One of my missions this year was to work my way through some of the many, many forgotten and unread books on my shelves. I haven't made huge inroads into the backlog, but I have enjoyed some unexpected finds, such as
69. In the Language of Love - Diane Schoemperlen - this is a Canadian novel, published about 25 years ago, and I have no recollection of how it ended up on my shelf (most likely bought in a second-hand bookshop while visiting relatives in Canada about ten years ago).
The novel is basically the story of a woman's life - childhood, relationships, life as a mother and an artist - but rather than proceeding chronologically, it is written in 100 chapters, each titled with one of the words used in a standard word-association exercise developed by psychologists, eg house, dream, rough, tall, citizen. These words trigger memories of various episodes in her life, such as her mother's reaction to her cat being run over, or watching her married lover skating. There is nothing startling or dramatic, but she writes very well and relatably about women's lives.
For example, the chapter 'scissors' moves from a description of a hallowe'en craft session with her young son, and seeing herself for once almost succeeding in being "a picture perfect mom doing crafts with her charming, clever child. [... one of] these mothers who do not believe in TV, synthetic fabric or junk food of any kind. These mothers who are never impatient, irritable, bored or too tired to play. These mothers whom she admires, envies, resents and is , more often than not, afraid to speak to for fear of being found wanting wicked, negligent, selfish, incompetent, inadequate, inferior and unfit...[...] Tonight she is one of them. Or at least tonight she could be mistaken for one of them." And from that she free-associates her way to the theme of craft supplies and paper, and her almost indecent love of stationery shops: "Some day she might lose control and lick a forty-dollar sheet of handmade Japanese water-colour paper and then, for sure, they would have her taken away."
I am not sure that this or anything else Diane Schoemperlen wrote ever made it onto the UK market, but I might have a look as I think I would probably enjoy other stuff of hers.
70. High Rising - Angela Thirkell
Hat-tip to bibliomania for recommending this for my first foray into Angela Thirkell's fiction. My mother did indeed have this (two copies, in fact), and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It is of course dated in some of its ideas and attitudes, but the observations of human nature still hold good and it did make me laugh out loud at times (doesn't happen very often). As the mother of a boy who was obsessed with trains from a young age, and would happily inflict share his enthusiasm with any willing or unwilling listener, Tony and his endless train-focused monologues rang particularly true.
71. The Book of Chameleons - Jose Eduardo Agalusa
Another neglected book from my backlog, and rather a contrast to Angela Thirkell. This is a novel by an Angolan writer (of Portuguese and Brazilian descent), with strong magical-realist tendencies; set in the house of an albino book-dealer and creator of invented family histories, it was narrated by a gecko, which actually worked rather well as a device for an omniscient/omnipresent observer. It explored the ideas of personal histories and reinvention and the (un)reliability of memory, as well as touching on some of Angola's traumatic recent history. Written in a much leaner style than a lot of the Latin American magical-realist writing of the 1990s which it otherwise reminded me of (and all the better for being less verbose).