june 2025 books…

There Are Rivers In The Sky (Elif Shafak): This is our latest Storysmith book choice (theme: water). Our bookgroup meets on the first Wednesday of each month and so, at 480 pages long, it represented a challenge to read it in such limited time (but, of course, some of us don’t have jobs to go to!). The novel connects a lost poem, two rivers (Thames and Tigris) and three people linked across space and time - whose lives intertwine from Victorian London to modern-day Turkey. It’s an ambitious, absorbing, fable of a book which, surprisingly, I read it quite quickly. Typical of Shafak, the tale is clearly the result of much detailed research, but I frequently found her rather overly-descriptive style somewhat pretentious or even show-offy. I often struggled with its magical-realist/fable narrative (which reminded me of her book “The Island of Missing Trees”, which I’d read last year). I also found the links between the three characters’ stories a little too contrived. I liked the fact that each of the chapters was devoted to one of the three characters but, overall, found the characters and plot (and often the dialogue) somewhat unconvincing. Enjoyable, but did I love it? Well, not quite…
Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes (Billy Collins): Collins is one of my favourite poets – funny, profound and observing incidental details of life. I’ve been using these poems (first published in 1988) as part of early morning routine and have found much pleasure in re-reading them (I first came across them more than 10 years ago).
William – An Englishman (Cicely Hamilton): First published in 1919. It’s a novel about a couple honeymooning in the remote hills of the Belgium Ardennes when the First World War is declared. William and Griselda, both passionate activists in the Suffragette movement (‘cocksure, contemptuous, intolerant, self-sacrificing after the manner of their kind’) are completely unaware that this major conflict had erupted, literally on their doorstep. The both held a naïve belief that the likelihood of any future world war breaking out on mainland Europe was remote in the extreme. Clearly, they were in for a severe shock! The situation made me reflect on what’s happening in our world today (more than 110 years on). How many UK citizens would realistically believe that we might soon find ourselves fighting another major conflict that would utterly disrupt (or worse!) our lives here in Western Europe? Given Trump’s unpredictable tendencies, you wouldn’t rule ANYTHING out. I’ll resist saying much more as far as the story is concerned (*no spoilers!*)… except that I found it a very impressive, powerful and harrowing novel (which owes much to the author’s experiences volunteering in northern France… in the words of the book’s preface: “organising concerts to entertain the troops, the sound of gunfire a nightly accompaniment to her scribbling”).
Inside The Wave (Helen Dunmore): I keep coming back to this book and, once again (like the Billy Collins’ book), I’ve been reading it (out loud to myself) as part of my early morning routine. Helen Dunmore died in 2017, aged 65 and this book of poems is her final collection. They address the borderline between the living and the dead… and relate to her interest in landscape and the sea but, crucially, about her personal experience of dying (she knew she was dying of cancer). Once again, I found the book both eloquent and moving. As I noted in a previous blog post, Dunmore and I shared two connections: living in Bristol and loving St Ives.
One Day I Shall Astonish The World (Nina Stibbe): I like Stibbe’s writing style and humour, but really didn’t get on with the last book of hers I read (‘Reasons To Be Cheerful’). So I approached this one with a little apprehension. It’s about two women, Susan+Norma, who’ve been ‘best friends’ ever since they worked in a haberdashery shop in 1990s Leicestershire. The story deals with their loves, work and friendship over the next 30 years. I found the main character, Susan Faye Warren, opinionated and annoying at times (as well as frequently funny). Actually, it was fine. Amusing and silly – which was what I need at the present time, given all that’s currently go on in the world!

hauser+wirth, somerset…

Thanks to our lovely friends, Dave+Sarah, we visited the wonderful Hauser+Wirth Gallery and Gardens at Bruton, Somerset on Sunday.
It first opened in 2014. The former derelict farmhouse and outbuildings have been refurbished and converted into a variety of gallery spaces, restaurants and retail space. The whole art centre complex has become a venue for art exhibitions, events and learning activities, connecting with the local community and landscape.
Internationally-renowned garden designer Piet Oudolf created the landscaping scheme for the entire site, including Oudolf Field - a large perennial meadow situated behind the gallery buildings.
At present, the gallery spaces have largely been given over to the work of artists Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely (exhibition runs until 1 Feb 2026).
Although I did take a few (not many!) photographs of the exhibits, I found myself concentrating much more on the gallery and ancillary spaces… but I now regret not having taken photographs of the spaces themselves.
Check out their excellent website for a much better ‘feel’ of the complex.
Photo: a few images.

the salt path...

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday (for me, the third visit in 8 days!) to see Marianne Elliott’s film of Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir ‘The Salt Path’. I’d read the book in 2019.
You’re probably already aware of the story… in 2013, in the space of a week, Raynor Winn (played by Gillian Anderson in the film) and her husband Moth (Jason Isaacs) - aged 50 and 53 respectively and married for 32 years - lost their farmhouse home and their livelihood… and Moth was diagnosed with a rare and incurable degenerative brain disease. They were utterly broke and broken… and homeless. As they hid under the stairs from bailiffs, Winn spotted an old book she’d read 30 years before, about a man who walked the South West Coastal Path with his dog… and, then and there, she resolved that THAT was what they were going to do! The resulting book is their story of their experiences of walking the 630 miles (which they split over two summers) from Minehead to Poole… the film covers perhaps just a quarter of the journey.
Before seeing the film, I had significant reservations about actors ‘playing the roles’ of the couple – which had been so effectively portrayed in the book. Anderson and Isaacs were actually very good, but I think my misgivings were generally justified. Inevitably, there were events missing from the film (and also some that I felt were overplayed) and I think the film also failed to underline that, despite the consultant’s recommendation for Moth to rest, the exercise/activity had a beneficial effect.
All that said, I did actually enjoy the film… it tells a truly inspirational, humbling story about a husband+wife’s determination to drag themselves from the depths of despair to live ‘wild and free’ on a pittance and, in doing so, came to discover a new liberating part of themselves… and, of course, the film was able to capitalise on something that the book couldn’t fully encompass – the beauty and character of the South West Coastal Path!

may-june 2025 books…

After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I keep coming back to this wonderful book of poetry (by my good friend Chris - and illustrated by another great mate, Si Smith). It’s a book written in the context of the Coronavirus pandemic (written in 3 sections: Before, During and After). I’ve been using the ‘Before’ section (written in a pre-pandemic world when, for Chris – and me! - as dissatisfaction with what was ‘normal’ started to grow in him) as part of my recent early morning reflections. I find that he has a brilliant ability to express stuff in a way that speaks to and for me.
The Visitor (Maeve Brennan): This novella (published in 2000, but actually written in the 1940s when Brennan was in her late 20s) tells the story of 22-year-old Anastasia King. Following the death of her mother, she leaves Paris to return to Dublin. In the time that she had been away, her estranged father has died. On arriving to her family home, Anastasia is met by her paternal grandmother – who has determined never to forgive Anastasia for fleeing with her mother. While Anastasia thinks she has come home to stay, her vengeful grandmother deems she is an unwelcome visitor. It’s a haunting, sad and beautifully-written story. I found it both oppressive and hugely impressive.
Wilfred And Eileen (Jonathan Smith): This novel (first published in 1976, but republished by Persephone Books in 2014) is set in 1913+14 and loosely based on a true story. It’s love story and a WW1 story. Wilfred was 22 in 1912 when, at a May Ball at Trinity College, Cambridge, he met Eileen. The couple fell in love but because of parental opposition on both sides they married in secret. The approach of WW1 is evoked with great simplicity; Eileen stays living at home in Kensington while Wilfred continues his medical studies at the London Hospital. When Wilfred joins up and is shot in the head it is only through the efforts of his wife and colleagues that he survives. Evocative and harrowing, but also hopeful.  
Money To Burn (Asta Olivia Nordenhof): This is a complex, angry, intimate, Danish novel about capitalism and relationships (a strange combination!). Published in 2025, it’s the first of a 7-part series of books (they already have titles, but I don’t think they’ve yet been written). Much of the book is about the struggling lives of Maggie and Kurt – holding on to their lives in Nyborg after their only daughter has left home – set alongside (for reasons that are so far unclear) references to a national tragedy in Denmark and Norway, decades ago, when a passenger ferry called the Scandinavian Star caught fire, killing 159 people. Years later, more information comes to light suggesting that it was an insurance scam and not an accident. It’s an impressive book (even if I did find it confusing at times!) that dodges about in terms of narrative. To me, it rather felt as if Nordenhof had written several different stories; cut+pasted extracts from each; and then set them out in random order (including people dying, then reappearing) just to confuse me! Strangely impressive nevertheless.
Girl With Green Eyes (Edna O’Brien): First published in 1962 (our copy is dated 1968 in Moira’s handwriting, on her 18^th birthday), it’s the second book in ‘The Country Girls’ trilogy. It’s written through the eyes+ears of innocent Cait/Kate Brady, who leaves her family farm and heads for Dublin, where she lives with her former convent friend Baba Brennan. She soon meets older man Eugene, who is a writer and intellectual. Kate and Eugene fall in love but, when Cait's father finds out about their romance, he is determined to break it up… (I’ll leave it there: *no spoilers!*). It’s comic and poignant and, of course, beautifully-written.

E.1027 – eileen gray and the house by the sea…

My second trip to the Watershed in successive days! This time to see Beatrice Minger+Christoph Schaub’s film ‘E.1027 – Eileen Gray and the House by the Sea’, with Natalie Radmall-Quirke playing Gray.
As a retired architect, I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit my lack of knowledge of much of Eileen Gray’s career. I had a very patchy awareness of her work and life… and a very vague recall of the link of E.1027 with Le Corbusier. Gray (1878-1976) was an Irish interior designer, furniture designer and (self-taught) architect who became a pioneer of the Modern Movement in architecture.
In the late 1920s, Gray designed and built a modernist villa on the Côte d’Azur for herself and her lover, the Romanian architectural journalist Jean Badovici: she called it E.1027 (a cryptic combination of her initials and those of Badovici)… “In the 1920s, men built the world to meet their own needs. I wanted to create a space for the woman… and then I could conceive of a different world”. But she and Badovici quarrelled and she impulsively moved out, leaving him in sole possession of the property – which he, subsequently, allowed the architectural world to assume it was his own work (in fact, he had very little to do with either the design or its construction). Badovici’s friend Le Corbusier, upon discovering it, was intrigued and obsessed by the house. He later covers its walls with murals (much to Gray’s fury when she discovered what he’d done – she’d always expressed a wish that it should be free of any decoration); Gray regarded this as an act of vandalism.
I went to see the film with fairly limited expectations… but I was completely wrong. I really enjoyed it.
It’s a very beautiful building (impressively renovated back to its original state – but the Le Corbusier frescoes are still there!) and I found myself captivated by the story. However, it also left me feeling frustrated by some aspects of it: it’s a drama-documentary that fails to include the emotion and creativity involved in producing a work of art… or, indeed, the work relating to the creation of such a building in such a remote location, over three years. Also lacking, in my view, was there a sufficient sense of betrayal (ie. a lack of recognition of the work of female designers and artists of that time)(of course, these frustrations still exist today!).
The film included clips of the house in an extremely poor state of repair (in the 1950s/60s?) – and effectively abandoned (it was occupied by squatters for a time) but, somewhat incredibly, the architectural press ‘rediscovered’ the building in 1968 and Gray’s name subsequently became recognised… and the house ultimately restored to its former glory (it’s now become a tourist attraction!). At the end of the film, there’s a poignant interview with Gray (in 1973, when she was in her late 90s) reflecting back on how the house came about.
All in all, a really lovely, informative and inspiring film. You’d enjoy it! 

the phoenician scheme…

Another trip to the Watershed today – this time to see Wes Anderson’s ‘The Phoenician Scheme’. I’m a great lover of Anderson films… I love the chorography (if that’s the right word?), symmetry, limited colour palettes, eccentricity, and the somewhat theatrical (and at times ridiculous) approach to storytelling.
In this film, wealthy businessman, Zsa-zsa Korda (played by Benicio del Toro) appoints his only daughter, a nun (Mia Threapleton), as sole heir to his estate. As Korda embarks on a new enterprise, they soon become the target of scheming tycoons, foreign terrorists, and determined assassins. As usual, the film features a host of ‘other stars’ in various cameo roles - including Tom Hanks, Willem Dafoe, Scarlett Johansson and Benedict Cumberbatch.
Yes, I’d be first to admit that Anderson’s films are (or have become) somewhat predictable in both their style and, to a certain extent, their type of storylines… there’s an element of him just repeating the same, old, successful formula. But, hey, I still found his sets and backdrops (and all the wonderful details) quite brilliant… and they make me feel very happy! So, in this depressing uncertain world, it’s good to find that some things still have the power to please!
It might not be the best Anderson film I’ve ever seen, but I really enjoyed it nevertheless.

celebration day: 26 may...

Today, May Bank Holiday, is apparently ‘Celebration Day’ – a recently-created, dedicated opportunity to honour and celebrate the lasting impact of those who have inspired and shaped us—whether through personal connections, history, or culture—and whose influence continues long after they’ve died.
An opportunity to share stories.
For me, although perhaps there have been times when I didn’t quite acknowledge his influence on my life, that person is probably my father: Ronald Frederick Broadway (1921-1992).
I scribbled this as my ‘Celebration Day’ contribution:
 
I’ve been thinking about my father a lot recently.
I wish I’d known him better.
That we’d had more opportunities
To chat, just the two of us…
Like those days in the 70s in Oxford
In a pub, on a Sunday lunchtime, when he was down to visit.
Yes, we definitely had our different opinions(!),
But they were special times…
And I realise that now.
He died more than 30 years ago.
So much has changed since then.
He’d be delighted and appalled in equal measure.
 
I sometimes imagine us meeting in that pub again
An opportunity for me to tell him
What’s happened since he departed…
That Moira+I still love each other after more than 50 years together
About the amazing women his granddaughters have become,
Since he last saw them in their emerging teens.
Perhaps a chance for them to tell their own stories?
And he’d be so proud to learn about his great-grandchildren
As they make their respective ways into the adult world.
I can see him shaking his head and smiling.
But there’s so much more to tell…
Can I buy you another pint Dad?
 
Photo: My Dad… with his granddaughters Alice, Han+Ru in our back garden in Thame (c.1987/8?) - before Ru’s garden re-design and before I’d re-painted the shed door to look like a cricket scoreboard!
PS: Back in 2011, I wrote a brief blogpost about remembering my father. It’s strange re-reading it today.