French Milk by Lucy Knisley

French Milk is a non-fiction graphic novel that focuses on six weeks the author, Lucy Knisley, spent in Paris with her mother one summer.  Lucy is in her early twenties and her Mum is about to turn fifty.  The book itself is a diary of all their experiences in Paris, from visiting the sights to eating lots of delicious French food.  But as it is a diary, it also contains Lucy's own reflections about her life and the future.

I was expecting to enjoy French Milk as I love graphic novels, travel and food, but I wasn't expecting to relate to Lucy as much as I did and enjoy it on a deeper level, too.  In between the entries about visiting Oscar Wilde's grave, admiring the artwork at the Lourve and shopping at vintage markets, Lucy writes with honesty about the experience of travelling and how she feels about her life.  On one early page, she sends a homesick email to her boyfriend, only to get a "you're having the experience of a life-time, you should be enjoying it!" sort of reply.  This so corresponds with my own experience of travel; every-time I have gone abroad for a longer period of time I have had travellers guilt about missing home and finding some things hard, even though I knew that I was having the most wonderful experience that I would look back on for years to come.  I liked that Lucy was honest about this part of travel and also about the little things, like thinking of Walt Disney when visiting Notre Dame.

But what I related to most was Lucy's relationship with her mother and how she felt about her future.  She's at that stage you get to in your early-twenties if you have been to university, where you are starting to really grow up and be more independent, but you're still attached to your parents and you still regress to being a teenager whenever you see them.  Lucy writes about being childish when she visits her parents home at the beginning of the book and sometimes needs her Mum to comfort her when she's feeling overwhelmed by the future.  When I was 23, I was living with my boyfriend and was deemed responsible enough to be in charge of 30 children on my own all day, but I would still phone my Mum for washing machine instructions and after cooking disasters.  Knisley perfectly captures that phase of your life, when your relationship with your parents starts to change.

The parts about Paris itself were lovely, too.  I've only been to Paris once and definitely need to go back one day.  This book had me thinking about all of the things I would want to do once I got there.  The drawing style was more Persepolis than super-hero, which fits my personal preferences:

On the whole, French Milk was enjoyable and successful both as a travelogue and as a memoir about a stage in the authors life.  I just whizzed through it and am excited to pick up Knisley's other graphic novel, Relish.

Source:  Personal copy

First Published: 2007

My Edition: Touchstone, 2008

Score: 4.5 out of 5

Colour: Travels Through the Paintbox by Victoria Finlay

When I saw this book reviewed at A Striped Armchair, I knew it was one I would have to hunt down and read immediately.  You see, I have a thing for colour.  I am not an artist but colour lights up something in my brain; when I lived with my parents and felt sad, I would go and lie in the bright yellow hallway and feel instantly better.  Colours can change my emotions and make me feel different things, calm me down, cheer me up or soothe me.  A whole book about the history of colours and how they are made sounded perfect.

Colour is part travel, part history.  Finlay has divided the book according to the rainbow and investigates how each colour was made in the time before synthetic colours.  Where possible, she visits countries of traditional production and learns how to make these colours herself and also about how colour production changed societies and cultures.  Finlay writes about why certain colours are given a high status (e.g. purple as the colour of royalty), compares how the same colours were made in different countries and why some became prized over others.

I really enjoyed Colour.  Finlay is an engaging writer who is fascinated by her subject matter and this comes across on the page.  Finding out how colours were made was truly compelling as I had no idea that humans were so inventive.  From sea snails to animal bones to bug blood to precious stones, there seems to be nothing colourful in nature that was not exploited for paint or dye at some time in history.  I was fascinated with the complicated process of making colour, of how you go from a rock of lapis lazuli to a blue oil paint and how artists used to make their own colours and tones according to what they wanted to paint.  Colour had power in history and there are plenty of accounts of countries and places become rich by making a fade-resistant paint that could be exported.  Finlay does a good job of explaining how these colours then became exulted and held up by society, part of the fabric of life.

Although I enjoyed the travel sections, where Finlay meets people living where colours were made in the past and discusses the legacy of colour with them, these sections took a backseat for me to the sections about actually making the paint or dye itself.  I would also have liked to learn more about modern paint making, about how many of the traditional colour sources are still used, and how the transition was made from natural to artificial colours.  Finlay clearly feels like something has been lost as we're forgetting the secrets of natural colours and I couldn't help but agree with her.  I'd be interested to see a modern paint-making factory to investigate how different things really are (I know you can still buy some traditional colours).

All in all, an absorbing and well written non-fiction book that I'm happy I picked up.  I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys travel or history, or anyone who has ever mixed their own colours using a watercolour set. 

Source: Library
First Published: 2002
Score: 4 out of 5

Empires of the Indus by Alice Albinia

Summary (from back cover):
The Indus rises in Tibet, flows west across India, and south through Pakistan.  For millennia it has been worshipped as a god; for centuries used as a tool of imperial expansion.  Following the river upstream and back in time, Empires of the Indus takes the reader on a voyage through two thousand miles of geography and more than five thousand years of history.


Thoughts:
It's not often I copy a summary into my reviews but in this case the back cover sums up the book perfectly.  Albinia starts in Pakistan and works her way up the course of the river, meeting the people that currently live around it and also informing us of the history of the river, from the partitioning of India right back to prehistoric times. I was very excited to start this one as travel and history are two of the non-fiction genres I enjoy and I was interested to see whether Albinia could pull off a fusion of the two.

For the most part, Empires of the Indus is a very successful book.  Albinia clearly loves her subject matter and is very well read in terms of the history of the different peoples and nations.  I must admit to enjoying the travel parts of the book more than the history parts, mainly because Albinia could speak several of the languages of the area, meaning that she could talk directly to people and present their stories.  As a woman travelling through strict Muslim and Hindu areas, she also got access to women's stories that were often just as fascinating as the men's.  Albinia writes about what it is like to wear a burqa, to travel through the lawless regions of Pakistan, to arrive at a place without knowing anyone at all and having nowhere to stay.  She is an adventurous traveller and one of the themes of the book was how hospitable all of her hosts were, no matter where she went.  Even in the "terrorist breeding grounds" of Pakistan and Afghanistan, Albinia was greeted warmly and people were always keen to welcome her to stay in their homes and share their food with her.  Would that happen in the West?

As I read this book, I realised how little I knew about some of the countries featured in it, especially Pakistan.  I had always imagined Pakistan as a solely Muslim country.  But Albinia uncovers other sides of Pakistan, for example the Sheedi, descendants of a freed African slave, that blend Islam with their own cultural traditions.  I learned that perhaps I had been stereotyping some countries in the area, and that the real situation is far more complex than I had realised.  I enjoyed the chapter that included a history of Sikhism as this is something I knew relatively little about.

Some of the history was a little dense.  I knew a bit about the general history of the area before starting this but did find it hard to keep some of the rulers and invaders straight.  Although the book is roughly 300 pages long, it felt a lot longer at times as some chapters were heavy on the history and required a mental slog to get through.  I became used to this as I read through the book and consequently found the later chapters 'easier' than the first.

I'm going to end with my favourite passage from the book;
"I press my nose against the burqa and stare out into the world.  I see a young man with a pink rose tucked behind his ear sitting on a boulder, his AK47 lovingly upholstered in blue and pink stickers.  I see sand-coloured fortresses, the sky cloudless blue behind them.  I see graveyard after graveyard fluttering with flags of jihadi martyrs.  I see a gun on every male shoulder.  And I see no women at all - not grannies in burqas, not even a little girl."

Source: Library
First Published: 2008
Score: 4 out of 5

The Caliph's House by Tahir Shah

 

Tahir Shah is one of my favourite writers.  His love letter to Morocco, In Arabian Nights, is up there amongst the books I treasure because it perfectly invokes the magic, mysticism and wonder that I picture when I think of bazaars, spice markets, coffee houses, winding alleyways, snake charmers and Eastern story-telling.  So it was with high expectations that I picked up a copy of The Caliph's House, his earlier book, in the library.  It's an account of the first year Shah and his family spent in Casablanca, renovating a dilapidated traditional house and attempting to fit in with the locals.

Unfortunately, not all of my expectations were met.  In many ways, The Caliph's House is a wonderful book full of simple but absorbing writing and Shah certainly does a good job at describing Casablanca and Morocco itself.  Although there are sketches included, they aren't really necessary as, reading the book, I felt as if I was actually there with Shah and his family.  The culture of the Moroccans (for example their belief in Jinns) is described with respect but a gentle humour that shows the high regard Shah has for his adopted country.

 

As someone who has often daydreamed about packing everything in and moving to an exotic location, I enjoyed reading about the renovation of the house and how the traditional Moroccan artisans worked.  But this was also where I felt the book fell down a bit; Shah's writing is much more suited to stories and atmospheres, not practicalities like finding a carpenter or fixing a sewerage pipe.  The passages about the Moroccans and his visits around the country were enchanting, but the renovation sections seemed to drag.  There's only so many times I needed to read about workers not turning up on time or the guardians of the house panicking about something the resident Jinn might or might not have done.

All that is not to say The Caliph's House isn't a wonderful book - it is.  It's just that In Arabian Nights is better (more about Morocco, less about house renovation) and I happened to read that first.  The Caliph's House was worth reading for the descriptions and for the friendships Shah struck up with some of the Moroccans in the slum bordering his house; I had a soft spot for the refined stamp collector, Hicham.  I look forward to reading some of Shah's other books in the future, particularly In Search of King Solomon's Mines and Trail of Feathers, about Peru.

I'm going to end this review with my favourite passage from the book:

"I was tired of our meagre existence and the paltry size of our flat, where the warring couple next door plagued us through paper-thin walls.  I wanted to escape to a house of serious dimensions, a fantasy inspired by the pages of the Arabian Nights, with arches and colonnades, towering door fashioned from aromatic cedar, courtyards with gardens hidden inside stables and fountains, orchards of fruit trees, and dozens and dozens of rooms."

Source: Library

First Published: 2006

Score: 3.5 out of 5

A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar by Suzanne Joinson

I love to travel.  I don't get a chance to do it very often, so armchair travelling is often the next best thing.  As soon as I heard about A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar, I knew I would have to read it and was thrilled to be approved for a copy on Netgalley.

A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar is a dual narrative story set in the past and the present.  In 1923, Evangeline (Eva) and her sister set out on a missionary trip to the Silk Road city of Kashgar, which has a fusion of Chinese and Islamic culture.  But Eva is only pretending to be a missionary; she dreams of becoming an adventurer like her hero Richard Burton and of writing a best-selling account of her travels.  In the present day, Frieda works for a think tank travelling around various Arab countries and producing reports.  Returning to London after another long trip she finds Tayeb sleeping by her door and a letter informing her of an inheritance from someone she has never heard of.

A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar contains many elements that I generally love in fiction - a dual narrative, historical fiction elements, Islamic culture, travel and feminism/independent women.  I was expecting to love it and it completely lived up to my expectations.  After a bit of a slow start the pace picked up and I was soon completely engrossed in what would happen to Eva and Frieda.  What I loved most was the way the author's love of travel completely suffused the whole novel and how Eva grew up reading travel books, just like I did;

"It was reading her descriptions of the candles and lights and the mysterious glittering interiors, the tapirs, silks, the jewels and hangings that had inspired my desire to travel."

As with any dual narrative book, one story was stronger than the other.  Whilst I enjoyed reading about Frieda, it was Eva's story that captivated me.  The woman in charge of their missionary trip, Millicent, has no concept of sensitivity to local culture and the three women soon find themselves in danger, forcing Eva to confront the darker side of travel ("despite a childhood of examining maps and reading adventure stories, I realise I am quite terrified of the desert").  I just flew through Eva's sections of the book.

Although I subjectively loved this book, I can see that it's not without fault.  At times it feels like Joinson is trying to do too much, commenting on travel, motherhood, women's rights, prejudice against Muslims, alternative childhoods, cults and adultery.  Some readers won't connect with Frieda's story.  But despite all of this, I just loved A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys travel books or historical fiction.

Source: From Bloomsbury, via Netgalley
Published: 4th June 2012
Score: 4.5 out of 5

Read Alongside:
1. The Sandalwood Tree by Elle Newmark - Another dual narrative travel story, this one set in India.  One of the stories centers around two unconventional Victorian women and India is a character in it's own right.
2. The Mistress of Nothing by Kate Pullinger - Sally travels to Egypt with her mistress, Lady Duff Gordon and finds the restraints of Victorian society slightly loosened.  Wonderful descriptions of Egypt.

Paris, My Sweet by Amy Thomas

Paris My Sweet is a memoir of a year in the life of thirty-six year old sweet-addict Amy, who gets the chance to work for Louis Vuitton in the city she has always dreamed about.  Part guide book to the best bakeries in town, part love letter to Paris, part almost mid-life crisis, Amy must learn to live as an American ex-pat in an utterly foreign city.  For readers with a sweet-tooth, there are many mouth-watering descriptions of the various pastries and cakes she tries, along with recommendations and information about famous chefs and pastry trends.

Paris My Sweet is a light, cosy read.  Although it is a well-written memoir, it's written with a light tone that makes it easy to breeze through and escape into.  I must admit to not being a massive dessert fan myself (I'm more into savoury snacks), but I did enjoy the descriptions of all the food and imagine that someone who enjoys cakes would love them even more.  My favourite part was the passion and joy with which Amy wrote about Paris, I've visited Paris only once and her descriptions made me want to visit again.  After reading this book, you too will want to cycle along the Champs D'Elysses, stopping at cute patissiers whenever the mood strikes you.

The parts that I felt didn't work as well were the parts when things became tough for Amy and she starts to feel very isolated living alone in a foreign city.  Her feelings are definitely understandable, but the tone of the book is so light (it's like a chick-lit memoir) that it's hard to connect with Amy and really understand what she is going through.  The writing jumps from loneliness to cupcakes too quickly to have any real impact.  There's also a lot about the ticking of biological clocks that again feels a bit shallow.  Paris My Sweet was more about the cakes and the wonderful setting than it was about any real identification with the author.

Still, this is a fun read that's perfect for any armchair traveller or pastry enthusiast.  It's quick, breezy and will make you want to travel to Paris and gorge on cake immediately.

Source: From the publisher via NetGalley

Score: 3.5 out of 5

Paris My Sweet is published on the 1st February 2012.

The Shadow Of The Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski

I love the Penguin Celebrations series.  With this latest acquisition, I now have sixteen out of thirty-six, which is not bad, and every single one I have read has been enjoyable.  This one is from the travel and adventure range and is a series of dispatches from Africa written by the Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuscinski.  Arriving in Ghana in 1957, when many African countries were just throwing off the shackles of colonialism, his reports cover a range of countries in sub-Saharan Africa from the 1950s to the 1990s and is as much of a love letter to Africa and it's people as it is a travel journal.

Kapuscinski has the good fortune to often be in the right place at the right time.  He witnesses a coup in Zanzibar, the action of child soldiers in Liberia, another coup in Nigeria, meets key players such as Mugabe and generally witnesses history in the making.  His constant quest to experience the 'real' Africa and not remain sheltered in European areas makes for some dangerous episodes too; at times you feel as though you could be reading the plot for the next Indiana Jones film.  Kapuscinki also catches a nasty bout of malaria and when he refuses to go back to Europe, he contracts TB, which almost kills him.  He drives head first through a herd of buffalo on the Serengeti plains, gets caught in a monsoon storm whilst trying to escape in a small boat off the coast of Zanzibar and becomes delirious with thirst when his truck breaks down in the middle of the Sahara desert.

These adventures add a bit of spice to his writing and keep the pace brisk.  What I liked most about this book was the balance between factual reporting and personal impressions.  Kapuscinski does give you the background on the political situations of each country, but he also writes about what it is like to be there in the blinding heat and describes as best he can his experiences with the local people and wildlife.  This meant it wasn't unbiased reporting, but I very much enjoyed the personal touch as it gave me more of a sense of what Africa is like.

The writing itself was gorgeous too, and the love Kapuscinski felt for Africa came across in every sentence.  I'm going to end this review with my favourite quote;

 "More than anything, one is struck by the light.  Light everywhere.  Brightness everywhere.  Everywhere, the sun." 

Verdict: Engrossing travel journal of Africa during a momentous time in it's history.  Recommended.

Source: Owned

First Published: 1998

Score: 4 out of 5

The Fear by Peter Godwin (Non-Fiction/Zimbabwe)

I am all settled in the new house.  Still awaiting bookshelf delivery and I've got too many books to make moving an easy task but the new house feels very homely already.  We're going to be spending the Easter holidays painting. 

Keeping me company during the move was an ARC copy of The Fear by Peter Godwin, which is about the recent elections in Zimbabwe and Mugabe's battle to impose his will on the voting public.  It was quite simply a wonderful book.  Godwin was born and raised in Africa and practised as a human rights lawyer in Zimbabwe before becoming a foreign news correspondent.  The Fear is part history, part politics, part travelogue and is written as Godwin travels the country as events unfold, talking to  Zimbabweans.

The name of the book comes from what Zimbabweans called the period between the two elections.  In the first Mugabe lost and before the second the ruling party used any method possible to 'convince' people the change their votes.  The Fear refers to the toture, random beatings and repression that came to anyone suspected of having voted for the opposition party.  There are some very harrowing stories of torture and rape contained in the book (for example, a man who had wire tied around his testicles and was led around by this wire) and Godwin doesn't shy away from the more horrible stories.

The courage of ordinary Zimbabweans really shines through.  Despite torture, most that Godwin talks to remain defiant and focused on their goal of change, no matter how Mugabe responds.  Godwin himself gets in quite a bit of danger throughout the book and is at one point forced to leave the country.  The technique of writing the book as a travelogue gives it immediacy, stops it from being too dry and makes it very relatable.  Even though I already knew the outcome of the crisis, I found myself swept up in the human side of it, the side that was missing from the news reports.

I would highly recommend this book as a good example of well written, readable non-fiction. 

Score: 5 out of 5
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Available now.