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[[Category:General Fiction|*]]
[[Category:New Reviews|General Fiction]] __NOTOC__<!-- Remove -->
{{newreview
|author= Helle Helle and Martin Aitken (translator)
|title=This Should be Written in the Present Tense
|rating=5
|genre=Literary Fiction
|summary= This is the first novel of Helle Helle's, an award winning Danish author, to be translated into English. It is easy to see from this novel why she is gaining accolades in her Danish homeland. The rhythmic, natural flow of the narrative is mesmerising and appears to lull you through the book. It has some lovely, spare sentences of description: ''There were run-down cottages with open doors and news on the radio. Gulls flocked around an early harvester in the late sun''. But mostly, it is written in a modernist, almost stream of consciousness style, which I found refreshing.
|amazonuk=<amazonuk>0099587475</amazonuk>
}}
{{newreview
|author=Homer Hickam
|summary=Ruth and Alex Cohen have to move from their beloved New York apartment. They love it, but it's five floors up and there's no elevator. Reluctantly they're having an open day for prospective purchasers - and hoping that they'll be able to buy something not ''too'' far out which has that elusive elevator. It's not just them, either. There's Dorothy. Dorothy ('Dottie' to those who know her well) is their Daschund. She's getting on in years, but then so are Ruth and Alex. Then - the day before the open house - two things happen. An unmarked petrol truck is blocking the city's main tunnel and there's no sign of the driver. You don't even need to have ''long'' memories to worry about terrorists in Manhattan. Then Dottie yelps in pain and she can't stand up.
|amazonuk=<amazonuk>1782271945</amazonuk>
}}
{{newreview
|author= Sebastian Faulks
|title= Where my Heart Used to Beat
|rating= 5
|genre= General Fiction
|summary= In the early 1980’s, on a small island off the South of France, a Doctor named Robert Hendricks confronts his life – memories of wars, work, loves, and losses. As his history is explored and questioned by his host, Hendricks recalls days in Scottish universities, Italian trenches, mental asylums and windswept beaches. Links to the past are uncovered, and the raw wounds they expose take Hendricks on a search for sanity and raises the question – is life comprised of events themselves, or the way in which an individual chooses to remember them?
|amazonuk=<amazonuk>0091936837</amazonuk>
}}

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