Half Blood Blues, Esi Edugyan

This book beautifully evokes the bittersweetness that comes from a combination of heady youth and soul consuming jazz. Sid and his bandmates clearly live and breathe music. They are young, they are talented, and they have the bravado to feel invincible, despite the risks associated with being young black men, playing a banned music style, in a racist and fearful society. While the Second World War is a constant backdrop to their lives, it seems far less terrifying than never quite laying the perfect track, or getting that one elusive girl, or, worst of all, realising that your musical talent simply isn't Good Enough.

Sid is a gentle character, and the story is told through his eyes, ebbing back and forth between present day America and Europe, and his regret-tinged memories of younger days in Paris and Berlin. We feel Sid's passion and compassion, and care about his connections to his bandmates, to his sometime-lover, to music itself. But as we oscillate between time periods, Sid's emotions seem less innocent; there are things he is hiding: from his friends; from the reader; perhaps even from himself. We can't help but wonder if this soft spoken man is really a protagonist in whom we should place our trust.

The present day sections opens a window into Sid's past, and suddenly the way he once seemed to tersely protect his emotional fragility appears more callous. Accusations are thrown from Sid's friends, from strangers, are even drawn from Sid's own secret heart of hearts. The past is often best kept buried, but this novel also teaches us that we must first make friends with it, rather than simply ignore it, as it has a way of catching up with us. A beautifully told story which will easily capture a musically inclined audience, and hook in many others as well.

Pigeon English, Stephen Kelman

How exciting to discover, when I checked the 2011 Booker Shortlist, that I had actually read one of the shortlist. Not so far behind, after all! I'd found "Pigeon English" in my local bookstore, and immediately fallen in love.


Things I loved about "Pigeon English" before I even really started reading:


- The cover art. 
The artwork is gorgeous, combining bird silhouettes with a boy's in a way that mimics one of those pysch pictures where you don't know if it's a duck or a rabbit. This really captured the sense of the book, too. While there were 'bad; characters, it was hard to shake the feeling that once they were just like the hero, Harrison. He's a young boy living in the London projects, and his main sources of inspiration are the boys around him, gangsters all.


- The list on the back. 
"
Wars. Kids vs Teachers, Northwell Manor High vs Leabridge High, Dell Farm Crew vs Lewsey Hill Crew, Emos vs Sunshine, Turkey vs Russia, Arsenal vs Chelsea, Black vs White, Police vs Kids, God vs Allah, Chicken Joe’s vs KFC, Cats vs Dogs, Aliens vs Predators." 

The list was so bittersweet. The concept of wars in kid-language is so heartwrenching. Some of these wars are serious wars that strike fear into the heart of adults (God vs Allah). Some are bitingly witty, and sum up the humour of the novel (Emos vs Sunshine). And others, like Chicken Joe's vs KFC, just underline how childish the protaganist is. At the heart of everything, he is a young boy in a cruel, fast paced world. As the reader, you are just hoping against hope that his reputation as the second fastest runner in Year 7 will help him to outrun any danger.

- The voice of Harry. 
Harry is so unmistakably a child. Some of the adventures we follow him through are those of simple adolescence- trying to fit in with the cool crowd, his first girlfriend. Others are sadly adult, such as living through the aftermath of a murder in his community. And yet even the way he deals with this grief (to create a detective duo bent on finding the killer) is so juvenile, it made me ache. "Pigeon English" has been compared to the fabulous "Room", and I can see why. It shares the same gift of telling a story wholeheartdely through the eyes of a child, and both of those stories are sadly not the tale of childhood we would wish for our heroes. 

For me, "Pigeon English" is not just the tale of a childhood though, but of life robbing us of our innocence. The characters of the novel could all have been like Harry once, but life kept beating down on them until they cracked. Harry hasn't cracked yet, but you get the feeling it's only a matter of time before the world wins. A beautiful and often funny novel, but with a nagging twinge of sadness at the world we are creating for our children.

The Sisters Brothers, Patrick deWitt

At first, I thought "The Sisters Brothers" would be some family drama, a la TV show "Brothers & Sisters". Then I started reading, and the brotherly duo of Charlie and Eli reminded me somewhat of another highly enjoyable novel, "The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart"- especially when Charlie and Eli stumbled across a supernatural occurrence or two. But magic proved to be less than the main theme, and "The Sisters Brothers" took on its own voice, and I became engrossed.

Charlie and Eli Sisters are not good men, but Eli wouldn't mind becoming one. He has had enough of the mercenary life; while he gets a thrill from his very name striking fear into the hearts of men, he also experiences moments of darkness and loneliness which make him long for death. He sees where all this is headed, and it is not good. He knows he needs to change his ways. If only he could convince his brother of the same.

The novel meanders along with a distinctly fantastical bent; characters recur for no reason or logic, things fall unexpectedly into place, and events bookend each other in pretty parallels. But "The Sisters Brothers" is also a Western, set in the Californian gold-rush, when men were manly. And thieving. And murderous. As a result the novel feels, well, more dusty than gritty.

"The Sisters Brothers" has been one of my favourite novels in a long time. A great re-entry back into the world of Booker novels, except that I fear it has set the bar too high for some others to match.