Kieran.Stories

Flesh by David Szalay (2025)

I enjoyed Flesh, but I often felt I had nothing to hang on to, that what I was reading was not registering in my imagination. Perhaps I wasn’t bringing enough to it. Things I liked: the opening section with teenage István. I liked everything with Mervyn and was surprised when he exited so swiftly. Ultimately, it felt flat to me. But that is partly the point. Booker winning examination of the male psyche told in ‘stark’ prose. It’s not Szalay’s fault it won the Booker. It’s unfair to even bring that into the equation when thinking about how you liked the novel. But there you go. Szalay makes a strange decision at the midpoint of straying from István’s close third-person narration. This shift lasts for a few chapters. That decision felt uncharacteristically sloppy. I enjoyed large parts of Flesh. It goes down very easily. I now feel (and this is could be an appropriate response) neutral about it.

Pulp’s This is Hardcore by Jane Savidge (2024)

This was a very fun read. I thought it was particularly interesting on the Jarvis ‘mooning’ Michael Jackson debacle. Debacle might be too pejorative. Without that spur of the moment at the Brits, Savidge argues, Pulp’s next album would have been very different. Instead of Different Class 2.0, they finally made This is Hardcore. Savidge’s perspective on the end of Britpop is fascinating. It’s punchy, it’s opinionated, and I enjoyed learning more about one of my favourite albums.

Sweet Home by Wendy Erskine (2018)

There’s a cafe on the way into town called the Fellowship Cafe, attached to a church. I walked past last Saturday and was stopped by the smell of a Full English. There are worse things to be stopped by. I was immediately reminded of ‘The Last Supper’ by Wendy Erskine, one of the best stories from Sweet Home. It’s the careful building up of details in these stories; the way we’re drawn into these bedrooms, classrooms, cafes, parks. My favourite story is ‘Observation’. I listened to a podcast with Wendy Erskine recently, hosted by songwriter Neil Brogan. I was struck by the discussion on time in her stories. We often start in the middle then splinter off into past and present. ‘Observation’ is more traditional time-wise, and is cleverly bookended, but we see some of that splintering. I felt so involved with its four central characters, I think because Erskine is able to create personal histories in very few words. We are what we think, and we rarely think in the present.

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell (2022)

This book will always be special to me, because it was the first book chosen for our very exclusive two-person book club. The Marriage Portrait was my partner’s pick. She read Hamnet a couple of years ago, and while she had her reservations, I think she loved it overall. She was less enamoured by The Marriage Portrait, and I felt the same. To me, it felt quite thin. I found myself wondering why it was that many pages (432), which is never a good sign. However, there were moments of brilliance. Lucrezia and the tiger: strong stuff. In fact, I was totally with the novel up until the marriage, which is just about the halfway point. The ending did not work for me at all. Because we were reading this for our book club, I did make some notes, which I have included below.

Confessions by Catherine Airey (2025)

Confessions was a real tonic on January mornings. It took me five days to read, which is unusually speedy for me. As a debut novel, it’s wildly ambitious, and while I don’t think it all comes together at the end, there were sections which were absolutely superb. In particular, the opening section which follows teenage Coraline from the murder of her father during 9/11 to the day she leaves to live with her aunt in Ireland. The section which follows Coraline’s mother, Máire, during her time in New York in the 1980s was the other highlight. The Thanksgiving sequence was especially good. It all gets a bit tangled towards the end, and although that’s partly the point (and the use of different prose forms is impressive), I found myself having to think hard about where we were and what had happened up to that point. But, in conclusion: this is a blockbuster novel, really fun, with a fine engine. I’m excited to see what Catherine Airey does next.

Reality, and Other Stories by John Lanchester (2020)

This was the definition of a hit and miss collection for me. There were three standout stories: ‘Signal’, ‘We Happy Few’, and ‘Cold Call’. ‘Signal’ features some excellent examples of hyperbole, which genuinely make me LOL, e.g.: “The driveway of Michael’s big house was so long that even after we got there it took a while to get there.” The story’s twist is so predictable as not to be a twist, but that goes for ‘Cold Call’ too, which I liked for its family drama as much as its chilling denouement. ‘We Happy Few’ is heavy on the dialogue, but it’s good dialogue, and it zips along very effectively. I was impressed by Lanchester’s use of dialogue throughout, really. I picked this up from the library, and while I enjoyed it, it’s not a collection I feel I need to own, necessarily.

Britain’s Motorways by Mark Chatterton (2022)

I asked on Bluesky if anyone could point me in the direction of books about Britain’s motorways, and someone suggested this. It’s great. One interesting fact, which you probably already know: the M6 Toll is made from pulped paperbacks. I was also struck by the description of the M1 closing for Diana’s funeral. There are other interesting motorway stories in this book, but I think I’ll save them. One of the reasons I wanted to read this book is because I want to write about the motorway. I would suggest picking this up if you’re also interested in the subject. If anyone knows of any fiction on the motorway, give me a shout.

Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley by Peter Guralnick (1994)

This book is magic. I am about halfway through with it. The first LP is in the works. Elvis is a star but he’s about to become something more. Guralnick is careful with his foreshadowing. It’s a very carefully structured book, but the writing is bold when it needs to be. I read a biography of Elvis a few years ago by Albert Goldman, which was quite anti-Elvis, quite mean spirited. Guralnick doesn’t show his cards in that way. His biography is better described as a history, really. Here are two quotes from the book which have stuck with me. This is the Elvis dichotomy. Lee Denson (taught Elvis his first guitar chords): “The difference between me and him was I went for it… And he fell into the shithole and came up with the gold watch and chain.” Roy Orbison: “His energy was incredible, his instinct was just amazing… Actually it affected me exactly the same way as when I first saw that David Lynch film (Blue Velvet). I just didn’t know what to make of it. There was just no reference point in the culture to compare it.” Of course, both statements ring true.

AOB

Thanks for reading this January round-up. I’d love to know what you’ve been reading. Feel free to comment below. You can find me on Bluesky, too. I’m posting this a week before the end of January, but that feels right to me. I think for the rest of this month, I’ll be reading more of Last Train to Memphis, although I imagine I’ll take that into February. I want to catch up on some short stories next week, too, because I feel like I miss a lot of work published online – something I want to change in 2026. I have published two stories on this blog since the start of the year: ‘Numb Beyond Her Last of Sense’ and ‘The Eligibility of Different Homes and the Households that Occupy Them’. If you want to check them out, I’d really appreciate it. Keep on trucking, all.