The Bunker Diary - Kevin Brooks

I’ve taken a slight break from blogging/reviewing due mainly to birthday celebrations (fun) and working (not so fun). I also decided to indulge my Austen addiction for a while and have therefore been spending the majority of July with my nose buried in Mansfield Park – so I have been reading at least! I thought I’d take a quick break before getting stuck into a new book to give my blog a little attention and review a book I read earlier in the summer.

If you’re a Kevin Brooks fan, you will have some idea of what you’re in store for with this book – having been writing novels for over a decade, he is well established as a gritty, frank, and sometimes down-right disturbing author who tackles controversial, tricky topics in a completely blunt and realistic way. When I was much younger I read one of his more famous books – Candy. In hind sight I was probably slightly too young at the time to fully realise the importance and symbolism of everything Brooks was getting at in this troubling tale of a young lover caught up in a drug-fuelled world of prostitution, violence, and control. However, I did seem to have enough memory of my enjoyment of it to immediately pick up a copy of The Bunker Diary and rush home to start it without even reading the blurb. Brooks seems to be one of those authors that has that addictive effect on me, and I felt like I was unearthing a former childhood passion I had forgotten all about.

Written in the first person of Linus, a 16 year old who has run away from his rich but neglectful father to live on the streets, the book is the diary he keeps whilst being held in captivity in a bunker underground. He is joined by various other characters throughout the novel whose differing reactions to and behaviour within their situation as related to us by Linus really keep the novel captivating and gripping. In such a high pressured situation no one can be trusted – everyone is a suspect, anyone could be working for the man upstairs, not even little Jenny can be completely innocent. For me this is the real hidden gem of the novel – the way in which Brooks handles and maintains the high-pressured narration and drags us mentally into the situation which is so far from what we have ever experienced. This realistic narration never falters, Linus’ transitions from practical escape plans, to hopeless lamenting, to nostalgic memories, to philosophical thinking are flawless - both unpredictable and what can only be expected from someone in this dire position.

The Bunker Diary is one of those books that you can’t say a huge amount about without giving away the entire story and ruining it for any prospective reader. However, at the same time it is left so completely open to speculation that there is really no ultimate way of ‘spoiling’ it. Brooks forces us as readers to fill in the blanks, to create our own ending, forcing us into the sick mind-set of the kidnapper. Without any solid validation, the reader has to consider and imagine motivations and outcomes whether they like it or not. This is by no means a comfortable read. After one night of reading it (which got me through about half the book I might add – an extremely addictive read) I was having nightmares – this is not for the faint-hearted. I can guarantee you will come out of this read feeling drained, slightly emotionally empty, and in need of some serious thinking time to get your head around it all and reach your own conclusions (something I still haven’t managed to do…).

As depressing as this all sounds, the book is worth it 100%. From my previous reviews we probably all know by now that I can’t resist a study on human behaviour in difficult circumstances – but more than that, this book also compels us to study ourselves as we read it. We are both the authoritative ‘you’ Linus is writing to - raising questions which transcend the novel of how this diary has been unearthed - and the fly on the wall watching, judging, sympathising with each character. This book could have gone so completely overboard on its violence and horror but its subtlety and constant focus on characters rather than action forces the reader to check himself constantly for expecting such horror. It is this incredibly consistent technique which makes the book such a page-turner, and such a genius piece of writing. 

Greed Satisfaction Scale: A meal which you can't help but stuff yourself to the brim with for an intense period of time, but beware once you've finished it, the hunger will return worse than ever in an empty starvation that won't be remedied for a good few days.

Read it now: Get it here

Oh Dear Silvia - Dawn French

Whilst holidaying in a French villa last summer I came across an old battered copy of Dawn French’s epistolary memoirs Dear Fatty. I dipped in and out of it as a break from my uni summer reading list, and found that its hilarious laugh out loud moments, unashamed honesty, and unmistakable Dawn Frenchesque voice was a more than welcome relief. For this reason, as well as a love for The Vicar of Dibley which I’m sure the rest of humanity shares, I was excited when her new novel Oh Dear Silvia was announced. It has received rave reviews which assured me of its dark hilarity and gripping storyline, and when it came out this week in paperback it shot straight to number one in the overall charts.

So naturally, I got stuck in as quickly as possible. Now this next sentence is pretty hard for me to type but….I was disappointed. I don’t pretend to be any form of authority over Dawn French, little old me second year English student casual blogger versus Queen of Comedy, and I can’t deny the numerous people who have loved this book, but in my honest opinion it just wasn’t for me. However, I did stick with it, and that is definitely saying something – the sign of a truly awful book is the overwhelming desire to throw it into the nearest bin/fire/mass of water, and I didn’t quite get that with this.

The premise is definitely an interesting one: a woman in a coma having somehow fallen off a balcony is visited by various relatives/friends/acquaintances, each chapter is written in one of these people’s perspectives. We therefore gather a view of Silvia without ever having even met her, purely through the conflicting but revealing narrations of her visitors.  I guess in hind sight this was the reason I was slightly hooked - as each character revealed something more, I wanted to find out the next chapter (excuse the pun) in the storyline. However, what’s slightly off-putting is the obviousness of all these revelations. At times I felt as though I was being completely patronised by the assumption that I needed quite so much repetition to understand what exactly was being said. Obviously this is personal preference, but I always like a little mystery, or at least to feel as though I worked a bit to work out the meaning of it all.

Another flaw with this seemingly exciting and intriguing foundation is French’s use of tenses. I realise this sounds a little middle school English teacher, but it got to the point where it really bugged me and I couldn’t ignore it. At times I DID feel as though I was reading an un-edited school student’s short story. It’s hard to fully criticise this when putting yourself in French’s shoes: the documentation of the present conscience of a person who is feeling in the here and now, looking into the past, AND predicting the future is a potentially impossible task to do gracefully. I certainly couldn’t think of a better way I would have handled it, but this did not take away from the fact that the overuse of the present tense where it seemed inappropriate came off as pretty clumsy and awkward a lot of the time. It also confused me as to whether there was an omniscient narrator present or it was supposed to be the direct thoughts of each character – in which case perhaps first person may have fitted better. Perhaps this all stems from too much time spent scrutinising the technicalities of each and every piece of writing I read or write, feel free to blame my tutors, but something didn’t sit completely right with me.

What I did find as I got further into the book was that the far-fetched storyline and over-exaggerated characters are not so offensive once you decide to just let yourself enjoy them and try not to see them so seriously. After all – this book IS written by a comedian, and it is not in shortage of comic moments. But for me, the laugh out loud element I was so expecting was missing – much of the comedy was kind of lost on me as I felt I needed Dawn French’s distinctive comic timing and tone to carry it along – something I couldn’t quite recreate in my head. With this in mind, I would definitely give the audio book a go. Having spoken to a few other people about it, we agreed that it seemed more of  a script than a novel – not surprising given French’s fantastic well-known script writing for French and Saunders. However unrealistic this plot may at first seem, it is ultimately a study into human behaviour and a questioning of how well we really know that person we think we are closest to. Having finished it, what really stuck in my mind was not any of the things that may have annoyed me, but the unique fact that the protagonist is never given a word or a view – something I have never experienced in a book before.

This may seem like a majorly negative review, but I found this book a real thinker – its surface characters and obvious storyline carried me along as I read it, slowly getting slightly agitated by certain aspects, but afterwards my focus has switched to the overall theme of human relationships and behaviour – which I feel makes this book a success.

Greed Satisfaction Scale: At times I felt on the point of nausea and certainly overfilled by certain aspects whilst some of the yummier parts were lacking, but on reflection this interesting combination was something I have better memories of than I felt I would whilst digesting it.

Read it now: Get it here, or listen here

Wednesday Wishlist

The Sorted Boys - Vegan Curry

My domestic goddess sister!

Whilst staying with my sister in London, we decided to hold a mini dinner party to try out this recipe we found from YouTube sensations The Sorted Boys. This bantering, lighthearted crew started off as just a bunch of friends swapping recipe ideas round a pub table, but have now escalated into not only Europe's largest cooking community on YouTube, but also the producers of two recipe books which promote fun, social, and simple cooking.

When I moved out of halls last year my sister gave me their first book 'The Beginner's Cookbook' - having tried out a number of their recipes, I find their simplistic, short instructions really useful and easy to follow, but I would say you need a slight knowledge of what you're cooking as a certain amount of improvisation is needed for some of those in-betweeny guesswork moments. Nonetheless, the combination of comfort food and healthier recipes make it perfect for the student - whatever mood you're in!

Casual bit of houmous blending

Having mentioned their focus on social cooking, this recipe really encompassed this - we all had bits and bobs to do, and could enjoy a chat and glass of wine at the same time! The recipe took no more than 20 minutes to make, and it was unexpectedly really filling and satisfying - the perfect guilt-free treat! We served ours up with mini naan breads, rice would also probably go quite well if you're not actually vegan/gluten free. For me, the best part was the houmous - I am never looking back to the shop bought stuff again!

The finished product!

Make it now: Find the effortless recipe here, along with links to their books and YouTube channel, and hundreds more delicious recipes! Let me/the boys know how your cooking goes: @sortedfood @laraegood

Pride and Prejudice - Regent's Park Open Air Theatre

Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Northanger Abbey….you really can’t beat a bit of Jane Austen. When I saw this play version in Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre advertised, I could not resist. I booked tickets with my sisters for the next available performance, and loaded with crudités, homemade houmous, and a blanket, we excitedly made our way over there on Tuesday night.

Adapted for the stage by Simon Reade, and directed by Deborah Bruce, for me (and probably most of the audience) this production had a LOT to live up to. I am a massive Austen fan, and I find her novels are some of the only ones that film adaptations can really do justice to – assuming her satirical hilarity is maintained throughout. Everyone has their personal favourite, usually involving Colin Firth or Kiera Knightley. Personally, I’m in the Kiera Knightley boat – it’s become somewhat of a tradition to lie on the sofa on New Year’s Day in a less-than-healthy state and delight in the period costumes, the dancing, the sexily broody Mr Darcy, and obviously Kiera’s go-to ‘sticking-my-chin-out-to-convey-emotion’ face. But I digress, this is not a review on my favourite film (sob). However, it was necessary to express my extreme adoration for the film to convey my expectations, which were, it’s safe to say………………….COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY FULFILLED (nice bit of suspense there).

Hidden away in a corner of Regent’s park, we felt like we were walking into an enchanted forest. We’re talking gigantic trees delicately fitted with fairy and tea lights surrounding the stage in a semi-circle against a backdrop of a beautiful summer’s evening. The stage itself was circular, with a balcony in the middle. Much to my delight, it rotated with each scene change (and even during certain scenes), giving swift, unnoticeable transitions, and making sure each member of the audience got every perspective of the on-stage action.

Now onto the important stuff – the actual performance. I have quite an immense amount to say about this, mainly because I loved it so much, so to prevent this from turning into some sort of dissertation I’m just going to do a run down of the principle characters:

Mrs Bennett – Initially I was apprehensive, I wasn’t sure if I could deal with her shrillness and exaggerated acting for the entire duration, however you soon come to realise that Mrs Bennett cannot be played in any other way. The whole POINT of her is exaggeration, and Rebecca Lacey captured her insufferability and fickle nature absolutely perfectly. I did not stop laughing/grinning throughout the entire second half.

Lizzie – This Lizzie gave a fresh perspective to her, and I have a sneaky feeling perhaps more what Austen may have intended (obviously pure speculation, but ya know). She was less quietly stubborn and a bit petulant, and more headstrong and wilful, making her somewhat rapid transition from utter disgust to unconditional love for Mr Darcy slightly more understandable.

Mr Darcy – At the beginning, a tad too posh and stiff for my liking. Obviously he’s meant to be like this, but I felt a bit more humour wouldn’t have gone amiss, and his aggressiveness came across as slightly too vicious at times rather than endearingly tongue-in-cheek.

Mr Bingley – Undoubtedly, in any production he is always one of my favourite characters – it’s probably down to the way he’s written (bashful, nervous, slightly clumsy) so it would be hard to get him wrong. But I especially loved the subtle touches Rob Heaps gave to the character. Period adaptations so often get stifled and trapped in the age they were written – we all know that generic tone of voice we used to put on when forced to ‘perform’ (drone out) Shakespeare extracts at school – but the characters were not afraid to deliver the lines in the modern, casual way that we would speak today, outlining the absolute timelessness of Austen’s writing.

Mr Collins – Completely and utterly pantomime. But I loved it! His acting was so physical that you couldn’t help but laugh, and it was a happy relief from some of the slightly-too-long serious scenes (namely involving Catherine de Bourgh). His comic timing was completely spot on and, like Mrs Bennett, whilst playing the surface character Austen has created, he managed to leave enough space for the audience to infer his own self-satire – something I’m sure Jane would have been very satisfied with.

Mr Bennett – For me, the only downside of the production as a whole. His extreme switches between comical, happy, angry, depressed, and even slightly nihilistic were just a bit too much, they made him impossible to grasp as a rounded character and he didn’t really fulfil the constant, family figurehead that I was expecting.

Bennett sisters - Added that sense of hysteria which is so present in Austen’s satire of social climbing, small-village communities. Think Kardashian, but slightly less annoying and a lot more endearing.

All in all, I loved this – I was beaming from start to finish, and I was pleasantly surprised by the extent to which it actually made me laugh out loud. Its unforced and natural mixture of Austen’s setting, style and characters with a contemporary, updated view was completely graceful and reminded me exactly why I adore snuggling up with a cup of tea and an Austen novel so much.

Now….where’s a copy of Mansfield Park?

See it now: Get tickets here, we went for the cheapest, were on the back row right at the top and could see absolutely everything!