Ben East 

In brief: Piglet; Free Play; A Spell of Good Things – review

A bride’s wedding day preparations go awry in a propulsive page-turner; a violinist’s inspirational guide to everyday creativity; and a moving Dickensian tale of two citizens in Nigeria
  
  

A pink doughnut on a pink plate.
A thirtysomething gourmand realises her life is a pretence in Lottie Hazell’s debut novel, Piglet. Photograph: Nadia Palici/Getty Images/500px

Piglet

Lottie Hazell
Doubleday, £16.99, pp304

There’s a searing section in Hazell’s nuanced debut where the deliciously unlikable titular protagonist realises her carefully curated life as a thirtysomething gourmand is a pretence, her pleasures mere posture. The fact that she does so on her wedding day gives Piglet its page-turning narrative propulsion. But actually, in picking apart this irritatingly smug couple, Hazell gradually offers wry, thoughtful explanations for their behaviour, covering class, female identity and family. Piglet’s clarity is hard won, but Hazell’s gift is to make it feel like a punch-the-air moment rather than a told-you-so.

Free Play: Improvisation in Life & Art

Stephen Nachmanovitch
Canongate, £12.99, pp256

In a book that was first published in 1990 (but never in the UK), improvisational violinist Nachmanovitch took what he understood about his practice and guided readers through how it could be applied to any kind of creativity – and life itself. Almost 35 years later, Free Play feels wise, relevant and very Zen. In a new foreword, Ruth Ozeki marvels at the freeing notion that every conversation is a form of improvisation. But it’s Nachmanovitch’s updated afterword that really hits home; in an increasingly unstable world, just to say an honest, authentic word can be utterly transformative.

A Spell of Good Things

Ayòbámi Adébáyò
Canongate, £9.99, pp352 (paperback)

Deservedly longlisted for last year’s Booker, Adébáyò is carving a real name for herself as a chronicler of moving Nigeria-set stories with intensely sociopolitical subtexts and a Dickensian flavour. Here, she shines a light on inequality, corruption and rank bad government through young people in two ultimately interlinked families. Wúràolá has money, education and chances; Eniolá gets mixed up in the darker side of politics when his own opportunities dry up. Yet even Wúràolá finds her status can’t inure her against patriarchy and the abuse of power. Compelling and quietly profound.

 

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