Books you need to read this March

Imagine if 1984 were silly. Or rather, imagine if 1984 were silly and it was ok to laugh. Jasper Fforde has created a universe in which colour sight is the ruling factor; where Purples reign supreme, and Greys serve as an overworked, under-respected labour force. While bureaucratic paperwork is rife, it’s rarely called upon and regularly destroyed so there’s no ready explanation of why, for example, spoon manufacturing and the number 73 are forbidden (likely misprints in the rules), but everyone knows for sure that the breaking of such rules is lethal. 

Eddie Russett is awaiting trial with his forbidden love Jane Grey for the murder of a high-ranking Yellow, Courtland Gamboge. But given it seems their death sentence is inevitable—it’s in the Colourtocracy’s best interests if they simply take the blame—they decide to focus on learning as much as possible about how the Colourtocracy came to be and, most importantly, how to take it down before they’re sent to die in the Green Room. 

This is a long-awaited sequel to Fforde’s 2009 Shades of Grey, but it’s not necessary to have read one before the other. Despite the high-concept world building, Fforde efficiently explains the rules without too much wordy exposition, and the story itself is a simple one: reluctant hero fights the establishment. If anything, the sequel works better as a first foray into this strange colour-obsessed society. In Shades of Grey, Fforde spends rather too long explaining, slightly over-excited at his own brilliant concept, and it takes half the book to find a plot. Whereas in Red Side Story, you’ll be pleasantly bemused for a couple of chapters before easily finding your footing. That said, if you enjoy the one, I’d definitely go back for the other.

Character exploration pretty much stops short at colour-stereotypes: Yellows are all law-obsessed sycophants, Greys are all feisty underdogs, Purples are all power-hungry classists, and so on. And while the governing body is as unforgiving as Orwell’s, the rules are patently more ridiculous, giving far more room for levity and hope. It’s easy to spot the bad guys, so the fear of Russett’s being found out is lessened, which in turn makes the story less panic-inducing. Sure, it’s not breaking any new literary ground or challenging societal conventions, but there’s still plenty to chew on. And sometimes I don’t want a wordy, ominous foretelling. Sometimes I want a fun yarn with just a sprinkling of jeopardy and a generous dose of rollicking adventure.

For those who aren’t usually great with non-fiction, who prefer the grip of a solid story to relentless naked truths, this is for you. I found myself repeatedly checking the publisher’s notes to make sure this was, in fact, fact because Sophie Elmhirst is so masterful at spinning what might be a very dry account of 118 days stranded at sea into a beautiful tale of love and endurance.

Maurice and Maralyn seem an odd match: he an awkward introvert who prefers the company of mountains and sea to people, and she a confident, sociable woman who, according to her sister, “could have had anyone she wanted.” But both yearn for a life more exciting than 1970s suburbia in Derby. So, they decide to sack it all off, sell all their belongings and build a boat.

There are no narrative surprises—Elmhirst divulges the boat’s sinking in the first chapter- but somehow I was entirely gripped to the last. How could this couple, on their first big expedition, possibly survive in the middle of the Pacific on a dinghy, with no radio and no-one waiting for them onshore?

What surprised me most was how many times they might have been saved, how many boats simply passed them by. It seems impossible to me that a bright orange dinghy could be so invisible on a uniformly blue backdrop. But this invisibility is what drew these novice adventurers to a life at sea in the first place: the ocean entirely apathetic to their existence, they could rely only on each other for survival. 

I do wish there were some images included. Elmhirst notes plenty of photos taken—even of the sinking boat itself, photographed by Maralyn as the water swallowed it down—and newspapers all over the world reported the story, so there’s surely lots of material to choose from. Maralyn also kept a journal filled with fantasy dinner party menus and plans for the future, which I would love to have seen a few pages of. But Elmhirst focuses instead on the relationship and its ability to withstand, rather than the objective facts, or any proof that this did indeed happen. While this may be a true story, the guts of it feel closer to what you might take from a novel: a person’s ability to brave the most impossible hardships, both physical and psychological, so long as they have someone to live for. If that sounds too sappy for you, don’t worry, they also bash a turtle to death with a paddle and poo in a tin, so there’s something for everyone.