55. Northbridge Rectory by Angela Thirkell
Barsetshire during the war. I didn't think this was one of the better ones, but it was still a relaxing, enjoyable, cosy read. The domestic details are what made it for me - it was a really interesting piece of social history as well as a slyly comic novel about village life.
56. Apricots on the Nile by Colette Rossant
This was recommended a few threads ago by YounghillKang - thanks so much for the suggestion! This is described as a "memoir with recipes", which is exactly what it is - Colette Rossant (a cookbook writer) describes episodes from her youth in Egypt, interspersed with lots of recipes from those days. She had a very interesting (but rather sad) childhood: her father was an Egyptian Jew from a prominent Turkish Sephardic family, and her mother was French. At the age of 5, her family moved from France to Egypt, to live with her paternal grandparents because her father was gravely ill from an unspecified condition. He died from this a couple of years later, and her brittle, glamorous mother promptly went back to France, leaving Colette and her brother in the care of their grandparents. She describes in mouthwatering detail the meals that she enjoyed - and then gives recipes for them, which is exactly the kind of memoir that I like best! When she was 15, her mother swooped in again to bring her back to France, which was where the story sagged for me a little.
It's a very short book, but quite an affecting one, despite the rather matter-of-fact way in which Rossant describes her dysfunctional and (at times) loveless upbringing. She doesn't go out of her way to apportion blame, but the introduction makes it clear that her relationship with her mother was irreparably damaged by this early abandonment and later attempts to control. It is also clear that food was a source of both comfort and enjoyment during this period. This is a book with deep personal resonances for me because one side of my extended family is in Egypt, and so many of the foods that she describes are familiar to me from my own childhood.
57. Chasing the Dram by Rachel McCormack
A lightweight but enjoyable attempt to capture what whisky (Scotch, not Irish or American) means to the people who make it, drink it and obsess about it (there seems to be a thriving community of whisky nerds out there). I'm quite a keen whisky drinker myself, but I learned a lot in this book, especially about blended whisky, which tends to be the Cinderella of the Scotch world. Rachel McCormack has a very accessible way of writing (she's a radio journalist), but some might find her mateyness and lengthy anecdotes about various road trips around Scotland rather grating. It was a nice easy and informative read, though (and is in the current monthly deals, if anyone is interested in reading it).
58. Growing Up by Angela Thirkell
Barsetshire in 1943. The story revolves around two couples, one married and one not (although they are engaged by the end, fortunately, after a rather tiresome series of almost wilful, oversensitive misunderstandings). Lydia Merton (nee Keith) is fun, though, as a former hoyden who has calmed down and become more considerate through her marriage to Noel. As before, there are lots of fascinating details about everyday life during the war, and some rather touching parts about what it's like to be stuck at home when your husband or brother is at the front (and you don't know where).
59. Closed Casket by Sophie Hannah
Another one of Sophie Hannah's Poirot novels. This was too long-winded for me - it felt as if every point was discussed endlessly and repetitiously. There was some great characterisation as ever, but the murder motive, and the deductive process by which Poirot uncovered it, were incredibly far-fetched.