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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Listening to recordings from the Antarctic, I felt I could hear the earth groan

The Science Hour on the BBC World Service.

A weekend of listening to the radio news ­revealed nothing but sounds of the sucker-punched going through their pockets in a panic and repeating, “I thought you had the keys.” So, never was talk of “a perfectly flat area of just whiteness” more alluring. The oldest Antarctic ice yet recorded was recently found. “For millions of years,” the presenter Roland Pease assured listeners  (25 June, 9am), “snow has been falling, snow on snow, all the while trapping bubbles of air and other chemical traces of climate . . . insights into the ice ages and warm periods of the past.” How was this ice located? “The finding part is pretty easy – you just go there and start shovelling, and ice comes up,” the lead geologist, Jaakko Putkonen, said.

There it was, buried under a layer of dirt “in barren wastelands” high in the middle of Antarctica. An “incredibly mountainous and remote and . . . quite hideous region, really”, Pease said, though it was sounding pretty good to me. The world dissolved into a single, depthless tone. Then Pease mentioned the surprising fizzing of this ancient ice – trapped air bubbles whooshing as they melt. Which is perhaps the thing you least expect about ice regions and ice caps and glaciers: the cacophony. Thuds and moans. Air that folds and refolds like the waving of gigantic flags. Iced water sleeping-dragonishly slurping and turning.

On Friday Greenpeace posted a video of the pianist Ludovico Einaudi giving a haunting performance on a floating platform to mark an imminent meeting of the OSPAR Commission, as it decided on a proposal to safeguard 10 per cent of the Arctic Ocean. Einaudi looked occasionally stunned by the groaning around him. A passing glacier popped and boomed like the armies of Mordor, ice calving from its side, causing mini-tsunamis. When last year I spent some time at the remote Eqi Glacier in Greenland, close to the ice cap, local people certainly spoke of the ice as if it were living: “It’s quiet today,” delivered as though gazing at the fractious contents of a Moses basket.

“This huge cake of ice, basically flat”, Putkonen said, perhaps longing for a moment of deep-space silence, for peaceful detachment. He wasn’t the only one being forced to reappraise a landscape very differently.

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 30 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit lies