The Fall: The End of Fox News and the Murdoch Dynasty
Michael Wolff
The Evening Standard columnist has infantilised Rupert Murdoch once before, in 2008’s The Man Who Owns the News, a magnificent biography that many in his family are still fuming about; so this fabulously gossipy book is a sequel of sorts, even if it does have a broader remit. And while his portrait of the media mogul is not as coruscating this time around, it’s still quite damning. I love Wolff’s books because he is basically an investigative reporter masquerading as a features writer, one who doesn’t subscribe to the orthodoxies of the trade. His critics complain that he never reveals his sources, which implies some skulduggery on his part. But did Tom Wolfe ever expose his sources? Did Hunter S Thompson? A lot of this criticism is down to jealousy — Wolff’s first book on Trump, Fire and Fury, made him a millionaire — but as the saying goes, the best revenge is living well enough to write another book on Rupert Murdoch. Some have called Wolff waspish, but he’s anything but; he stings like a hornet and then goes home to write about it. Be sure to read his column in Wednesday’s paper. You won’t regret it.
Dylan Jones
Touching Cloth: Confessions and Communions of a Young Priest
Fergus Butler Gallie
This slim gem of a memoir about a young priest making his way in the 21st-century Church of England is not only so funny that you’ll have to stop reading it in public because you’re crying with laughter, but moving and humane too. All of life is within these pages and, even better, Butler Gallie is a clever writer capable of true brilliance on a sentence level. His reflections range from the daily scrapes of modern priesthood, like how to feign nonchalance while being hotboxed at a funeral you’re presiding over, to musings on how to navigate a spiritual path and truly help others in a modern, secular Britain. Did I mention how funny it is? When he tells his father that he is considering becoming a clergyman, the latter replies: “The outfit’s stupid and the pay’s crap.” When asked by one stranger: “Are you a priest?”, while in full clerical garb, Butler-Gallie muses that “I may conceivably have been a very ugly stripper”. Do buy it, it’s life enhancing.
Anna van Praagh
The Hundred Years War Vol 5: Triumph and Illusion
Jonathan Sumption
This is the final part of Sumption’s grand, five-volume history of the Hundred Years War. It is the utterly absorbing explanation of how England came to lose its war with France (think Joan of Arc, Henry V, grand, unyielding folly and so on). It is also the end of a personal journey for Sumption (famous as a retired Supreme Court judge) who has been working on this since 1979. This is history written like it’s going out of fashion, which, by and large, it is. Very few people go in for long, detailed narrative works any more. It is a pity because works like Sumption’s are worlds unto themselves, not just a window into the past but a plush ringside seat. His style is precise, his grasp of detail without equal.
Robbie Smith
Didn’t Nobody Give a Shit What Happened to Carlotta
James Hannaham
This headlong, near-stream-of-consciousness narrative blew me away when it was released here in paperback earlier this year. The voice, that of Afro-Colombian trans woman Carlotta Mercedes, returning home to Brooklyn after 20 years in a men’s prison for an accidental armed robbery that left a woman brain damaged, is utterly convincing and unique. Hannaham, whose third novel this is, commits completely to the sassy, sardonic, outrageous Carlotta, who finds herself, over a Fourth of July weekend, cut loose into an unfamiliar world full of potential — and potential disaster. Carlotta’s choice turn of phrase is frequently laugh-out-loud funny — which makes her memories of the brutality meted out to her in prison all the more chilling when they come. An unforgettable read.
Nancy Durrant
Monet, The Restless Vision
Jackie Wullschläger
This biography is a beautifully written and insightful account of Monet, the man and the artist, and it is the first substantial biography in English. The author is art critic for the Financial Times and writes with intelligent sympathy for the man as well as insightfully on the art. I’m not wholly sure I altogether liked Monet after reading the book but have a much fuller picture of him, his women and his finances. She maintains Monet is one of us — a godless humanist — but his genius was of his own age.
Justinian, Emperor, Soldier, Saint by Peter Sarris is an engrossing account of an extraordinary man, ruler of Byzantium from 527, who created an empire that was both bound together and divided by Christianity, whose legislative reforms were far reaching and whose legacy is the extraordinary basilica of Hagia Sophia, now a mosque. His story, from obscurity to ruler of-half the Mediterranean world, is gripping, but rivalled by the fascination of his wife Theodora, daughter of a dancing bear-keeper and a legendarily expert prostitute, who became not just empress but a player in the theological faction fighting of the day. It’s also the story of a remarkable period, which is still too little known.
Melanie McDonagh
Hitler, Stalin, Mum and Dad
Daniel Finkelstein
“How did they get out?” Spend any amount of time among Jews of a certain age, and once done kvelling about their grandchildren and complaining about various ailments, the question is likely to arise. There is at least a comfort in not having to explain what is being asked. For Finkelstein, the author of Hitler, Stalin, Mum and Dad, it is not one with a straightforward answer. The family’s journey to freedom encompassed Switzerland, Paraguay, the United States and ultimately Britain, via the death camps of Belsen and the gulags of Siberia. This book is part memoir, part historical tome and part thriller. Survival is what counts. What makes it remarkable is not simply the story, the detail and the historical records to which the author has access. But, with two of every three European Jews dead by 1945, that anyone was left to tell it at all.
Jack Kessler
The Plot
Nadine Dorries
While her account of the fall of Boris Johnson is essentially a 300-page conspiracy theory, that doesn’t mean it isn’t a wildly entertaining read. The Plot is possibly the funniest extended piece of prose I have read since the last time I picked up Lucky Jim. With breath-holding “revelations” about shadowy puppet masters, Dorries displays a cringe-inducing lack of self-awareness reminiscent of Alan Partridge. Her conclusion — that British politics has been controlled by a tiny cabal for 20 years — is unconvincing: if they could pull that off, why do they govern so badly? Her reasoning is muddled, her evidence thin and her thinking wishful. Nevertheless she powers through with a revelatory zeal that suggests she is Woodward and Bernstein combined. In years to come The Plot will stand as fascinating relic of the Tory 2010s, when people like Dorries found their way into the Cabinet.
Ethan Croft
The List
Yomi Adegoke
Ola and Michael are a young, Insta-famous couple, the social media poster children for #BlackLove. They appear to have it all. But one month before their wedding, they both wake up to the same text: “Oh my god, have you seen The List?” It refers to a document detailing men in the UK media industry accused of sexual harassment and assault. Ola, a journalist for feminist magazine Womxxxn, would usually be the first to cover a moment like this, calling for the men to be fired. Except this time, her fiancé’s name is on there. It is a bold and divisive issue to take on for a fictional debut, but Adegoke navigates it with expert prowess. She is hyper-aware of how the #MeToo movement has been invaluable in revolutionising the conversation around sexual violence, but also the pitfalls of trial by social media. Addictive, ultra-modern and hyper-relatable.
Emma Loffhagen
Yellowface
Rebecca F Kuang
A chewy, wickedly funny take on diversity in publishing, cultural appropriation and online trolling, this is confrontational from the title onwards. Kuang is a Chinese-American writing here in the voice of casually racist white author, June Hayward, who steals the manuscript of her more successful Asian frenemy Athena Liu (after the latter has died in a freak choking accident) and publishes it herself under the ethnically ambiguous name Juniper Song. There are effective thrillerish and supernatural overtones to the twisty plot — Kuang is a successful fantasy author — as June/Juniper is caught in ever-more mortifying evasions as she promotes “her” literary hit and yields to the pressure to produce a follow-up. There’s cold fire here in the depiction of the industry she works for, and also chilly realism. At her lowest moments, June/Juniper wonders if she can turn her own story into a true crime bestseller.
Nick Curtis
We All Want Impossible Things
Catherine Newman
I can count on one hand the times a book has made me cry — and this one has made it into my sad little hall of fame. It is a story of two women (Ash and Edi) who have been best friends since childhood and now one of them is dying of ovarian cancer in a hospice. It’s obvious then that tears might be shed. But clever Newman (this is her first book for adults) has made it funny too. In fact I laughed much more than I cried. It’s a tale of glorious female friendship, crushing loss, love and all the wonderful messiness of life. I’m worried I’ve made it sound too depressing and that you, dear reader, won’t bother to pick up a copy. But do. I found it comforting, hopeful and not at all mawkish, which given the subject matter is masterstroke. Reading about palliative care for fun, who knew?
Suzannah Ramsdale
