august 2025 books...

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

july-august 2025 books…

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

beside the sea…

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