Gosh Nicci Gerrard is a wonderful writer. She used to write for the Observer, and her pieces were always like tiny jewels, they seemed wasted on something as ephemeral as a newspaper. Then she joined up with her husband, Sean French- who once wrote a novel on his own, something with monkeys in. It was in the drawer in the old spare room in the house I grew up in on the sea. I can’t remember a thing about the novel except that I liked it, and monkeys were involved- but I remember the feel of the paper that lined the drawer, and the faded floral sprig wallpaper that was dated than, but in vogue again these days. Anyway, Nicci and Sean joined forces and called themselves Nicci French, to write a series of crime novels which are pretty good, like Minette Walters, but I just came across a solo novel by Gerrard called Solace which I thought was new but turns out to be about five years old.
Anyway, it was splendid, about the ending of a marriage; beautifully written, dreamy, accurate and painful. It pulls a mean trick about 4/5ths of the way through which is unnecessary and should have been taken out; the quotidian truths the novel contains are diminished by a tragedy which feels out of place and a little unfair, but the rest of it is absolutely great. It went well with my new Lisa Jewell proof, After the Party, which is about a bad year in a marriage and is similarly elegaic, delicate and true with feelings. One can’t help but feel if men were writing these extraordinary contemporary accounts of everyday lives, people would be throwing them ticker tape parades. Tant pis!
Spring did spring here in France, but is beating a temporary retreat today. Michael-Francis and Delphie are having a snooze and Wallace is wearing his father’s motorcycle kit and hanging around the door saying ‘WHEN ARE THEY COMING? SOON??’. Waiting twenty minutes for your friends to turn up is quite a long time when you’re only JUST five.
I adore Nicci Gerrard’s books. Solace is great, The Winter House was good, but I think her best are The Moment You Were Gone and Things We Knew Were True. Except for perhaps the titles.