Matt

Dense. Very, very dense. But beyond a doubt the definitive economic history of Nazi Germany, and an important corrective to the idea that fascism is anything close to an efficient or effective form of government. It's fascinating to watch (in what feels like real time, did I mention it's dense?) exactly how the German leadership kept all the balls in the air, and the horrific lengths they went to in order to buy a bit more time with which to do increasingly unspeakable things.

A really fascinating book in a couple of different ways. As a point in time glimpse at a very different world, it's wonderful - the world building of fin de siècle rural France is perfect, with lots of rose-tinted details about what day-to-day life in a relatively prosperous rural backwater would have been like (including some fairly dark details thrown in as fun little asides). The vast difference between the Anglo and Gallic worldviews is also amazing to witness, the ways Claudine approaches the world couldn't be more different than something like the roughly contemporary Anne of Green Gables or What Katy Did At School. Equally fascinating is the story behind the books themselves, with Colette producing the books that appear to have been lightly edited by her husband and then published under his name. Her claims that his only contribution was to make them a bit more saucy feels true, with the authentically feminine perspective regularly undercut by a very masculine fantasy perspective of what nubile young schoolgirls and their teachers are really getting up to behind closed doors. And on top of all of this, there is the elephant in the room that Claudine might actually just be a selfish and awful person who enjoys creating chaos. Ultimately, a rich text and a fun read that didn't really leave me wanting to spend any more time with the lead character.

I picked this up after after reading Margaret Atwood's Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature and while it's fascinating as a historical document, the endless tales of woe and the (to modern eyes) totally unsympathetic character of the author makes it a real slog. There's something so joyless about her retelling of her emigration and years in the Canadian bush, you can't help but sympathise with the many villains who come along and fleece her and her husband with alarming regularity.

As Margaret Atwood's second (published) novel, you can start to see more of the themes that would come to define her writing (Canadian-ness, sexual politics, reproductive rights, even conservationism) coalesce around the distinctive voice that was already present in The Edible Woman. It had been a while since I'd read this one, and this time I noticed how Atwood's poetic voice crosses over into her fiction here in a way that doesn't happen often during her career, particularly as the main character's mental state starts to fall apart once she comes to grips with the choices she made (or were made for her). The (intentional) void that is the main character means it's never going to be my favourite Atwood novel, but still a fascinating read that refuses to give you easy answers about what is next for the characters by the end.

Does exactly what it says on the tin, although my god, the sex scenes are excruciating to read...