William Boyd, Morrissey, and Jhumpa Lahiri are among the writers under review this week
Normally a fan of William Boyd's "rollicking yarns", Christopher Philip Howe was left disappointed by Solo, Boyd's newly-published take on an over-the-hill James Bond, calling it a "peculiar book" that feels like a compromise between Boyd's usual style and Ian Fleming's.
It is as if Boyd can't make his mind up. Should he write Bond his way, or Fleming's way? His indecision is reflected on every page as well as in the overall structure, in which the eponymous solo mission doesn't start until two-thirds of the way through the book. Faced with a story that unfolds over a shorter time frame than he is used to working with, it is as if Boyd has padded it out.
For Euan Ferguson it is Fleming's original Bonds (particularly the later ones) that are "frankly padded". But Christopher Philip Howe has avoided the trap Ferguson identifies for critics of "trying to judge [Boyd's] book against the James Bond films", arguing that "Fleming's Bond is pivotal to the plot, not incidental like Boyd's". When Howe invokes the film franchise, it is only to compare Boyd's 007 to Roger Moore's "plodding" portrayal.
So Bond is a veteran – but of what? Instead of showing flashbacks on Bond's previous career – perhaps he thinks readers will know too much about this already – Boyd is at pains to show us Bond's doubts about what he is doing, about what he wants, by having him reflect and ponder over coffee, dinner, cocktails and so on, but it is always generalised and wholly unconvincing.
But, as Ferguson notes, the Bond cocktail has always been difficult to reproduce – even for Fleming himself. For Howe there's something fuzzily unsatisfying about both the Moore-era films and Boyd's novel. Maybe only a few early Flemings and a handful of classic Connerys are mixed to the correct recipe.
Our current reader reviews of the novel are unanimously negative, but is anyone willing to break the critical consensus? Let us know if you loved Solo, or at least were won over by the footnoted recipe for salad dressing that Boyd winkingly includes in the text.
Solocontrotutti sums up the balance of opinion on Morrissey's Autobiography when characterising Mozza as "a man with an eye for detail, clever, pedantic and somehow always missing the point".
The book's first ten, paragraphless pages clearly impressed: "The book starts off in fine fettle. The opening few lines sets you hoping for the much touted classic that is heralded on the cover." But like other reviewers, solocontrotutti found the rest predictable, even wondering, "how do you review ... someone who is contemptuous of the predictable and yet has become more predictable than the Manchester drizzle?" We ask ourselves all the time, solocontrotutti, all the time ...
At times it's as though you are reading Morrissey trying too hard to be Morrissey. You catch yourself thinking, no one can be this Morrissey, this predictable – it's not possible.
It's that Mozza attitude and posture, of course – "all the cleverness exists in a love of words but not an understanding of what they mean" – but more importantly, that Mozza worldview. "I kept having to pinch myself that I wasn't reading about the 1870s," solocontrotutti continues. Surely 1970s Manchester wasn't that bad. But in the unreliable world of the celebrity autobiography, anything is possible.
Including the unlikely experience of finding ourselves drawn to continue reading nonetheless. As solocontrotutti points out, "reading predictable Morrissey is just more interesting than an unpredictable anyone else".
Finally Amritachoudhury1255 found herself charmed by Jhumpa Lahiri's The Lowland. After worrying that Lahiri's usual "intricate patterns of human relationships is starkly missing" from the novel's opening, she was relieved to find that the author's "knack of capturing those little nuances of small, unknown people" hasn't disappeared; it just takes a while, in this most political of novels, to show.
This week we're reminded that readerly patience, or just plain slogging on, is sometimes rewarded. Sometimes not. Of course, when in doubt – read the reviews! Thanks for all this week's contributions – if I've mentioned you this week, do write in (to claire.armitstead@guardian.co.uk) and let us know. We'll stand you a book from our cupboards.
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