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.

One recommendation, one not:

YES: Race of A Lifetime, almost a follow up to Primary Colours, the fabulous, gossipy, fascinating story of Obama, Hillary, Palin, Edwards and McCain racing for the White House in 2008. It’s just incredible- as Obama himself said at one point, ‘this would be a fascinating story, if you didn’t have to live it’. Even makes you feel sorry for Palin, dumped into a world she didn’t understand and frantically missing her baby. It’s an absolute classic, and how fantastic that a story this good gets writers who can do it justice.

NO: I won’t put the title or the author’s name as it’s a horrible thing to google yourself and come across something unpleasant, to which one would say, don’t google yourself, to which one would also say, HA!

Anyway, if you loved Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, do not be tempted to pick up the recent sequel. If you didn’t or haven’t read it, I can’t even imagine how incomprehensible it would be to you. An utter disaster of a book.

It’s almost too scary to read about, people writing well on the experience of growing older. I suppose it’s nice to know they’re still writing. Writing is one of those jobs were you don’t necessarily peak when you’re younger, like physics or football. Mary Wesley, who wrote the brilliant Camomile Lawn, famously published her first novel at 71. Recently, co-incidentally, I read two books in a week with the subject.

Olive Kitteredge by Elizabeth Strout I bought on a whim (I do this a lot- you know what it’s like when you’re in a bookshop or browsing Amazon. You walk in thinking, wow, look, they have TONS and TONS of books, how amazing, then you realise that you have either read everything, or it’s absolute pish, or you just don’t like the sound of it (’a man, confronting his own mentality and mental state, begins a dangerous affair’… you know the type of thing), and I don’t even go near the fantasy section (yes yes, calm down Terry Goodwind fans). So often I find myself so desperate for reading material I buy stuff almost at random. I did that with this book, but it is actually wonderful and, it turns out, won the Pulitzer last year. It’s a collection of short stories linking this woman, Olive, who gradually realises certain things about herself, late in life. But it’s more the absolutely accurate description of emotions it contains, and the fully 3D recognisable people who make an impact. I loved it. But it did make me simply not want to get old.

The Old Boy’s Network by John Rae, shouldn’t work- it is very very short diary entries over thirty years that he spent as a headmaster at Westminster, the famous public school. Yet it gives wonderful snapshots of life at the very top of the ladder; naughty boys, unhappy boys, startlingly clever boys; and weaves a wonderful picture of the interconnectedness of the British elite. I suspect twenty years ago it would have made me furious. As a historical document of time passing though- with what I always romanticise as the master’s dilemma; the teacher always gets older, the pupils never do-though, it is entirely fascinating.

And incidentally two recommended books if you really are interested in the end bits: Somewhere Towards the End by Diana Ampthill, and The Last Cigarette by Simon Gray. We all know that, if we are terribly lucky, old age is coming; it’s nice to think too that there is some wit and humour and understanding there too.

On the other foot completely, I am ADORING Race of a Lifetime, the story of how Obama won the White House in 08. It is full of passion and clever ruthlessness; change and youth and hope and vigour, and the writing is, thrillingly, up to the amazing story.

Yes, OBVIOUSLY my new year’s resolution to update more often! And I was going to post a little Christmas piece I wrote for a book but may do that next year, when the pb will be out. I am literally poised to start tomorrow morning on my new book, and quite excited about typing ‘Chapter 1′ again, it seems like it’s been a while.

In the meantime three corkers: Dan Rhodes is a friend of mine but I think- it was a long time ago- but we became friends because I went to a reading he did with another friend of mine, Matt Thorne, and he was totally brilliant so I suppose we became friends because I liked his work. Anyway, his new book, out in April, is called Little Hands Clapping and is totally brilliant, spooky, fun and he has such a clear voice. I’m also loving Set This House in Order, by Matt Ruff, which everyone else has probably read already- I thought would be gimmicky- it’s about two people with MPD- but is actually great and so gripping you forget how difficult it must have been to write. It’s not an easy read- mind you, since I had children, anything that even hints at cruelty to children I find unbearable- but it is excellent.

And the best thing I’ve come across recently, which was so amazing I’ve pressed it on everyone- it was published in 2004 and was supposedly a bestseller, but I’d never heard of it till an aquaintance recommended it to me. It’s called The Long Walk, and is a memoir about a young Polish office who escapes from the Siberian gulag. It is heartbreaking, breathlessly exciting, compelling, readable and, most of all, utterly true. Anyway, I gave it to my mother who was looking for something to read over Christmas and she stared at it with a look of utter shock on her face and said, ‘I know! And he goes through the Gobi desert and they have to survive on snakes and…’ and she told me the entire thing. And do you know what; the book wasn’t published in 2004 at all, that’s the reprint date. In fact it was written in 1945, just after it happened, and my mother had read it in 1956- she remembered exactly, because she knew she was twelve years old- and, more than fifty years later, recalled everything about it. Isn’t that amazing?? Except it was even more shocking for her, because back then they didn’t know what a terrible monster Stalin actually was.

Anyway, my husband came in the other night and said ‘where’s that book you’ve been going on about? I’m ready to read it now (he’s just finished Kitchen Confidential) but he was too late:  my mum nicked it and took it home. I think she’s allowed.

Happy New Year! xxx Ooh, and you can follow me on Twitter now, I’ve got the hang of it and really like it. I’m just @jennycolgan. ALthough if you don’t watch UK tv you’ll probably find it a bit confusing…