Rupert Christiansen
Rather dismally, perhaps, the new book I admired most this year was the first trans- lation into English of Chekhov's Journey to Sakhalin (Faulkner, £12.50), an account of his visit to the notorious convict island off the coast of Siberia: the writing exudes a cool moral rectitude which made so much else I read seem trite, pointlessly sophisticated, or over-egged and over- heated.
But I did much enjoy Ysenda Maxtone Graham's sharp-nosed sniff round the nooks and crannies of Anglicanism, The Church Hesitant (Hodder, £18.99) and the latest collection of the cartoons of Posy Simmonds, Mustn't Grumble (Cape, £9.99) — satire of a high order, make no mistake. A warm mention, too, for Jan Swafford's urbane vade-mecum, The New Guide to Classical Music (Macmillan, £10.99). My dud was Granta's Best of Young British Novelists issue (£7.99). With a couple of exceptions (notably Candia McWilliam, whose evocation of her Edinburgh childhood is proving unforget- table), the contributors performed dismally — a lot of milk-and-water whingeing, a lot of purple sensationalism, a lot of factitious intensity. God help the British novel if this is the best its youthful practitioners can do.
Apparently we've got some kids coming over from the local junior school this afternoon to teach us about violence.'
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