Reviews Round-up

The critics' verdicts on Monisha Rajesh, Chris Anderson and Diana Souhami.

Around India in 80 Trains by Monisha Rajesh

In Andrew Duff’s review in the Telegraph, he praises Around India in 80 Trains by Monisha Rajesh for its “witty and insightful traveller’s-eye view of the country from inside its railway network”. Rajesh appears to have avoided falling into the trap of boring the reader with a tedious travel memoir by exploring India geographically as well as culturally: Rajesh criss-crosses Induan Rail’s “geographical diamond”, experiencing all its freedoms and frustrations while enduring endless inquiries as to her marital status.”

Time Out Mumbai, while praising, is also more critical of the book. Their reviewer Karishma Attar begins with the damning claim that India’s image as “exotic and dangerous” hasn’t changed with this new travelogue. “The novelty and satiric richness run out quickly for the experienced Indian traveller. Dry humour doesn’t quite take the sting out of travel Indian-isms, which Rajesh lists with unerring steadfastness...” Attar does point out the text’s “witty, dry, first-person account” but adds: “This is a journey rife with 'shocks' that comes as no surprise.”

Makers: The New Industrial Revolution by Chris Anderson

Chris Anderson’s Makers: The New Industrial Revolution may be optimistic but the Guardian’s Steven Poole is not convinced. He criticises the American editor-in-chief of Wired’s “techno-economic utopia [which] looks curiously scrambled”. Poole goes on to add that “[f]ew techno-utopias are as confusing as this one. In Anderson's brave new world, everyone is a creative-geek tinkerer but no one does the boring stuff”.

In contrast, Michael Roth’s review on the Huffington Post and in the Washington Post is more complimentary. “Anderson is an excellent guide to companies that make niche products for an international market ... [and] a good storyteller,” according to Roth. According to Roth, Anderson is “an indefatigable cheerleader for the unlimited potential of the digital economy”. Likewise, Oliver Franklin in GQ enjoys the “fascinating characters” featured in the book from “Will Chapman, a Washington-based designer 3D printing Lego kits, to Neil Gershenfeld, an MIT professor”.

Murder at Wrotham Hill by Diana Souhami

Diana Souham’s previous book, Edith Cavell, told the story of the eponymous nurse who was shot for smuggling allied soldiers out of Belgium during the First World War. In her latest offering, Murder at Wrotham Hill, we are transported to post-war Kent and the murder of “gentle eccentric spinster” Dagmar Petrzywalski.

Critics are unanimous in their view that Souhami’s book evokes a detailed picture of postwar austerity Britain. The Guardian’s Blake Morrison writes “both the murderer and murderee were classic products of the age”. He observes the author’s use of “zeitgeisty minutiae”, which is not always effective: “[It] is enriching, at worst distracting.”

But whilst Morrison “isn’t entirely clear” as to why Souhami chooses to write about the “model citizen of austerity Britain”, Jenny Diski in the London Review of Books admires the “great clairity and attention” with which Souhami evokes the postwar period.

Sinclair McKay of the Telegraph, whilst also reading the work historically, praises it for transcending cultural emphera: “Both killer and victim stood at an angle to society, and the strangeness of their stories resonates deeply in another way, leading one to meditate on ideas of malevolent fate and evil.” He is full of praise for Souhami’s writing which he describes as “too clever to allow any neatness”, evoking the “cruel and bewildering randomness” of the murder in question.

Indian passengers wait on a train at railway staion during a power outage in New Delhi in July 2012. (Photograph: Prakash Singh/AFP/GettyImages
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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