The Netanyahus by Joshua Cohen (Fitzcarraldo, £12.99)
That this Jewish historian’s story is subtitled ‘An account of a minor and ultimately even negligible episode in the history of a very famous family’ tells you much about the witty, self-deprecating tone of this dazzling, delightful novel. It might be more helpful to pondering purchasers if I simply replicated the extremely funny first page here, but sadly I don’t have enough space. Suffice to say Joshua Cohen’s true-ish tale of an American academic (a thinly disguised Harold Bloom) who finds himself playing host to a rather high-profile and somewhat pass-remarkable Israeli family is one of the most inspired, original and entertaining novels I’ve read since Benjamin Labatut’s equally compelling When We Cease to Understand the World.
The Netanyahus, Cohen’s sixth and best book, has the exuberance and smarts of an on-fire stand-up comedian, a tone it somehow maintains even when it pauses to impart mini lectures on the history, philosophy and shifting identity of the Jewish people and the state of Israel. There are critics queuing up to pronounce Cohen a genius; it would be a churlish attention-seeking act if I didn’t declare myself to be another one of them.
In the Company of Men by Véronique Tadjo, translated by John Cullen (Small Axes, £9.99)
You might not be in the mood to read a book about the horrors of a rapidly spreading epidemic, but this surprisingly elegiac novel about the Ebola outbreak that ravaged West Africa in 2014-16 is well worth your attention. Written before the Covid pandemic, Tadjo punctuates her story with a wealth of forms and tones – from poems to folk songs to prayers – so that her alert to the wildfire devastation of the disease also paints a picture of the land and people who become its victims. Once, readers in the West might have read this with a detached fascination. Today it strikes at the heart of a planet newly conscious of the uncontrollable power nature has upon human beings, and the effect of protectionist politicking.
The Art of Patience: Seeking the Snow Leopard in Tibet by Sylvain Tesson, translated by Frank Wynne (Oneworld, £14.99)
If the title of this book doesn’t send you into a kind of dreamy somnambulist reverie then you might not be its ideal reader. With its equally alluring cover – a horizonless snowy backdrop broken only by a tiny padding leopard – I found it hard to resist.
On the face of it this is the story of renowned French writer/adventurer Tesson and wildlife photographer Vincent Munier’s attempt to capture an image of the elusive snow leopard, said by some to reside in the mountains of remote Tibet, and by others to have become extinct. The crew journeys through a 5,000-metre high, -25C hunting ground to prove the latter wrong. But there is much more to this elegantly written book than the story of a search. It is also a philosophical consideration of the benefits of silence, waiting and personal reflection; an ode to the psychological effect of natural beauty; and a poetic eulogy to the planet, and the (not always) harmonious relationship between human and animal.
Libertie by Kaitlyn Greenidge (Serpent’s Tail, £14.99)
This is a powerful and memorable novel telling the story of a young, Black, dissatisfied woman named Libertie, living in Brooklyn just after the Civil War, keen to carve out her independence in the face of an ambitious, steely mother. We might guess what kind of obstacles the instinctive, intelligent Libertie will encounter as she comes of age, full of questions and ideas and plans. But Greenidge has created a heroine so believable and sympathetic we still tremble with rage and sadness when they hit.
