In praise of books as gifts
For those in search of a (last-minute) gift that keeps on giving: allow me to (re)recommend the “ultimate literary gift” from Heywood Hill, which was bestowed upon me by my aunt for my 30th last year. In January, the bookshop sent me a detailed questionnaire about my reading preferences (alongside books I’d like to read more of, but don’t typically go for), and, a few weeks later, I received a massive box of ten beautiful individually wrapped books in the mail. It seemed, in reviewing my consultation, that the booksellers decided to trend more in the direction of “books I wouldn’t normally read” than the ones I wrote about gravitating for - which was for the best, given my insatiable book-buying habit.
It was also for the best because I don’t naturally veer out of my comfort zone when it comes to reading. For me, it’s not only an escape but also my primary means of spending my precious alone time, which means I like the guarantee that a book is going to grip me before I make the (time) investment. However, my tendency towards contemporary fiction and hot new releases got the best of me this year, when I kept picking up my Heywood Hill books and shelving them in favor of NYMag/Instagram/BookTok/Twitter (etc etc)’s read of the moment. Until, finally, at the end of this summer, I picked up Babel, one of the books that was chosen in my gift, and immediately regretted not diving into the treasure trove of HH selections sooner.
A few weeks ago, I was reading The Times UK’s “Best Books of the Year” feature, which then linked to a number of other features from their literary editors and notable authors, selecting their top reads of 2023. I noticed that Tom Crewe’s A New Life featured rather heavily. The name sounded familiar. I wandered over to my bookshelf to confirm my suspicion - and saw it sitting in my Heywood Hill corner. It was one of the books I’d been sent in the spring, but still hadn’t jumped into. I decided to give it a try.
Times literary critic Johanna Thomas-Corr describes The New Life as “a debut novel that feels like an immediate classic.” I went in with this mindset, and no knowledge whatsoever as to the historical context that forms the basis for the (fictional) novel, until I read the afterword. I may have had a different experience of the book if I’d gone in with the awareness that the story was rooted in truth - but I’ll let you decide for yourself how you want to approach it - google the backstory if you’re interested, but it’s by no means essential.
The New Life weaves together the histories of two men living in Victorian London; Henry Ellis and John Addington. Addington, a somewhat renowned writer, is gay (an “invert” was the term for a gay person in Victorian London, and is the term used throughout the book, so it’s what I’ll use throughout this synopsis) and has been aware of this since he was a child - nevertheless, he has a wife and three children, as is the custom in Victorian England; it’s not as if living as an openly gay man is an option. Henry Ellis is a doctor and member of a progressive salon called “The New Life,” where participants discuss “living in the future they hope to make.” During one of these salons, he meets Edith. A lively balm to his painfully shy nature, they get married; but he soon discovers she’s not interested in men.
One day, Ellis discovers a provocative piece Addington has written for a literary publication - one his wife and best friend cautioned him not to publish, fearful it would put a target on his back as a potential invert (which, at the time, was a criminal offense, punishable by a lifetime of penal servitude) - interested in the concept, especially in the wake of his revelation about Edith’s sexuality, he writes to Addington to learn more. The men begin a correspondence about the nature of sexual inversion, and Addington convinces Ellis to co-author a book with him on sexual inversion from a medical perspective, convinced Ellis’ medical degree will lend credence to his theories and potentially put an end to society’s treatment of inverts as pariahs.
Mere weeks before the men are set to publish their book, Oscar Wilde is arrested on suspicion of inversion. What follows is a frantic push-pull between Ellis and Addington as to whether or not they should publish; Ellis convinced it’ll do irreparable damage, and Addington convinced it’s a golden opportunity to further their cause. The fallout touches everyone in their orbit; and as they’re each forced to consider the price they’ll pay for social change, their own fears and biases threaten to ruin everything they’ve attempted for the greater good.
There’s lots to appreciate about the book - from the prose (somehow old-fashioned but never florid) to the surprisingly fast-paced plot. But - and call me a prude! - if I’m honest, there were a few too many graphic scenes for my liking; this is not a safe gift for the parents or in-laws, though it’d be interesting one to discuss amongst friends. I think I understand the intent of including so many; they were designed to telegraph the urgency of Addington’s desires - but in the end, they felt a bit distracting. I also would’ve loved to hear more from the women in the story; Addington’s estranged wife and daughters, who clearly know more than they think he do about his double life. All in all, I’m thrilled I read it. I may not have enjoyed every single minute, but it was the reminder I needed to step out of my top-five fiction comfort zone more often - and I can’t wait to see what my next Heywood Hill has to offer.