Fiona MozleyRecensioni

A distinctively different book, set in rural West Yorkshire, in a time which may be 21st century Britain, but which seems more like feudal England. The family at the heart of the novel, Daddy, Catherine and Daniel are to a large extent outcasts, living on their wits in a house they built themselves in an unlooked at corner of the landowner's territory. Feudal values take over, and the later part of the book is a shocking one, the ending itself ambivalent and leaving the reader with lots of questions. In many ways plainly written, the description of the natural environment is poetic and evocative.

I've written this too soon after reading the book. I need to digest what I have read, and return to this later.

A curiously timeless tale. Possibly set in the present day but maybe not. Possibly set in Yorkshire but maybe not. Disputes between those in power and and those without power. Guess who wins? Written in a seemingly deliberate young fiction readers style to suit the narrator's position. But with lavishly described violence. Odd.

A centuries-old building in Soho, London is the home of a French restaurant on the ground floor, a brothel on the upper floor and a flophouse for the neighborhood’s homeless in the basement. It’s a microcosm of a community threatened by the ambitions of the building’s owner to evict them and redevelop the lot. Relationships intertwine and we get a peek behind the curtain to discover all is not as it would appear. Though initially somewhat reminiscent of Alexander McCall Smith’s 44 Scotland Street series, it lacks the charm and; Full investiture into the narrative is hampered by a distance from the full interior life of any of the characters. A final quibble is that the restaurant is largely ignored in the story— which begs the question as to why it is mentioned at all.½

(8.5) From the outset, the reader knows that the outcome for this story will not be a happy one. The story opens with the narrator, Daniel, on the run, trying to locate his sister. His recollections, as he walks, provides the back story to how he came to be alone.
The author has created an atmospheric setting and strong character portrayals.

Grim story of the uses and exploitation of violence in class dominated Britain½

You don't need to get very far into this book before you know what's going to happen. The characters are begging for it. So the question is whether you can stand the tension.

Daniel and Cathy live with their Daddy in a remote house in the Yorkshire woods. Daddy is a former bareknuckle fighter and is trying to remove himself from that life and raise his children to live off and respect the land. Things are not so simple, however, and Price, a local landholder, pushes Daddy to either get off his land or to work for him using his fighting skills to Price's ends.

Daddy rebels and initiates a movement against Price and other landholders, enlisting help from some local unionists. At first things go OK but soon Price hits back, with dire consequences for Daddy and his children.

This is a very good novel, with strongly-drawn characters in Daddy and Cathy. While it speaks to the value of the land (in non-monetary terms) and the injustice of driving people off it, Mozley also writes about the difficulties of leaving one's past behind, and of children perceived as outsiders.

A book that is almost about nothing. 10 or so people who live, drink or own property in SoHo in London, and how they are connected as well as their histories and and relationships.
Even though the plot is mighty thin, the author is British and her writing and storytelling abilities are excellent.

Well, it wasn’t a boring book. I’ll give it that. Overwritten, inconsistent, and melodramatic with a vaguely absurd narrative voice. But not boring.

It’s a debut novel, and I think the author shows some promise in her descriptions. So long as she steers clear of metaphor, she writes some evocative prose. In addition, I found a number of inconsistencies and though some were regarding minutia, I found them annoying. One scene everyone is liking their coffee dark, bitter, and long roasted; the next scene the protagonist is dumping a boatload of sugar and milk into the coffee. One scene the children are not permitted to invite their teacher to their home for dinner because “she prefers to be alone, in her own home”, the next scene, they are having a huge union organizing session and the teacher attends. Similarly, the motivations of some of these characters just eluded me (hard to elaborate without spoiling however).

The narrator is a young boy who alternately speaks like a young boy and like an accomplished poet. And he’s not the only one who tends toward the use of language that doesn’t fit the circumstance.

After a fairly subtle narrative throughout the first three quarters of the book, the end was brutal, blunt, and had a written-for-movies feel to it. I love dark books, so honestly I think I’m more of the target for this book than most people would be, but my inner critic would just not shut up while reading it, and that’s not a good sign.

Fiona Mozley’s debut novel Elmet surprisingly but deservedly made it to the longlist – and then to the shortlist – of the 2017 Booker Prize. Set in a rural area of Yorkshire, it told the story of a prize fighter living at the edge of legality, who ends up embroiled in a violent tussle (both figurative and literal) between landowners and exploited workers and tenants.

At the time of her Booker success, Mozley was already working on her second novel which, as she stated in an interview at the time, “contains similar themes to Elmet – property, ownership, gentrification. Indeed, one can note close similarities between the subjects of the two works. In Hot Stew, however, Mozley leaves the rural backdrop and moves to London, where a block which houses a long-established brothel is going to be demolished and redeveloped by its owner, Agatha, the millionaire heiress of a Soho “baron”. Sex workers Precious and Tabitha become unlikely champions for themselves and their fellow tenants in a class battle reminiscent of Elmet.

Despite the overlapping themes and the similarities in plot details between Mozley’s two novels, Hot Stew marks a stylistic departure for the author. Where Elmet was taut and punchy, Hot Stew is more expansive. It features a rich cast of characters whose stories, told in parallel segments from their different perspectives, are all ultimately intertwined and linked to the threatened Soho block. This “choral” approach reminded me somewhat of Bernardine Evaristo’s Girl, Woman, Other. Mozley adopts a fairly simple, matter-of-fact, sometimes borderline-bland narration, but the novel is still gripping in the way the different storylines interlock like the pieces in a puzzle. Elmet had an almost fable-like feel to it, but in Hot Stew, Mozley largely eschews the mythical in favour of a recognizable urban reality. Not completely though… some passages of the novel delve deep into the earth and past of Soho, presenting a sort of “deep time” perspective alongside the contemporary challenges faced by her cast. There are also some surreal characters (such as the “Archbishop” who leads a group of down-and-outs) and passages which veer on magical realism and/or urban Gothic (such as Debbie McGee’s adventures in the bowels of London and the final apocalyptic denouement).

On a balance, I would say that Hot Stew is less distinctive than Elmet. However, it is undeniably the work of a skilled author and a socially-conscious novel which is also an enjoyable read.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2021/01/hot-stew-by-fiona-mozley.html

Elmet was a surprise inclusion on the shortlist of the 2017 Man Booker Prize. Or perhaps, with hindsight, its success should not have been surprising at all. It is, in fact, a genuinely original debut novel.

The story is narrated by teenager Daniel, who lives in a rural area of Yorkshire with his slightly older sister Cathy and John, the man they call Daddy. Daddy is a burly giant who has a reputation as a prize fighter and survives at the fringe of legality. His fighting skills are put to good (for that read “dubious”) use by debt-collectors and by organisers of illicit bare-knuckle fights. John and the children lead a somewhat nomadic life, especially after the death of the children’s grandmother. They move to a rural area of Yorkshire, where Daddy builds a house in a copse on land belonging to local landowner Price. This not only attracts the unwanted attention of Price (to whom Daddy seems to by mysteriously linked by past events) but also draws the enmity of powerful businessmen who see John as a threat. Daddy resists, and finds himself thrust forward as the champion of the downtrodden and exploited workers and tenants of the area.

“Elmet” was the last Celtic kingdom of England, which later became part of the West Riding of Yorkshire. The novel is headed by quote from “Remains of Elmet” by Ted Hughes, which describes the area as a “badlands – a sanctuary for refugees of the law”. The title therefore juxtaposes the contemporary setting of the novel against a more timeless, ancient landscape. There are other elements which invite a ‘mythical’ reading of the work. The repeated reference to John as “Daddy” suggest that he is more of an archetype than a flesh and blood character. The simple yet lyrical narrative voice suits the teenage narrator, but is also redolent of the poetic language of legend. There are also clear references to tales of Yorkshire outlaws, particularly “Robin Hood and his Merry Men”.

This contrast between the ancient and the new is interesting but it also gives rise to some inconsistencies. John is often given a romantic aura – although a violent man, he seems to follow an ancient moral code, one which is, at heart, decent, coupling a respect for nature and with attention to the needs of fellow man. However, this ‘code of honour’ sometimes sits uncomfortably with the evidently leftist-liberal worldview of the novel, which is presented in no unsubtle terms. John’s children, for instance, very evidently represent a contemporary view on gender - Cathy is a strong female warrior (literally) whilst John is, it is strongly suggested, gay. On the whole, it seems that John is fine with this which, frankly, does not seem altogether credible. Indeed, in one of the initial chapters, there is a passage that implies that Daddy’s feelings towards Cathy verge on the abusive and which contradicts the generally positive portrayal of this giant. And John’s moral code, despite his defiance of the “bad guys” such as Price, is not too different from theirs, one in which disputes are solved through violence.

In my view, the novel works best if one reads it for its lyrical, narrative flow, and the sustained undercurrent of tension and violence which explodes in the final pages. The ending is deliberately harrowing and graphic, and I caught myself squeamishly looking away from the book. Yet, it fits the novel and is by no means out of place. Like Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss, also set in North England, Elmet explores contemporary concerns in a novel where the past seems to be continuously looking over our shoulders.

I'm not big on literary fiction but this was a pleasant surprise. Maybe because it wasn't trying to be literary fiction but stuck to being a story that needed to be told. I volunteer at my library and kept placing this book face forward on the new book display and nobody was picking it up and checking it out, so I decided to give it a chance. Glad I did.

Told from the point of view of 14 year old Daniel, the story starts after a horrific event has happened and he's looking for his sister Cathy. The story switches between the search for Cathy and the events prior to Daniel searching for his sister. There are no pure good or pure evil characters in this, except Price and even then only a few of his actions can be understood in light of what happened to his son. He's still a bully. Many characters operate in shades of grey until it comes time to act or in specific instances. Even Cathy's act, (her first major act) while a crime, was about protecting herself and could be seen having long term "benefits".

In the end, this book is about family, one's place in it, and protecting it at all costs. It is also about rights and responsibilities and community.

This review sums it up well: https://www.librarything.com/work/19950057/reviews/210368045

This was very British. I found it to have too many characters and was hard to keep them all straight. However, I feel I would have loved this as a Netflix series show.

The writer Ann Patchett said that a book has to grab her from the first sentence for her to continue reading it. Fiona Mozley's novel, Hot Stew, did just that for me. She immediately sets a stage in her writing, describing Des Sables, a French restaurant that has been in business with very little changes for decades.

Des Sables is in the Soho section of London, and in just a few pages Mozley covers the history of Soho in breathtaking language. We are introduced to some of our large cast of characters. Tabitha and Precious live together in the building above Des Sables, where they and other women rent the rooms to ply their trade, the world's oldest profession. (In Tudor times, brothels were called 'Stews', hence the book title.) Tabitha acts as an aide/maid to Precious, who at the age of 41, may be retiring in the next few years.

Robert is celebrating his 64th birthday with his younger friend struggling actor Lorenzo, at Aphra Benn, a bar on the same street as Des Sables. Paul and Debbie enter the bar, dumping half-filled drinks into a bottle to consume later. Paul performs magic tricks (poorly) for tips, and Debbie is his sidekick. The owner prefers that the bartender show them the door.

Paul and Debbie live in the basement with other unhoused people. A man called the Archbishop rules over the roost there.

Agatha is the wealthy owner of the building where Precious and her coworkers live. She wants to evict them and the restaurant and build luxury condos as Soho is primed to move from its reputation as a Red Light district to an up-and-coming London suburb. Agatha knows some shady characters, and she is willing to use them to get what she wants.

Precious will not go quietly. She encourages the other women to join her in a protest, which catches the eye of the local media, and Precious becomes the face of the movement. She won't give up her home, "a place that you feel has left its mark on you, for better or worse, and also being a place that you've left your mark upon, for better or worse."

Fiona Mozley's writing is exquisite, she paints such a picture of this place that I felt like I was in this neighborhood, looking out my window watching these characters and their actions. (Her essay on the gentrification of Soho at the end is an added bonus I enjoyed.) The way she ties all these people together is astonishing. I was torn between wanting to race through the book to find out what is going to happen and wanting to read slowly to savor the delicious descriptions and words. I will settle for re-reading Hot Stew, and I'll recommend it to everyone I know.

Thanks to Algonquin Books for providing me with a review in exchange for an honest review.

I came across this book via a #6Degrees chat about Fiona Mozley's first novel, Elmet which I really liked. It prompted me to look for Hot Stew at the library...

Like Elmet, Hot Stew explores themes of class, gentrification, inheritance and political activism, but in an entirely different milieu. Hot Stew is set in rapidly gentrifying Soho and the focus is on the impending destruction of a community of sex workers and other marginalised people. And while Elmet showed that love within families can, to some extent, make social injustice endurable, Hot Stew shows that love comes within different kinds of families and relationships.

It is the kind of novel that will divide readers. It invites criticism from some for being crudely simplistic about wicked property developers and the evils of capitalism, and for its non-judgemental representation of sex workers as part of the service industry. OTOH, sex workers may not like the comic representation of their work, and activists probably don't like the way the portrayal of protest as haphazard social events undermines their seriousness of intent. There is even some commentary about politically incorrect gardening...

There are also weeds: unwanted interlopers. There are dandelions, daisies, clover, moss. They infiltrate the pristine lawn Jackie and Keith set down when they bought the house: strips of turf rolled up like sacred scrolls, laid side by side to stitch themselves together over that first summer.

Jackie wages war on weeds. She wages war with a miniature pitchfork, secateurs and chemical weapons. She hoes, she scarifies, she pulls weeds from between the patio stones with clenched fists before they have time to settle. She rips, tears, snips, swears. (p.94)

But this is a metaphor for the savagery of the way the unwanted are removed from gentrified places, with any weapons that work, regardless of the harm they cause.

There's a striking scene involving the supercilious Agatha, who inherited her vast wealth from her crime boss father who invested in property. He disinherited his other daughters in her favour because he thought she was going to be a male heir, but #schadenfreude! he died before she was born. This unearned wealth has made her judgemental and elitist...

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2022/02/23/hot-stew-by-fiona-mozley/

Elmet was a surprise inclusion on the shortlist of the 2017 Man Booker Prize. Or perhaps, with hindsight, its success should not have been surprising at all. It is, in fact, a genuinely original debut novel.

The story is narrated by teenager Daniel, who lives in a rural area of Yorkshire with his slightly older sister Cathy and John, the man they call Daddy. Daddy is a burly giant who has a reputation as a prize fighter and survives at the fringe of legality. His fighting skills are put to good (for that read “dubious”) use by debt-collectors and by organisers of illicit bare-knuckle fights. John and the children lead a somewhat nomadic life, especially after the death of the children’s grandmother. They move to a rural area of Yorkshire, where Daddy builds a house in a copse on land belonging to local landowner Price. This not only attracts the unwanted attention of Price (to whom Daddy seems to by mysteriously linked by past events) but also draws the enmity of powerful businessmen who see John as a threat. Daddy resists, and finds himself thrust forward as the champion of the downtrodden and exploited workers and tenants of the area.

“Elmet” was the last Celtic kingdom of England, which later became part of the West Riding of Yorkshire. The novel is headed by quote from “Remains of Elmet” by Ted Hughes, which describes the area as a “badlands – a sanctuary for refugees of the law”. The title therefore juxtaposes the contemporary setting of the novel against a more timeless, ancient landscape. There are other elements which invite a ‘mythical’ reading of the work. The repeated reference to John as “Daddy” suggest that he is more of an archetype than a flesh and blood character. The simple yet lyrical narrative voice suits the teenage narrator, but is also redolent of the poetic language of legend. There are also clear references to tales of Yorkshire outlaws, particularly “Robin Hood and his Merry Men”.

This contrast between the ancient and the new is interesting but it also gives rise to some inconsistencies. John is often given a romantic aura – although a violent man, he seems to follow an ancient moral code, one which is, at heart, decent, coupling a respect for nature and with attention to the needs of fellow man. However, this ‘code of honour’ sometimes sits uncomfortably with the evidently leftist-liberal worldview of the novel, which is presented in no unsubtle terms. John’s children, for instance, very evidently represent a contemporary view on gender - Cathy is a strong female warrior (literally) whilst John is, it is strongly suggested, gay. On the whole, it seems that John is fine with this which, frankly, does not seem altogether credible. Indeed, in one of the initial chapters, there is a passage that implies that Daddy’s feelings towards Cathy verge on the abusive and which contradicts the generally positive portrayal of this giant. And John’s moral code, despite his defiance of the “bad guys” such as Price, is not too different from theirs, one in which disputes are solved through violence.

In my view, the novel works best if one reads it for its lyrical, narrative flow, and the sustained undercurrent of tension and violence which explodes in the final pages. The ending is deliberately harrowing and graphic, and I caught myself squeamishly looking away from the book. Yet, it fits the novel and is by no means out of place. Like Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss, also set in North England, Elmet explores contemporary concerns in a novel where the past seems to be continuously looking over our shoulders.

Fiona Mozley’s debut novel Elmet surprisingly but deservedly made it to the longlist – and then to the shortlist – of the 2017 Booker Prize. Set in a rural area of Yorkshire, it told the story of a prize fighter living at the edge of legality, who ends up embroiled in a violent tussle (both figurative and literal) between landowners and exploited workers and tenants.

At the time of her Booker success, Mozley was already working on her second novel which, as she stated in an interview at the time, “contains similar themes to Elmet – property, ownership, gentrification. Indeed, one can note close similarities between the subjects of the two works. In Hot Stew, however, Mozley leaves the rural backdrop and moves to London, where a block which houses a long-established brothel is going to be demolished and redeveloped by its owner, Agatha, the millionaire heiress of a Soho “baron”. Sex workers Precious and Tabitha become unlikely champions for themselves and their fellow tenants in a class battle reminiscent of Elmet.

Despite the overlapping themes and the similarities in plot details between Mozley’s two novels, Hot Stew marks a stylistic departure for the author. Where Elmet was taut and punchy, Hot Stew is more expansive. It features a rich cast of characters whose stories, told in parallel segments from their different perspectives, are all ultimately intertwined and linked to the threatened Soho block. This “choral” approach reminded me somewhat of Bernardine Evaristo’s Girl, Woman, Other. Mozley adopts a fairly simple, matter-of-fact, sometimes borderline-bland narration, but the novel is still gripping in the way the different storylines interlock like the pieces in a puzzle. Elmet had an almost fable-like feel to it, but in Hot Stew, Mozley largely eschews the mythical in favour of a recognizable urban reality. Not completely though… some passages of the novel delve deep into the earth and past of Soho, presenting a sort of “deep time” perspective alongside the contemporary challenges faced by her cast. There are also some surreal characters (such as the “Archbishop” who leads a group of down-and-outs) and passages which veer on magical realism and/or urban Gothic (such as Debbie McGee’s adventures in the bowels of London and the final apocalyptic denouement).

On a balance, I would say that Hot Stew is less distinctive than Elmet. However, it is undeniably the work of a skilled author and a socially-conscious novel which is also an enjoyable read.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2021/01/hot-stew-by-fiona-mozley.html

Now that I know that "stew" is old English slang for "brothel" the title makes a whole lot more sense..... Some of the characters are confusing or not even needed.
Would have been a solid 3 stars, but as I have listened to the audiobook .... one HUGE bonus star for Nneka Okoye for the amazing voices!

Interesting. Very violent climax. The book was described in blurbs as « mythic ». I’m a sucker for mythic, but I thought this unfolded predictably. It puzzles me that it would have been shortlisted for the Booker. The writing is good but all in all the whole thing is not THAT good. Still, I’d check out another book by Mozley and my three-star review is not meant to pan the book. It reminds me a bit of Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss, which I loved and was more convinced by.

I greatly enjoyed this tour of modern London. Wouldn't be surprised to see this on the BBC some day soon - a couple of 'scenes' in particular were simply spectacular.

A Novel Seared into My Very Being
Review of Audible edition
This is a story I’m not likely ever to forget. The story is poignant and made even more impactful by the narrator’s accent and voice. The writing is masterful and the prose beautiful.
There are a couple of plot inconsistencies or passages that strain one’s credulity. There is a minor inconsistency in the first-person narrator’s character development. But these flaws are not enough to keep this novel from a five-star rating

“Sometimes, pulling myself out of a dream to be awake and alive in the world was like pulling myself out of my own skin and facing the wind and the rain in my own ripped-raw flesh.”

Elmet is an ancient kingdom from which the novel takes its name and on which Ted Hughes based the Remains of Elmet poems.

Around the year in 52 books challenge notes:
#33. A book about a non-traditional family

Beautifully written story that transcends time in an almost fairy-tale telling, though of the dark Grimm brothers variety. The action is narrated by Daniel who is clearly on the run after a cataclysmic event. It feels rather apocalyptic -- lots of destruction and end to the life Daniel knew, but piecing it together over time reveals a personal tragedy of a horrific nature. The narration alternates between this real-time present and the recent past, revealing the event that led to his life on the move. Daniel and his older sister Cathy are being raised by their unconventional, borderline outlaw father. He is a simple man and his love for them is the brightest thing in this book. But he is a rough man who fist fights for money, or plays the heavy for someone in need, and who lives beyond the realm of civilized society. Daniel describes Daddy: "They feared him or they owed him favours. Other people did not seem to possess the kind of love he had nor the care he took of them....Others saw reciprocity and debts, imagined threats founded in nothing more than his physical presence, ... his insistence on integrity, the old-world morality over which he presided." (83). Their mother is absent, possibly dead, but strung out on drugs and had squandered her land away. The children are feral, not attending school and learning from the natural world around them. They are all self-sufficient survivalist types and are beholden to no one. But the property John is building on doesn't belong to him and therein begins the drama. When the rich land owner decides to make John fall in line with his other tenants, John fights back with the support of the community. It ultimately comes down to a fistfight he must win. But an unexpected wrinkle involving Cathy explodes everything and Daniel's present day plight begins to make sense. Haunting. A Man Booker prize finalist -- the writing lives up to that distinction.

The word "Elmet" refers to an ancient kingdom that once comprised part of northern England. The novel is set in this part of England, and it focuses on questions of ownership and belonging that are inevitably going to be a crucial part of the Brexit novel.

The novel is told in first person by a young boy named Daniel. I found the beginning of the story a bit confusing, in part because the narrative is doubling back on itself: Daniel is alone, wandering, in search of someone, but at this stage the reader is unsure why.

As the novel settles into its rhythm, we are gradually introduced to its main players. Alongside Daniel there is his father ("Daddy") and his tough sister, Cathy. Following the death of their mother, they retreat from society into some woods, where they illegally build a house. The house itself is own by a local slumlord (and the novel's villain), Mr. Price, who has two young sons of his own.

Daniel's family is tough. They live off the land, killing rabbits and ducks without a permit. Their father is a renowned fighter, who has a reputation as a tough man through this part of the world. It is clear that Daniel and Cathy both idolize him. Daniel nonetheless receives something of a cultural education from a neighbor, Vivien, who takes him under her wing.

The father once worked for Mr. Price as a debt collector, but after Price comes to his house and makes some not-so-subtle threats, the former decides to take action. Pairing with a respected local couple, he organizes a series of strikes and union actions that forces the local rich men to stop exploiting their workers and freeze rents.

Price offers to give Daniel the land his family is living on, on the condition that his father engages in one last fight against a huge Ukrainian. While Daddy does win the fight, trouble strikes: Price's son Charlie is found strangled to death in the woods.

Fearing revenge, the father steals the union's money, some 50,000 pounds, and flees. Cathy and Daniel are left to follow his trail. Cathy admits that it was she, not her father, who killed the Price boy after he tried to rape her.

Price manages to capture all three of Daniel's family members and holds them captive in their house. Daddy is already badly injured and certain to die. Cathy is stripped naked and taken into the other room after she reiterates that it was she who killed Charlie Price. She manages to escape her guardian and burns down the house, giving Daniel the chance to escape.

Daniel runs away, and this takes us back to the story's beginning: his wanderings are the aftermath of the incident with Price, and the person he is looking for is Cathy.

On the strength of Elmet, I would say that Fiona Mozley is an author to watch. She handles some difficult themes in this book with calm precision, and the story is mostly compelling and the characters well-drawn. There are some great historical points of comparison - the Robin Hood legend looms large, for instance, as well as questions of who Britain belongs to and the history of this question.

I am perhaps being a little harsh in not giving Elmet four stars, but I did feel there was room for more philosophical depth in what it was examining. I hope that will come naturally as Mozley develops as a writer.