Reviews round-up

The critics' verdicts on Madeline Miller, David Lammy and Lévy and Houellebecq.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

In the Telegraph, Stuart Evers writes that "in re-imagining Homer's Iliad, Madeline Miller treads the fine line between the invention of a new work and the desecration of the original with a sure foot, with only occasional missteps along the way." Miller depicts Achilles and his friend Patroclus as lovers. Evers comments: "Sometimes The Song of Achilles reads as part coming-of-age story, part coming-out story and part Hollywood blockbuster - Brokeback Mountain with centaurs and swords."

In the Guardian, Charlotte Higgins writes that "although she is a respectful and clearly loving reader of Homer... where I lose her is when, instead of sticking to prequel, she forges on through the parts of the Trojan war described in the Iliad. Alas, the best of writers will stumble in comparison to the master."

According to Tom Holland in the New Statesman, the novel "demonstrates that it is not always necessary to play tricks with Homer, to recalibrate or reconfigure his epics, to bring him alive for a modern readership." Holland writes: "By fixing on Patroclus, lover of Achilles, Miller is able to bring to her narrative the same golden aura of youth, homoeroticism and aristocratic violence that made Fire from Heaven, Mary Renault's fictionalisation of the early years of Alexander the Great, such a crowd-pleaser."

Viv Groskop in the Independent calls the novel "original, clever and in a class of its own." She writes: "This novel's greatest flaw is also its key strength. It is arguably a book of Greek history for idiots. It's not a pretentious and complicated work... It's an entirely successful piece of writing, sitting comfortably between literary and commercial fiction genres."

Public Enemies by Michel Houellebecq and Bernard-Henri Lévy

Tim Adams in the Guardian writes that in this exchange of letters between novelist Michel Houellebecq and philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy, they dwell "on the trait that seemed to have most united them in the public mind: 'We are,' as Houellebecq acknowledges in his opening letter, 'both rather contemptible individuals.'" Adams observes that "in an effort to explain the masochism of their media identities, they swap confession and scraps of autobiography [and] dwell in detail on the public scrutiny of their parentage".

In the New Statesman, George Walden opines: "Bernard-Henri Lévy and Houellebecq are highly distinct writers and personalities and the idea of an exchange of letters between them is brilliant... Much of the fun of these letters stems from their almost satirically contrasting characters: Lévy, the well-born playboy of the western mind and pocket Apollo, versus Houellebecq, the drunken, ill-favoured, lower-middle-class grouch." Walden writes: "However rich in irritations, this is a book that you don't stop reading... There is fascinating stuff on their childhoods... but it's the free-form rooting around by two un-stereotyped minds that is compelling."

Tim Adams concludes: "What keeps you reading, beyond the confessional drama, is the sheer one-upmanship in the range of reference and playfulness of expression."

In the New York Times, Dwight Garner writes: "Both men delight in being provocative, on the page and off, yet feign shock that anyone has ever been provoked... Theirs is a lonesome, literate, borderline-funny duet."

Out of the Ashes: Britain After the Riots by David Lammy

In the Guardian, Stafford Scott writes that Lammy "has not grasped the scale of the community's mistrust of the police and the judicial system in his analysis of the August riots." Although he "captures well the frustrations of those who became victims during the riots - those whose homes were burnt to the ground and whose businesses went up in flames... There is little sense that he has managed to grasp the scale of disaffection felt by those who participated in the riots."

Mick Brown in the Telegraph praises Out of the Ashes, calling it "an astonishingly thorough and finely nuanced analysis" of the riots. Brown writes that Lammy's book is "instructive and impassioned" and highlights that "government should rebuild a sense of reciprocity between a working class with a stake in capitalism and a middle class with a renewed faith in the welfare state."

According to David Goodhart in the Financial Times: "Instant books by politicians seldom provide intellectual nourishment. David Lammy's Out of the Ashes is a welcome exception." Goodhart calls the book "the first proper manifesto for the relatively new Blue Labour current within Lammy's party" and notes the "author's skill at storytelling". He concludes: "To date Blue Labour has been an intellectual curiosity without much of a political base, indeed with many enemies on the left. Lammy's book for the first time makes it sound like a credible political idea."

In the New Statesman, Jon Cruddas and Jonathan Rutherford write that the book "is about more than the English riots, it's about the future of Labour in the country." They comment: "Labour faces the biggest crisis in its history and yet it has not yet begun asking itself these questions. Lammy's book offers a start." Lammy "offers thoughtful arguments about immigration, work, masculinity and crime and punishment. One doesn't have to agree with all his points of view to know that he is in the right place to ask the question of his fellow countrymen and women."

Getty
Show Hide image

Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt