In October, Tyneside Book Club got the chance of an insight into one of the key players in the 2024 US Presidential election. It was far from a landslide victory though for JD Vance and his 2016 memoir Hillbilly Elegy.

All agreed it was interesting to encounter Vance in the years before he formally entered politics and embraced Donald Trump to become his Vice Presidential running mate. The memoir had been a sensation, and a best-seller at the time, and did provide some insight into the man.

Members were surprised about some of his views given his recent pronouncements, and certainly indicated he had been on quite a political "journey". But most also saw the seeds of the 2024 Vance in his writing.

It was generally agreed that the writing was competent and took the reader through some of his arguments. There has been discussion though about how far he represents the community he came from, and whether he is guilty of sustaining the stereotypes he claims to be undermining.

Some members were concerned that this was a partial and politically-loaded portrait of poor, white America, that did not actually reflect the full picture. There was limits then on how useful it was in explaining the decision by members of the community to abandon traditional Democrat loyalty and vote for Trump.

Vance's grandmother Mamaw was clearly the strongest character he portrayed, and one that was a huge influence on his life. But members felt Vance seemed to lack a compassionate curiosity about the factors that made his mother a more distant and troubled part of his uprbringing. 

Vance was also quick to condemn those who failed to escape from the deprivation and problems of the community, but not analyse the luck that allowed him the chance to capitalise on his undoubted intelligence and drive.

One member who had listened to Vance read the audiobook of Hillbilly Elegy thought his narration reinforced the impression that he was a sociopath, with very little empathy for his fellow human beings.

Some members also commented on the flat and unemotional style of his writing, and found it left them with little real insight into his character. Some also found his arguments repetitive.

So it was no ringing endorsement for JD, and members will now wait to see if American electors decide differently.

The Tyneside Book Club tackled the appropriately-titled Small Things Like These for September's meeting. Claire Keegan's book is a slim volume, but members agreed that it punched above its weight.

Set in 1980s Ireland, it explores the horror of the Magdalen Laundries, but through the eyes of Bill Furlong, the local coal man, who gradually realises their purpose.

Members thought this was an interesting approach that did shed a different light on a subject that, after decades of silence, is now being explored on film and page. The reader still felt the gruesome power of the oppression within the laundries, but by placing it at one remove it avoided the pitfalls of torture porn.

Some members felt this did allow Keegan to explore the question of how something so unacceptable was allowed to happen right until as close as a few decades ago.

It was apparent that some parts of the community, mostly the women, knew what was going on at the laundry. But the power of the Church in the state and the locality meant any challenge was likely to have dire consequences.

Bill Furlong is unaware of this and possesses a naivete about the potential pitfalls of intervening. Members discussed whether his eventual intervention was likely to achieve much. The consensus was that it would not, but that also raised the impact of morally choosing to do nothing.

His own upbringing provided another interesting exploration of the consequences of living in a society so tightly controlled by the Catholic Church and its values.

For some members, the book was frustratingly short, and there were aspects that they felt needed to be developed further and expanded. But other members felt even if it was perhaps a long short story rather than a novel, its brevity did not detract from its power and subtlety. For some a second reading had added layers. 

In July, the club went even more bookish as it tackled The Storied Life of AJ Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin. Set in a New England bookshop on the fictional Alice Island, it was made into a less successful film which does not seem to have ever been released in the UK.

The book though was generally a hit with members, who enjoyed its humour, heart and literary references. There was appreciation for twists that members did not see coming, but added to the emotional impact. Although the setting was fictional, it did also seem well-realised.

Members felt the novel was well-written and pacey, perhaps too pacey for who felt slightly disconcerted by the regular jumps in time that took place. There was though general engagement with the cast of characters, who had enough depth to feel real.

AJ in particular felt well-drawn, though some members felt his transformation from curmudgeon to caring partner and father felt a little too easy. Members also warmed to the police chief Lambiase, who provided much of the humour and heart.

Members also largely appreciated and enjoyed the author's decision to open each chapter with a description of a short story by the title character, and overall the literary references added to the enjoyment.

There was a sense that some of the story came together slightly too conveniently, with the adoption of Maya in particular happening a little too easily. Members were prepared to forgive though a little lack of realism.

Some members felt Maya was perhaps a little too precocious, and did not always act her age, but that may have been consistent with her character and upbringing in the bookshop.

There was some discussion about the choice to end the book with a tragedy. Some members felt it was unnecessary, and also failed to pack the emotional punch it should have done, exposing some weakness in the storytelling.

Overall though members enjoyed being immersed in AJ Fikry's island and relished their time being trapped on Alice Island.

What if you could turn back time to a decade that seems more appealing? That was the premise of April's Tyneside Book Choice Time Shelter. 

The Bulgarian author Georgi Gospodinov won the International Booker with the novel, and club members agreed there was plenty to ponder in its premise.

In the novel, wallowing in the past is initially a potential positive with dementia patients benefiting from being surrounded by the atmosphere and objects from a past era. This was something some members were familiar with from treatment techniques used in this country too.

What starts as therapeutic though takes a darker turn when the whole society decides to turn back the clock. There were clearly points being made about recent political trends - including Brexit.

Members though were divided on how well the idea worked as a full novel, with some wondering whether it was an idea better suited to a short story. Some though thought it a smart, fleet-footed and perceptive analysis of the factors behind much of recent European history.

Some members thought the book genuinely funny and appreciated it as a novel of ideas. Others though found its unconventional structure became a barrier. For them, character development seemed limited and the fractured narrative an irritant.

Some also felt the book got rather far-fetched, and people's eventual choice of a decade a tad predictable. Members wondered whether there was a Fight Club-style twist lurking within.

There was though agreement that this was a book with universal themes that applied well beyond Bulgaria. Some members found Time Shelter's roots in Eastern Europe did though also offer specific personal resonance.

Despite division on how successful Time Shelter finally was, members did think it was a good choice that sparked a great discussion.

The club sampled a sizeable slice of Arnold Bennett in March as members tackled Clayhanger, the first volume of a family saga set in late Victorian Staffordshire.

Opinions were mixed. While some very much enjoyed their deep dive into Bennett's Potteries, others found the going as heavy as the local clay.

There was much discussion about whether the book lacked enough events or overall plot to keep the reader compelled. Supporters felt Bennett built his world well enough to excuse a leisurely pace, and that there was enough happening to keep them satisfied. And even members who were sceptical accepted that he had fully realised the main characters.

For some though the passivity of the central character, Edwin Clayhanger, made it harder to engage with the novel. There was a sense that it might have been enlivened by focusing more on other characters - such as Clayhanger's father or the enigmatic love interest Hilda Lessways.

There was an acceptance that Bennett was a good technical writer, but some felt a tendency to stodginess might explain why he is beginning to slide into obscurity. His supporters felt it would be sad if his contribution to the 20th Century novel was forgotten, and that he had become underrated.

Some felt he did not reach the heights of his influences (Dickens and Hardy), whilst also failing to push the form as far as Woolf and Joyce were shortly to do. There was also a failure to look at working class lives.

But for his supporters, Bennett showed he was capable of significant psychological insight, building convincing and complex characters, while providing an insight into Victorian and Edwardian politics and society. Most felt the book slipped a little into melodrama by the end though as the author sowed the seeds for further instalments.

While some thought they would go on to tackle the other books in the series, others felt their journey into Bennett's Potteries had reached a dead end.

The Tyneside Book Club reconnected with nature in February by reading The Outrun, Amy Liptrot's award-winning account of her return to Orkney.

This was a book that combined the personal memoir of a recovering alcoholic with a delve into the natural and temporal history of the islands that make up the Orkney archipelago.

That combination produced a mixed reaction among members. Some preferred the sections that focused on Orkney, while others were more compelled by the personal battle Amy Liptrot had with addiction.

There was appreciation for some fine writing, and some members did find the descriptions of Orkney intriguing enough to consider a visit. Most agreed it summed up both the charm and oddness of the islands.

Members though did find the book a little uneven and choppy, and even repetitive at times. There was a lack of narrative flow for some, and it perhaps betrayed its origin as a series of separate articles.

For some it did provide a valuable insight into the mechanics of alcoholism and Amy's battle with her personal demons. For others, the account, though honest and heartfelt, didn't add much to the well-worn narrative of recovery from addiction.

Some thought there was a lot left unsaid about the author's complicated relationship with her parents, but assumed this was a case of sparing the feelings of a mother and father who are still alive. Some were left wondering how she maintained her life on Orkney.

There was much to enjoy about a book that had pace and atmosphere, and for the most part members thought the combination of memoir and nature-writing worked well, though some editing and refining of the text might have made it a more satisfying read.

The Tyneside Book Club started the year immersed in 1970s Northern Ireland as members tackled Louise Kennedy's prizewinning debut novel Trespasses.

It was a packed meeting held jointly with its sister club, leading to a strong attendance and plenty of opinions.

Members of both groups had a largely positive reaction to a book that the majority found readable, and engaging. Most agreed this was an impressive first novel that built well.

Members acknowledged the premise was not that original as other authors had explored The Troubles and relationships across the religious divide before. Most though thought Louise Kennedy approached the subject with subtlety and skill, and created a character in Cushla that you cared about, and who felt real.

Members felt she conjured up her characters with skill and an economy of writing that lifted them off the page. Cushla's mother Gina was in particular rendered in three dimensions,.

Some had more sympathy with love interest Michael than others. Quite a few members did not warm to him and felt he was clearly using Cushla. Others felt his emotions might have been genuine, even if he was a deeply flawed man. Some enjoyed the ambiguity of his character. Some members felt the presence of Cushla's friend Gerry was important in offering her support, and some light in the darkness.

The time period was rendered well, and those with some experience of Northern Ireland felt the account of the 1970s there rang true. Members appreciated the insight into a society where the stakes were high, and where your neighbours could become a threat to your life. As well as the religious divides, Trespasses also found time to explored class distinctions.

For some, the book took a little while to find its stride, but having struggled to engage with it initially, they found it developed well and won them over, avoiding some traps of predictability and melodrama.

The book was conventionally told, with no stylistic experimentation, but members felt that largely served the story well, and that the quality of the narrative sustained the approach. 

For quite a few members, this was a book they loved, for others, although it did not pack the same punch, it still proved readable and rewarding.

November saw the Tyneside Book Group delve into the very American phenomenon of spelling contests via Myla Goldberg's novel Bee Season. 

Overall members found much to like and admire in this story of a family falling apart. There was though a feeling that parts of the book worked better than others, and it was perhaps trying to do too much.

Some members found the insight into the world of spelling bees, and the narrative around the contests more compelling than perhaps the insights into the family. For others though it was the characters that hooked them in.

There was some discussion about whether this was a couple that should ever have had children, and some members found the tension that generated effective if stressful to read.

For some though characters felt underdeveloped and came closer to tropes than three-dimensional, believable people. That made them struggle to care enough about their fates. Some found the revelations about mother Miriam stretched credulity. There was enjoyment though of the insight Bee Season gave into a Jewish family and religious mysticism. There was clearly a desire to explore faith and belief.

Members largely thought the ending of the novel worked well, and hinted that there was hope that daughter Eliza was taking control of her life.

Some members had watched the film adaptation and felt though largely faithful to the book, it added little, and suffered from some odd casting.

September saw the Tyneside Book Club tackle one of the toughest reads members have encountered.

And Fernanda Melchor's Hurricane Season certainly left an impression on everyone who read it. For some this was an elemental, and propulsive read, but for others its tough subject matter and tricky style made it harder to love, even if they could admire the quality of the writing.

There was some discussion about Melchor's prose style. Very long sentences and limited paragraph breaks certainly made the book appear dense and impenetrable on the page. But most members found that once they had immersed themselves in the style, it became compelling and helped keep the narrative pace up.

Members admired Melchor's ability to move between the consciousness of the different characters, sometimes within sentences. The different voices and perspectives were well-captured, even if it was hard to sympathise at times with some of the cast.

There was a strong sense of the community Melchor was describing, and despite the horrific events and behaviour of many of the characters, she made even those who committed horrific acts appear as at least in part victims of the poverty and desperation of this part of modern Mexico. Women were written as three-dimensional characters and not merely as victims.

Some though did question the unrelenting bleakness of what Melchor described, and felt there was a danger of revelling a little in the poverty and degradation, rather than depicting a fuller, more rounded picture of life there. Some wondered whether a non-fiction account of this society might have worked better, but accepted that the author felt it was too dangerous to deal in anything other than a fictionalisation of events.

For some members this was not a book they could really say they enjoyed because of the tough subject matter, but they appreciated the craft of the author and the weight of the issues it was tackling.

September's discussion focused on The Coward, a debut novel by Jarred McGinnis. It was a novel loosely based on his own experience of becoming disabled after a car crash.

Members praised the quality of McGinnis' writing and the insights he provided in to the way disabled people are treated, and what it must be like to navigate your way through life as a new paraplegic.

McGinnis' choice to make the central character, who shares his name, such a difficult one to like provoked some discussion. For some, this was a brave and honest option, and avoided the cliched idea that becoming disabled would entirely transform someone's inherent personality. For some, though it did make it harder to engage or fully empathise with him and his story.

Some wondered whether memoir would have been a better option rather than fiction, and it remained unclear how much of the novel was really based on personal experience, and how much was invented.

There were members who felt McGinnis' romantic interest, Sarah, was a little thinly-drawn and idealised, and seemed there mainly to serve the main character's interests. Members agreed the relationship between McGinnis and his father was a more convincing one, and actually provided the heart and focus of the book. There were questions though about why such a rift had developed between Jarred and a father, when he seemed so sympathetic. The key though seemed to be the alcoholism that affected both Jarred's parents and influenced his childhood.

Most members felt that the book did though fall short of all it could have been. The decision to move back and forth between the present and the events leading to Jarred's accident did develop some tension, but became drawn out. Some members felt the book erred on the conventional side, when something a little more structurally daring might have delivered more. Some had hoped for more insight into the way disabled people are treated. They felt McGinnis might have been persuaded to be more conservative to target sales, when actually he might be capable of writing something more original.

What did emerge though was a pacey read, with enough in it to suggest that this is an author with a talent that could develop further. Some did wonder though if he could deliver a book which was not so based on personal experience.