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.

april-may 2025 books...

Orange Dust: Journeys After The Buddha (Kenneth Wilson): I bought this book (published in 2011) after reading ‘High Cello’ (about his pilgrimage to Rome, on a bike, with a cello!) and after he hosted a ‘Lenten Quiet Day’ at Bristol Cathedral in March. I think he’s 10 years younger than me and, among other things, he’s been a CofE vicar, property developer, poet and also founded ‘Soul of India Tours’ in 1992 (guiding people on spiritual journeys in that country). This book is another pilgrimage – this time exploring some of the Buddha's teachings and visiting sacred sites. Wilson is an unassuming, but fascinating, individual and an excellent, entertaining writer. I’m not sure if he’s a Christian or a Buddhist or indeed of any faith these days (and perhaps that doesn’t matter at all), but he comes across as a decent, spiritual man – and a pilgrim in the true meaning of the word. It took me a little time to get into the ‘rhythm’ of this book but, when I did, I found it impressive and engaging.
Virgina Woolf: A Critical Memoir (Winifred Holtby): For a number of years now, I’ve been fascinated by the work of and the individuals linked to the Bloomsbury Group (and have read several books about them/it). This memoir, however, pays only scant reference to the group and focusses on Virginia Woolf’s writing. The book was first published in 1932 (my copy was published in 1978) – 9 years before Woolf’s suicide in 1941, aged 59. This memoir’s author is the distinguished novelist+writer Winifred Holtby (who herself died at the early age of just 37 in 1935, after suffering from Bright’s Disease). It’s a brilliantly detailed assessment of Woolf’s writing career by someone who clearly was entirely familiar with all her books and her critical reviews. Somewhat predictably, I didn’t have such extensive knowledge of Woolf’s writing (I’ve only read 3 of her books: ‘The Waves’, ‘Mrs Dalloway’ and ‘To The Lighthouse’), but found Holtby’s memoir absorbing. I was also fascinated, given the nature of her death, by Woolf’s frequent references and books relating to the sea/water and to death (she’d struggled with mental illness throughout her adult life and drowned in Sussex’s River Ouse). As the book’s cover rightly acknowledges: “the work of one intelligent novelist commenting upon another”.
Zee+Co (Edna O’Brien): Continuing to work through my collection of Edna O’Brien books - actually, although I’ve recently bought three ‘new’ secondhand novels of hers, this (first published in 1971) is one we’ve had on our shelves for some years. It features three rather detestable characters: Zee, her husband Robert, and his mistress Stella and essentially explores the sexual geometry of the eternal triangle (Zee+Robert are particularly horrible, selfish individuals). Rather wonderfully written (it was an original screenplay) but, although I’ve never seen the film, I was somewhat put off by the knowledge that the characters were played by Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Caine and Susannah York respectively. I found it quite amusing to discover that this Penguin paperbook was originally priced at 0.25p (just published before decimalisation)!
To Have And Have Not (Ernest Hemingway): First published in 1937, this consists of three ‘long short stories’ which form three sections of the life of Henry Morgan, a struggling fisherman in the Florida Keys during the Great Depression, who makes a living by rum-running, gun-running and man-running between Florida and Cuba. I like Hemingway’s writing – except, in this case, for his regular references to one of the characters as ‘the n*gger’ (yes, I know it was written over 90 years ago, but I still think it’s awful). Morgan is forced by dire economic forces into the black-market activity of running contraband between Cuba and Florida. It’s a tough, uncompromising story about (as the title suggests) the haves and the have nots – about the rich and powerful and those who have no option but to bend to their will in order to survive (but many fail in the process).
Vagabond (Mark Eveleigh): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (theme: literary road trip). I really loved this book (published in 2024). Eveleigh has been a travel writer/journalist (I like his style of writing) for the past 25 years (he’s 54) and the book relates to a 1,225km solo hike – inspired by a nomadic vagabundo (vagabond/tramp) he met decades ago - across the Iberian Peninsula, from Gibraltar in the south to Estaca de Bares (Spain’s most northerly tip) carrying just a backpack and a hammock. I very much enjoyed the slow rhythm of the book – the walking-pace journey (although he actually completed his trek in 35 days – that’s 35km/nearly 22 miles per day!) and the fact that he hadn’t set himself any particular goals or time targets and was happy to take detours if something struck him to be of particular interest. Although he did occasionally stay in a hostel (some of the journey was part of the many Camino trails to Santiago de Compostela – although Eveleigh was travelling in the opposite direction of course), his main objective was live ‘under the stars’. Having said this, he was happy to use some of the bars and simple restaurants he encountered en route (and to replenish his water bottles). It’s a story about a trip he’d been promising himself and something of a celebration of rural Spain (he’s a UK citizen but had lived in Spain for several years in his 20s/30s and so language was not an issue). It’s something of a pilgrimage… it’s about the journey; the people he met on the way (and the rural communities); the challenges he faced (including the heat and his agonising blisters!); the history of his surroundings; and the value of slowing down and noticing things. A beautiful book.

ocean…

I went along to the Watershed tonight to see David Attenborough’s new film 'Ocean' (unsurprisingly, it’s about the oceans!) – released on this 99^th birthday and providing a backdrop to his remarkable career and to how much we’ve learnt during his long lifetime.
After watching so many of his nature programmes on the BBC, I somehow felt it was important for ME to see this film as my personal acknowledgement/appreciation of his lifetime’s work (yes, I know that sounds a bit pompous!)… and a recognition that he’s unlikely to be with us for very much longer.
The film didn’t disappoint.
As you might imagine, the film is an array of stunning cinematography but it’s much, much more than that. It’s a breathtaking journey showing that there is nowhere more vital for our survival than the ocean. The film bluntly exposes the harsh realities and challenges facing our oceans - from destructive fishing techniques to mass coral reef bleaching. The footage of large ‘fishing factory’ boats scraping huge areas of the ocean floor was truly sickening… and yet, these boats were fishing legally and, in many cases, with the full support of key nations. The percentage of oceans that have protection orders is currently absolutely tiny (something like 3%); apparently, there’s a resolution at the forthcoming UN World Oceans Day pressing for this cover to be increased to approximately 30%.
Despite the horrors, the film’s story is also one of optimism - with Attenborough pointing to inspirational stories from around the world, providing a lens of hope. It’s been shown that the ocean has the amazing ability to recover and indeed flourish.
Attenborough’s leadership in these matters has been (and remains) utterly inspirational. It would be a fitting legacy to know that we heeded his wise counsel before it’s too late.
A brilliant, depressing and yet encouraging film that governments across the world should be compelled to watch… and act on urgently. 
You need to see it too!
Note: UN’s World Oceans Day on 8 June.

another cricket friday…

I went along to the Suite Unique Stadium in Bristol again today to watch the first day’s play of Gloucestershire v Kent… and the sun was shining (again!).
An interesting day! Glos won the toss and put Kent into bat. The decision seemed totally justified by lunchtime – Kent had struggled to 85-5. But Gloucestershire then really struggled for the remainder of the day; they took just ONE more wicket while Kent added a further 301 RUNS by the close!! Glos also managed to drop three catches in the process… (Kent ended the day on 386-6, with Grant Stewart 173 not out and Chris Benjamin 82no).
But, hey, it was a very enjoyable day nevertheless... even if you supported Gloucestershire.
Note: Much amusing banter from the not-so-old codgers (in their 60s?) standing nearby… well, at least it STARTED as amusing banter but, as the day wore on… and as more beer was consumed, the subject-matter degenerated from cricket memories of their youth to politics (and, in particular, immigration)… and, of course, as the hours passed, the volume increased! I ended up moving away.

the extraordinary miss flower…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon to see ‘The Extraordinary Miss Flower’ film from artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard.
Geraldine Flower certainly wasn’t famous in her lifetime (she was born in Australia, worked for the Daily Telegraph in London for a time and travelled extensively) but, when she died in 2019 (aged 72), her daughter discovered a suitcase in her London flat packed with hundreds of love letters written to her by the adoring men in her life during the 1960s and 70s. She was apparently known for her independent spirit and adventurous lifestyle(!).
The letters inspired a 2024 album by Icelandic singer-songwriter Emilíana Torrini (a singer I first came across in 2008) and, in turn, resulted in this intriguing documentary film/studio performance. I found the whole project absolutely enthralling – reminders of a woman’s colourful life and complex relationships (viewed from her lovers’ perspectives!) dramatised in part through film (Caroline Catz features as Miss Flower… and with the likes of Nick Cave and Richard Ayoade reading out some of the letters) and live studio performances (including some dance) of Torrini’s songs. Inevitably, there will be some who would have liked there to have been more songs featured in the film and, perhaps more likely, some who were desperate to hear more extracts from the letters. In the event, I think they got the balance about right.
It’s an evocative exploration of Geraldine Flower’s life and I found it really rather lovely. I think she would have found her suitcase of letters spawning a film and an album of songs absolutely hilarious!

sunny cricket day at taunton…

I had a lovely cricket day in Taunton today (my second Championship game in a week!). 
Somerset were playing Essex; won the toss and, surprisingly for many of us, elected to put Essex into bat. It proved to be a pretty decent decision – Essex were bowled out for 206 (although, at one stage, they were 136-7!) and Somerset were 9-1 at the close. 
The highlight of the day was undoubtedly the masterly bowling of Jack Leach – who ended with figures of 3 for 35 in 30 overs.
Perfect weather. A couple of beers and excellent cricket.
Photo: Leach in action.

first cricket of the season…

I went along to the Seat Unique Stadium yesterday to watch Gloucestershire (currently next to bottom of the league) play Leicestershire (league leaders).
It proved to be an ‘interesting’ day’s play – with 14 wickets falling during the course the day. Glos were 87-6 at lunch, but recovered to 252 all out; Leics finished at 91-4 at the close.
As ever, I was intrigued (and entertained) by the conversations going on around me by ‘typical cricket-loving old codgers’ like me!
These were just THREE extracts from two Leicestershire supporters sitting on the next table:
“Did I ever tell you about the time I played with Courtney Walsh when I was in the West Indies?
“Zak Crawley once asked for my advice…”
“I played against Gary Lineker at Stamford Bridge… I’ve got the programme to prove it!”
I enjoyed my day, my beer, my roast pork roll AND my cricket!
A very good day.
Photo: A few random images.

blue road…

Moira and I went to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon.
I LOVE Edna O’Brien (she died last July, aged 93) - I’ve read six of her books - and I absolutely LOVED this documentary film of her life by director Sinéad O’Shea.
Her real-life story is/was absolutely fascinating. As a young woman in rural Ireland, O’Brien ran away with writer Ernest Gébler and their unmarried relationship so outraged people that they fled to England (where they got married and had two children). O’Brien’s first novel, ‘The Country Girls’, was incredibly successful – although it infuriated Irish religious opinion. Gébler (who appears to have been something of a monster!) was massively envious (and abusive) and also made O’Brien sign over her royalty cheques to him (he allowed her small amounts of ‘housekeeping’ money)!! Finally, she refused, walked away and, ultimately, they divorced – with both children adamant that they wanted to live with Edna (resulting in Gébler targeting his sons!).
O’Brien’s successful writing continued (enabling her to buy a smart Chelsea townhouse) and, during the 1960s/70s, Edna had fashionable parties and various affairs with rich and famous men from the world of politics, the arts and entertainment.
The film includes readings from her diaries and insightful and touching interviews with her sons Carlo and Sasha Gébler. It also includes generous and good-humoured interviews with O’Brien over a number of years, but I particularly loved the extended interview with her just before her death in 2024.
It’s a thoroughly enjoyable, beautiful and engaging study.
I absolutely loved it. 

april 2025 books...

Pigs Have Wings (PG Wodehouse): Another ‘comfort’ book choice (first published in 1952). As the title suggests, the story is about pigs – and in particular a certain ‘Empress of Blandings’, who is endeavouring to win the renowned ‘Fat Pigs Class’ at the agriculture show for the third year in a row. As usual with Wodehouse, there are LOTS of characters (I get easily confused!); country houses; Lords and Ladies (and butlers); engaging (and disengaging) couples… and, of course, people with very strange names (eg. Gally Threepwood, Fruity Biffen, Puffy Benger and the like). Typically, Wodehouse’s colourful descriptive tales also contain ridiculous, complicated plots and LOTS of inevitable misunderstandings. Entertaining… but I now think I’ve had enough Wodehouse for a while.
Definitions Of Kitchen Verbs (Kenneth Wilson): I first came across Wilson’s poetry at Bristol Cathedral’s recent ‘Lenten Quiet Day’. I enjoyed reading his poetry (out loud to myself) as part of my daily early morning ‘discipline/reflection’ (as it happens, coinciding with the run-up to Easter Week). It’s certainly not a ‘religious book’ (phew), but I found it both thought-provoking and valuable… mixing happy memories, hopes, doubts and regrets. 
The City And The City (China Miéville): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup selection (by Ian). As a rule, I like detective/crime mystery novels… but I’m afraid I didn’t like this one - with its sci-fi/fantasy scenario. Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Besźel Extreme Crime Squad is faced with the corpse of a university student. The novel’s setting is complicated (understatement!): on the one hand, there is a once beautiful but now dishevelled city of Besźel and, on the other, there's the modernised Ul Qoma. These two cities occupy the same geographical space, but divided not by walls, but certain areas belong to Besźel, others to Ul Qoma, while some are ‘crosshatched’ between the two. Citizens from one city learn from birth to ‘unsee’ the citizens, vehicles, buildings of the other. Any crossing of these boundaries invokes a shadowy organisation called ‘Breach’, which exists to police the separation. The trouble (for me) was that the reader had to glean this information for him/herself… it wasn’t explained; you just gradually worked things out as the plot developed. I really needed this background to be explained from the outset. Yes, it’s an inventive, clever novel by a very intelligent writer (who I’ve subsequently seen described as a “leading exponent of the ‘new weird’”!) – but, sadly, rather too clever (and weird!) for me to appreciate fully. Sorry!
After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I’ve read this book of poetry (by my good friend Chris - and illustrated by another great mate, Si Smith) a number of times and have found it both helpful and thought-provoking. 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 ‘After’ section (“poems that dare to look forward and imagine a world that is changing and re-shaping”) as part of my recent early morning reflections. It’s a special book that I know I’ll keep returning to.
The Liar's Dictionary (Eley Williams): This is our next Storysmith’s bookgroup selection (vaguely under the theme ‘humour’ – in an attempt to avoid the current, depressing World of Trump!). This novel follows two lexicographers 100 years apart – Mallory, who narrates in the present, and Winceworth, shown in 1899. Both work for Swansby’s New Encyclopaedic Dictionary, a somewhat lesser-known equivalent rival to the likes of the OED. Mallory’s boss, the last of a generation of Swansbys, sets her to investigate errors that had mysteriously accumulated in years gone by (as it happens, mischievous actions by Winceworth in connection with his romantic frustrations and loathing of his colleagues). Meanwhile, someone is calling the office issuing bomb threats on account of the dictionary changing its 1899 definition of marriage from “union between man and woman” to “between… persons” (Mallory wants to keep her sexuality private). Hey, it’s all quite complicated(!), but a very clever, charming, amusing and inventive book – full of a wonderful ‘word play’. An enjoyable read. PS: Reading this put me in mind of a non-fiction book (The Word Detective by John Simpson, former editor of the OED) that I read 3 years ago – which provided an evocative history of the painstakingly-slow work in producing and subsequently editing and updating the OED and it wasn’t until 1989 that the OED was published ‘from a computer database’.

USK Bristol: 10th anniversary!

Bristol Urban Sketchers are celebrating their 10^th Anniversary today on board MV Balmoral… (I’ve been a member for the past 7 years). It’s a brilliant, free, worldwide ‘organisation’ that encourages people to sketch en plein air (ie. outdoors). We meet at least once a month throughout the year – along with our sister group in Bath (which effectively means that many of us are meeting up twice a month).
It’s open to artists of all abilities (and age!) and, for me, it’s become one of the real highlights of my retired life! I’ve got to know some REALLY lovely people and made some brilliant friends along the way. It’s a wonderful, welcoming and encouraging community. Here in Bristol, we frequently have 30-40 people turning up at each session to sketch for up to two hours. Obviously, beer+wine are also involved(!) - once our sketches are completed, we meet up to share what we’ve done (and being nosey about the pens and paper we’ve each used)!
We even continued to meet during Covid lockdown – via Google StreetView and Zoom (I know!) and ended up ‘travelling’ to more than 20 locations around the world in the process.
After my family, it’s definitely one of the highlights of my life (huge thanks to Ian Adams for highlighting ‘Urban Sketching’ all those years ago). Who knew?!
Link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/906335416054980
Photo: One of our 10^th anniversary exhibition boards (we always try to get a ‘team photograph’ at the end of all our sketching sessions). 

march-april 2025 books…

The Bloomsbury Group (Frances Spalding): I’ve previously read Spalding’s excellent book about Vanessa Bell and a number of other books relating to Bloomsbury/Charleston artists/writers. This is a relatively short book about the Group, but one that provides an excellent résumé of both its activities and the people involved. More than half the book comprised fascinating brief biographies of the key players – some of whom (eg. Frances Partridge, Margery Fry, Gerald Brenan, EM Forster, Bertrand Russell) I hadn’t previously come across or associated with the Group. An excellent book.
Spring Unfurled (Angela Harding): Harding is a printmaker and illustrator and this rather beautiful, short book celebrates the Spring through her art (mainly linocut+silkscreen, but also some wood engraving). Her studio is at the bottom of her garden in Rutland – looking out onto sheep fields and farmland. Wildlife is her prime subject – birds, hares, dogs and plants (and the occasional building) – all set within the landscape. In past years, I’ve vaguely thought about trying out some linocuts… but, those who know me well, know that I’m not one to try new things or experiment (I know!)! It’s a beautiful book and is part of her ‘Seasons’ series (‘Summer Hum’, Falling into Autumn’ and ‘Winter’s Song’).
The Notebook: A History Of Thinking On Paper (Roland Allen): This book (published in 2023) is a fascinating study of notebooks throughout history. Who doesn’t love a notebook?! It’s a long, wide-ranging, amazingly researched book – over 400 pages – covering all sorts of issues and writers. Although I did end up reading it cover-to-cover, I did so fitting it in between reading other books (the only way I was able to take in and reflect upon the mass of detail and stories it contained?). From Da Vinci’s sketchbooks to scientific breakthroughs recorded in Marie Curie’s still-radioactive notebooks; those old Letts’ diaries; recipe books; journals; sketchbook/notebooks; being reminded of my many years of daily Filofax use and my list-making ‘codes’(!); the creative notebooks of the likes of Bob Dylan, Joan Didion… and SO much more. Brilliantly fascinating… “the joy of jotting things down”.
Three Days In June (Anne Tyler): I’ve previously read a couple of Tyler’s books and, although reasonably impressed, have never had the urge to read lots more (she’s written a LOT of books!). I suppose, in part, I read this one (published in 2025) to get away from all the rubbish going on in the world at present (again!). It features a 61-year-old woman who loses (or quits) her job the day before her daughter’s wedding… and, on top of it all, her ex-husband turns up at her door expecting to stay for the festivities (and he brings with him a cat looking for a new home). It’s about relationships, infidelity, trust and happiness. Tyler writes impressively; it’s a beautifully-observed book; and, yes, it’s an ‘easy read’ (I read it in a day)… but I also found it all a bit predictable too. Enjoyable nonetheless.
Highway Cello (Kenneth Wilson): I REALLY enjoyed this book… it was SUCH a pleasurable experience reading it (that sounds a bit strange doesn’t it!). Wilson sets out on a ‘mission’ (he doesn’t think the word ‘pilgrimage’ quite describes it) to cycle from Hadrian’s Wall to Rome… carrying his carbon-fibre cello strapped on to the back of his bike (together with his other ‘luggage’). Incredibly, he achieves his goal in 40 days… some 1,400 miles and climbing some 3.5 Everests in the process… and busking/giving concerts en route. Wilson is a poet, a cellist and (in his words) a “dreamer”… and, incidentally, an ex-vicar. I’m not sure how old he is (in his late 50s?), but he must be bloomin’ fit! Moira and I first came across him when hosted a Lenten ‘Quiet Day’ at Bristol Cathedral recently… and were really impressed with his music, his poetry and the man himself. I loved his writing style and his natural humour. His journey descriptions convey the scenery, the weather, the people (and their generosity and hospitality), his health (struggling with ‘carpal tunnel wrist’?), the language difficulties… and his naivety when it came to planning/appreciating his journey. I found the whole book hugely uplifting (and slightly, wonderfully mad!). I absolutely loved it.   

flow…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis’s rather beautiful, Oscar-winning, story about a lone cat in a flooded (post-apocalyptic?) world.
There are signs, in the lush forest, of human habitation and the remnants of civilisation; the cat lives in a house that appears to have once been home to a sculptor; a half-finished carving remains on a workbench. Has the former inhabitant been relocated or even long since dead? What about the rest of humanity? We’re left to decide for ourselves.
The cat’s solitude is interrupted by a sudden environmental disaster: rapidly rising flood waters submerge the house and the forest surrounding it. A reprieve comes in the shape of a drifting boat, but annoyingly (for the cat) the cat discovers that the vessel must be shared with another passenger – an imperturbable, chilled-out capybara… and, as the boat drifts, it takes on other creatures: a ring-tailed lemur, a secretarybird and a dog (a whale also features but, obviously, not as a passenger!).
The film is something of an eco-parable. The dialogue-free animation (produced on a tiny budget of some £3million – apparently £3m IS tiny in the film world). The animation is utterly stunning (except, perhaps, that fur doesn’t look much like fur – or was that just me?). Initially, being in our mid-seventies, I felt just a bit conscious that perhaps an animated film would be geared much more towards family audiences. But I needn’t have worried because the ages of the audience (and the film was well-attended for a matinee performance) was pretty wide-ranging (from young people in their 20s to old codgers like us!)… and, although it’s an animated film with adorable animals and stunning visuals, I don’t think it's the kind of film you’d want to take young children to - due to its potentially distressing themes.
This is ultimately a film about collaboration and community… and it’s one of those films that I think you need to see. It’s rather magical.

february-march 2025 books…

Ascent (Chris Bonington): I hate heights, but love mountains and stories about mountains. This is Bonington looking back on his extraordinary life and his fierce ambition to climb mountains. I’d read one of his previous books (‘Everest The Hard Way’) and found this book equally compelling. He writes well and seems like a decent bloke, but also (perhaps it comes with the territory?) rather selfish (he’s very much a ‘leader’), driven, hugely ambitious and with a certain degree of arrogance… plus lots of determination, skill and drive. In the ongoing quest to bag yet another “unclimbed peak”, several lives were lost en route. The book (first published in 2017 and 420 pages long) is an open, frank account of his adventures but also, towards the end, the devastating fatal MND condition of his wife (of 52 years). Frankly, I felt sorry for his wife - who was constantly ‘abandoned’ for months on end as Bonington dreamed up (or was persuaded to join) another adventure. There’s a poignant passage where his wife overhears a conversation he was having with another mountaineer about an imminent ‘project’ – which she knew nothing about; needless to say, she was deeply upset. Bonington described the next challenge as “unfinished business”, but his sons were less forgiving: “But you promised. You can’t go back. What about Mum?”… but he went anyway. There were times when the book made me quite angry but, overall, I found it absolutely fascinating.
Enchantment (Katherine May): I’d previously read May’s ‘Wintering’ book - ‘the power of rest and retreat in difficult times’ – which I found, at times, both sensible and wise (without being mind-blowingly fresh or original). A friend recommended this book (written during and immediately after the pandemic lockdown) and its cover describes it as ‘reawakening wonder in an exhausted age’. The cover also contains lots of endorsements – ‘life-affirming’… ‘the book your soul needs right now’…and such like. Well, I hate to disappoint you but, although the book did contain a few interesting observations, my overall impressions were: a) I didn’t think it even came close to achieving its objective (‘reawakening wonder…?’); b) I didn’t think it was well written or articulated; c) it contained an awful lot of ‘padding’/’waffle’ (it badly needed editing) d) I honestly feel I could have written a better book (it was THAT bad!!). By the time I’d finished it, I felt both annoyed and somewhat cheated… and that I’d wasted my time. I think my own personal ‘enchantment’ journey is much more alive than her own haphazard and somewhat random journey into ‘reawakening wonder’. Not impressed, I’m afraid!
Inside The Wave (Helen Dunmore): I’ve been re-reading Dunmore’s book of poems as part of my early morning ritual (I think I must have previously read the book 3 or 4 times… and continue to find her poetry enthralling. Dunmore died in 2017, aged 65. This book of poems is her final collection… they’re concerned with the borderline between the living and the dead. They relate to her interest in landscape and the sea but, crucially, about her personal experience of dying (she knew she was dying of cancer)… “To be alive is to be inside the wave, always travelling until it breaks and is gone”. A lovely book that I’ll continue to re-visit in the future. Dunmore and I shared two connections: living in Bristol and loving St Ives.
Small Things Like These (Claire Keegan): Another re-read. This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection… and with a rather lovely twist – in that we’ll also be watching the film at ‘20^th Century Flicks’. The novel is a mere 114 pages long, but is simply stunning… haunting and yet hopeful. It’s set in 1985, just before Christmas, in an Irish town in County Wexford. The story’s main character is Bill Furlong, a coal merchant with a wife and five daughters. As an infant, Furlong and his mother were taken in by a wealthy Protestant woman living just beyond the town. There’s a convent at the edge of town and, attached to it, a training school and laundry where young women live and work. There are all kinds of rumours about those in attendance… I think I’ll leave it there (I would hate to spoil it for you). It’s a beautiful, breath-taking and tender book that has remained with me over the past two years and will, no doubt, continue to do so. The film, starring Cillian Murphy, does the book total justice.
Reasons To Be Cheerful (Nina Stibbe): It’s been a long time since I last read a Stibbe book (8 years according to my blog) but, with all the horrible stuff going on in the world, I felt I needed a book that made me laugh! Sadly, I was a little disappointed. In this book, Lizzie Vogel (featuring the child and then adolescent protagonist of Stibbe’s previous two novels, ‘Men at the Helm’ and ‘Paradise Lodge’ – I’d only read the second one) has just turned 18 and moved out of the family home and has talked her way into a job as a dental assistant, and is at last living by herself in the big city (Leicester), in a flat above the surgery that comes with the job. Yes, the story might evoke English provincial life in 1980, but the plot is absurd and, although Stibbe’s humour is entertaining (most of the time), I ended up finding the novel just too ridiculous for my liking. I absolutely loved Stibbe’s ‘Love Nina’ book - made up of a series of letters written by writer Stibbe to her sister in the 80s, while she was working as a nanny – but I’m afraid this book wasn’t for me. Sorry. 

barbara walker MBE RA at the arnolfini…

I went along to the Barbara Walker ‘Being Here’ exhibition at the Arnolfini today (I’d been meaning to go for some time!). She and I share the fact that we were both born in Birmingham and grew up in Handsworth (albeit she’s 15 years younger than me!).
The exhibition presents almost 60 extraordinary artworks, including rarely seen early paintings of Walker’s family, friends and community in her home city, along with her Turner Prize nominated monumental drawing series ‘Burden of Proof’, which illustrates the impact on the lives of those affected by the Windrush scandal.
Stunningly beautiful, powerful drawings and paintings.
The exhibition runs until 25 May. See it if you can. 

the winter’s tale at the tobacco factory…

Moira’s birthday celebrations included seeing Shakespeare’s “The Winter’s Tale” at the Tobacco Factory Theatre last night (Ru joined also us, which was lovely). The other bonus was that ‘our’ Felix was playing the leading role of King Leontes – how on earth are actors able to learn SO many lines?! – and he was superb.
We think we’d previously seen the play at the RSC in Stratford perhaps 30 years ago (long before I began blogging reviews!).
I knew the basic story… jealousy, redemption, the enduring power of love and the cyclical nature of life, as marked by the seasons. The programme notes summed things up perfectly: “Driven by unfounded jealousy, King Leontes accuses his wife Hermione of infidelity, triggering tragic consequences. Years later, through acts of forgiveness, reconciliation, and the miraculous power of time, a chance at renewal and hope emerges. This timeless tale moves seamlessly between tragedy and comedy, offering a rich exploration of human emotion and resilience”.
It's a hugely impressive production (directed by the Tobacco Factory Theatre’s Artistic Director, Heidi Vaughan) and the quality of the actors (every member of the company is based within a 25-mile radius of Bristol) is consistently high.
The Winter’s Tale reminds us that even the harshest winter can give way to the hope of spring, delight of Summer and the tender Autumn of our years (in these crazy Trump-dominated days, I just hope that holds true!).
We really enjoyed it and I would urge you to see it for yourself if you live in the Bristol area (it runs until 29 March).

bournemouth symphony orchestra at bristol beacon…

Thanks to Dave+Sarah, I was given a ticket to another classical concert at the Bristol Beacon last night (two concerts there within a week!). The programme consisted of:
Brahms Symphony No. 3
Hough Piano Concerto, ‘The World of Yesterday’
Elgar Variations on an Original Theme, ‘Enigma’
 
I hadn’t heard the piano concerto (which was impressive, but not quite my cup of tea) before last night, but was familiar with the other pieces. The evocative Brahms Symphony (which I do like – especially the third movement) is apparently, according to the programme notes, rich with references to his own thoughts about life and love in its striking mixture of passion and pessimism, of restlessness and serenity – we certainly need LOTS of passion and serenity at the present time!
And, like most people, I also love the Elgar Variations… but hadn’t realised was that they take the form of a portrait gallery of the composer’s friends, family and neighbours… and, last night, these were elaborated upon through spoken excerpts from Elgar’s own writings.
Another excellent evening with an impressive, full orchestra in full voice.

I’m still here…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon (prompted by Wendy Ide’s 5-star review in The Guardian). I wasn’t disappointed.
Walter Salles’s film is a true-life saga of a Brazilian family torn apart by military rule. A former congressman and civil engineer, Rubens, is abducted from his beachfront home in 1970s Rio. His wife (Eunice Paiva, played by Fernanda Torres - who is utterly BRILLIANT) and five children are left reeling… for decades. One day, men with guns arrive at the door and take Rubens to make a statement. Who they are and where he has been removed to remain a mystery. Eunice and her 15-year-old daughter are also questioned (Eunice ends up being kept in a filthy cell and subjected to repeated interrogations over 12 days).
 
Despite it all, for the sake of her children, Eunice puts on a brave face (understatement) and campaigns for her husband’s safe return. But, over time, there’s a slow realisation that her husband has gone for good (she later hears from an associate of her husband the unconfirmed rumour of Rubens’ death) and that, for the sake of her children, she needs to remain ‘strong’. Eunice ends up deciding to relocate the family to São Paulo and to go back to college (in real life, she went on to become a human rights lawyer). Lots of incredibly poignant scenes that sum up the despair and the horror of it all – including a heart-breaking scene when the youngest of the Paiva children sits on the doorstep, as the last of their possessions are loaded into the car, and finally realises that her father was never coming home.
For me, the film was a frightening, sobering reminder that such regimes and governments continue in various forms to this day (see my footnotes below).
It’s a brilliant hard-hitting film, brilliantly acted… and you definitely need to see it (Oscar-winning performance by Fernanda Torres?).
Footnote: In Chile, Pinochet was a brutal authoritarian dictatorship that seized power through a coup in 1973, violently suppressing political dissent, implementing severe human rights abuses like torture and disappearances, while also enacting significant economic reforms based on free market principles, causing social and economic disruption for many Chileans (democracy wasn’t restored until 1990).
Footnote: In Brazil, dictatorship reached the height of its popularity (my bold type) in the early 1970s with the so-called ‘Brazilian Miracle’ - even as the regime censored all media, and tortured, killed and exiled dissidents… and yet, despite all this, 20 years later, Bolsonaro was elected Brazil’s president 2019-23 and (according to Google) his government was characterized by the strong presence of ministers with a military background, international alignment with the populist right and autocratic leaders, and was recognized for his anti-environmental, anti-indigenous people and pro-gun policies. He was also responsible for a broad dismantling of cultural, scientific and educational government programmes, in addition to promoting repeated attacks on democratic institutions and spreading fake news… (does this sound vaguely familiar?). 

february 2025 books…

Among The Cities (Jan Morris): I love Jan Morris’s writing. This book (first published in 1985) is a compilation of 37 essays, written over a period of 26 years (1957-1983), describing her experiences of the cities she travelled to. Although I read it from cover-to-cover, it’s also one of those books one could just dip into. Typical of Morris, these are very different travel essays - definitely not ‘travel guides’, but providing wonderful insights into the joys (and frustrations) experienced on her journeys - taking in descriptions of shopkeepers, cafés, colours and smells et al. These are no reflections compiled from ‘long weekend’ excursions, but often the result of extended stays (or frequent re-visits)… indeed, one of the essays (Spanish Cities, 1963 – Franco was still power) resulted from her American publishers’ invitation “to spend 6 months in Spain and write a book about it”. Of course, some of these cities have changed beyond recognition… for instance: Beirut (essay: 1956) after its destruction in 1982 and Berlin (essay: 1957) after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Entertaining, illuminating and fascinating.
Everyman’s Poetry: RS Thomas (ed. Anthony Thwaite): I bought this book in 2010 (first published in 1996), but had previously only ‘dipped into it’ from time to time. For the past few week, I’ve been gently working my way through this book as part of my pondering time at the very start of each day (usually reading it aloud to myself)… and I’ve found it surprisingly compelling. Thomas (1913-2000) was an ordained priest who served in six different rural parishes in Wales over a period of 40 years. His poetry is frequently quite dour, even gloomy – often about isolation (and written in isolation) and the people within his parishes and the landscapes of the remote depths of rural Wales. He was troubled by religious doubts throughout his life… and perhaps, given my own faith issues, that’s what I found resonated for me.
Hard Rain (Mark Edwards+Lloyd Timberlake): Dylan’s 1992 song (written during the Cuban Missile Crisis… and the 13-year-old me thought the world was about to end) forms the backdrop to this powerful book Edwards’ and Timberlake’s text, some stunning photographs and, of course, the lyrics to Dylan’s “A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall”. Today, of course, we know that it’s not just nuclear war that could wipe out civilisation… climate change has the potential to be equally catastrophic. Back in 2006, the authors maintained that the world was in collective denial… it seems that we just weren’t able to get these issues on our political radar screens. I’ve had my copy of the book from shortly after it was published (in 2006) and it’s just so sad to reflect that, nearly 20 years later, awareness of the environmental crisis has improved, its impact has arguably only worsened. Beautiful, powerful, sobering book.
Hijab Butch Blues (Lamya H): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s latest book… in recognition of ‘LGBT+ History Month’. The author is a queer, brown-skinned Muslim (‘Lamya H’ is a pseudonym – presumably to protect her own identity and the fact that her family are unaware that she’s queer). It’s an unflinching memoir about reconciling faith, life circumstances and her own ‘queer experience’ in a world where racism, Islamophobia, homophobia and transphobia are familiar issues. It recounts Lamya’s life after she moves from a ‘Muslim country’ to the U.S. for college with the stories of the prophets and figures in the Quran that help her understand, contextualize, celebrate, or heal from the traumas and tribulations of her life. The book provides an insight into her personal journey and growth in both her faith and herself, broken down into three essays: grappling with the various intersections of their queer, Muslim, immigrant identities; addressing the difficulties of coming out and navigating the world as queer, Muslim, and brown; and illustrating the ways in which her faith has helped guide/create a life for herself. In many ways, it seemed to me that that the book was written as a form of therapy or self-counselling… as well as a vehicle for encouraging others. A fascinating insight into the struggles and challenges that face the likes of Lamya… fascinating but, for me, without being compelling.
Foster (Claire Keegan): This is our Bloke’s latest book choice (selected by me!)… so this is another re-read! I love Keegan’s writing and this book was probably my favourite of 2024. This short story, which takes place in the hot summer of 1981 in rural Ireland, is narrated by a young girl… who is taken by her father to live with relatives on a farm, not knowing when or if she will be brought home again. In the relatives’ house, she finds affection and warmth she has not known and slowly, in their care, begins to blossom… but (in the words from the book’s cover), “there is something unspoken in this new household – where everything is so well tended to – and the summer must come to an end”. It’s a novel of a mere 88 pages, but it is profound, beautiful and utterly lyrical. I absolutely loved it – one of those books that stay with long after the final page has been read. It’ll be interesting to see what the ‘blokes’ think about it! 

LSO playing mahler at the beacon…

I went to the Bristol Beacon last night with my good friend Ed to hear/see the London Symphony Orchestra (LSO)(conductor: Sir Antonio Pappano) performing Mahler’s Symphony no.1 and Walton’s Cello Concerto (soloist: Rebecca Gilliver).
I love Mahler’s music and last night’s performance was wonderfully impressive… so brilliant to witness the sight and sound of a large orchestra at full tilt.
I was less familiar with the Walton piece, but very much enjoyed Rebecca Gilliver’s mesmerising performance.
A really excellent evening.
PS: Somewhat embarrassingly, the last time I was at the Beacon (or Colston Hall as it used to be) for a concert of classical music was in May 2018 – to see the wonderful Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla conduct the CBSO… although I’ve attended other classical concerts elsewhere in the meantime.
PPS: Although Walton’s Cello Concerto isn’t my favourite cello piece, the cello IS almost certainly my favourite classical instrument. It reminded me of the time I first remember hearing/watching Elgar’s ‘Cello Concerto’ played ‘live’. I’d been invited to a special concert at St Hilda’s College, Oxford (I designed some student accommodation for the College during my time working for The Oxford Architects Partnership). The world-famous cellist Jacqueline Du Pré was an Honorary Fellow at St Hilda’s College. She was forced to stop performing in 1973, due to Multiple Sclerosis, and died in 1987, aged 42. The Jacqueline Du Pré Music Building was subsequently built in Oxford and opened in 1995 (St Hilda’s had been one of the joint fundraisers). That concert probably took place in 1973/4 - over 50 years ago (I know!) - and I still have goose-bumps when I recall the sound of the cello that night (the last performance of Elgar’s Cello Concerto I attended – at St George’s, Bristol in 2019 – brought tears to my eyes… soft man that I am). I think I need to attend another performance of that Elgar piece before I die! 

january-february 2025 books…

The Perfect Golden Circle (Benjamin Myers): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (albeit that I won’t be able to make our review meeting) – under the theme of ‘weather’. The novel is set in 1989 and, over the course of a hot English summer, two very different men – a traumatised Falklands veteran Calvert and a somewhat chaotic Redbone – set out in a clapped-out camper, under cover of darkness, to traverse the fields of England forming crop circles in elaborate and mysterious patterns. Over the course of the summer, their designs become increasingly ambitious and the work takes on something of a cult status (albeit that the men’s identity remains unknown). In many ways, it’s an unsentimental and yet realistic look at our world of today – changing weather patterns; global warming; and sober implications for the planet. The book’s cover/flyleaf is FULL of praise from a whole mass of gushing reviewers. Here’s just a flavour: “brilliantly constructed…”; “understated, plangent loveliness of Myers’s storytelling…”; “a strong, spiritual writer who sees and loves every dewdrop, old oak, soft little animal and buried sword…”. Well, although I warmed to the book towards the end, I’m afraid I didn’t find it particularly convincing… and I didn’t find either of the characters particularly believable. Unlike the army of book reviewers, I wasn’t particularly impressed by Myers as a writer and found many of his descriptions painfully laboured. I could quote lots of examples, but here are just two: “Redbone takes a drink. His throat is a Saharan sand dune, a dead riverbed of boulders. He is so thirsty that he swallows the water as if the lives of his unborn offspring depend upon it. He drains half the flask in a few greedy gulps so that non-existent children might one day live”… and “The owls are so owlish that they resemble a sound effect, a dusty vinyl recording found in the BBC’s audio archives. The tree trunks meanwhile create corridors as if a needle is stuck on the record that is playing continually in an empty office deep in an abandoned building guarded by a solitary nightwatchman for whom retirement cannot come quickly enough”. Really?? The book echoes some of the themes of the excellent BBC TV series ‘The Detectorists’ from 2014 – a secretive pursuit for treasure (or in the book’s case anonymous cult status?) undertaken by some rather strange, quirky enthusiasts… and yet, for me, it failed to really engage me. I found it mildly amusing at times and somewhat irritating at others! In a word: disappointing (although I know I’ll be in a minority).
Sentenced To Life (Clive James): I first read this 10 years ago and have been re-reading the book’s poems as part of my early morning reflections (a couple of pieces each day). The poems were written as if James felt his death was imminent and yet he survived another 12 years (first published in 2007 – he died in 2019)… but I again found his words/reflections/regrets/joys/guilt/memories really quite poignant and insightful – albeit sometimes overly self-pitying perhaps.
Night Waking (Sarah Moss): I’ve read a number of Sarah Moss books (this is quite an early one – first published in 2011) and enjoy her writing, but I struggled to get into this one initially… and came back to it after a 6-month gap. The main character, Anna, is a Research Fellow in History struggling to write without a room of her own… stranded on a Hebridean island where her husband is researching puffins. They have two young sons and Anna’s days are a round of abandoned projects and domestic drudgery – with husband Giles sadly lacking in his ideas of shared parenting due to what he sees as his far more pressing puffin obligations. The book becomes something of a mystery novel when one of the sons finds a baby skeleton buried in the garden. An investigation begins and Anna’s work changes as she endeavours to confront the island’s past while finding a way to live with the competing demands of the present. I ended up really enjoying the book… it’s brilliantly observed and frequently funny (I particularly enjoyed the rather wonderful way Moss was able to mix in the speech of small children and of adults talking to them so convincingly well). I loved one reviewer’s description of Anna as a “furious, self-pitying martyr, self-conscious to the point of satire about her particular niche in the pantheon of middle-class motherhood”!
Night (Elie Wiesel): January marked the 80^th anniversary of the liberation of German Nazi concentration and extermination camp at Auschwitz… and this book provides a horrifying portrait of the Holocaust. Elie Wiesel was 15 when the Nazis came for the 15,000 Jews of his hometown of Sighet, Transylvania, in May 1944. Upon arrival at Auschwitz-Birkenau, his mother and sister were murdered within hours, while he was put to work as a slave labourer. Eight months later, the Germans evacuated the camp and forced the survivors on a death march that ended at Buchenwald. Wiesel (now a Professor at Boston University) was one of the few still alive when the Americans arrived in April 1945. We all know about the horrors of the Holocaust but, still, Wiesel’s first-hand account makes the grimmest of reading… one is left with a sense of utter disbelief that man could commit such crimes. The book is disturbing in the extreme and yet, thankfully, also something of a beacon of hope. We must not EVER forget what happened.
Bad Island (Stanley Donwood): I bought this at the £5 Bookshop (Park Street). First published in 2020, this stark, graphic novel is about the end of the world(!) - which seems particularly pertinent at this time when we have Trump talking about ‘drill baby drill’ and the UK government regarding airport expansions as being more important than the environment. The book is a series of single image linocuts, building up slowly into an eons-old narrative of life, evolution and ultimate (self-)destruction. Stark, bleak and but with a powerful message.