9. A Night Out With Robert Burns ed. by Andrew O'Hagan

This is a difficult book to review because for me, it is two separate entities: Burns' poetry and O'Hagan's presentation of it in this particular book. I do love poetry but Burns has never been a poet I've particularly fallen for. I can't say that this book has stimulated any kind of epiphany with regards to Burns - he is and always will be a difficult poet to read for me. However, O'Hagan's presentation of Burns' work here is novel in format (the poems divided into 4 main sections depending on underlying subject matter, each poem accompanied by a small anecdote from O'Hagan himself) and this format has helped me to gain a deeper appreciation of what Burns is 'about'. The historical information, shallow though it is, is enough to contextualise each poem and bring it 'alive' for a modern reader. The modern anecdotes about the importance of Burns in a modern context to O'Hagan serve to show that, at least for some modern readers, Burns has a very real place in their literary interaction. There is an interesting introduction which really analyses, albeit in a shallow manner, the concept of Burns as a marketing tool and an entity apart from the literary world - not deep but thought-provoking nonetheless.

I wouldn't recommend this to someone who was looking for something that borders on heavy-duty scholarship. It's 'coffee-table' poetry presentation. It is a good introduction to or revisiting of Burns, however, for those of us who don't know his poetry well or quite understand where it's rooted in.

7. American Gods by Neil Gaiman

This was a slow-burner of a book for me. Neil Gaiman has been on my 'must read' list for quite a while. From what I'd heard, I guessed I was going to love his work so it was one of those treats you save for later. I was initially disappointed - OK, but not a revelation. Then, about 100 pages in I started to 'get' it. By the end, I had been drawn in completely to the rich, full reading experience that is Neil Gaiman. I couldn't put it down.

Essentially set on the cusp of a new age, this novel deals with the beliefs of the past and the objects of devotion in the often spiritually bereft society we live in now. The rich description of the 'American Gods' brings them alive and they become a living, credible part of the world we live in today. Without giving too much away, the brilliant and novel idea behind the source of their existence on the new continent is a stroke of imaginative genius. As you become accustomed to the diversions from the main plot that introduce the plethora of deities to you, the tale becomes denser and fuller by merit of their presence.

Shadow is a likeable protagonist. He is complex and lives in the grey areas between the monochromatic morality that society purports to adhere to. What makes him believeable and endears him to us is that deep down we too exist in the grey. The old Gods are fantastic characters. Gaiman brings them alive, not falling back on the safety cushion of how the literary canon has portrayed them before but making them real - with humour, personality quirks and emotions. If this is what Gods were really like, I might recant my agnostic stance. What is truly wonderful about this novel is that rather than just existing as a setting for the protagonists to navigate through, America lives, breathes and chokes its way through the alternative existence Gaiman has created for it - but a parallel America, not quite the one we know. The description is vibrant enough to cause the reader to look on America with fresh eyes. Gaiman's America will always lurk beneath the surface. Coming from a multinational family, I found the subtextual treatment of immigration an interesting aside. I loved the idea of the traditions, superstitions and beliefs of an old world carrying something more than purely memories to a new home. The fact that no matter how much we'd like to believe that we travel unencumbered, rags and threads of our past and our homeland still cling.

I wished Gaiman had made more of the modern Gods. While the ancient Gods were rich and full, I felt that their modern equivalents were a missed opportunity. It's not that they were young upstarts with less history - even conveying that still left room for the chance to afford them greater impact on the reader. The weak spot in the book for me was the ending - I loved the build up but the denoument was anticlimactic, it was over too fast. That said, these are minor gripes. I'd strongly recommend this book to those of you who enjoy an unusual perspective on the familiar. Thematically and stylistically, it owes more to 'The Master and Margarita' than to modern fantasy novels. Dare I suggest that, based on this, Neil Gaiman has created a class of his own - Fiction: Gaiman - which sits somewhere between cult Eastern European allegory and western Fantasy/Cyberpunk writing. Don't prejudge whether Gaiman's writing is for you, dive in and you may be surprised.

6. A Lost Lady by Willa Cather

This was my first foray into Willa Cather's writing and I found this a thoughtful and engaging novel that works on several levels. It is a character study of a woman at a time of change in the American west; a character study of America at the time of the railroad boom as it evolves alongside changing ideas of morality and social convention; a study of a complex web of relationships: friendship, love, loyalty rooted in respect, gratitude or feudal class-based tradition. I was left under no illusions, Cather was obviously a supporter of the old ways.

Mrs Forrester, the 'Lost Lady' of the title is married to an ageing Captain in a small, backwoods town in the transitional America of the railroad era. This work deals with her complex relationship with her husband, her lovers and a youth of the town, Neils, who idolises the image of her and reveres her husband and his old fashioned morals and conventions. The new, crude manners of the upcoming generation contrasts with Neils' old-school outlook. Cather shows him as outdated, left behind by his compatriots. As you follow this trio of characters through to the death of the Captain, we see Neils' polarised idea of right and wrong in the light of the complexities of the emotional and moral ties that bind the other characters. Ultimately, Neils' innocence dies with Captain Forrester as his illusions are shattered by the realisation that all live with some kind or moral compromise and none of his idols fit into his succinct categories of morality. As for the 'Lady' herself, on the one hand, the reader is tempted to dislike her for her perceived disloyalty. However, ultimately it becomes clear that, in her own way, she was as loyal to her husband as others and that loyalty and faithfulness are not necessarily synonymous and in some ways this redeems her.

It is an interesting and beautifully crafted novel and the characterisation is very competently realised. Criticism has been levelled at Cather's work, implying that she was over-reliant on her devotion to the old America of a time that was passing and that she refused to accept the newer world; that she was wasting her obvious talent by not turning it loose on the modern world. However, for me, it is exactly this viewpoint that makes the novel so poignant. I would certainly recommend this. It is a very engaging and fast read but definitely a pleasureable one too.

5. The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

'The Reluctant Fundamentalist' is a cleverly constructed novel, written as one part of a dialogue between two men in a Pakistan marketplace. This intimate and innovative style quickly draws the reader into a dual storyline: the history of the narrator's life, discussed as a past narrative and the story unfolding in the narrator's present, which the reader learns about through commentary and innuendo from a single perspective. There is a constant question as to the identity of the narrator and the other participant in the conversation. It is an effective stylistic device. The reader becomes an integral part of the fiction as the narrator addresses a nameless, faceless Western individual. It places the reader themselves in that position, a clever narrative device to bring the story to life in the mind of the reader.

Hamid is a master of characterisation in an unconventional format. The reader becomes more and more curious regarding the audience of the personal history being recounted, as small tidbits of information are dropped into the conversation. It is interesting how Hamid builds a degree of character for the unseen individual, fascinating how your opinion of character can be formed purely through a third party's reactions to that person. On a wider scale, it raises the question of how far our perceptions of nations or nationalities unfamiliar to us are affected by the reaction of others towards them.

The dual thread of the narrative allows Hamid to give an interesting, intelligent portrayal of post 9/11 America. There is an wonderful analysis, at one point, of the traditional empire that America resembles within its own borders. He also paints a portrait of the development of fundamentalism more complex than any we are usually given - a combination of internal and external triggers, personal and political reasons, as much an echo of a man's dissatisfaction with himself and his own perspective on his heritage as a reaction to the political climate of the day. It makes the creation of a fundamentalist mindset seem frighteningly plausible, even possibly understandable. It is born of reasoned argument that it is impossible not to indentify with at some level. It serves as an antidote to the common portrayal of the fundamentalist mindset being born of low intellect and high susceptibility to influence or of purely religious fanaticism.

It is a remarkably well-realised novel, with mounting suspense that brings the reader towards the conclusion with ever-increasing eagerness to discover who the individuals really are and what that narrator's true story is. The image of suicide, always hanging in the background, symbolises perhaps a nation's unacknowledged fears. As the two men converse, with a constantly changing backdrop of the local marketplace, it seems more than purely an atmospheric description of their surroundings. It is more analogous to the constantly changing world around us. The image of the changing character of the market as it empties mirroring the image of our solitude as our society lives more and more empty of faith.

This was a real 'impossible to put down' book, an incredibly fast read but one that leaves you thinking and broadens your view of a contemporary issue, taking it in interesting directions. Well worth the investment of time and money.

4. Old Goriot by Honoré de Balzac

This was my first foray into Balzac and it certainly won't be my last. It is, in a way, less a story of old Goriot himself (an old man, almost destitute, living in a run-down boarding house on the seedier side of Paris, visited occasionally by two beautiful young women who he claims are his daughters) as it is of Eugene Rastignac, the young student who shares the boarding house with Goriot and a host of richly drawn supporting characters. Balzac creates a masterful description, evocative and vibrant, bringing the high society and low underbelly of Paris alive for the reader. He is ascerbic and satirical in his portrayal of life at both ends of the social scale and makes astute observations about the human condition in general through his well-realised cast of characters and the moral dilemmas they face. Often this is executed with sharp humour, relevant in its application to certain elements of modern-day human interaction.

It is an easy read and the style is both contemporary and accessible to the modern-day reader despite the age of the work. It is a great book, a portrait of human failings, of self-interest, of consuming passions and of the cynicism of romantic attachments. I would highly recommend it.

3. The Island at the End of the World by Sam Taylor

This is an excellent book and I'm going to state upfront that it's well worth taking the time to read. It's difficult to review, I don't want to go into too much detail as part of its appeal lies in the sense of uncertainty as to what constitutes reality that it engenders in the reader. It is basically a tale of a family (Pa, Alice, Finn and Daisy), who live on an ark in the middle of an island, separated after a great flood that hit modern-day America. They live off the land and do not know if there are any other survivors elsewhere. The book is told in three different voices: Pa, religious, controlling and desperately protective of his family; Finn, a young boy in awe of his father and at one with the land he's grown up on; and Alice, a teenager with memories of the time before the flood, dissatisfied with the isolated life they live. While trying to piece together the history that led to the flood, the reader gradually has a sense that the story is more complicated than they initially believed.

This book is very well-written. Sometimes Pa's narrative voice becomes confused - a stream of consciousness with religious dogma interspersed. Finn's phonetic spelling takes time to get used to, but once you are, it really conveys the voice of the young boy.

Original and unsettling, this is a book I expect to hear much more about in 2009.

2. The Taker and Other Stories by Rubem Fonseca

This is a great collection of short stories from a brilliant small US publisher devoted to acquiring and translating diverse contemporary foreign language works that would otherwise remain overlooked by the English-speaking reading public.

These stories, set in Brazil, all contain a central theme: death. From protagonists with murderous intention to ageing characters coming to terms with their own mortality, Fonseca evocatively conveys the atmosphere of a dark underbelly of Brazilian society. Ironically, I found the eponomous 'The Taker' to be the weakest of the collection. I won't go into too much detail about the contents - with many of the stories, their greatest effect lies in the gradual realisation of the reader as they come to understand the inevitable resolution of the tales.

Fonseca writes effectively, from the longer pieces to the brief two-page stories, although there were one or two stories which confused me slightly but I think I will return and re-read them to see if my perspective differs. If I had to liken Fonseca's writing to anyone's, I would say that his work is similar in tone to Pedro Juan Gutierrez - the same visceral descriptions, the edge of darkness and brutality, the uncompromising picture of the darker side of life in a major city with no concessions towards a brighter picture. Certainly a worthwhile read - a great collection.

1. In the Land of Invisible Women by Qanta Ahmed

In 'In the Land of Invisible Women' Qanta Ahmed, an English-born female Muslim doctor, recounts the experiences of her time in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. It's a fascinating account that suffers somewhat from a poor writing style. The writing is bad and I found Ahmed's narration patronising - her voice was one of superior tone and it appears that she sets herself above Saudi Muslims, western non-Muslims, anyone who may have a negative opinion about America ... the list is endless. The arrogant tone is particularly evident when she refers to her obvious sense of professional superiority. In passages where she describes herself, particularly around the hospital, the reader is left in no doubt of the high opinion of herself she holds. I found the chapter where she deals with the issue of homosexuality in the Kingdom disturbing in the extreme. She lists a number of contributing factors to the appeasement of an 'uncomfortable libido by seeking acquired homosexual behaviours' - obviously, it couldn't be that they were actually gay, it must have been contributing factors, environmentally acquired homosexuality. At least I will sleep easier at night knowing her 'detection of latent homosexuality was probably accurate'.

I also found that she was oddly schizophrenic in her response to veiling: when around westerners, she adopted a superior tone and emphasised the idea of the sense of liberation veiling gave her; when around Saudis, she often adopted a superior tone, asserting her right not to. There are moments where she labours the point of liberation from male attention. When she described how Saudi men attempted to pick up girls, much as she attributed her fear and intimidation to the male attention, I couldn't help but ask myself whether this stemmed from the attention itself or the context of the climate of fear created by the religious police, which she had already demonstrated she was affected by.

Nonetheless, this book is a fascinating window onto what it, for me, an alien world. It was an interesting portrait of two vastly different forms of Islam (from multi- and single faith environments). I found it particularly telling that, at the outset, the non-Muslim expats who had been in the Kingdom longer, often appeared more at home than the Muslim narrator. The opening account of a dying woman and the extreme lengths her family went to to make sure that she remained veiled raised the interesting question of whether her rights were being supresses or her dignity upheld - as she was unable to bear witness to this herself, we shall never know.

It is evident that there are multiple levels of segregation in the Kingdom: by sex, by nationality and by class with the dichotomy of the uber-rich and the slave class that serves them. Many of the most interesting moments for me were the tales of the ER as these gave insight into the nature of Saudi citizens at their worst moments; these stories were more 'alive' than some of Ahmed's other descriptions. The re-telling of her pilgrimage to Mecca, her Hajj, was absolutely fascinating - a real view of a world I know very little about.

In the end, I found Ahmed to be a person who seemed to be conflicted in her sense of national identity. It is telling that in the chapters describing post-9/11 Saudi Arabia, Ahmed finds it quite easy to take an uncritical view of America's role in precipitating the event. Despite being English born, she repeatedly allies herself with America, constantly belabouring the point that she owed America a great deal for her medical training (conveniently failing to give any credit to the British university that gave her her original medical degree). Ultimately, the author's obvious and overriding pro-American voice led me to treat her description of post-9/11 Saudi with a degree of scepticism as, with regards to America, I never got the sense that her writing was particularly balanced. The degree to which she allied herself with America is typified by a description of a conversation with a Saudi male who sympathised with the US later in the book, where she describes him as being 'on our side' - it is rare that an English person would ever use the word 'our' to encompass the US and the UK as an entity.

I was, in the end, reminded of the fact that change never comes fast. There is process and there is evolution behind every perceived momentary revolution of culture. The book ends on a hopeful note that leaves the reader feeling that there may be a chance for Saudi Arabia; that, in time, it could become a more open and independent place for all Saudis, women included, and that this could happen without the submersion of its rich Islamic heritage under the yoke of a western, or more specifically an American, monoculture and value structure. How accurate this is, I'm not sure. Ahmed's voice is not one that I feel I fully trust and sometimes there is a sense that, once free from the control exerted by the Kingdom, able to return as an obviously-rich western woman, there is a tint of rose in the glasses she wears to look back at it. Certainly from personal accounts I've had from people who have spent much longer in the Kingdom than Ahmed's short stay, the view is not so positive.

For the story and insight it gives to aspects of Saudi life, I would certainly recommend this book. It's a four-star for content. Unfortunately, it's a two-star for writing ability; although it's not often so bad that it prevents you from absorbing the facts, certainly at the beginning you have to cling to the fact that from a chapter or so in the subject matter becomes fascinating and overrides the fact that the writing is so poor at the outset that you'll be tempted to discard it. Hang in there! It will be an illuminating experience. I decided to split the difference and settled on a three-star compromise.

47. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

For biting satire, this is Jane Austen at her best. For storytelling, her other works are much stronger. There's not much I can say about Jane Austen that hasn't been said before and I have no intention of using this review for an in depth critical analysis of the text, so I'm just going to tell you what I liked about this satirical take on the gothic theme.

More than any of Austen's books, this one conveyed to me a living, breathing sense of what life was like in Bath during the Season. Albeit through prose which is some of Austen's most sarcastic, nonetheless she really conveyed the crowded, bustle-filled social whirl that was Bath. The initial description of Catherine's arrival and first sortie out to the Upper Rooms, where they knew no-one, had a familiar ring to it. I loved her cutting sarcasm, she became more restrained in later novels (possibly as her writing and storycrafting also became more refined).

Where this book was let down was in the story itself. Entertaining though Austen's dissection of Bath, the social structure of the day and the predominant fashion for gothic novels was, ascerbic and hilarious, it came at the expense of a truly absorbing story. There was no great romantic pairing, no Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. I didn't feel in any way invested in our heroine and her romantic interest tale. If I was being uncharitable, I might even go so far as to say that I felt this novel was at times nothing more than a scaffold to enable Austen to vent spleen on her least favourite aspects of the society of the day.

On balance, I liked the book - it was an enjoyable read but it was far from my favourite Austen novel.

46. Dracula by Bram Stoker

I fall into the category of someone who should have read 'Dracula' but who just never got around to it so I came at this book with the kind of preconceptions that anyone who has been exposed to the Hollywood Dracula canon cannot help but acquire. I was pleasantly surprised at the differences I found in the written work.

It's an easy read but it is told in an unusual style via extracts from a variety of writings created by the protagonists. Unfortunately, this means that you are at the mercy of character perspective: if you enjoy certain styles over others, some parts will be harder to stick with. Personally, I found I was willing to do away with Jonathan Harker myself after a couple of pages and as for Mina, well, I'm just not going to go there, not at all!

I found it an entertaining book, possible not always in the way Stoker intended. The bumbling attempts by Van Helsing's vampire hunters were a hoot. It was like 'Imbeciles: 101' and I wondered what comedy slaying attempt was going to pop up next. As for Van Helsing's heavily accented English, even the grammatical errors Stoker introduced were not a correct and natural representation of a foreign language speaker. I enjoyed the dark world Stoker created, nonetheless, with the Count's castle, the suspicious locals and the compliant wolves. The heavily overdone sexual symbolism was sometimes too blatant but it did suit the style of the novel. What surprised me was how little Dracula himself actually figured in the novel - he was more of a shadowy presence than a vibrant character and as a result of Stoker's use of multi-character narratory perspective and his omission of Dracula from this, we only ever see him through the eyes of others and are therefore unsure as to the veracity of the descriptions. Nonetheless, he cuts a sinister figure in the Whitby churchyard, which has changed very little, even in the present day. The description of the heavy mist on the Whitby sea is an eerie picture.

All in all, it's a fun book and I thoroughly enjoyed it. There's plenty of mileage for those who wish to delve deeply into the symbolic side but I chose not to. I'd rather keep this as one of my genre-defining favourites. I can indulge in Stoker's story, in the beautiful Folio Society edition (black and blood-red with woodcuts) and a big bar of chocolate on a Friday night in.