus driver tells her. “And around here, not wearing a mask means you’ve gone animal. I’d put on my protective if I was you. Put that mutt in a cage.” It was uncanny reading this in the midst of a pandemic, but the specifics of McKay’s novel are hard to grasp. The animal language isn’t audible, necessarily, but a combination of smells, noises and body language. For a long time, they seem like pure nonsense, but gradually they resemble a sort of rough poetry. Here’s one example from Sue:

My front end

takes the food

quality.

Muzzle

for the Queen

(Yesterday).

(Sue usually calls Jean “Queen” or “Mother,” showing that she respects her authority, and “Yesterday” is frequently used to suggest a primitive sense of the past or of an older person.)

As entertaining a protagonist as Jean is, I lost interest in her road trip. If you focus on the journey into the wilderness and don’t mind a sudden ending, you may find this a worthwhile heir to Hollow Kingdom by Kira Jane Buxton and The Road by Cormac McCarthy.

My rating:

I read a proof copy for a Nudge review, but it’s never shown up on their website.

 

Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds, and Shape Our Futures by Merlin Sheldrake

I first heard about Sheldrake through Robert Macfarlane’s Underland. He struck me as a mad genius – an impression that was only strengthened by reading his detailed, enthusiastic book about fungi. Sheldrake researches fungal life in the tropical forests of Panama, accompanies truffle hunters in Italy, takes part in a clinical study on the effects of LSD (derived from a fungus), observes lichens off the coast of British Columbia, and attends a conference in Oregon on Radical Mycology. But more than a travel memoir, this is a work of science – there are over 100 pages devoted to notes, bibliography and index.

Basic information you’ll soon learn: mushrooms are only the fruiting bodies of fungi; under the ground is the material bulk, the mycelium, a sprawling network of hyphae. In what’s sometimes called the “Wood Wide Web,” fungal networks link the trees in a forest, and join up with plants, such as in lichens. “I feel a … sense of vertigo when I think about the complexity of mycorrhizal relationships – kilometers of entangled life – jostling beneath my feet,” Sheldrake confesses. He gives examples of fungi navigating and solving problems – what of our concept of intelligence if a creature without a brain can do such things?

Fungi are very adaptable to extreme conditions. Research is underway to grow edible mushrooms on some of our most troublesome waste, such as used diapers (nappies) and cigarette butts. And, of course, for millennia we’ve relied on certain fungi – yeasts – to create products like bread and beer. Sheldrake is a very hands-on writer: When he wants to know something, he does it, whether that’s scrumping Isaac Newton’s apples in Cambridge and fermenting the juice into cider at home or growing mushrooms on a copy of this very book.

During the month I was reading this, I felt like I kept coming across references to fungi. (I even had a patch of ringworm!)

It’s a perspective-altering text, but one that requires solid concentration. I’ll confess that at times it went over my head and I wished for a glossary and diagrams. A greater than average interest in biology and/or botany would thus be a boon to a potential reader. But if you can keep up, the book will elicit many a cry of “wow!” and “what?!” I kept launching “did you know?” questions at my husband, especially about the zombie fungi that parasitize insects. What a strange and wonderful world.

Favorite lines: “Paying more attention to animals than plants contributes to humans’ plant-blindness. Paying more attention to plants than fungi makes us fungus-blind.”

My rating:

My thanks to Bodley Head for the free copy for review.

 

Islands of Mercy by Rose Tremain

I read this back in June to prepare for writing a profile of Tremain for a forthcoming issue of Bookmarks magazine. Here’s the summary I wrote: “In Bath, England in 1865, 24-year-old nurse Jane Adeane is nicknamed ‘The Angel of the Baths’ for her healing touch. If she marries Dr. Valentine Ross, a colleague of her surgeon father, she can earn respectability – but will have to hide her love for Julietta, a married woman. Meanwhile, Dr. Ross’s brother, Edmund, a naturalist following in the footsteps of Alfred Russel Wallace, has journeyed to Borneo. Ill with malaria, he is taken in by British eccentric Sir Ralph Savage, a lover of native men and benevolent local rajah who funds infrastructure projects like a paved road and a hospital. Exiled or inwardly tortured for loving the wrong people, Tremain’s characters search for moments of wonder and comfort – whether those come in a primitive hut in the Malay Archipelago or in a cozy tearoom in Bath.”

It’s a slightly odd title, but tells you a lot about what Tremain is doing in this 14th novel. Often at the mercy of forces internal and external, her outcast characters look for places where they can find rest and refuge after a time of suffering. Will they, in turn, extend mercy? The split perspective and the focus on people who have to hide their sexuality are most similar to Sacred Country. The Victorian tip of the hat is mostly directed, I think, to George Eliot; of recent work, I was reminded of The Doll Factory and The Essex Serpent. I especially liked Jane’s painter aunt, Emmeline, and Clorinda, the Irish woman whose opening of a tearoom sets the plot going. The settings are surprising and vivid, and if Tremain doesn’t quite bring them and their story lines together seamlessly, she is still to be applauded for her ambition. This is probably my joint favorite of her novels that I’ve read so far, with The Road Home.

Favorite lines:

We must be unconventional in our joys and find them wherever we can.

life, so often so cruel in the way it thrust the human soul into prisons from which there seemed to be no escape, could sometimes place it athwart an open door.

My rating:

I read an advanced e-copy via NetGalley.

  

Between Light and Storm: How We Live with Other Species by Esther Woolfson

If you’ve read Woolfson’s Corvus, you’ve already met Chicken, an orphaned rook she raised. For over 31 years, Chicken was a constant presence in her home. The recently departed bird is the dedicatee of her new book, feted as “Colleague, companion, friend.” (No mere pet.) Relationships with these creatures with whom she shared her life led her to think differently about how we as humans conceive of the animal world in general. “If I had ever believed humans to be the only ones to live profound and interconnected lives, I couldn’t any more. … If we’re the gods now, shouldn’t we be better than we are?” From her introduction, it’s clear that her sympathy toward the more-than-human world extends even to spiders, and her language throughout – using words like “who” and “his” in reference to animals, rather than “that” or “its” – reinforces the view that all species are equally valuable.

Or, at least, should be. But our attitudes are fundamentally distorted, Woolfson believes, and have been since the days of Aristotle (whose Ladder of Nature is an origin of the ideas that nature is there for man to use) and the Old Testament writers (one of the two creation accounts in Genesis established the idea of “dominion”). From cave paintings to animal sacrifice, intensive farming to fur coats, taxidermy to whaling, she surveys what others have thought and said about how animals are, or should be, perceived. There was more of an academic tone to this book than I expected, and in early chapters I found too much overlap with other works I’ve read about deep time (Time Song, Surfacing, Underland again!).

I most appreciated the fragments of nature writing and memoir and would have liked more in the way of personal reflection. Woolfson’s perspective – as a Jewish woman in Scotland – is quite interesting. She is clearly troubled by how humans exploit animals, but mostly recounts others’ reasoning rather than coming to conclusions of her own. (Though there is a brilliant takedown of the gender politics of Watership Down.) It’s a book that demands more time and attention than I was able to give just now. As I only skimmed it, I’m going to refrain from assigning a rating and will pass this on to my husband and return to it one day. [I do wish the title, on its own (subtitle aside), was more indicative of the contents.]

My thanks to Granta for the free copy for review.

 

Which of those 600+ September releases can you recommend?

20 responses

  1. I’ve had a copy of the Tremain for ages (I think it was one of the many postponed titles this year) but haven’t got around to reading it despite it being set in my home town. Not a huge fan of her writing but perhaps I should think again.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I think you’ll like the Bath scenes, especially the tea room — very charming. Which others have you tried by Tremain? I would agree I’ve found her hit and miss, but this one was a winner for me. It was surprisingly frank in putting the sex back into the Victorian period, like Michel Faber and others have done.

      Like

      1. The ones I remember, although not very well, are Restoration, Music and Silence, and The Road Home. I’m sure I’ll read ths if only for the Bath scenes.

        Liked by 1 person

    2. I also read Restoration and wasn’t keen.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I listened to an interview with Merlin Sheldrake on CBC Radio and then I just had to have the book. I’m still reading it. It is one I read in bits and take time to digest!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It took me the whole month of September to read, often just 5-10 pages at a sitting. But there’s lots of fascinating stuff in there.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. The new Gyasi sounds so brilliant, I’m really excited to read it. I also remember Sheldrake from Underland! The synopsis of the Tremain actually sounds tempting (I went to school in Bath) but I think I’ve been burnt too many times by her 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It looks like the Gyasi is still up on NetGalley if (like me) you can’t wait and must read it right away! This is a rare case where I prefer the UK cover, though.

      I think Sacred Country and Islands of Mercy are most likely to appeal to you from her work because of the focus on sexuality, but I can understand if you don’t care to try her again. I’m like that with some authors I’ve not liked or DNFed multiple times.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I can’t find it on NetGalley, but I have enough to read at the moment anyway 🙂 I just checked out both covers. I don’t love either but I think I still prefer the US one.

        Like

    2. I “wished for” Transcendent Kingdom a while back and it never came through, but it still shows as available for request: https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/180688

      I love the green and pink, and the opium poppy heads, on the UK cover.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ah, it wasn’t coming up when I searched for it, but maybe that’s because you can only wish for it – thanks!

        Like

  4. I hope you get to read Piranesi, as I’d love to know what you think. I love the sound of Transcendent Kingdom – the science setting, naturally.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m the first out of 8 in the hold queue, but it feels like I’ve been waiting months already!

      Liked by 1 person

  5. That Esther Woolfson looks/sounds divine to me. A quick peek at the library catalogue reveals Corvus and Field Notes, both of which also appeal. Actually, all of these books sound good to me, and I’m curious about the new Susanna Clarke. But I don’t remember you reading much/any fantasy…what’s the appeal of Clarke to you? Or, is this one not magickal?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve read both of those by Woolfson, and would particularly recommend Field Notes.

      I have fond memories of devouring Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell on a houseboat holiday in 2006, and I read her follow-up short stories as well. It sounds like Piranesi is different, but equally good. It’s true, I don’t dip a toe into SFF very often at all, but with a known writer it should work out for me.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Piranesi is completely wonderful and I had the best time with it, despite it being not at all like Jonathan Strange. Islands of Mercy and Entangled Life are both receiving rave reviews from my colleagues at the bookshop!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Both would be well worth your time. A bunch of in-demand new releases are arriving for me at the library — Vesper Flights, The Glass Hotel; no doubt Piranesi soon — and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the thought of them!

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I just brought Transcendent Kingdom home from the library, and I really hope I get time to read it! I loved her first one.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ooh, exciting! I hope you enjoy. It’s very different from Homegoing, but I liked it almost as much.

      Like

      1. Good to hear! 🙂

        Like

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