august 2025 books...

Yesterday Morning (Diana Athill): I’ve read a lot of Athill’s books over the years. She died in 2019, aged 101. Until she was 14, she was educated at home by governesses – before a spell at boarding school, and on to read English at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford, in 1936. Then she discovered that she had to earn her own living(!) and ultimately became one of book publishing’s most remarkable editors. In this memoir (first published in 2002), she explores her privileged childhood – England in the 1920s, seen with a clear and unsentimental eye from the vantage point of the 21^st century. There’s a stark honesty about her writing that I love.
Violeta (Isabel Allende): I was recommended this book (first published in 2022) by lovely Penny. I hadn’t previously read anything by Allende and was somewhat put off by Wikipedia’s “magical realism” description of her as a writer. Violeta is this novel’s 100-year-old storyteller. Born in South America (probably Chile) in 1920, during the influenza pandemic, and recounting the story of her life to her beloved 50-year-old grandson, during the outbreak of coronavirus in 2020. It’s a tale of passions, heartbreak, poverty, wealth and life’s losses and joys. The book also acts as a timely(?) reminder to readers of fascist dictatorships, repression, power and greed… not to mention patriarchy, domestic violence, justice/injustice, mistreatment of women etc etc. Allende is a very impressive storyteller and I found this a really powerful and riveting novel (although, interestingly, it hasn’t given me the urge to read lots more of her books).
The Commitments (Roddy Doyle): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (based around musical theme)(first published in 1988). I always enjoy Doyle’s writing but, strangely, hadn’t previously read this book – although I’d seen the 1991 film when it first came out. You probably know the story… the description of the book’s jacket sums things up perfectly: “Barrytown, Dublin, has something to sing about. The Commitments are spreading the gospel of soul. Ably managed by Jimmy Rabbitte, brilliantly coached by Joey ‘The Lips’ Fagan, their twin assault on Motown and Barrytown takes them by leaps and bounds from parish hall to the steps of the studio door”. It’s feisty, rude, funny and charming… beautifully conceived and brilliantly observed – with the sung lyrics of lots of songs that I knew well (would it be ‘over-the-heads’ of anyone in their 20s/30s?). Some wonderful characters. A very enjoyable read.
Where The Streams Come From (Chris Goan): Once again, I’m using this book of poetry (first published in 2018) by my good friend Chris (even though we’ve never met – just a few zoom calls!) as part of my early morning reflections. Again and again, I find that his thought-provoking, powerful words get to heart of what I’m thinking and feeling. I love how he frequently adds notes at the bottom of a page to set his words in context and how they came about. A wonderful way of starting my mornings – often setting the rhythm and tone for the rest of the day. 
Flight To Arras (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry): Moira bought this book (first published in 1942) at a second-hand bookstall… but ended up deciding that it wasn’t for her! The time is 1940. Saint-Exupéry is sent on a reconnaissance flight over enemy-occupied France. The country is a shambles, his flight is pointless, and his chances of getting back alive are 2-to-1 against. It’s about the futility of war; a picture of a defeated country and something of a portrait of men “who contribute to defeat by putting humanity above patriotism” (as the book’s cover blurb puts it). It’s an impressive, passionate book (although I found its penultimate chapter too much like a Sunday sermon for my liking!) about death, childhood, sacrifice, identity, and civilization. After finishing the book, I sadly discovered that, whilst on a reconnaissance flight over the Mediterranean in 1943, his plane disappeared, probably having been shot down by a German fighter. 

july-august 2025 books…

After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I keep coming back to this book of poetry by my good friend Chris… and, once again, I’ve been using it as part of my daily early morning reflections. It’s a book about Chris’s journey before, during and after the pandemic… and, again and again, I felt he was describing MY journey and MY thoughts. It’s a journey that many of us have shared over recent years… and one that, I for one, am still on. I’ve been re-visiting the section of the book entitled ‘Before’. Inspiring, challenging, thought-provoking and hopeful.
Notes On Nationalism (George Orwell): Three extended essays, written in 1945, on nationalism and antisemitism in Britain – as the book’s cover describes it: “biting and timeless reflections on patriotism, prejudice and power”. I found the essays fascinating and, somewhat frighteningly, felt that so much of what Orwell was saying 80 years ago is still massively relevant today… “falsified information; much of the propagandist writing of our time amounts to plain forgery; belief in the superiority of the proletariat; antisemitism is on the increase… and humane and enlightened people are not immune to it”. Sobering and thought-provoking.
Beside The Sea – Britain’s Lost Seaside Heritage (Sarah Freeman): I bought this book from our local ‘£5 bookshop’ (published in 2015) celebrating what the book describes as “a forgotten time and place in British Life”. It features stories of the most popular UK seaside resorts. It was the Blackpool holiday destination that attracted my interest (throughout my childhood - certainly from the mid-1950s to 1966, with only a couple of exceptions), we had our annual family holiday in Blackpool. The book features 19 seaside locations in all – including Morecombe, Scarborough, Margate, Llandudno, Southport and Brighton. The book is a wonderful collection of archive photography, combined with memories from people who worked and holidayed at these resorts. Fascinating images and the memories from a bygone age. An enjoyable read.
The Bees (Carol Ann Duffy): I’ve been re-reading this (first published in 2011 – her first collection of poems as Poet Laureate) as part of my early morning reflections. Although I was stirred by her poems relating to her dying mother, to war/dying soldiers and to some of her more political writings, I’ve come to the conclusion that, although she’s clearly an impressive writer, her work is not quite ‘my taste’ in poetry. My loss no doubt.
Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout): I love Strout’s writing. This one (first published in 2008), like many of her books, tells stories of ordinary people in Maine, New England – here, focussing on a retired schoolteacher, Olive Kitteridge. Kitteridge is an elderly (late-60s/early70s), indomitable, unpredictable and uncompromising character… married to a good man. The book’s brief description of her gives you some idea: “Olive Kitteridge had never in anyone’s memory felt inclined to be affable, or even polite…”! Although, perhaps due to Kitteridge’s lack of compassion, kindness, warmth, and humour (although she did make me laugh!), I didn’t find it a ‘cosy’ read. At times it was pretty bleak – sometimes exposing loneliness and the harsh realities of ageing – but also acting as a reminder that we never stop learning about ourselves. Once again, Strout’s wonderful storytelling won me over. 

beside the sea…

I bought a book from our local ‘£5 bookshop’ (‘Beside The Sea – Britain’s Lost Seaside Heritage’ by Sarah Freeman, published in 2015) celebrating what the book describes as “a forgotten time and place in British Life”. It features stories of the most popular destinations – from Brighton and Margate to Scarborough and Blackpool.
It was the Blackpool holiday destination that attracted by interest.
Throughout my childhood (certainly from the mid-1950s to 1966 – with only a couple of exceptions), we had our annual family holiday in Blackpool. My Dad’s family used to holiday in Blackpool every year in the 1940s/50s, so it had been something of a family tradition. Actually, although we did stay in central Blackpool for perhaps 3-4 years in the 1950s (my memory is pretty hazy, so that might not be entirely correct), we ended up in Bispham – just 2 or 3 miles up the coast – where it was much, much quieter and where the beach was empty enough to allow us mark out cricket and football pitches without difficulty!
I think the remarkable/scary Blackpool photograph is probably from the late 1940s/early 1950s – it was never quite as packed for our holidays! It shows men dressed in their suits (complete with collars and ties) and women in thick/elegant coats… deckchairs crammed together and virtually no visible sand/beach!!
My main Blackpool memories include: tram rides; pier shows; the Tower circus (featuring the inimitable Charlie Cairoli); bathing beauty competitions(!); trips to the Pleasure Beach on Friday evenings (before leaving for home the following day); the boating pool (which I understand closed in the early 1970s?); cricket and boating at Stanley Park. In the early years, we travelled up to Blackpool from Brum via Sandwell Coaches (I think we once travelled by train) and I suppose, in the latter years, we might have travelled up by car – but, ridiculously, I can’t actually remember!
It was all so different then…

july 2025 books…

Dark Days (James Baldwin): Three extended essays - written in 1965, 1980 and 1985 - by the redoubtable American writer and civil rights activist (1924-1987). They draw on Baldwin’s own experiences of prejudice in an America violently divided by race. This note on the book’s cover describe the essays perfectly: “These searing essays blend the intensely personal with the political to envisage a better world”. As the title suggests, it’s a tough read – but an articulate, challenging and powerful product of a brilliant mind.
Tell Me Everything (Elizabeth Strout): Strout is one of my favourite writers (this is the seventh book of hers I’ve read). It’s strange, when you start reading a book, KNOWING that you’re going to really enjoy it… and having that awful feeling of not wanting to finish it, because you know there will be an awful sense of ‘loss’ or even ‘grief’ when you do. It’s a novel about ‘normal people’… about relationships and ageing… about sadness and illumination… about joys and hopes… about connection and unnoticed lives. I think I’ll leave it there (*no spoilers*), but just to say that it ticked SO many boxes for me. I loved it. Compelling and quite brilliant.
Carrying The Elephant (Michael Rosen): Another book of poetry/prose (first published in 2002) that I’ve been using for my early morning reflections. I love Rosen’s writing and his ability to comment on the everyday stuff of life. But at the heart of this series of pieces is the shocking reality of the sudden death from meningitis of his 18 year-old son. There are also reflections on his own life… his left-wing Jewish upbringing, with baffling childhood trips to Trafalgar Square, eastern Europe and hospital, followed by trainee days at the BBC under the watchful eyes of MI5, breakdown of a marriage, development of a new relationship and the joy of a new baby. A challenging, unflinching mixture of painful honesty, wonder, surprise and humour.
Time And Tide (Edna O’Brien): As you probably know, I adore O’Brien’s writing… but, strangely, I struggled for the first 100 or so pages of this novel (first published in 1992). It’s a story of Nell, an impulsive Irish country girl, who runs off to marry an older man, estranging herself from her disapproving parents… it doesn’t go well and she ends up being trapped in London with her two small sons. What I initially found hard to handle were Nell’s unrelenting crises with life (often of her own making)… trying to leave her husband and make a new life for herself as an independent, free-spirited and often wild single mother. But, eventually, I found myself taken over by the compelling story (and the quality of the writing). The novel is a complex mixture of tenderness, innocence, folly and sadness… and, at times, comedy. Stunningly well written. Quite brilliant.
Next To Nature (Ronald Blythe): I started this excellent book in August last year and have gently worked my way through it (published in 2023) over the course of the last 12 months. Blyth (who died in January 2023, aged 100) lived at the end of an overgrown farm track in Wormingford, for almost half a century, in a house once owned by his artist friend John Nash. The book is something of a monthly diary, as the book’s cover puts it, “observing the slow turn of the agricultural year, the church calendar and village life”. I enjoyed his references of his garden tasks and his somewhat haughty white cat. The church was obviously an important part of Blythe’s life (he was a lay reader at the local churches), so I’ll forgive him for what, at times, felt like ‘too much church’! I’ve really enjoyed reading the book at the start of the day – part of my early morning routine - and know I’ll miss its gentle discipline marking the rhythm of the year. No doubt I’ll return to it from time to time. 

handsworth songs…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see ‘Handsworth Songs’ - part of their ‘Cinema Rediscovered’ series. Described, according to the Watershed’s blurb, as a “groundbreaking experimental film essay on race and disorder in Britain”, by John Akomfrah from the Black Audio Film Collective in Birmingham and London during the riots of 1985. I grew up in Handsworth and effectively left home when I started at Oxford School of Architecture in 1967… and so I didn’t experience the inner-city riots of 1985 (which included Handsworth) first hand, but I was certainly aware of the deep-rooted colour prejudice views that many long-standing residents (including many members of my own family) held. Such views appalled me then and still appal me today.
Today, I was part of quite a large, ‘learned’ audience (film students and academics?) at the Watershed and am pretty confident that I was the only person there who’d grown up in Handsworth(!). Needless to say, no one asked for my ‘take’ on the subject!
I don’t intend to provide any ground-breaking insight into the documentary(!), but it was fascinating to view the inner-city riots 40 years on from the event. The film is a rich and layered ‘essay’ which explores the complex factors of race, class and identity in the context of Britain’s colonial history, alongside media bias.
Among the things that particularly struck me were: a) the comments of one of the members of the Sikh community – who essentially said “don’t think that this is something that has just bubbled up recently (ie. 1985) – it’s been building over a number of years” (I would agree), and b) there was an overriding sense that the ‘heavy-handed’ policing played a huge part in what led to the riots (over several years and, in particular, following what was the recent appointment of a new Chief Constable of West Midlands Police). Thank goodness no one’s suggesting an Inquiry today(!)… there’s so much water under the bridge (unlike, the recently-announced Orgreave Inquiry after the events in 1984 - when 6000 police officers, confronted a protest of striking miners who had responded to a call by the NUM for a mass picket of the pit. Absolutely ridiculous in my view, given the time that has elapsed).
A fascinating, illuminating and somewhat depressing documentary – which only underlines how little has changed.
Note: just in case you were thinking that the woman in the photograph was holding a knife - no, she wasn’t – it’s a factory lever handle!

june-july 2025 books…

Hostages To Fortune (Elizabeth Cambridge): I simply loved this book (another from Persephone, published in 2003, but first published by Jonathan Cape in 1933)… so BIG thanks to Moira for choosing it when we shopped in Bath last month! This autobiographical novel follows the life of a young woman, Catherine, from 1915 until the early 1930s. Her husband, invalided out of the army in 1917, buys a doctor's practice in an Oxfordshire village where they bring up their three children and become involved in village life. I found the novel both unusual and compelling… there is no plot as such, but I nevertheless found myself absorbed in family’s life – which one reviewer described thus: “a surprisingly hard life, full of difficulties and disillusions, but a satisfying one nevertheless”. It’s a book about the realities of parenthood and its attendant joys and frustrations – which, even as a grandfather (observing my own children and their children), I can recognise. Although the book describes life from a century or more ago, it didn’t feel all that different from the lives we live today. Having said that, it deals with the time during and immediately following WW1 and, at the end of the book (set in the early 1930s), it felt strange/sad reading about lives that, unknown to the author, were soon to be affected by a second World War.
A Place Called Winter (Patrick Gale): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup book (which I first read 10 years ago). I think my views on the book from 10 years ago still stand: ‘This novel, set in the early years of the 20th century, tells the story of a gay Englishman who was ostracised by his family after an illicit affair and forced to make a new life for himself on the harsh Canadian prairies. It’s actually loosely based on the life of Gale’s own great-grandfather and compiled after he’d read a huge hoard of letters+papers inherited from his maternal grandmother. In the notes that accompanied my copy of his book, Gale readily accepts that, while he respected the “known facts, keeping real names, and houses and dates”, his story “inevitably… moved further and further away from reality”. I found the mix of fact and storytelling a little difficult to take at times. Nevertheless, it’s a tender, compelling and beautifully-written book and one that I enjoyed reading’.
Sentenced To Life (Clive James): I’ve been re-reading this book (published in 2015) for my daily, early morning reflections. It’s an honest, unflinching collection of poems looking back on his extraordinarily rich life as he approached his death (he died in 2019). I again found his words/reflections/regrets/joys/guilt/memories really quite poignant and insightful – albeit sometimes overly self-pitying perhaps.
Goodnight Tokyo (Atsuhiro Yoshida): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup choice (theme: books in translation)(translated by Haydn Trowell). Taxi driver Matsui is one of the book’s key characters (although there’s a whole host of characters!). Every night between 1am and 4.30am he drives around Tokyo’s streets collecting his passengers and their stories. The book’s story is told over a number of nights: confessions of intimacy, loneliness and the surreal… and punctuated by Matsui’s dawn arrival at his favourite canteen for a plate of their famous ham and eggs. Initially, I felt somewhat confused by the relationships of the several characters and so, after perhaps 30 pages, ended up scribbling out something of a ‘flow chart’ to remind myself who was who and how their lives were connected (which, I have to say, helped enormously)! In the novel’s ‘Afterword’, the author describes the book as “the intersection of… ten fantastic tales” and that these “only exist in his mind, at least for time being” (“intimately and compellingly connected” – as described on the book’s cover). I’ve read quite a few novels by Japanese authors over the years and many of them seem have a similar quirkiness or style to them. I have to admit that it took me a little time to ‘get into’ the novel and appreciate fully the fact that the characters’ interwoven stories… but once I did so, I really enjoyed it.
Little Boy Lost (Marghanita Laski): This novel (originally published in 1949 (but this Persephone edition 2001) tells the journey of an English poet/writer, Hilary, who returns after the war (WW2) to a blasted and impoverished France in order to trace a child lost 5 years before. Hilary’s wife had died at the end of the war, but had vowed to get their son to a place of safety. A French friend had contacted Hilary believing that he may have tracked down the lost little boy to an orphanage… and Hilary sets out to find answers. Is the child really his? And does he want him? It’s a hugely compelling story about love, generosity, goodness and uncertainty. I found Laski’s writing incredibly impressive – always assured and understated – and with the tension and suspense maintained until the very last line. Quite brilliant.

the ballad of wallis island…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon (note: I’m now one of their ‘Club Shed’ members!) to see director James Griffiths’ ‘The Ballad of Wallis Island’… about a lottery-winning eccentric widower, Charles (Tim Key), living on the island off the coast of Wales (his wife Marie had died 5 years ago). He also happens to be a ‘superfan’ of a renown folk pairing McGwyer Mortimer (Herb and Nell - played by Tom Basden and Carey Mulligan) from around 2009 (they’d played Glastonbury; graced some NME covers etc)… and has all their records, memorabilia, scrapbooks etc.
Being a lottery-winner (twice, in fact), he invited them to play a gig on the island (for £500,000 fee, in cash, for each of them)… McGwyer and Mortimer had been lovers back in the day, but had broken up somewhat bitterly (as far as McGwyer was concerned). Herb had pursued a somewhat unsuccessful solo career (he had no idea that Nell had also been invited along) and Nell had married and was selling chutney for a living.
McGwyer was clearly under the impression that he was one of a group of musicians/bands playing at the gig… and was shocked to discover that a) there was no auditorium, just a beach, b) that Nell had also been invited along to perform and c) the only two scheduled performers were him and Nell.
The film is a romantically-tinged comedy of regrets, memories, music and beautiful scenery… it’s all rather silly, and yet, it’s all rather lovely too.
I think we’d all love to invite our favourite musician(s) to play a concert for us in a beautiful island location (provided that the sun shone etc!).
When there’s so much disaster and rubbish happening in the world, it was good to be conveyed to better place… of laughter, music, beauty and silliness.
I really enjoyed it.
PS: So who would you invite to your island gig? Joni Mitchell in her prime? Leonard Cohen? Nick Drake? Simon+Garfunkel? Perhaps, of current musicians (for me): Karine Polwart? Ricky Ross? Pete Judge?
PPS: In the film, there’s a sequence when Charles, Herb and Nell light lanterns and launch them from the beach into the evening sky… which reminded me of our own family version of this from 2009 in St Ives (although we now acknowledge the problems that they can injure or kill wildlife and livestock through ingestion or entanglement, cause fires, contribute to litter etc!!). It was a joint 60^th birthday celebration for Moira and me (I was already 60, she would be 60 in a few months’ time) and we were staying at the wonderful Upper Saltings on Porthmeor Beach. We’d had evening drinks on the beach (on a stunningly beautiful evening) and Ru, Hannah and Alice etc gave us two paper sky lanterns… which we ‘launched’ and watched as they slowly disappeared out to sea. Very special memories.