In the Critics this week

Rowan Willaims, Ed Miliband, AS Byatt and many others choose their essential reads of the past year, Leo Hollis on London's architectural future

In the Critics section of this week’s New Statesman, the magazine’s friends and contributors choose their books of the year. The Labour leader, Ed Miliband, chooses Robert Harris’s financial thriller The Fear Index and the political philosopher Michael Sandel’s What Money Can’t Buy as his favourite reads from 2012. Sandel, Miliband writes, “makes a powerful argument that applying market values where they don’t belong . . . can corrode our ideas of right and wrong”. His shadow cabinet colleague Ed Balls, a keen cook, chooses the second volume of Nigel Slater’s Kitchen Diaries.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, singles out If You Sit Very Still by Marian Partington, whose sister Lucy was murdered by Fred and Rose West. “Her spiritual journey . . . is as moving as anything I’ve ever read on such a subject,” Williams says.

Leading novelists offer their choices: AS Byatt praises Jenny Uglow’s Pinecone; Ali Smith chooses Peter Hobbs’s second novel, In the Orchard, the Swallows; Margaret Drabble plumps for Salman Rushdie’s memoir Joseph Anton; and Colm Tóibín chooses a new edition of The Book of Kells.

Other contributors include: Melvyn Bragg, Tracey Thorn, Alain de Botton, David Willetts, Douglas Alexander, Douglas Hurd, Norman Lamont, Laura Kuenssberg, Jon Snow, Julie Myerson, Joan Bakewell, John Banville and many more.

Elsewhere, Leo Hollis’s architectural review questions the future of Britain’s built landscape. “Already Renzo Piano’s building-objects has come to symbolise the confused and anxious state of the city” he notes of the Shard as he charts the rise of the ‘starchitect’ and questions the government’s plans to “to restart the economy through bricks and mortar”.

Elsewhere in the Critics: Rachel Cooke reviews Channel 4’s The Aristocrats, Ryan Gilbey takes a look at Silver Linings Playbook, Alexandra Coghlan on Ceclia Bartoli at the Barbican, Antonia Quirke on Radio 4’s A Place for Us, and Will Self’s Real Meals.

Tha Shard: "the architectural hubris of the previous decade has turned our dreams into steel and glass" according to Leo Hollis (Photo by Jesse Toksvig-Stewart/Getty Images)
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How did Don’t Tell the Bride lose its spark?

Falling out of the love with reality TV’s wedding planning hit.

Steph, 23, from Nottinghamshire, is standing in a drizzly field wearing a wedding dress. Her betrothed, Billy, is running around in a tweed flat cap trying to make some pigs walk in “a continuous parade”. A man from Guinness World Records is watching with a clipboard, shaking his head. Bridesmaids gaze sorrowfully into the middle distance, each in a damp pig onesie.

Thus ends the second wedding in E4’s new series of Don’t Tell the Bride – and the programme’s integrity with it.

When the classic programme, which follows grooms attempting to plan their wedding (punchline: human males doing some organising), began a decade ago on BBC Three, it had the raw spark of unpredictability. For eight years, the show did nothing fancy with the format, and stuck with pretty ordinary couples who had few eccentric aspirations for their wedding day.

This usually resulted in run-of-the-mill, mildly disappointing weddings where the worst thing that happened would be a reception at the nearest motorway pub, or an ill-fitting New Look low heel.

It sounds dull, but anyone who has religiously watched it knows that the more low-key weddings expose what is truly intriguing about this programme: the unconditional commitment – or doomed nature – of a relationship. As one of the show’s superfans told the Radio Times a couple of years ago:

“It’s perfect, and not in an ironic or post-ironic or snarky way. The format has the solemn weight of a ceremony . . . Don’t Tell the Bride is not about ruined weddings, it’s about hope. Every wedding is a demonstration of how our ambitions curve away from our abilities. It’s a show about striving to deserve love and how that’s rarely enough.”

It also meant that when there were bombshells, they were stand-out episodes. High drama like Series 4’s notorious Las Vegas wedding almost resulting in a no-show bride. Or heart-warming surprises like the geezer Luke in Series 3 playing Fifa and guzzling a tinny on his wedding morning, who incongruously pulls off a stonking wedding day (complete with special permission from the Catholic Church).

For its eight years on BBC Three, a few wildcard weddings were thrown into the mix of each series. Then the show had a brief affair with BBC One, a flirt with Sky, and is now on its tenth year, 13th series and in a brand new relationship – with the more outrageous E4.

During its journey from BBC Three, the show has been losing its way. Tedious relationship preamble has been used to beef up each episode. Some of the grooms are cruel rather than clueless, or seem more pathetic and vulnerable than naïve. And wackier weddings have become the norm.

The programme has now fully split from its understated roots. Since it kicked off at the end of July, every wedding has been a publicity stunt. The pig farm nuptials are sandwiched between a Costa del Sol-based parasail monstrosity and an Eighties Neighbours-themed ceremony, for example. All facilitated by producers clearly handing the groom and best men karaoke booth-style props (sombreros! Inflatable guitars! Wigs!) to soup up the living room planning process.

Such hamminess doesn’t give us the same fly-on-the-wall flavour of a relationship as the older episodes. But maybe this level of artifice is appropriate. As one groom revealed to enraged fans in The Sun this week, the ceremonies filmed are not actually legally binding. “It makes a bit of a mockery of the process that the bride and groom go through this huge ordeal for a ceremony which isn’t even legal,” he said. Perhaps we should’ve predicted it would all eventually end in divorce – from reality.

Don’t Tell the Bride is on E4 at 9pm

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.