Latest news with #Tolstoy
Time of India
13-07-2025
- Business
- Time of India
Not swordsmanship, these businesses thrive on penmanship
Ever wondered what Tolstoy, Hemingway, and Orwell have in common? They were authors who penned manuscripts of their acclaimed works using a fountain pen. For a generation weaned on keyboards, the romance of writing with a fountain pen might seem like a vestige of history. But, for a small group of artisans in Tamil Nadu, who specialise in handcrafting fountain pens while battling the headwinds of digitisation, the journey involved in creating these writing instruments is well worth the price of admission. Back in the day, Chennai was home to 15-20 manufacturers of artisanal pens. But the onslaught of ballpoints sounded a requiem for many companies. Among the few that survived is the Tiruvallur-based Ranga Pens, founded by M S Pandurangan. Today, his son, M P Kandan, is the second-generation artisan who keeps the tradition alive. "We might be the oldest fountain pen maker in TN, having been in the business for 50 years. As a teenager, my father started making artisanal pens using a Japanese technique, and we progressed to materials like celluloid, ebonite (hard rubber), acrylic (shatter resistant transparent plastic), and Ultem, a heat-resistant, strong thermoplastic," Kandan tells us. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like If you have a mouse, this game will keep you up all night. No Install. Play for free. Navy Quest Undo They also make premium brass and aluminium fountain pens. At their spartan workshop, the two retain complete creative and manufacturing control. Their focus is the B2C clientele spread across more than 100 nations. On average, the two artisans manufacture 400 pens per month. "We have around 50 models in 250 colours (with a choice of 100+ varieties of nibs). Our starting price is 3,500, and pens retail for up to 30,000. Our top-selling pens are priced around 5,500, while those retailing for $100 You Can Also Check: Chennai AQI | Weather in Chennai | Bank Holidays in Chennai | Public Holidays in Chennai (8,500) see traction in the global market," says Kandan. Nostalgia aside, there are sustainable reasons for the use of fountain pens, critical to the circular economy. Unlike ball pens, ink used in fountain pens are often made from natural dyes. Ask Pratap Kumar, third-generation custodian of Gem & Co (Gama Pens), the fountain pen-making and distribution business, started by his grandfather, MP Cunnan, and his friend. "A student uses 50-100 ballpoint pens/refills in a year, and they end up in a landfill. But, a bottle of ink could last you between 3-6 months. Students make up a significant part of our customer base, and pocket-friendly fountain pens, priced at 100 onwards are most popular with them. Many youngsters prefer them as they reduce writing fatigue, especially during examinations or back-to-back lectures." One of Gama's famed customers included former CM, late M Karunanidhi, who used a Wality 69T model, a fountain pen (made in Mumbai) whose popularity surged in the aftermath of the Dravidian doyen's passing. Pratap tells us, "Our clientele is decades-old and it includes public administrators, judges, and creative professionals. We have 30-40 designs for old-school, barrel-based fountain pens, that are made using traditional dies. We also take up fountain pen restorations." There are fresh entrants too, who see new opportunities in the writing instruments space. Like L Subramaniam, founder and owner of ASA Pens, who quit his tech job in 2010 and started the penmaking business in 2012. "The two major gaps I hoped to fill were online penetration and contemporary ink transfer systems (cartridge/converter-based) for artisanal pens. The budget pens are priced between 2,500 and 4,000, and they come in ebonite and acrylic materials. We initially sold 50-60 pens a month. Now, we sell 250-300 pens a month, along with 2-3 premium lacquered pens. Our premium range - the ASA Kala series has pens ranging between 28,000 and 2 lakh." Thanks to the resurgence of demand for fountain pens, players like Ambitious India and Kanpur Writers, the latter of which is the biggest manufacturer of nibs in India, have seen their sales improve. Subramaniam will soon open a store in Park Street in Kolkata, one of his biggest markets after Chennai and Bengaluru. To spread the gospel, fountain pen makers have actively participated in pen shows held in Chennai in 2024 and 2025. Aamod Shirali, a lecturer of law, and a long-hand enthusiast, remarks, "I use my fountain pen to take notes as the subject registers quickly and recapitulation becomes easy. Handwritten notes are more reflective of an individual's thought process at a given point in time. Recently, a friend shared with me a few letters that I had snail-mailed him over 25 years ago. And a flood of memories came rushing in, and it became a reason to reconnect. "
Telegraph
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Telegraph readers' favourite novels
To nominate the 20 greatest novels of all time, even if you've spent decades reading and writing about fiction, is far from an easy task. The attentive reader will immediately spot omissions from this list – and this is exactly what Telegraph readers did this weekend after Claire Allfree's list of the 20 greatest novels of all time was published. There were more than a thousand comments on the article – here, we've pulled out the top recommendations that should be on your reading list. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (amongst others) by Lewis Carroll War and Peace, The Brothers Karamazov, Les Misérables, Moby-Dick, Pride and Prejudice, All Quiet on the Western Front, Absalom! Absalom!, The Scarlet Letter, The Sound and the Fury, Through the Looking Glass, An American Tragedy, Gone with the Wind, Nineteen Eighty Four, Animal Farm, Washington Square, Uncle Tom's Cabin, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, The Stranger, Treasure Island, Their Eyes Were Watching God. Roderick Guerry Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy Well, you included my favourite novel, The Master and Margarita, and another favourite, Middlemarch. Tolstoy must be included but my choice would have been Anna Karenina. A glaring omission is A Glastonbury Romance by England's own Tolstoy, John Cowper Powys. An amazing novel. Charlotte Cowell Buy the book Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë Must haves: Bleak House and/or Great Expectations (with original ending). 100 Years of Solitude. Wuthering Heights. The Iliad and/or The Odyssey. Toby Roberts Buy the book 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez I would have included 100 Years of Solitude. Charlotte Cowell Buy the book Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf Mrs Dalloway? Joe Doherty Buy the book To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee Suggested by Buy the book The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas I am honestly going to try and read as many as I can [from the original list ]. My favourite book is The Count of Monte Cristo. Kerry Rooke Buy the book The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann The Magic Mountain and Tonio Kröger by Thomas Mann; Herzog by Saul Bellow; Drive your Plow over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk. For starters. Linda Sansbury Buy the book David Copperfield by Charles Dickens I'll throw in a few that seem not to have been mentioned: The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, by Henry Fielding; Three Men in a Boat, by Jerome K. Jerome; David Copperfield by Dickens; Don Camillo (all of them) by Giovanni Guareschi; and Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. Martin Bastone Buy the book Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath and Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf are wonderful dramas that are beautifully crafted. Michael John Roarty Buy the book The Brothers Karamazov By Fyodor Dostoevsky …or Confederacy of Dunces by JK Toole. Eric Grey Buy the book And finally… Graham Greene has been overlooked, too. Barbara Chapman
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Choose comfort, ditch boring and prioritise pleasure – how to find the perfect beach read
Leo Tolstoy's novel Anna Karenina is a masterpiece. It has never been out of print. Luminaries from William Faulkner to Jilly Cooper have remarked on its brilliance. It is usually within the top 10 of any list of the '100 books you simply must read before you die'. However, I would argue that it's a singularly poor choice of a book to bring with you for 10 days on the beach in Tenerife. Especially in hardback. I really tried. Every day, I'd read two or three pages before realising I'd read the same pages the day before, and it simply hadn't stuck. I kept drifting off during the more complex descriptions of 19th-century property law. I simply couldn't see what Anna saw in Vronsky; he seemed dreadful, just a slightly different kind of dreadful from her husband, Karenin. My arms ached, the sand seemed unusually gritty, and on day four, as children shrieked and splashed around me, their parents read Jack Reacher books while I failed to understand the significance of Levin scything his fields, I thought, 'No more!' My luggage allowance was about 20kg. Tolstoy had taken up more than a tenth of it, and 100% of my headspace. I couldn't relax. I wasn't enjoying myself. When I found a Sophie Kinsella novel in the hotel gift shop, I almost wept with relief. It didn't matter that I'd already read The Undomestic Goddess – my aching brain craved comfort and joy, and it simply wasn't finding it on Russian railway lines. As an author and a reader, it makes me sad that 'beach read' has become a pejorative term. In my book Read Yourself Happy, I investigate the enormous positive impact that reading has on our wellbeing – and I discover that we can only experience the benefits of books if we're enjoying what we're reading. I believe that any reading we do is good for us, if it captures our attention and stimulates our imagination. The results of a 2016 Yale University study demonstrated that readers of books tend to live longer; another, published by the National Library of Medicine in 2020, showed that reading wards off cognitive decline. But studies also show that fewer children and adults are reading for pleasure. A 2024 survey from the Reading Agency found that 35% of us used to read for fun, but we've let the habit lapse. It's understandable, because it's incredibly difficult to cultivate a reading habit in the 21st century. We all think we 'should' read, in the way we think we 'should' do more exercise. We put it off. We pick up our phones and wish we could put them down again. It's very hard for books to compete with our phones, because books don't tend to light up, or vibrate, or flash with notifications. Books haven't been designed to be addictive. We plan to read when we have some free time. Eventually we go on holiday and promise ourselves that we'll tackle some serious Russian literature, or we bring the Booker winner with us. And we struggle to concentrate and connect with the story because we're not used to using our reading muscles. We long to pick up our phones and scroll instead. We feel angry with ourselves, and we resent the books. Reading feels like a chore, and we don't feel as though we're having the relaxing, reviving, nourishing holiday that we need. After my failed attempt to read Anna Karenina, I vowed to prioritise pleasure when choosing my holiday reading, jettisoning anything that felt too much like holiday homework. And I started to notice some surprising changes. First, I started to relax much more quickly. I didn't waste the first two days in a state of anxious agitation, struggling to switch off. In the past, I'd felt fidgety and restless when I was lying by the pool. However, when I found a book I loved, I lay with purpose. My sleep seemed to improve. I felt calmer and more grounded. It changed my focus, too. When I wasn't reading, I felt more present – I was better at listening to conversations and paying attention. During day trips, I didn't have the urge to scroll through my phone seeking out recommendations for better restaurant options or nicer beaches. I didn't have the same irritable holiday squabbles with my husband. This was partly because I felt happy and relaxed, and partly because most of those squabbles are about missing phone chargers and power adaptors. Reading was reducing my screen time, and I wasn't draining my phone battery. Most importantly, reading for pleasure made me feel that I'd benefited from the holiday. We go away because we need to relax and recharge. A holiday is supposed to have health benefits. And reading might be the magical secret that ensures we feel those benefits. It's one way to truly get away from it all. It's easy to dismiss 'fun' summer books: because they are so easy to read, critics (wrongly) assume that they must be easy to write. But in a world where everything can feel very difficult, easy books are more valid and valuable than ever. They bring us lasting, nourishing pleasure. Sarah Maxwell, the founder of England's first romance-only bookstore, Saucy Books, says that this summer the shop will be celebrating and focusing on beach reads. She says: 'A so-called 'beach read' can often reach places a serious book can't – especially when we're craving ease, escape or a dose of delight. Summer is a time to recharge, and reading for pleasure is one of the simplest, most nourishing ways to reconnect with yourself.' So when you're packing for your holiday, and fretting about reading the books that will impress your friends and intimidate your enemies, why not try to give yourself 'a dose of delight'? If you'd like to get the most from your time away, and read yourself happy, here are some suggestions. It sounds counterintuitive, but it might be worth bringing a book that you've already read. When I'm especially stressed, or struggling with anxiety, I bring one that I know I love. I find rereading very comforting, and sometimes I need to warm up with something familiar and remind myself that sitting down with a book feels good. It takes the pressure off the reading experience – and it feels like being reunited with old, beloved friends. If the idea of rereading an old book doesn't appeal, look for a book by a writer you've enjoyed before, or something from a series of books. (You can't go wrong with Poirot or Miss Marple.) Sometimes I start my holiday reading before I go on holiday. In the run-up to a trip, it feels as though there's never enough time to pack, clear my desk and do my laundry – but if I try to read a few pages every day, I feel the benefits as soon as I arrive. It can take a couple of chapters to get into a book, and it's difficult to focus in a new environment, even if it's supposed to be a relaxing space. But if I'm already invested in the narrative, I'm excited about picking it up as soon as I arrive. (And if I have been reading on the plane or train, I find the arrival process – waiting for luggage and going through passport control – a lot less stressful.) If I'm going on holiday with friends or family, I'll suggest we share and swap our books. That way, we can maximise our luggage allowance, and avoid a situation in which we have eight copies of We Solve Murders and All Fours between us. One of my favourite holidays was a trip to France with my sisters, where we all took it in turns to read The Disaster Artist – Greg Sestero and Tom Bissell's wild account of working with Tommy Wiseau on The Room ('the greatest bad movie ever made'). Of course, remember not to bring a prized first edition. Take a book that can be replaced if the worst happens. When books are being read and thoroughly enjoyed on holiday, they risk being dropped in the pool or covered in sun cream. Perhaps the most important piece of holiday advice is this: if you don't like the book you're reading, you don't have to finish it. Be fair to yourself, and fair to the book. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing and enjoyable. For example, if you work for Nasa and you're taking a break from a stressful workplace, you might feel tense and triggered after three chapters of Atmosphere, Taylor Jenkins Reid's new astronaut novel. Reading is a subjective experience. I will rarely give up on a book – but I often pick up a book and put it down again, realising I need to be in a better mood to get the best from it. And sometimes, changing to a more fun book is all it takes to put me in that better mood. I returned to Anna Karenina eventually. It took me a few years to do so – and I spent that time building up my reading muscles. I read it for pleasure, and by the time I was ready, my appetite for pleasure had become much broader. I didn't need to learn how to read; I needed to learn to love to read again. It was that Sophie Kinsella book that reminded me of the power of brilliant storytelling. The experience of losing myself in the novel was delicious, and it made me greedy for more. Reading for the sheer fun of it fills up my emotional tank and gives me the strength to attempt 'challenging' books. Maybe even more importantly, they also give me the strength to deal with challenging real-life situations. When I'm cheerfully immersing myself in a series of happily-ever-afters, I feel more optimistic and positive. I see the best in people, and I'm kinder and more patient. Life starts to imitate art. Reading always leaves me feeling better and calmer. I never regret picking up a book, and I'm so grateful to have discovered a hobby that makes me happy, as well as making me feel as though I'm on holiday. It's good to keep the holiday vibes alive and kicking on a dark, rainy Saturday afternoon in November. And I'm confident that reading for pleasure this summer will ensure you have a better time on the beach. But I suspect the benefits will outlast the trip, too. My holiday reading romance has been going on for years, and rediscovering my passion for romcoms made me realise that books had been my true love all along. Book Boyfriend by Lucy VineSimon & SchusterJenna is a reader, and a dreamer. When a secret admirer starts leaving her letters in her favourite book, she's reluctant to take the relationship off the page. But her chaotic twin, Clara, is determined to solve the mystery. This classic romcom is utterly charming – a gorgeous dollop of escapist fun. Tiny Daggers by Caroline CorcoranThomas & MercerBritish expat Holly has built herself a perfect life in Miami – but when her old schoolfriend, also called Holly, turns up, she might have the power to pull the thread and destroy it all. But which one is Good Holly, and which one is Bad Holly? This twisty thriller is a perfect poolside read. How To Make A Killing by Kate WestonHeadlineWhen Bella, the star agent at Harrington Estates, is murdered, people start to ask just how far her colleagues will go to make a sale. It's a riotous comedy with a body count. If you've ever harboured murderous thoughts about estate agents, this is the book for you. Say You'll Remember Me by Abby JimenezLittle, BrownSamantha falls for the hot and improbably named vet Xavier Rush almost instantly – and so do we. But, of course, they can't be together. Can they? Completely captivating and instantly addictive, if you want to remember the sheer, giddy fun of falling in love, this is the one to read. Can't Get Enough by Kennedy RyanPiatkusHendrix Barry is glamorous, fabulous and successful – but behind the scenes, life isn't so easy, as she has to take care of her ageing mother. She certainly doesn't have time for love. Until tech mogul Maverick Bell shows up. Ryan is Jackie Collins for the BookTok crowd – her romcoms are smartly written, laced with spice and so much fun to read. Read Yourself Happy by Daisy Buchanan (DK Red, £16.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. The new series of Daisy Buchanan's podcast, You're Booked, will be recommending summer reads for every different mood, destination and suitcase. This article was amended on 2 July 2025 to describe Saucy Books as England's first romance-only bookstore; owing to an error introduced during editing, an earlier version had described it as the UK's first such store.
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Choose comfort, ditch boring and prioritise pleasure – how to find the perfect beach read
Leo Tolstoy's novel Anna Karenina is a masterpiece. It has never been out of print. Luminaries from William Faulkner to Jilly Cooper have remarked on its brilliance. It is usually within the top 10 of any list of the '100 books you simply must read before you die'. However, I would argue that it's a singularly poor choice of a book to bring with you for 10 days on the beach in Tenerife. Especially in hardback. I really tried. Every day, I'd read two or three pages before realising I'd read the same pages the day before, and it simply hadn't stuck. I kept drifting off during the more complex descriptions of 19th-century property law. I simply couldn't see what Anna saw in Vronsky; he seemed dreadful, just a slightly different kind of dreadful from her husband, Karenin. My arms ached, the sand seemed unusually gritty, and on day four, as children shrieked and splashed around me, their parents read Jack Reacher books while I failed to understand the significance of Levin scything his fields, I thought, 'No more!' My luggage allowance was about 20kg. Tolstoy had taken up more than a tenth of it, and 100% of my headspace. I couldn't relax. I wasn't enjoying myself. When I found a Sophie Kinsella novel in the hotel gift shop, I almost wept with relief. It didn't matter that I'd already read The Undomestic Goddess – my aching brain craved comfort and joy, and it simply wasn't finding it on Russian railway lines. As an author and a reader, it makes me sad that 'beach read' has become a pejorative term. In my book Read Yourself Happy, I investigate the enormous positive impact that reading has on our wellbeing – and I discover that we can only experience the benefits of books if we're enjoying what we're reading. I believe that any reading we do is good for us, if it captures our attention and stimulates our imagination. The results of a 2016 Yale University study demonstrated that readers of books tend to live longer; another, published by the National Library of Medicine in 2020, showed that reading wards off cognitive decline. But studies also show that fewer children and adults are reading for pleasure. A 2024 survey from the Reading Agency found that 35% of us used to read for fun, but we've let the habit lapse. It's understandable, because it's incredibly difficult to cultivate a reading habit in the 21st century. We all think we 'should' read, in the way we think we 'should' do more exercise. We put it off. We pick up our phones and wish we could put them down again. It's very hard for books to compete with our phones, because books don't tend to light up, or vibrate, or flash with notifications. Books haven't been designed to be addictive. We plan to read when we have some free time. Eventually we go on holiday and promise ourselves that we'll tackle some serious Russian literature, or we bring the Booker winner with us. And we struggle to concentrate and connect with the story because we're not used to using our reading muscles. We long to pick up our phones and scroll instead. We feel angry with ourselves, and we resent the books. Reading feels like a chore, and we don't feel as though we're having the relaxing, reviving, nourishing holiday that we need. After my failed attempt to read Anna Karenina, I vowed to prioritise pleasure when choosing my holiday reading, jettisoning anything that felt too much like holiday homework. And I started to notice some surprising changes. First, I started to relax much more quickly. I didn't waste the first two days in a state of anxious agitation, struggling to switch off. In the past, I'd felt fidgety and restless when I was lying by the pool. However, when I found a book I loved, I lay with purpose. My sleep seemed to improve. I felt calmer and more grounded. It changed my focus, too. When I wasn't reading, I felt more present – I was better at listening to conversations and paying attention. During day trips, I didn't have the urge to scroll through my phone seeking out recommendations for better restaurant options or nicer beaches. I didn't have the same irritable holiday squabbles with my husband. This was partly because I felt happy and relaxed, and partly because most of those squabbles are about missing phone chargers and power adaptors. Reading was reducing my screen time, and I wasn't draining my phone battery. Most importantly, reading for pleasure made me feel that I'd benefited from the holiday. We go away because we need to relax and recharge. A holiday is supposed to have health benefits. And reading might be the magical secret that ensures we feel those benefits. It's one way to truly get away from it all. It's easy to dismiss 'fun' summer books: because they are so easy to read, critics (wrongly) assume that they must be easy to write. But in a world where everything can feel very difficult, easy books are more valid and valuable than ever. They bring us lasting, nourishing pleasure. Sarah Maxwell, the founder of the UK's first romance-only bookstore, Saucy Books, says that this summer the shop will be celebrating and focusing on beach reads. She says: 'A so-called 'beach read' can often reach places a serious book can't – especially when we're craving ease, escape or a dose of delight. Summer is a time to recharge, and reading for pleasure is one of the simplest, most nourishing ways to reconnect with yourself.' So when you're packing for your holiday, and fretting about reading the books that will impress your friends and intimidate your enemies, why not try to give yourself 'a dose of delight'? If you'd like to get the most from your time away, and read yourself happy, here are some suggestions. It sounds counterintuitive, but it might be worth bringing a book that you've already read. When I'm especially stressed, or struggling with anxiety, I bring one that I know I love. I find rereading very comforting, and sometimes I need to warm up with something familiar and remind myself that sitting down with a book feels good. It takes the pressure off the reading experience – and it feels like being reunited with old, beloved friends. If the idea of rereading an old book doesn't appeal, look for a book by a writer you've enjoyed before, or something from a series of books. (You can't go wrong with Poirot or Miss Marple.) Sometimes I start my holiday reading before I go on holiday. In the run-up to a trip, it feels as though there's never enough time to pack, clear my desk and do my laundry – but if I try to read a few pages every day, I feel the benefits as soon as I arrive. It can take a couple of chapters to get into a book, and it's difficult to focus in a new environment, even if it's supposed to be a relaxing space. But if I'm already invested in the narrative, I'm excited about picking it up as soon as I arrive. (And if I have been reading on the plane or train, I find the arrival process – waiting for luggage and going through passport control – a lot less stressful.) If I'm going on holiday with friends or family, I'll suggest we share and swap our books. That way, we can maximise our luggage allowance, and avoid a situation in which we have eight copies of We Solve Murders and All Fours between us. One of my favourite holidays was a trip to France with my sisters, where we all took it in turns to read The Disaster Artist – Greg Sestero and Tom Bissell's wild account of working with Tommy Wiseau on The Room ('the greatest bad movie ever made'). Of course, remember not to bring a prized first edition. Take a book that can be replaced if the worst happens. When books are being read and thoroughly enjoyed on holiday, they risk being dropped in the pool or covered in sun cream. Perhaps the most important piece of holiday advice is this: if you don't like the book you're reading, you don't have to finish it. Be fair to yourself, and fair to the book. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing and enjoyable. For example, if you work for Nasa and you're taking a break from a stressful workplace, you might feel tense and triggered after three chapters of Atmosphere, Taylor Jenkins Reid's new astronaut novel. Reading is a subjective experience. I will rarely give up on a book – but I often pick up a book and put it down again, realising I need to be in a better mood to get the best from it. And sometimes, changing to a more fun book is all it takes to put me in that better mood. I returned to Anna Karenina eventually. It took me a few years to do so – and I spent that time building up my reading muscles. I read it for pleasure, and by the time I was ready, my appetite for pleasure had become much broader. I didn't need to learn how to read; I needed to learn to love to read again. It was that Sophie Kinsella book that reminded me of the power of brilliant storytelling. The experience of losing myself in the novel was delicious, and it made me greedy for more. Reading for the sheer fun of it fills up my emotional tank and gives me the strength to attempt 'challenging' books. Maybe even more importantly, they also give me the strength to deal with challenging real-life situations. When I'm cheerfully immersing myself in a series of happily-ever-afters, I feel more optimistic and positive. I see the best in people, and I'm kinder and more patient. Life starts to imitate art. Reading always leaves me feeling better and calmer. I never regret picking up a book, and I'm so grateful to have discovered a hobby that makes me happy, as well as making me feel as though I'm on holiday. It's good to keep the holiday vibes alive and kicking on a dark, rainy Saturday afternoon in November. And I'm confident that reading for pleasure this summer will ensure you have a better time on the beach. But I suspect the benefits will outlast the trip, too. My holiday reading romance has been going on for years, and rediscovering my passion for romcoms made me realise that books had been my true love all along. Book Boyfriend by Lucy VineSimon & SchusterJenna is a reader, and a dreamer. When a secret admirer starts leaving her letters in her favourite book, she's reluctant to take the relationship off the page. But her chaotic twin, Clara, is determined to solve the mystery. This classic romcom is utterly charming – a gorgeous dollop of escapist fun. Tiny Daggers by Caroline CorcoranThomas & MercerBritish expat Holly has built herself a perfect life in Miami – but when her old schoolfriend, also called Holly, turns up, she might have the power to pull the thread and destroy it all. But which one is Good Holly, and which one is Bad Holly? This twisty thriller is a perfect poolside read. How To Make A Killing by Kate WestonHeadlineWhen Bella, the star agent at Harrington Estates, is murdered, people start to ask just how far her colleagues will go to make a sale. It's a riotous comedy with a body count. If you've ever harboured murderous thoughts about estate agents, this is the book for you. Say You'll Remember Me by Abby JimenezLittle, BrownSamantha falls for the hot and improbably named vet Xavier Rush almost instantly – and so do we. But, of course, they can't be together. Can they? Completely captivating and instantly addictive, if you want to remember the sheer, giddy fun of falling in love, this is the one to read. Can't Get Enough by Kennedy RyanPiatkusHendrix Barry is glamorous, fabulous and successful – but behind the scenes, life isn't so easy, as she has to take care of her ageing mother. She certainly doesn't have time for love. Until tech mogul Maverick Bell shows up. Ryan is Jackie Collins for the BookTok crowd – her romcoms are smartly written, laced with spice and so much fun to read. Read Yourself Happy by Daisy Buchanan (DK Red, £16.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. The new series of Daisy Buchanan's podcast, You're Booked, will be recommending summer reads for every different mood, destination and suitcase.
The Guardian
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Genius Myth by Helen Lewis review
What makes a genius? Pushed to define it, we might say it's a combination of extraordinary talent and drive, often accompanied by a dash of eccentricity or madness. Ultimately, the designation is conferred by hype; it's essentially an offshoot of celebrity, which is why, as journalist Helen Lewis notes in her new book. 'A genius needs a story as well as achievements'. Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso all made pioneering breakthroughs in their respective fields while living unconventional lives that later became the stuff of legend. Lewis wants us to look at these figures in a more clear-eyed way, and see them as the selfish characters they often were. The lustre of genius, she observes, can provide cover for a multitude of sins: 'alcoholism, family abandonment, unfaithfulness, abuse, weirdness, failure to take responsibility'. Since others invariably have to pick up the slack, this amounts to a form of exploitation. Reflecting on Leo Tolstoy's treatment of his wife, Sophia Tolstaya, over the course of their 48-year marriage, Lewis concludes that the Russian novelist 'was a genius, and a parasite'. The concept of genius presupposes a hierarchy of innate talent, and this comes with baggage, because the science of intelligence testing belongs to the same intellectual tradition that brought us eugenics and so-called scientific racism. Lewis introduces us to some of its notable thinkers, beginning with the Victorian anthropologist Francis Galton, whose 1869 book Hereditary Genius proposed that 'greatness' ran in families, and including several of his 20th-century disciples, such as the British social psychologist Hans Eysenck and the US physicist William Shockley. Surveying the lives and works of these men, we notice certain recurring themes: iffy research, a tendency to overlook the importance of structural and material factors in determining success, and an enthusiasm for racial hierarchies. 'Something about the subject of intelligence has a warping effect on its most furious proponents,' writes Lewis, though it's probably the other way round – the subject seems to attract people who are neurotically fixated with dominance. For such individuals, the idea of genius functions as a self-validating affectation; it 'makes a fetish of contrarianism, and flatters the 'free thinker' or 'heterodox intellectual' into moving from scepticism to conspiracism'. For his admirers among today's online right, Elon Musk's gaucheness is only further proof of his smarts. The book's central message is that we should refrain from putting people on pedestals just because they happen to be talented. This is sensible, and Lewis's suggestion that we should apply the term 'genius' to specific works, rather than individual people, is persuasive. But the idea that large swathes of the reading public urgently need to be disabused of 'the genius myth' is questionable. In one of several sweeping assertions written in the first-person plural, Lewis declares: 'We love to contemplate lone rebels, indulge tortured artists and downplay the contributions of those around the genius to paint a more satisfying portrait of superhuman achievement.' Do we? There is an irritating circularity about such pronouncements, whereby the author projects on to the reader the very cliches that underlie her own analysis. The Genius Myth is one of those popular nonfiction books in which an author sells you the disease in order to sell you the cure. As is customary in this genre, it comes with its own bespoke jargon: Lewis has coined a term – 'the deficit model of genius' – to denote the prevalence of certain handicaps or character flaws among extremely talented scientists and artists. A banal truism is thus passed off as sociological insight. Lewis strives for the easy, conversational style of a Ted Talk, but her attempt at a pally register comes off stilted and ingratiating. The prose is remarkably heavy on italicisation, which lends a rather laboured feel to the exposition – at times, Lewis sounds as if she is trying to convince herself, quite as much as the reader, that something worthwhile is being imparted. A striking feature of this book is its tone of ambient philistinism, which comes through in a number of revealing asides. Reading Lewis's kooky capsule summary of James Joyce's contribution to English literature ('what-if novels, but harder to read'), her high-handed dismissal of 'self-conscious precocity and ambition' in film, and her unnecessarily conspiratorial admission that she found Peter Jackson's Beatles documentary, Get Back, 'quite boring', one can't help wondering if her misgivings about genius might be a bridge for certain personal hangups about rarefied art, and the people who make it. Lewis chides Eysenck for his 'airy, assured judgments', but she's not above emitting some wind of her own. Her contention that Picasso's womanising provided 'an aspirational ideal to lower-status men trapped in bourgeois domesticity and wage slavery', and that Donald Trump is therefore his 'analogue', is little more than a therapeutic rant. And Lewis surely overstates her point when she says that Picasso is 'revered' not in spite of his personal shortcomings, but literally 'because of them'. Again, her own viewpoint is projected outwards: since it's simply inconceivable that people could care that much about the artworks, anyone who admires Picasso must admire him primarily as a shagger, not a painter. Those credulous Musk fanboys notwithstanding, belief in innate genius – and the special prerogatives afforded to those thought to possess it – is probably less pronounced today than at any point since the 60s. We are increasingly familiar with the stories of brilliant artists who are, or were, terrible human beings, thanks to a slew of articles over recent years, as well as books such as Claire Dederer's Monsters. With The Genius Myth, Lewis clambers on to a bandwagon that was already starting to creak when, in 2023, the Brooklyn Museum in New York hosted a widely panned exhibition dedicated to interrogating Picasso's misogyny. At some point, it will grind to a halt. The Genius Myth: The Dangerous Allure of Rebels, Monsters and Rule-Breakers is published by Jonathan Cape (£22). To support the Guardian order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
