This is a dark book that's not easy to love. The reader knows the secrets but other people don't which makes it tense rather than suspenseful. The narrator is brought to life and many other characters were believable and/ or amusing but the female love interest was not.
This book relates to my PhD thesis and I had to put it aside when brain fog meant I couldn't give it the attention it deserved. So glad that I picked up momentum again. Nearly all the chapters are entertaining, some humerous, and all showing a great love of books as objects. The chapter on footnotes was really a literary history, rather than a paratextual one, as if footnotes were too obvious to write about as a concept. Conversely, the endleaves chapter was at the dry end of book production history. This book is possibly a niche pleasure but a joy nonetheless and a beautiful object in itself.
I started this book wondering why I have such trouble with Charlotte Mendelson's books. So well-written! Such clever observations! And then the frustratingly passive characters then put themselves into excruciating situations and I sat there wincing. I would still recommend this book, but you may need a strong stomach for social embarrassment.
This book is to be commended for its unsparing honesty. It's absolutely the author's feelings about the illness and death of his young son. Not to be enjoyed, but to be witnessed. NB I am someone grieving myself at the time of writing. This isn't a consoling book. He makes it clear his loss can't be compared to any other and he can't empathise with what he sees as lesser losses. This is all absolutely fair, but I don't think this is a great book for anyone grieving 'lesser' losses.
Well-written and evocative. The period detail was convincing but not intrusive. I liked the characters although I found the main protagonist a bit annoyingly passive. Still that seemed true to the time and the number of choices she had.
This is a coffee table book but very enjoyable to read cover to cover. The pictures are stunning and the commentary mostly amusing. Occasionally the prose goes a bit Conde Naste Traveller but only occasionally, mostly it's wryly amusing.
This is a brilliantly shabby and seedy book. The London of the early 1980s when it was written is beautifully evoked. And sometimes it's nice to read about an older woman with no redeeming features whatsoever. However, the characters weren't compelling company and the book was fairly easy to put down.
I really enjoyed this. I wasn't sure the approach - Deakin's own writings interleaved with others' memories - would work but it created a fascinating picture. He was clearly hugely charismatic, with a winning personality and a wonderful communicator, but selfish, mercurial, entitled and immature, features common in men of his generation. An absolutely fascinating read and a great way to explore human complexity.