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.