Regardless of this it is still a novel about time travel which, as well as making it instantly more manly, is my most loved subject matter for literature or indeed any form of entertainment. Having said this this can not be called a time travel novel in a traditional sense it is a love story. The Time Traveller’s Wife follows the life of Claire chronologically as the time travelling Henry pops in and out of her life during different periods of his. Throughout the novel Henry’s ability to time travel is treated as a disease rather than an extraordinary ability and the tragedies that then befall a couple trying to deal with it. 

The remarkable narrative positioning is what makes this novel exceptional. Structurally it is flawless. The deviations through time makes the story slightly fragmented, but the pace and seamless interlinking allow for a smooth flow throughout.

Niffengger further proves herself as a highly intelligent writer by the way in which the narrative is told in first person by both Claire and Henry. This device allows an omnipotence to the story so nothing is lost, whilst still maintaining the personality and intimacy of a first person narrative. Niffengger creates an individuality for both characters through their writing style and the narrator is always evident. Furthermore, Claire’s narrative develops as she herself develops from a girl into a woman.. The language and content of Claire’s chapters change over time as her feelings and intentions for Henry change.

The Time Traveller’s Wife is a truly delightful novel that is far more intelligently put together than you would notice at first glance, or even when you are reading it because it is so easy to enjoy. If you haven’t read it then I definitely would recommend it and Niffengger is a novelist that I very much look forward to reading again.

P.S If you were thinking about watching the film then don’t.

Writing this review has been really hard and I have gone through many drafts, each one being too gushing to publish. However, I do not think I can write a post without it being, so you will have to excuse me if I come across as a pretentious cunt.

What an incredible novel, and what an understatment to merely call it incredible. It is based on the true story of the eight years Roberts spent in Bombay after escaping from an Australian Prison. I think the premise itself is enough to get you hooked but what ensues is completely unexpected and fantasticly portrayed.

Throughout I was continually surprised at how much I liked the protagonist, Linbaba; a name given to him by his Indian tour guide and friend Prabaker. Prabaker is one of the many highlights of the book, the characterisation of him comes across with such warmth that you are drawn to like him instantly. He is also the source of most of the laughter in the novel, with a realistic and wonderful contrast to the harsh and difficult world of Linbaba’s life in Bombay.

The tone and beauty of the book results from the personality in both the good and bad qualities of Linbaba with his unwavering belief in the people he loves, his honesty and openness to anything and anyone. It is through these qualities that the book remains believable; with the absence of this honesty the protagonist would be despised for brashly boasting rather than a man whom inspires unremitting respect from the reader.

The minute attention to detail which gives the novel its length at no point becomes laborious but transports you to a different world and enhances everything that you are being told. All the characters are magnificently portrayed in every detail which is so important as this is a novel about the people he meets in Bombay more than it is about what happened whilst he is there.

I never wanted this novel to end. It is beautiful throughout, harrowing in many parts and astonishingly well written to the point that you read sentences twice or three times just to make sure that you have taken it all in.

For my brother’s Christmas present I got him the Jules Verne trilogy in these Penguin editions. Rather disappointingly this brings me to a fatal flaw in these books, some have a £2 marked at the bottom of the spine, some do not contain this emblem resulting in an imperfect frontage on ones bookshelf, sigh!

Anyway, now that we both own Around the World in Eighty Days we decided that we would partake in a little reading competition. The rules, it would commence on Saturday 23rd March 2009 at 3:00pm, the day Sammy went on holiday as he is far too busy to enjoy himself at any other time. The winner is the person whom finishes the book first. The prize, the loser must buy the winner a book that costs no more than £2 (we both just wanted another Penguin book)

Like a keen bean I commenced reading at 3:05pm and i was immediately delighted. The set-up was brilliant, a very concise character depiction of Phileas Fogg and I immediately liked him. Then throughout his journey his methodical and calm approach remains undiluted and unwavering. A lot if the time that I was reading I found my own feelings of panic and anxiety to be directly juxtaposed to Phileas Fogg’s feelings. It was as if I was another one of his friends on the journey with him who worry on his behalf.

I found I was anxious for most of the time and it is largely attributed to the pace of the novel. Although, some anxiety must be accounted to the fact that my reading was a race. However, I do think that in the main part it is because Around the World in 80 Days creates a genuine concern for Phileas Fogg and a desire for him to succeed. The adventure also concludes superbly, but I won’t say anymore than that.

I finished reading 00:20 Monday 30th March. Sammy finished 10:20 Tuesday 31st march. My prize Journey to the Centre of the Earth which I can’t wait to start reading and I will be very happy if it is even half as good as Around the World in 80 Days.

Later on that very day I found myself in Waterstone’s, as it is the closest to work not because it is my preferred book retailer. Anxiety was building within me until it occurred to me “Ahh Perfume, I have always wanted to read that.” It would be fair to say that my expectations were very high and I was not disappointed.

I found the writing style surprising as Perfume is written very much within the time that it is set. To me it was very reminiscient of eighteenth-century precautionary tales in the way it has a mask of factuality. This only resulted in drawing me in further, coupled with the language itself being so provocative.

I realised whilst reading that I was almost sniffing the air to breathe in the smells Suskind describes. Few writers are magnificient enough to really emerse you in their  world to the point where you feeel that you have seen everything in the smallest detail. Suskind is the only writer I have ever known who has enveloped in a world through smell. What a talent to make readers turn their noses up at a repulsive smell, that in reality is few fragrantless words on a page.

What I think surprised me most was the wit. I expected to be disgusted and horrified but I did not expect to laugh at the disgusting and the depraved. The descriptions of everyone conected to the church were terrifically funny and a marvellous satire of the literature of the time.

A remarkable book and one that repeats on me everytime I smell someone’s perfume, their body odour or anything grotesque.