First off, Ms Cummings introduced The Milkman by Anna Burns, 'quite an odd book', she felt, but one that could well achieve the sort of classic status that might even put it on the syllabus. The story seems to take place - although the novelist never specifies where, or when, or even gives the characters names - in Northern Ireland, during the Troubles. The central character is a young girl who tries to stay out of danger by immersing herself in books, but unwittingly becomes the focus of romantic attention from the eponymous Milkman, a 'deeply creepy' para-military leader.
The novel's style is complex, and sometimes tortuous - the antithesis of the sort of snappy realism epitomised by writers such as Roddy Doyle - and it touches on many topical issues, such as the power balance between men and women, and what it's like to live under a regime where the most innocent, everyday behaviour - driving the wrong kind of car, attracting the wrong sort of interest - can suddenly become dangerous. This evocation of an oppressive, omni-present, invasively vigilant regime reminded a member of the audience of Stasiland by Anna Funder, a collection of stories about life in East Germany. Ms Cummings concluded that while she wasn't entirely sure whether she enjoyed the novel while reading it, she's enjoying it more the further she gets away from it!
Next up, Rufus Law presented Everything Under by Daisy Johnson which (in contrast) he found extremely enjoyable - especially given that he's spent most of the past two months immersed in the works of Plato and Shakespeare: the novel was, for him, 'a breath of fresh air' ... Whereas some of the previous Booker nominees he'd read had been, he felt, trying too hard, this was a simple story about a woman trying to piece together the details of her life.
Switching between past and present, and between the lives of the central character and her mother, Everything Under explores lots of different themes - growing up, adolescence, gender, innocence and experience - and is written almost poetically in places, while still being easy to read. It has elements of magical realism, but Rufus felt that the writer's portrayal of childish innocence draws the reader in, to the extent that the supernatural elements feel as real to the reader as they do to the characters. 'A good read', he concluded.
The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner, introduced by Sebastian Rodger, clearly evokes a very different sort of world. Sebastian gave a compelling overview of the novel, which exposes the violence and injustice of the US prison system through the story of Romy, a strip-club dancer serving two consecutive life sentences. Events in the present take a back seat to the past, as Romy gradually reveals what led to her incarceration, her experiences representing America's forgotten underclass. The details of prison life, and the three-dimensional minor characters help to illuminate the story's setting, although some of the plot elements (such as Romy's escape attempt) seemed half-baked, more designed to facilitate character development than able to stand as actions in their own right.
Overall, and in spite of the violent and brutal world that it depicts, both inside and outside prison, Sebastian felt that this was a highly enjoyable novel, which never forces its opinions on the reader, but leaves it up to them to judge. The audience asked whether it was possible to sympathise with Romy, given what she'd done, and how far her experience was likely to be from most readers: Sebastian argued that you may not like her, but the novel makes her understandable, and she gives the reader a way in to an unfamiliar and often frightening world. In conclusion, he thought Kushner was a likely contender for the prize - but would the audience agree?
Next, Will Reith introduced The Overstory by Richard Powers, a complex novel which consists of a series of stories focussing on a range of characters, all linked by the central theme: trees. While some of the stories remain unconnected, others converge, as the characters inspire each other to become activists, a development which ultimately leads to tragedy.
The novel's exploration of the significance and power of trees - not so much for what they mean to humanity, but in the way that they exist beyond it - is clearly fascinating: Will explained that each section is introduced by an almost meditative passage, which sometimes links obliquely to the plot and action, as in a philosophical novel. He felt that this was another highly enjoyable book, with a varied and compelling style, which becomes more dramatic after a slow start. The passage he selected to read, in which a security guard contemplates the patterns in the wood of a table-top was beautifully written, and all the more resonant in the wood-dominated surroundings of the library.
The final novel to be considered was Robin Robertson's The Long Take, a novel written in prose and verse. Quoting T S Eliot's observation that a poet cannot really be considered great until he's written an epic, Conor Sinnott made a strong case for the novel's claim to epic status, through its story of Walker, a D-Day veteran drifting back and forth across the US of the late 40s and 50s, his traumatised mental state and gradual recovery mirroring the post-war condition of his country.
Conor was especially intrigued by the novel's treatment of time: as it progresses, flashbacks gradually reveal more about Walker's trauma, and resolve the ambiguities of his experience, while his damaged psyche is reflected in the world through which he moves. There is no particular plot - characters, trajectories and themes wax and wane, with more of a sense of life as it is lived, and making sense of things as they stack up one on top of each other, than a conventional linear story. The title suggests a cinematic view of life: Walker often bumps into film-crews and even directors on the streets around him, finding refuge in the fantasy world their movies offer even while he recognises how far removed it is from reality. Although the prospect of a novel written in poetic form might seem daunting, Conor felt that the style wasn't too poetic, and recommended it highly, as a new spin on an old theme.
So - out of the novels we considered (which didn't include the final nominee, Esi Edugyan's Washington Black - nonetheless a brilliant novel, and well worth reading) what would the audience decide? At the end of the evening, Mr Hollands decided to call for two votes. First of all, having heard the presentations, which was the novel the audience would most like to read? Interestingly, this vote produced a tie, with Everything Under and The Long Take joint winners.
Then - having first reminded us of A L Kennedy's caustic description of the Booker prize as 'a pile of crooked nonsense', and quoting her theory of how the judges choose a winner (invariably determined by 'who knows who, who's sleeping with who, who's selling drugs to who, who's married to who, whose turn it is'), Mr Hollands invited the audience (obviously not to be swayed by such petty considerations) to consider their own verdict.
And the winner was ....
Robin Robertson's The Long Take. So that's the SPS tip for this year's Booker (currently at 7-2, if you fancy the odds). Now all we have to do is wait for next Tuesday and see whether we got it right ...
Many thanks to Ms Cummings for hosting and arranging the event; to Mr Hollands for compèring so graciously; to Ms McLaughlin for her help in recruiting the readers; to the audience who generously supported the event and chipped in such interesting questions; and above all to Rufus, Sebastian, Will and Conor, who not only mastered such complex novels at in a very short period of time (the shortlist was only announced three weeks ago) but managed to do so at the end of one of the busiest half terms of the school year.
This is the first of a series of events hosted by the library: next up is the launch of the new reading group. The book in question will be the winner of the Booker of Bookers, Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient. Watch this space for more details ...
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