I enjoyed The Gran Tour, Roman, and passed it to my dad. He says he's never laughed so much at a book in his life.
My half-term update:
58. Books v Cigarettes, George Orwell
Short essays. Orwell has a bad time at prep school, in a French hospital, and as a bookseller. Fine, clearly written, but not his finest work.
59. In Search of H V Morten, Michael Bartholomew
Biography of the mid-century travel writer, whose real character was quite different to the jovial persona in his books - no reference to the various women accompanying him, for example. His books were fundamentally hackwork and his political views were concerning, but at his best, he could produce a stirring turn of phrase. Interesting on the gulf between reality and the way we long things to be.
60. Have His Carcase, Dorothy L Sayers
Harriet Vane is on a solo walking tour when she comes upon a body on a rock, its throat slit. Along with Peter Wimsey, she unravels the convoluted alibis. Poirot or Marple would have wrapped it up more efficiently, but this is enjoyable due to the romantic sparring between the two leads and Harriet Vane's ambivalence over whether to agree to a relationship and on what terms.
61. Bring your Baggage and Don't Travel Light, Helen Ellis
Picked up on a whim in a second-hand bookshop, these are essays by an American woman in her 50s: general musing on life, female friendship, menopause, and how she likes to appear like a genteel Southern lady but still cuss. It's aiming for a mixture of drollery with emotional poignance, in the manner of David Sedaris, but I don't really get him either. Fine but forgettable.
62. Square Haunting: Five Women, Freedom and London Between the Wars, Francesca Wade
Seemed like a natural progression from the Dorothy L Sayers book as she is one of the featured women, along with Virginia Woolf and others. It's about their attempts to find a balance between intellectual fulfillment and emotional satisfaction. It should be inspiring but they were so exceptional that I felt like an under-achiever by comparison. A century or so later and am I a famous poet or novelist? Have I turned the disciplines of economic history or Classical studies on their head? Do I even spend my evenings poring over cuneiform or translating from the Russian? No I do not.