Book review: The Gospel of Loki by Joanne Harris

Published 13 February 2014 by Gollancz

In a world of gods, ice folk and dwarves, Joanne Harris chooses as her hero the trickster god Loki, bent upon making mischief throughout the Nine Worlds of Norse mythology.

Unfortunately for the reader, his tongue-in-cheek tone and irritating colloquialisms make him less an endearing anti-hero and more an annoying younger brother with a penchant for tall stories.

Shape-shifting and deceiving his way through the tale, Loki rises from the depths of Chaos to dwell among the gods of Asgard, ruled by the Allfather Odin who repeatedly (and inexplicably) gives him the benefit of the doubt. A series of misadventures, tricks and tussles each bear a chapter title relating to Loki’s attempted enlightenment of his reader, his gospel ‘Lokabrenna’. These consist of such platitudes as ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away’ and ‘Most problems can be solved through cake’. Tension builds as Loki pushes the boundaries of the gods’ – and the readers’ – patience, until finally he colludes in bringing about Ragnarok, the cataclysmic end of the gods.

Harris does succeed in constructing a vivid, convincing world in which cinematic set pieces shimmer with the ‘glam’ of runes and bristle with the looming dramatic compulsion of prophecy. But this world is so sullied by the incongruous cleaving to it of contemporary idioms that it feels inescapably artificial. The story should be a thrilling one, but somehow Loki’s infuriating slang (‘Chillax’, ‘Boom!’) and heavy-handed presaging of things to come (‘But that was a lesson I had yet to learn’; ‘Just proves how wrong you can be I guess’) turns his adventures into a succession of contrived vignettes that do not fuse together into a satisfying whole.

AS Byatt’s recent foray into Norse Mythology, Ragnarok, proves how compelling and poetic this world of gods can be. She sums Loki up in one succinct, beautiful phrase: ‘Ungraspable Loki flamed amazement and pleased himself.’ Joanne Harris has taken an entire novel to do the same, with less success. The dust jacket sells The Gospel of Loki as a retelling of history, as its hero’s ‘turn to take the stage’. Perhaps this incarnation of Loki failed to make his voice heard for a reason; perhaps he should have stayed in the wings.

This review was originally published on We Love This Book.

South London Bookshop Review: Herne Hill Bookshop

289 Railton Road, South London, SE24 0LY

Where?

On the corner just as you come out of Herne Hill Station, a cheery green façade welcomes you into this small but savvily stocked bookshop. On Sundays it is a fitting piece of the jigsaw of shops that frame Herne Hill Farmers Market, which offers organic food and trinkets to complement a discerning reader’s taste in literature.

What?

Its somewhat bare shelves first imply a poor collection or a struggling business, and create an atmosphere of slight dilapidation. But on closer inspection there is quite a range of works for such a small place – a medley of contemporary and classic fiction, plus a line in local interest and children’s books. They’ve clearly stocked for the local demographic, including the yummy mummies of nearby Dulwich.

Reason to visit?

If you’re indecisive. Here lies a pared-down selection of good books, so a certain amount of the fearsome choice that faces you in larger bookshops has already been made. All you have to do is pick up pretty much anything, from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to Donna Tartt’s The Secret History or Benjamin Zephaniah’s Refugee Boy – and you’ll find a book worth reading.

What’s missing?

Lots. But as I say, that’s not always a bad thing. If you want something specific, it’s likely you’ll need to order it in (as the smaller sister of Clapham Books, you can request anything they don’t have from down the road). It's a shame that instead of stuffing their shelves there are some gaping holes, which feels almost embarrassedly naked. But this bookshop works wonders as a place for a quick pop-in and browse when you’ve got five minutes to spare while the butcher wraps up your joint of beef for Sunday lunch.

East London Bookshop Review: The Book Stall, Spitalfields Market

The Book Stall, Old Spitalfields Market, E1 6EW

Where?

Amidst the tarnished ‘vintage’ jewellery and ubiquitous owl-patterned dresses of Spitalfields Market, one unassuming stall juxtaposes that hipster consumerism with a quiet, unpretentious erudition. Its prime spot at the edge of the market stops passers-by on their journey to the over-priced bric-a-brac, and rewards them with a wide array of classics, modern classics and esoteric books at very reasonable remainder-stock prices.

What?

Anything from Vintage imprint Woolf, Kafka or Faulkner to Oliver Sacks’s entire oeuvre, How to thrive in a digital age by Tom Chatfield or an intriguing volume of Graffiti Argentina. All books are around £3 - £4, and all are pretty much guaranteed to enhance your experience of the world.

Best on the shelves?

Forgotten editions of modern classics, particularly for authors whose collected works have since been standardised into series with consistent book jackets. The gleeful cat grasping the moon on the 2003 Vintage cover of The Master and Margarita; a slender arm and coy collar bones adorning the Faber Firsts edition of The Bell Jar; the arched curve of the diving boy on the 2009 edition of Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna. These aren’t as rare as lost or vintage editions, but are often usurped designs that have their own beauty and deserve still to be appreciated. And all for a bargain price – what’s not to love?

What’s missing?

The limitations of this book stall are the preconditions of its existence: not enough books and no new titles. But cool-as-cucumber Ezra, the stall owner, fills the small space with a discerning selection that maximises on quality. And any bookshop can sell the new, zeitgeist titles – this stall picks from the zeitgeists of years gone by the books that deserve to be remembered. Well worth a trip.

Theatre review: nut at NT's The Shed

nut

By debbie tucker green

The Shed, National Theatre

The deliberately contrived lower case letters in debbie tucker green’s name and the names of her plays do not, thankfully, translate into the content of her work. There is little contrivance in nut’s whip-crack dialogue and its depiction of a reclusive young woman fighting her demons.

nut opens as protagonist Elayne holds a bizarre conversation with her friends Aimee and Devon about who would write their eulogies, how they would ‘go out’, and who they would invite to their funerals. The surreal dialogue is peppered with telling insight into the serious undercurrents underlying many young, banterous relationships that are struggling to stay jocular in the face of real problems. But the lengthy scene peters out into confusion towards the end as it loses its sense of focus.

We’re catapulted into a gripping duologue, however, when we cut to Elayne’s sister having a painfully plausible spat with her ex-husband about custody of their child. Anyone who has ever fought with a loved one will squirm with recognition. It is only when Elayne’s sister visits that the link between them is established and the uncanny nature of the first scene is explained. Slowly everything assumes a retrospective poignancy and anguish that endures through the final scene as the innate love between the sisters seems as ephemeral and extinguishable as the burning cigarettes that pepper the play.

Tucker Green's language artfully combines naturalistic sparring with poetic nuances that resonate throughout the play. And the actors’ delivery is mostly pitch-perfect, particularly from Sharlene Whyte as Elayne’s sister and Gershwyn Eustache Jr as her ex, who make you feel the voyeuristic discomfort of watching a real couple puzzling out their personal conflicts. The unique set design from Lisa Marie Hall – all curved rusting poles and furniture that seems to mutate into sculpture – creates a beautiful, functional and ensnaring cage in which the characters pace and snarl.

Ultimately it feels there is something missing that would have turned this from a good play into a great one. Perhaps it is lost in that first long scene where the characters’ interactions don’t always ring true, and leave you fearing a lack of emotional investment. But by the end of the play, you sense the burn of the cigarettes Elayne inflicts upon herself as if they are on your own skin, you inhale the oppressive smoke into your lungs and feel truly affected by the daily grind of this vignette of lives struggling for air.

This is a feisty little play, not flawless but absolutely worthy of being programmed in the experimental space of the NT’s The Shed. It makes you intensely uncomfortable and laugh out loud simultaneously, and leaves you feeling shell shocked – in its very conflict lies its power.

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Mount Kimbie make you want to dance away your faultless youth all night long...

Mount Kimbie Live

Koko, London, Thursday 14 November

This review first appeared on More than the Music

Kai Campos and Dominic Maker have perfected a tricky balance in their live sets: they fluctuate between using live vocals, guitar and drums to faithfully enhance tunes from their most recent album Cold Spring Fault Less Youth, and also produce exhilarating live remixes that tantalise the audience and stay faithful to their electronic roots.

Campos does the majority of the singing, and although his voice isn’t flawless, it brings an appropriately gritty sincerity to songs like Home Recording. Live drums make the thumping percussion refreshingly authentic and serve to complement the band’s glitchier beats – Maker even cracks out some impressively precise clapping into the mic which is rather mesmerising. In Blood and Form, Campos’s guitar and vocals provide a delicate counterbalance to the tune’s relentlessly electronic industrial sounds. And when the duo sing in unison on Made to Stray, there is an extra umph that turns Campos’s sometimes weak voice into an irresistible pull on the audience to join in.

Mount Kimbie’s achievement in bringing their post-dubstep electronic sounds into a live forum is at its zenith in their collaboration with spoken word rapper King Krule. On Cold Spring Fault Less Youth, the two tracks with Krule’s vociferous vocals can jar against the mellow delicacy of the rest of the album. But in the live set he brings an energy to the stage that enlivens crowd and band alike. As he moves from spoken-singing to truly impassioned rapping, Campos and Maker’s increasingly insistent drones seem perfectly matched to the paroxysms into which Krule sends himself.

This duo have moved on from the electronica of their first album, Crooks and Lovers, to hone a sound that embraces everything from trip-hop, dubstep and rap to techno and even free jazz. This heady mix explodes onstage into a varied and immersive experience that is musically assured and excitingly experimental. And as well as the cerebral enjoyment you can take from Mount Kimbie’s music, it also makes you want to dance away your faultless youth the whole night long.

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Gig review: 'Like taking a wholesome walk through the forests of the world' - Johnny Flynn & the Sussex Wit

Johnny Flynn & the Sussex Wit
Hackney Empire, 10th October

This review originally appeared on More Than The Music

Johnny Flynn has recently taken a hiatus from music, instead gracing the stage at Shakespeare’s Globe and the West End to act in Richard III, Twelfth Night and Jez Butterworth’s Jerusalem. Now the tousled English folkster has returned to the folk scene in which he cuts such an inimitable figure. This current tour, promoting his new album Country Mile, proves that he has not lost his touch.

Flynn’s voice appears effortless, slipping the notes into each phrase like delicate fingers into a perfectly fitting glove. He is as pitch-perfect live as he is on recordings, and brings an additional frisson to his performance with his unforced authenticity and the occasional well-placed extra glissando. The Sussex Wit (made up of Flynn’s sister Lillie on vocals, flute and melodian, David Beauchamp on drums, Adam Beach on bass, Joe Zeitlin on cello and newest member Cosmo Sheldrake on keyboard) complement Flynn beautifully. The band sit separately on a sparse stage, silhouetted by backlighting; a beguiling set-up that belies the perfect synchrony of their performance as a seamless whole. Lillie’s voice adds an ethereal aura to her brother’s earthy tones, which together mingle with miscellaneous folk instruments to create a sound that maintains its integrity as much at Hackney Empire as it did at their intimate Rough Trade record store gig two weeks ago.

The set was compiled from a satisfying mix of old favourites and new songs. Many of the new ones do sound remarkably similar to those from his previous two albums, A Larum and Been Listening – Flynn’s sound has definitely not been revolutionised, lending a certain sameyness to the gig. But if you like intriguing, imaginative folk then that’s no bad thing. From the heart-warming Einstein’s Idea (written when his son was born – cue every woman in the crowd melting) and the two-part contrapuntal harmony of After Eliot, to the vigorous trumpet-enhanced folk-rock of Howl and the rollicking Tickle Me Pink, there is plenty of diversity within Flynn’s oeuvre to keep you wanting more.

Flynn’s music always instills a certain emotional heft, with his catchy hooks and ambiguous, poetic lyrics. Seeing him live, you feel this even more keenly – there is a lack of pretension in these songs that makes you want to slow down your pace of life, pick up a banjo and strum your heart out. Watching a Johnny Flynn and the Sussex Wit gig is like going for a wholesome walk through the forests of the world, taking in everything from acorn to oak and emerging covered in mud with ruddy cheeks, much like Flynn’s own, and gratifyingly invigorated by your nourishing musical experience.

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'The poeticism of the prose is exquisite': a review of The Tilted World

By Tom Franklin and Beth Ann Fennelly
Published 1st October 2013
This review first appeared on We Love This Book.

Husband and wife writers, poet Beth Ann Fennelly and novelist Tom Franklin, have composed a poem of devotion to their land and to love in the form of lyrical novel The Tilted World. They weave a tender tale of lost souls in the Deep South and of discovered solace amidst the cataclysm of the great 1927 Mississippi flood.

The palpable threat of the flood is manifested through the prism of Dixie Clay – already emotionally drowned by her unhappy marriage to a bootlegger making whisky in defiance of prohibition law – and through Ingersoll, an emotionally stagnated prohibition agent, come to Mississippi as the flood waters threaten to burst the levees. When this strange, mud-caked man appears through the rain to leave a baby on Dixie’s doorstep, the world will tilt and warp the boundaries of law, friendship, community and love.

The Tilted World takes time to absorb the reader in its delicately rendered tale. The structure, which inhabits Dixie’s and Ingersoll’s thoughts episodically, does not immediately fully realise their psychologies, and boredom occasionally threatens in the opening chapters. The syntax can seem almost wilfully excluding – it is not clear from the start that the narrative voice has sprinklings of southern American phrasing, so the lack or direct and indirect objects and unnatural verb uses can be confusing. But slowly the lives of Dixie and Ingersoll become compelling, and representative of the lives of all those who lived through prohibition, who lived through the war, and through the upheavals of the Deep South at the turn of the century.

The poeticism of the prose is exquisite; metaphors are sprinkled through the book, giving you pause even as the plot surges on like the flood that propels it. Beautiful images that conjure a very specific time and place are simultaneously timeless: in the heavy wind of a low-flying navy plane ‘the corn [is] blown into italics all around’; when the Mississippi river is at breaking point Ingersoll can ‘feel the levee wavering like a struck tuning fork’; the sky is ‘gauzy and low, like a rafter cobweb Dixie Clay yearned to knock down with a broom’.

The Tilted World is a deeply-felt, elegiac homage to a particular time and to the endurance of love, unafraid to shy away from the mundane realities of life, rewarding the reader’s commitment to its tilted world.

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