october-november 2026 books…

Devotions: House Of Light+Dreamwork (Mary Oliver): I read (out loud) these collections of Oliver’s poetry from 1986 and 1990 as part of my daily, early morning routine… the ideal way (for me) to reflect on the coming of a new day. I never tire of Mary Oliver’s wise words.
Gigs (Mark Mosedale+Si Smith): I am incredibly fortunate to have lots of brilliantly-creative friends and family members, but my great friend Si Smith is perhaps the person/artist I most revere. He is the illustrator of this extraordinary graphic novel (with thought-provoking, biting, but often very funny words by his friend Mark Mosedale) which paints the picture of a world “in a frighteningly near future where Universal Basic Income has to be earned by completing gig work assigned by ‘he app’”… as the book’s cover puts it: “AI took the work. Gigs replaced jobs. Ordinary people are left to scrape together lives in a world that’s no longer built for them”. Together, over the course of nearly 300 pages, Mosedale+Smith tell six divergent stories that provide a powerful warning of “the oppressive world to come and a defiant celebration of the humanity that will sprout up in the cracks”. It’s a truly remarkable book (Si’s illustrations are just brilliant) – almost Orwellian in character, shocking, humbling, thought-provoking and moving. I’ve already read it twice… and I will no doubt keep on re-reading it over future months/years. Ridiculously, there are well over 2,000 illustrations and, of course, both times I’ve read it so far, I saw different things that I missed first time round. I can’t recommend this book highly enough… add it to your Christmas present list NOW!
Pastors And Masters (Ivy Compton-Burnett): The novel was first published 100 years ago; we’ve had our copy on our shelves for more than 30 years. Usually, I’m very fond of the work of English writers of the 1920s/30s… but, not this one, I’m afraid. This short novel is set in a third-rate boys’ preparatory school and deals with various dreary aspects of school life and a core plot which revolves around claims by three colleagues about the authorship of a literary work… and, in addition (thanks to Google): “institutional tyranny; the dominance of patriarchal and religious authorities; and female subservience”. Clearly, Compton-Burnett was a highly-rated writer (the book’s cover describes her thus: “probably the purest and most original of contemporary English artists”). I’m afraid I found the novel hugely unimpressive and, frankly, rather boring.
South (Sir Ernest Shackleton, edited by Peter King): I first read this book in 2015; it gives Shackleton’s account of his Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-17. It’s grim, gruelling stuff in terrifying conditions (and all undertaken with no communication with the outside world!). Shackleton’s ship, the ‘Endurance’, was crushed by the ice and he and his men made the 600-mile trek to reach solid land. It’s superbly written (and also contains Frank Hurley’s stunning photographs) and, clearly, Shackleton was a remarkable man – and a true leader (and almost worshipped by the team in his charge) in atrocious circumstances. Since that time, however, his life and his account of the expedition have been revalued by scholars (including Peter King) and have provided illuminating additional details, such as: the major defects in his organisation; inadequate finance; lack of training provided for his crew; failure to provide proper supplies of food … and other various ancillary issues: his womanising; his temper; his disregard for his parents in their declining years; his attitude towards his wife and children – including living off his wife’s money etc. Nevertheless, it’s an impressive, truly epic and harrowing story.
The Grim Smile Of The Five Towns (Arnold Bennett): This book of short stories was first published in 1907. Bennett was born and raised in the Potteries and the Five Towns relate to Tunstall, Burslem. Fenton, Stoke and Longton. I really enjoyed the stories (the book’s cover refers to the “pride, pretensions and provincial snobbery of the Potteries” being handled with “amused tolerance” by the author) and was very pleasantly surprised by their humour. I particularly enjoyed the names of some of characters – such as Vera Cheswardine and Sir Jehoshaphat Dain! Very enjoyable. 

NAZA...

I’ve tried to remain objective about all the complex Israeli-Palestinian politics, but I continue to find this extremely difficult. I was utterly appalled by the brutal Hamas attack on Israel in 7/10/2023 but, by the same token, have been sickened by Israel’s devasting retaliation in Gaza which has led to so much destruction and loss of life.
Another trip to the Watershed. This time to see the 2026 investigative documentary film ‘NAZA’ directed by Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor (‘Naza’ is reputedly what Israel’s military chiefs in Gaza refer to as ‘civilian collateral damage’).
The film contains 24 interviews with Israeli military insiders who detail how an AI-assisted apparatus of mass surveillance was activated during the Gaza war, revealing the systems that were used to target Hamas operatives in the knowledge that large numbers of Palestinian civilians would also die.
It’s a chilling, horrifying documentary… the interviews are conducted on the condition of anonymity – which inevitably lessens the impact of the testimonies – but they’re brutal nevertheless.
Whatever one’s political stance, the destruction and loss of life in Gaza is surely profoundly sickening and totally unacceptable…
When the film finished, I was left feeling utterly numb.
There was absolute silence in the cinema as the credits rolled… and absolute silence as everyone departed.
The silence said it all. 

october 2026 books…

Marriage (David Harsent): I’m a great lover of Harsent’s poetry – his words resonate for me when I read them out loud (as I often do). First published in 2002, this book consists of two sequences of poems. The first is loosely based on the relationship between the artist Pierre Bonnard and Marthe de Meligny – his muse and model, who eventually became his wife. The book’s cover notes refer to “the mysteries of domesticity, its unspoken privacies and intimacies, where the painter’s problems of seeing coincide with the husband’s problems of knowing”. The second sequence focuses on the hare (a familiar theme for Harsent). Sadly, I think I’ve virtually exhausted the extent of the poet’s work… I may need to do some re-reading!
One Hundred Shadows (Hwang Jungeun): This is our next Storysmith bookclub choice (theme: Korea-focused book). This South Korean novella that blends quiet social realism with offbeat magical realism. The setting is a dilapidated, slum electronics market in central Seoul scheduled for government demolition and gentrification. The key characters are two young school dropouts working as repair-shop assistants and who share a tender, tentative relationship. Against this backdrop of forced evictions and economic anxiety (drum roll social realism), the physical shadows of the neighbourhood's struggling inhabitants begin to mysteriously ‘rise’ and peel away from their bodies. Although I found it quite an enchanting, haunting and darkly beautiful book at times, there’s something about Korean novels (sorry, this is a ridiculous generalisation, I know) that I find a little off-putting (Han Kang’s ‘The Vegetarian’; Cho Nam-Joo’s ‘Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982’). For me: interesting, without being compelling.
A Parrot In The Pepper Tree (Chris Stewart): I first read this book in 2010 (part of the ‘Driving Over Lemons’ trilogy. I was about to enter hospital and needed a relaxing book (I rejected the tempting option of ‘Middlemarch’ – far too ‘dense’!). Well, it certainly worked for me… Stewart is a very amusing writer and I really rather loved the tales of his family’s adventures in Los Alpujarras (south of Granada) – with all the characters and the landscape. Very enjoyable, relaxing read. Good choice!
The Village Cricket Match (John Parker): I must have read this book four or five times (the last time was 10 years ago) since I bought it in 1979. Of course, it’s ridiculously dated (describing thatched cottages on the South Downs being sold for £20,000, for example) and paints a romantic picture of rural England from a bygone age – rather too sugary perhaps! Nevertheless, I liked its predictability, its familiarity and the cricketing memories that it evoked – a bit like sporting comfort food! It’s full of descriptions of the preparations, routines and typical characters involved in a typical Sunday afternoon cricket match in an English village.
The Things We Never Say (Elizabeth Strout): I really LOVE Strout’s writing! Life has been a ‘little hectic’ lately(!) and so I decided to treat myself to the hardback version of her latest book (it won’t be available in paperback until next summer). Her novels are often about people in the later stages of their lives and, perhaps, that’s of the appeal for me? There’s a quiet, powerful, gentleness to her stories which I find absolutely captivating. She writes beautifully about ‘ordinary’ people… about their frustrations and their experiences. Her stories are deceptively simple, yet profound, wise and, time and time again, about decency. I’ve read a lot of her books (nine, I think?!), but think this is her best yet. Definitely now left with that bereft feeling of ‘happy sadness’… absolutely LOVED this book.  

fatherland…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon (it’s been a long time!) to see Paweł Pawlikowski’s film “Fatherland” (shot in monochrome by Lukasz Zal).
Set in 1949 (the year of my birth), celebrated novelist Thomas Mann (who fled the Nazis before the war) has returned home and first visits Frankfurt (West Germany) to receive an award named after Goethe (and is assigned a CIA liaison), but embarrasses his hosts by announcing his intention to accept a second award in Weimar (Soviet Germany).
Mann evidently aspires to float free from history, it seems… but where is his commitment?
Mann (played by Hanns Zischler) is accompanied by his long-suffering daughter Erika (brilliantly played by Sandra Hüller). It’s a complex story – which I won’t even try to unravel – about cold war acrimony, family conflict and tragedy, betrayal, and the impossibility of going home.
It’s a powerful, very impressive film.
Note 1: Amid all the sombre greyness, the film’s other ‘star’ is the gleaming, black 1948 Buick Super.
Note 2: For me, I always associate Thomas Mann with his novella ‘Death In Venice’ - drawing in part on his own experience in Venice during the 1911 cholera epidemic (and, of course, the wonderful film of the same name).   

october-september 2026 books...

Midsummer Night In The Workhouse (Diana Athill): I’ve read a number of Athill’s celebrated memoirs and have really enjoyed them (she was ridiculously posh, but seemed to have a wonderfully decent attitude to life). So, this book of short stories (written mostly in the late 1950s and first published by Persephone Books in 2011) is the first of her fiction I’ve read. They’re essentially all told from a woman's point of view - exploring female sexual desire, independence, regret, and introspection with refreshing honesty – and are set in England, France, and Italy. Her prose, just like her memoirs, is unsentimental, sharp, perceptive, and darkly funny… and containing several pieces which draw subtly on Athill's own life experiences. I very much enjoyed them (they provided some of my ‘holiday reading’ while we were away in Tenby).
A Refiner’s Fire (Donna Leon): I picked up this in a charity bookshop while on holiday. It’s another Commissario Brunetti Mystery set in Venice. This one involves two teenage gangs clashing violently in one of the city’s squares… and the son of a local hero is implicated. But, when Guido Brunetti is asked to vet this man, he discovers he might not be such a hero after all. As ever with Leon’s books, this one was very readable (and another perfect holiday read) and I consumed it in 2 days.
I Curse The River Of Time (Per Patterson): Another charity shop purchase while on holiday in Tenby (the second Norwegian novel I’ve read in the past couple of months!). The book is set in Autumn 1989 (English translation first published in 2010). Arvid Jansen is in the throes of a divorce; at the same time, his mother is diagnosed with cancer. Arvid is struggling to find a new footing in his life… everything around him seems to be changing fast; he recalls beach holidays with his brothers; his early working life devoted to Communist ideals; his courtship… and, inevitably, his relationship with his tough, independent mother (a relationship of distance and unspoken pain)(and Arvid himself is a pretty awkward character). So, obviously, not a bundle of laughs!! But, I have to say (given Petterson’s revelation as a writer), I was a little disappointed. I found it had too many repetitive, fussy details (probably in line with Arvid’s character, but hey…) and that the varying timescales were often quite confusing. A book for re-cycling methinks.
Imogen Imagine (Steve Couch): This is the third book written by my good friend Steve (always a bit special when creative friends do such things!). It’s a novel about music, celebrity, love and treachery. The book’s title is the name of a song written by a young musician immortalising the breakup of a cherished relationship from his youth. That musician has now become a huge pop-idol but, sadly, thanks to world of social media and money-focussed management, the girl in the song becomes a target of hate and vitriol. She tries to take back control, but only succeeds in creating a vicious, frightening backlash… (I’ll leave it there… *no spoilers*). A powerful, thought-provoking novel. I really enjoyed it.
The Harold Nicolson Diaries 1907-1963 (ed. Nigel Nicolson): I first read (and very much enjoyed) this book (published in 2004) in 2011 and have recently been reminded of his fascinating life while reading ‘The Assassin’s Cloak’ (which contains numerous extracts from his diaries). Nicholson (1886-1968) was a fascinating man and lived an extraordinary life – which spanned the two World Wars, the rise of the Nazis in the 1930s and Churchill’s time as prime minister. He was a diplomat, an MP, writer, broadcaster and a gardener… and, although there were lots of things I found difficult to reconcile with regarding his life (eg. his upper-class background; his friends in all the ‘high’ places; his essentially Conservative politics - although he did end up joining the Labour Party), he struck me as a very decent man. Hugely intelligent; articulate; gracious; and a very supportive friend (with friendships right across the political divide). He and his wife Vita Sackville-West seemed to have had a very loving, special marriage… and I loved their various beautiful, tender letter exchanges. I was SO pleased to come back to this book and enjoyed it enormously (again).

september 2026 books (more!)…

Unto Us A Son Is Given (Donna Leon): Apparently (according to my blog), this is the 10^th Leon book I’ve read… ridiculous. She’s definitely not an Agatha Christie, but I do enjoy the way she writes (well, I like Guido Brunetti and his family!)… and, of course, I just love feeling I’m back in Venice again.
Put Out More Flags (Evelyn Waugh): I’ve always liked Waugh’s books and bought this one on a whim at a second-hand book store… and then promptly slotted it on to one of our bookshelves and forgot it! Fortunately, I recently re-discovered it (while looking for another book, as you do!) and really enjoyed it. It’s set in the opening months of WW2 and is “a sharp, transitional satire about upper-class English idlers navigating the absurdities of the early ‘Phoney War’” (as Wikipedia puts it)… and focusing on social posturing, bureaucratic incompetence, and evacuation schemes. The book was first published in 1942 (my copy is 1943) at a time when Waugh was a Captain in the Royal Marines. It’s both hilarious and shocking. I loved it.
The Living Mountain (Nan Shepherd): This is our next Storysmith book selection (I’ve read it twice before, but never tire of it). Nan Shepherd (1893-1981) was a rather special woman. She was born and lived almost all her adult life in the village of West Cults, three miles from Aberdeen and worked for 41 years as a lecturer in English at what is now Aberdeen College of Education. She was a keen hill walker and lover of nature. She wrote ‘The Living Mountain’ (the Cairngorm mountains of Scotland) during the years of WW2, but the manuscript lay untouched for more than 30 years before it was finally published (in 1977). I found it breathtakingly beautiful in its quiet simplicity; it’s not a mountaineering book or a travel guide (and doesn’t contain a single photograph or illustration), it’s a book that reflects a life lived within these mountains – the sounds, the senses, the air, the light, the colours, the plants, the climate… and much much more. It’s a very gentle book that one needs to take time reading… digesting her words and realising (yet again) the importance of looking+seeing, listening+hearing, stopping+digesting… just as Shepherd took her time to fully appreciate the environment in which she lived. Utterly beautiful.
Where The Streams Come From (Chris Goan): I keep coming back to this book by my good friend Chris (first published in 2018) - as part of my daily, early morning, read-out-loud reflections. It certainly works for me!
Windswept (Annie Worsley): Worsley was an academic: a physical geographer whose specialism was landform. She and her family had visited the Highlands of Scotland for many years - especially the more remote parts of Wester Ross. A decade ago, she and her husband decided to trade in their lives in the north-west of England, and settle on a couple of old crofts in South Erradale, to the west of the Torridon mountains. They both enjoyed walking and climbing, and looked forward to getting better acquainted with this remote area… but Worsley developed a debilitating autoimmune condition, as a result of Lyme disease, which hugely limited her ability to explore the landscape - as a result, she’s been ‘forced’ to focus on the ‘small details’… and this is one of the delights of her writing. The book (published in 2023) takes us through the seasons - starting at the autumn equinox - and so I’ve gently been following its journey over the past 12 months. Worsley is a brilliant writer and her descriptions are beautifully lyrical in character. It’s an enriching, wonderful book… and I’m really going to miss my regular meanderings with her (and it was lovely that finishing the book coincided with my re-reading of Nan Shepherd’s ‘The Living Mountain’… similar writing styles and outlooks and both set in Scotland).

september 2026 books...

The Music Shop (Rachel Joyce): This is our next Blokes’ book… about an old music shop – jam-packed with records of every genre (classical, jazz, punk…) as long as it’s vinyl. The owner has a magical gift of finding the music his customers need. One day a German woman asks him to teach her about music… and so the story develops. The woman is not what she seems and the shop-owner is reminded of the old wounds of his past. I’ve read a number of Joyce’s books and this one, again, contains a blend of quirky characters, the appreciation of everyday life and the resilience of the human spirit. Joyce is a great story-teller and I very much enjoyed this novel (which I consumed in 2 days) - it’s tender, funny and uplifting (although I did find the ending perhaps a little too predictably ‘unreal’).
The All-Nite Café (Philip Gross): Another of my early-morning-read-out-loud books of poetry. I think this is the third of Gross’s books I’ve read (he apparently lives in Bristol). There’s a strangeness to his poems (the ghost of a railway station and a negative uncle, punk mermaids and a deadbeat circus…) which I’ve concluded, perhaps unfairly, aren’t quite my cup-of tea.
Olive Again (Elizabeth Strout): I just LOVE Strout’s writing. This one (first published in 2019) is a follow-up to her ‘Olive Kitteridge’ novel (published in 2008 and which I read last year). Like many of her books, this tells stories of ordinary people in Maine, New England – here, focussing once again on a retired schoolteacher, Olive Kitteridge (now in her late-70s/early 80s): indomitable, unpredictable and uncompromising character (“Olive Kitteridge had never in anyone’s memory felt inclined to be affable, or even polite…”!). It is two years since Olive’s husband, Henry, died, and grief has not mellowed her: she is still brusque, unforgiving, formidable. But beneath it all there’s compassion, empathy and vulnerability, as Olive starts to feel aware of her own mortality. The book comprises 13 tales which explore Strout’s preoccupations with grief, loneliness and familial torments. Much of the book is about life’s regrets – especially those concerning Olive’s family. Once again, a beautiful, powerful novel – which I absolutely loved. Can’t wait for her next book to come out in paperback…
The Cinder Path (Andrew Motion): I’ve enjoyed a number of Motion’s books of poetry and memoirs over recent years. This collection (first published in 2009) includes works as diverse as the last surviving veteran of the tranches and parallel lives glimpsed in paintings… but, for me, the highlight was the final set of autobiographical poems about the life and times of his father. Honest, poignant and moving.
Cat Among The Pigeons (Agatha Christie): One of the very few Agatha Christie books on our bookshelves (and there are dozens of them!) that I hadn’t previously read. First published in 1959, this one is set in one of England’s most exclusive girls’ schools and involves jewels, secret agents and, of course, murder. Was the culprit one of the staff or, maybe, even a pupil? Hercule Poirot enters the fray (after being consulted by one of the pupils) pretty late in the day, waves his magic wand and the case is solved!! Not one of Christie’s most impressive mysteries, but clever and entertaining nevertheless.

august-september 2026 books...

A Century Of Poetry (Rowan Williams): Another early morning/read out loud book. A hundred poems from a hundred years (Williams was keen to point out that they’re not intended to be the ‘best’ poems – simply ‘good’ poems which, in his view, “open the door to some fresh, searching and challenging insights about the life of faith”) and I read them (out loud to myself) on a daily basis over a 100 days (with Williams’ own reflections accompany each poem). I’m a great admirer of Williams and, while I found some of the accompanying notes quite helpful, I also felt (for me, at least), they were often much more than I needed (eg. two pages of detailed notes/sermon on each brief, half-page poem) and I ended up trying to focus on the poems themselves – which, in all honesty – I generally found pretty disappointing. Perhaps, given my own labouring faith journey, I expected too much? All in all, not for me I’m afraid. 
Night Swimmers (Roisin Maguire): I came across this novel by chance. 50-year-old Grace lives alone in a coastal village in Northern Ireland… filling her days with wild swimming, fishing and quilting. She’s quite a character – grumpy, irascible and sharp-tongued! A father arrives for a week, grieving the recent death of his infant daughter, but becomes trapped there by lockdown… he’s joined there by his 8-year-old son (who is deaf and with whom he has struggling relationship). A rather beautiful story evolves… mental health and marital struggles, compassion, community, loneliness and nature. I really enjoyed it (with one or two reservations)… and particularly loved the Grace character.
Up Late (Nick Laird): Yet more read-out-loud-early-morning-poetry. I hadn’t previously come across Laird, but really enjoyed this collection of his poetry/musings. In particular, I loved his piece that formed the title sequence ‘Up Late’ – a profound meditation on a father’s dying, written over the course of his final days. Incredibly powerful and hugely moving.
Sorolla And The Paris Years (Ed. Blanca Pons-Sorolla+Maria Lopez Fernandez): My good friend Tony introduced me to the work of Spanish artist Joaquin Sorolla, 1863-1923 (after I’d posted a note about the British artist Harry Watson on FB). Very embarrassingly, I have to admit that I knew virtually nothing of his work (I know!) – despite the fact that he was an internationally-acclaimed artist who produced some 2,200-3,000 paintings during the course of his career (not to mention more than 20,000 drawings+sketches – including nearly 2,000 oil sketches!!). Thanks to our neighbour, the Central Library, I’ve now read this illustrated book about his life and his art (during his time in Paris) – which, I have to say, I thought was quite wonderful: confident brushwork and dazzling colour. Sorolla visited Paris for the first time in 1885 (shortly after turning 22) and he went on to flourish there – winning prizes and exhibiting in prestigious galleries. A very impressive and illuminating book on a brilliant artist.
This Is Happiness (Niall Williams): I read this on the recommendation of my very good friend Tony - big thanks Tony, AGAIN! (I’d begun to be somewhat melancholic in my observations about the world!). It’s a novel that recounts the story of the 17-year-old Noel Crowe (written from the perspective of now-78-year-old old man) who, after dropping out of the seminary, finds himself back in Faha, a small Irish parish “where nothing ever changes, including the rain”. The book is full of wonderful phrases, observation, humour and sadness – like many from Ireland, Williams definitely ‘has a way with words’! One reviewer described it thus: “Williams has the eye of a poet and the raconteur’s knack for finding a tale in the most unpromising nook of everyday life, as a now-adult Noel, summoning the Faha of his nostalgic imagination…”. It’s a beautiful, uplifting novel which I enjoyed immensely – one of those books you just don’t want to end. 

more august 2026 books…

The Water Table (Philip Gross): I’ve only recently come across Gross’s writing and was particularly drawn to this book as it includes several references to the Bristol Channel - “with shoals and channels that change with the forty-foot tide” – which I know well. Overall, I found his works hauntingly vivid and elegant… but have to admit that there were some sections that I found difficult to read aloud (the words felt somewhat awkward) and to fully appreciate - but perhaps that’s just me! I’ll continue to explore his poetry over the coming weeks/months.
A Clockwork Orange (Anthony Burgess): Hard to believe that the film is more than 50 years old (1971). The novel (first published in 1962 – SIXTY-FOUR years ago!) tells the confessions of a 15-year-old delinquent, Alex, who – with his three friends – goes about creating violent mayhem in his wake. I bought the book second-hand a few years ago… started it, but didn’t finish it. I recall being put off by the ‘nadsat’ dialogue (eg. “Alex and his three droogs tolchock an old veck, razrez his books, pull off his outer platties and take a malenky bit of cutter”!). This time, I persevered (a little like attending a Shakespeare play and finding the first 5 minutes incredibly confusing and nonsensical… but then the words just suddenly start to make sense?). Brilliantly written and conceived – but a frightening portrayal of human choice between good and evil… and breathe!
Dog Day (Sarah Hayes): I appreciate that including a children’s book in my book blog might be regarded as cheating somewhat, but (thanks to Moira) I re-read this rather wonderful 2008 (blimey!) book – written by our good friend Sarah (Hannah’s mother-in-law!) and beautifully illustrated by Hannah to coincide with Hannah+Fee acquiring a dog (their cat Kitsu may have other ideas!). Goodreads described it thus: “Ben and Ellie have a new teacher. But wait a minute – the new teacher is a dog named Riff! With Riff in charge, reading, writing, and arithmetic are abandoned in favour of lessons in barking, scratching, and digging holes…”. I still think it’s a rather delightful book and re-reading it brought back lots of memories of doing so with our various grandchildren. Once again, it made me smile!
1989 (Val McDermid): Somewhat surprisingly perhaps, this was the first McDermid book I’ve read. Why has it taken me so long? As the title suggests, it’s something of a snapshot of a by-gone era – a time of Lockerbie, Hillsborough, when AIDS was ravaging the UK and when the Soviet Union was on the verge of collapse. McDermid’s fictitious crime story is set against this genuine history… featuring investigative journalist Allie Burns battling against the gutter of the UK mass media. She stumbles over a story about HIV/AIDS that ends up taking her into a world of “skullduggery in the medical research labs and seismic rumblings behind the Iron Curtain”… including murder. It’s a page-turning thriller and I found it utterly compelling!
Good Work (EF Schumacher): I first read this book in 1981 (45 years ago!) and, on a whim, decided to re-read it – essentially to reflect on what Schumacher said about the plight of businesses all those years ago (and whether his views had proved valid or way ‘off beam’). What I’d forgotten was that, ‘in those days’, I used to highlight paragraphs and scribble notes all over the text (something I would never dream of doing today!). Reading the book was a reminder about how much has changed in the intervening years. Schumacher frequently used his Coal Board experiences to illustrate his points; emphasis is placed on the ‘battles’ between the coal and oil industries – and, for example, very little reference to environmental concerns… and, of course, all this was well before the world of the internet and AI. Fascinating to reflect on that very fact alone. Schumacher was clearly a very intelligent man, with lots of sensible and insightful opinions but, for me, much of the time in this book, he failed to keep my interest (eg. he frequently used too many examples – sometimes more than four - to illustrate his points!)… I wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with him for a beer! 

the summer book…

Moira and I escaped the heat and disappeared to the cool of the Watershed cinema to see Charlie McDowell’s adaptation of Tove Jansson’s 1972 book ‘The Summer Book’.
An elderly artist, her recently-widowed son and her 6-year-old granddaughter (Sophia) while away a summer together on a tiny island off the gulf of Finland.
The bulk of the film, like the book, is an account of the relationship between the old, cantankerous, cigarette-smoking woman (rather delightfully played by Glenn Close) and her grandchild… Frequently funny and full of candid, sometimes argumentative, conversations between them. The location is beautiful and their simple, isolated, summer lifestyle enviable. Nothing much actually happens but, in many ways, that’s the film’s charm.
Fundamentally, it’s a film which conveys thoughts about passing time, memory, wisdom, loss and nature and, like the book, I really enjoyed it.
PS: I first read this book more than 50 years ago and re-read again it last year (Jansson – who died in 2001, aged 86 – spent several summers living on the island). Jansson wrote the book a year after her mother’s death and she drew on the things that were most precious to her.  When I re-read the book last year, I was struck by the fact that, when I first read it, I wasn’t a grandparent… and now there are 6 grandchildren – three of them are adults!).

august 2026 books…

A House In Flanders (Michael Jenkins): I first read this book 32 years ago(!)… where did the time go/how did that happen? It’s set in the early 1950s (but was not published until 1992): a 14-year-old English youth is dispatched to France to live for a long summer with the ‘French side’ of his family. It contains the following lovely note from the author (who, incidentally, went on to study at Oxford, become a British diplomat, receive a knighthood and was made a KCMG in 1989): “This book is based on a real period in my boyhood, but the telling of it owes much to my imagination and any resemblance between the characters and persons now alive is both accidental and coincidental”! I’d long forgotten much of the book, but am so pleased to have re-discovered it. I really enjoyed reading about Jenkins’ coming-of-age experiences in Flanders and thought his elegant descriptions and portraits of the people he came across were really rather wonderful. A very pleasurable read.
Scratch City (Philip Gross): I’d not previously read any of Gross’s poetry, but was really impressed with this collection. As the title implies, these poems relate to city life (as it happens, he lives in Bristol!)… the everyday things that you see, but don’t notice perhaps? Gross’s words are frequently funny, challenging, haunting and unsettling… and I was duly impressed. I will definitely be seeking out more of his poetry.
The Ferryman And His Wife (Frode Grytten): I came across this book purely by chance, read it and really enjoyed it… and now my bookgroup has chosen it for its monthly book (theme: women in translation). No pressure then! It’s a tender, poetic, and meditative Norwegian novella. The ageing ferry driver Nils Vik wakes up knowing it is his final day alive and takes his boat out onto the fjord one last time. As he sails, deceased passengers - including his talking dog (I absolutely LOVED their conversations) and figures from his logbook - board the vessel to prompt reflections on his life… including Nils quietly waiting for his late wife, Marta, to join him on the boat. I thought it was quite, quite beautiful… a lovely treasure of a book.
Night (David Harsent): Yet another book of Harsent poetry… which, again, I read out loud to myself in my early mornings. There’s something about the way Harsent uses words that really works for me. The first part of the book is a sequence about a garden “in which the sureties of daylight become uncertain: dark, unsettling narratives about what wakes in us when we escape our day-lit selves to visit a place where the dream-like and the nightmarish are never far apart”. Powerful and thought-provoking.
The Rossettis (ed Carol Jacobi+James Finch): I bought this book (which accompanied the 2023 exhibition at Tate Britain) at the £5 Bookshop. I knew a fair amount about the art and writings of Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-82), but far less about the work produced by Christina (1830-94) and Elizabeth, born Siddal (1829-62). The book explores the ‘ground-breaking careers’ of these three influential individuals in a series of new essays and illustrations surveying their work. A fascinating book of a fascinating time.

odyssey…

It was long (2hrs 53mins), it was loud… and, yes, it was impressive.
I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Christopher Nolan’s film ‘Odyssey’ (Moira was put off by the film’s length) – featuring, among others, Matt Damon and Anne Hathaway.
You probably know the bones of the story: Odysseus, king of Ithaca, embarks on a perilous journey to return home after the Trojan War… but, crossing the Mediterranean Sea with his fellow soldiers, they soon find themselves battling not only the elements, but an array of deadly obstacles and mythical creatures along the way. Odysseus’s perilous homecoming journey after the ten-year-long Trojan War (plus his journey from Troy to Ithaca - lasting an ADDITIONAL ten years, during which time he encounters many perils and all of his crewmates are killed) – with the survivors no doubt suffering from PTSD. In Odysseus's long absence, he is presumed dead, leaving his wife Penelope and son Telemachus to contend with a group of unruly suitors competing for Penelope's hand in marriage.
Apparently, in 2018, BBC Culture polled ‘experts’ around the world to find literature's most enduring narrative… and Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ topped the list.
The film has received a high number of rave reviews and, yes, it WAS very impressive… but I’m afraid this type of ‘Hollywood blockbuster’ is really not for me.
I’m not really a fan of ‘action-packed drama’ at the best of times and, on top of that, old codger that I am(!), I’m afraid I often struggled with much of the hoarse, breathy, whispered tones of many of the actors (usually American, sorry!)… yes, it all sounds very dramatic, but actually leaves me wanting them to use sub-titles!
But, hey, if you’ve got the time, please go and see it for yourself.
PS: The afternoon screenings tend to attract a somewhat older audience(!) and, as you might imagine, this afternoon’s showing featured a fairly regular line of people making their way to the loo (not me, I hasten to add!).  

more july 2026 books...

Electric Shadow (Heidi Williamson): Apologies that my recent books have included quite a lot of poetry! I’ve been finding it a good way to start the day (especially sitting on our balcony, early in the morning, enjoying the emerging sun). I came across this book in the library (I’d never previously read anything by Williamson) – it was largely compiled during her time at a residency at the London Science Museum and explores less usual poetry subjects such as mathematics, chemistry and computer programming(!)… as well as space travel, electricity and evolution. Interesting, without being compelling.
Idle Thoughts Of An Idle Fellow (Jerome K Jerome): The author’s ‘Three Men In A Boat’ (first published in 1886) has long been a favourite of mine and so, having recently read Jenny Wren’s response to Jerome’s ‘Idle Thoughts’ book, it seemed only right that I should read the original for myself! Actually, having been a little disappointed by Wren’s book, I found this much more to my liking (with more of the typical ‘Three Men’ humour and tongue-in-cheek remarks… but also some surprising melancholic moments) – apart some of the horrible, dated, sexist remarks (eg. referring to men as the “intellectual sex”!). The author writes about all manner of subjects (eg. being ‘hard up’; vanity; weather; shyness etc) and frequently, rather like Ronnie Corbett’s meandering storytelling on tv, digresses from the subject in hand. An enjoyable, relaxing read (albeit very dated, of course!) and somewhat annoying at times!
Land (Maggie O’Farrell): I adore O’Farrell’s writing and, so, you won’t be surprised to hear that I absolutely LOVED this book. Set in 1865 on a windswept Irish peninsula (just a few years after the Great Hunger), it follows the life of a cartographer (and his family) mapping the scarred landscape for the British Ordnance Survey. I COULD write much more, but I think I’ll just leave this extract from the book’s cover to give a flavour of the novel: it’s “…about separation and reunion, tragedy and recovery, colonisation and rebellion. It is a story of buried treasure, overlapping lives, ancient woodland, persistent ghosts, a particularly loyal dog, and how, when it comes to both land and history, nothing ever goes away”. I really think you need to read it… it’s rather wonderful.
Fire Songs (David Harsent): As you might be aware, I’m a great lover of Harsent’s poetry. There’s something about his way with words that resonates for me… and I enjoy reading his poems out loud to myself in my early morning ponderings. That’s not to say that his poems aren’t challenging! This is how one reviewer described (accurately, in my view) this collection (published in 2014): “It delivers a stream of feverish, oneiric visions, of apocalypse brought about through war or environmental catastrophe or the boundless human capacity for self‑deception and bedevilment; and everywhere there’s the lick of flame – ‘it will be fire’ is a recurring line”. The poems aren’t all doom and gloom(!) but, a dozen years on, they still felt incredibly relevant to the daily turmoil of today’s troubled world.
A Different Kind Of Power (Jacinda Ardern): You might not like political memoirs (but I do!). For me, Ardern was an utter breath of fresh air during her term as New Zealand’s leader (2017-23) and she will no doubt continue to be an inspirational figure outside politics. Sincere, personable, intelligent, decent, respectful, and empathetic. The book provides a fascinating insight into the making of a politician, a mother and a head of state (and, typically, all done in an understated, honest and informative way). It underlines many of the challenges and difficulties that come with high political office (in her case, these included a pandemic, a volcano, floods, fires and shootings… climate change, child poverty, gun control, LGBTQ+ issues, international trade deals etc). But such roles take their toll and are almost impossible to sustain effectively for a prolonged length of time – when people in her position are not only having to withstand all the political pressures, but also the type of hate and abuse that get reported about on a daily basis. I was very sad to see her go. I very much enjoyed this memoir – informative, often quite funny… but also quite moving (one passage had me in tears)(I know!). What comes across is Ardern’s humanity and compassion. I read it in the week that Andy Burnham became the UK’s latest prime minister… it would be good to think that he might bring some of Ardern’s qualities to that office.

blue heron...

It seems like an awful long time since I last went to the Watershed (very nearly 2 months!), but I’m really pleased that I made the effort to go this afternoon.
I went to see Canadian film-maker Sophy Romvari’s excellent, powerful, painful film about a
Hungarian immigrant family grappling with oppositional defiant disorder (ODD - a behavioural condition in children and teens characterised by a persistent pattern of angry or irritable moods, argumentative and defiant behaviour, or vindictiveness).
On a flippant level (I’d never previously heard about such a condition – I was totally ignorant), it seemed to me to sum up the behaviour of a lot of children at the end of the long school summer holidays(!)… but it’s absolutely NOT. It’s an utterly awful disorder.
The film is set on Vancouver Island in the 1990s. A young girl, aged 7-8 years, named Sasha (Eylul Guven), lives with her two brothers and older teen half-brother Jeremy (Edik Beddoes). They’ve just arrived at their new house; their parents (played by Iringó Réti and Ádám Tompa) are Hungarian and, emotionally, they’re all really, really struggling. Jeremy is deeply troubled and his behavioural condition means he refuses to cooperate with his parents’ increasingly desperate requests. He behaves destructively and dangerously, threatening to burn the house down, and is often brought home by the police in handcuffs.
As you will appreciate, the film is NOT a bundle of laughs… but it IS utterly compelling and somewhat underplayed (thankfully) and definitely not ‘in the Hollywood style’.
In fact, the film is partly autobiographical - based on Romvari’s own childhood experiences with her own troubled brother… with the film’s Sasha being upset by Jeremy’s behaviour in a way that her brothers aren’t. The mysterious condition wounds Sasha as a child and even more so as an adult – with the adult Sasha (played by Amy Zimmer) working as a film-maker and played in flash-forward scenes (including videoing a panel of social workers discussing Jeremy’s case).  
I found it a very moving, dignified film which (in the words of CBC Arts review) “beautifully blends documentary and fiction to explore the slippery, often unreliable nature of childhood memory”. The kind of film that will linger in my memory (in a good way).

july 2026 books...

Gwen John (Emma Chambers): I went to the excellent Gwen John exhibition in Cardiff earlier this year and also read Alicia Foster’s book about the artist. But, although I had long been an admirer of her work, I still felt that I knew only rudimentary facts about her life and was keen to learn a little more – hence this book (first published in 2024). Frankly, Chambers’s and Foster’s short books were very similar in content (about John’s time at the Slade; that much of her life was spent in Paris; that she was Rodin’s lover and frequent model; and that, later in life, she embraced Catholicism), but I did enjoy learning more about her changes in painting techniques (from say 1910 onwards) and how, because she’d spent so much of her life in Paris, one article described her as ‘an undiscovered artist’ when she re-engaged with the London art world in 1926. The book also introduced me to a number of unfamiliar (to me) paintings – particular from the late 1910s/1920s. A useful read.
Lazy Thoughts Of A Lazy Girl (Jenny Wren): I first read this short book of comic essays (first published in 1891) 10 years ago and recently came across it while trawling through our bookshelves. Essay subjects include love, politics, afternoon tea, children+dogs and watering places! Jenny Wren is the pseudonym of an unknown, purportedly female, author. It was produced as a reply to Jerome K Jerome’s “Idle Thoughts Of An Idle Fellow” (first published in 1886). The essays provide a revealing, amusing insight into the day-to-day morals, manners and mindset of the Victorian middle class. They are entertaining, silly and snobbish (although, I admit, not quite as entertaining perhaps as I found them on first reading).
Dream Work (Mary Oliver): I never tire of Mary Oliver’s writing! Her words always resonate for me – uplifting, consoling, thought-provoking. This book was published in the USA in 1986, but first published in the UK in 2025. Yet again, reading her poetry out loud to myself in the early mornings, provided a degree of solace in this harsh and challenging world.
Dad Had A Bad Day (Ashton Politanoff): This is our next Storysmith book selection, first published in 2026 (theme: sporting novels). A 39-year-old American man has lost his job and now looks after his 6-year-old son while his wife works. He comes across his old tennis racket buried in the garage and unearths part of his former self. He re-joins his former tennis club without his wife’s knowledge… finds life outside the realm of domesticity and becomes captain of a local men’s team. Trouble is that it becomes something of an obsession… and we end up with a thought-provoking/depressing examination of traditional masculinity and toxic father-son dynamics. I think I’ll leave it there (*no spoilers*), apart from saying that, although it was compelling in its way (I’ve seen one review that called it ‘deranged’!), I really didn’t enjoy it.
The Enchanted World Of Jessie M King (Colin White): Another art book from the library. Shamefully, I have to admit that, although I recognised lots of her illustrations, I knew very little about King herself (1875-1949). The author describes her as the “most important illustrator of the 20^th century”. She was a contemporary of Charles Rennie Mackintosh and, indeed, in conjunction with him, his wife Margaret Macdonald and her sister Frances Macdonald at the Glasgow School of Art (where they all studied), they were frequently referred to as ‘The Four’… and developed what became known as the ‘Glasgow Style’. King’s illustrations are a blend of fantasy and reality (‘stylised formality’); she and her husband lived in Paris for a time, but spent much of her working life on the isle of Arran (Kirkcudbright). During her career, she produced a huge quantity of drawings (including beautiful sketches of buildings) largely based on Scottish ballads, chivalrous knights, northern fairy tales and pageantry. By the time of her death in 1949, her work had become almost totally neglected – but, thankfully, a number of high-profile retrospective exhibitions of her work in the 1970s restored her reputation. Note: I was sad to note that Wikipedia described her as being “known for her illustrated children’s books” – while she certainly did work on children’s books, especially later in her life, this completely overlooks work undertaken 1910-35… which I consider to be her best. A fascinating book. 

june-july 2026 books...

The Hand That First Held Mine (Maggie O’Farrell): I love O’Farrell’s writing and absolutely loved this particular book (published in 2010). It’s about two couples (one in the 1950s and one in the ‘present day’) and how the portraits of two extraordinary women, separated by 50 years, are revealed – in ways neither of them could ever have expected. Beautifully-written and hugely thought-provoking. It left me feeling quite bereft by the end (in a good way!).
The World’s Two Smallest Humans (Julia Copus): Yet more early morning poetry… I picked up this book (first published in 2012) at the library, having never previously come across Copus’s poetry, and was very impressed. The book (first published in 2012) is split into two halves: the first explores memory, the elasticity of time, and shifting perspectives, while the second is a brave, confessional sequence detailing the Copus’s emotional and physical journey through IVF treatment.
Raising Hare (Chloe Dalton): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup selection. The author lives part of her life in a restored stone barn situated somewhere in the English countryside. She finds a newly-born hare, endangered, alone and no bigger than the palm of her hand. She feels compelled to give it a chance at survival… and so begins their journey together – chronicling their relationship. I have to say that this is definitely NOT ‘my kind of book’. It provided some fascinating insights of nature and of the behaviour of hares in the wild, but it wasn’t quite for me.
Glad Of These Times (Helen Dunmore): For me, there’s a comforting familiarity about Dunmore’s poetry (this book published in 2007) - exploring, reflective, challenging. This collection frequently focusses on the environment. I particularly liked her title poem – reflecting on being stuck on a motorway observing the packed lanes due to road works… but ‘glad of her times, glad not to be ill, not to be poor’ (as one reviewer described it). Perhaps, somewhat strangely, I also detected an occasional allusion to death (‘push towards to death’ in the words of the same reviewer) – which, to me, being familiar with her final book of poetry, ‘Inside The Wave’ (written just before she died in 2017), felt particularly poignant. Count your blessings!
My Yorkshire (David Hockney): I picked up this book from the library a week or so after Hockney’s death. As well as containing lots of his Yorkshire paintings from 2000-2010, it’s book that records two extended, fascinating conversations (in 2008 and 2010) with art historian Marco Livingstone. It was a reminder of the artist’s creative mind and his constant pursuit of new ways of thinking and doing – his art knowledge; his energy; his inventiveness; how he positively embraced technology; how he constantly asked questions of himself (the complete opposite to me!); and about seeing+looking and looking+seeing. I really enjoyed the pair’s fascinating, gentle (and yet sometimes quite probing) and enlightening exchanges. I knew I’d enjoy seeing all the familiar images again, but I was surprised by just how touched I was by their musings. The book was also a lovely reminder of the ‘David Hockney RA: The Bigger Picture’ exhibition at the Royal Academy in 2012.

june 2026 books...

Serious Concerns (Wendy Cope): More early morning poetry. I hadn’t really come across much of Cope’s work (this collection first published in 1992, when she was in her late 40s). She’s a very amusing writer (and reminded me of Brian Bilston’s poems), but I also (rightly or wrongly) detected a sense of sadness and frustration in some of her poems. A very different kind of poetry to the stuff I usually read, but very enjoyable nevertheless.
The Overhaul (Kathleen Jamie): Another early morning book of poetry (well, that’s when I read ‘my’ poetry)… this time borrowed from the library. I’d never come across Jamie before (she was Scotland’s fourth ‘Makar’ poet, 2021-24). It deals with a whole mix of things, such as: ‘aspects of the world our rushing lives elide, and even threaten’ (as described on the book’s cover). Nature is a frequent feature of her work, but she also touches on difficult personal challenges we all face in our own lives (it’s a ‘mid-life book of repair, restitution, and ultimately hope – of the wisest and most worldly kind’). I enjoyed its simplicity and its querying nature (despite me occasionally failing to understand some of the Scottish vernacular!). 
We Solve Murders (Richard Osman): There’s part of me that always feels guilty about buying books by an author who already has ‘shedloads’ of money, rather than novels by a writer who really needs support and encouragement… but hey. This is a (slight) departure from Osman’s ‘Thursday Murder Club’ adventures – featuring a retired, ex-police officer who loves the pub quiz and afternoons at home; his daughter-in-law who is a private security officer to billionaires; and one of her clients (a world-famous author who currently lives on a remote island). The story is all very ridiculously complicated – hired killers hired to kill other hired killers, money-laundering (involving massive sums), influencers, extortion, protection rackets – you get the general idea! As ever with Osman’s books, it’s incredibly ‘readable’… with brilliant characters, lots of humour and very clever storylines (actually a bit too clever for my liking at times, but…). Very enjoyable (predictably!).    
The Employees (Olga Ravn): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (theme: epistolary novels). This short, strange, beautiful and moving novel (just 130-odd pages) was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize. It’s set in a workplace – a spaceship (‘Six-Thousand Ship’) sometime in the 22^nd century. The crew is made up of both humans and humanoids. The spaceship never sees light of day. A number of strange objects from a newly-discovered planet have been introduced and these have a produced a feeling of yearning from the crew (both humans+humanoids). The Board of Directors is keen to learn more and so instructs a commission to interview each of the employees. The book comprises page after page of their numbered ‘Statements’, compiled over a period of 18 months. A whole mix of things (all occurring in the context of work): nature+loss of humanity; identity; social relations; passage of time to suggest just a few. It took me some time to ‘get into’ the book (and, even now, after a second reading of it, I’m still trying to come to terms with this weirdly wonderful, haunting novel)… but I’ve enjoyed the journey.
The Place Of Tides (James Rebanks): This is a beautiful, extraordinary book. Rebanks is a Cumbrian sheep farmer (and an excellent writer - I’d previously read a couple of his books) but, years ago, he’d visited remote Norwegian island, where he’d met a woman, Anna, who made a living caring for wild Eider ducks and gathering their down. Some 10 years later(?), he wrote to ask if he could visit her again. She told him to come quickly as she was in failing health (she was now in her 70s… and it was to be her last winter on the island). The book tells the story of this second encounter with this remarkable woman… about how they (and an old female friend of Anna’s) work together – under Anna’s strict orders – clearing storm damage, making repairs and building nests for the ducks’ annual Springtime reappearance… and about their conversations and reflections. It’s a wonderful, moving story about a wise, indomitable woman and her legacy (‘seeing the world through her eyes’)… but it also serves as an opportunity for Rebanks to ponder, re-charge and re-assess his own life and hopes.

may-june 2026 books

High Wages (Dorothy Whipple): Another Persephone book (first published in 1930). The novel begins in 1912 and tells the story of Jane Carter who gets a badly-paid job in a draper’s shop in Lancashire. She’s a determined, hard-working young woman whose ideas for improving the shop are rejected by her uncompromising employer and, eventually, thanks to the help from a friend (the wonderful Mrs Briggs), opens her own dress-shop. It’s a shop-girl-made-good story about the values of hard work and stubbornness; about class and discrimination; about the growing importance of fashion and the shifting nature of shopping; about the status of women; about WW1… and about love. It’s a fascinating story about social issues and changing times. I really enjoyed it.
Peace Talks (Andrew Motion): Another poetry book from my read-out-loud-to-myself early morning musings… This is a book of meditations on combat and the people caught up in it (particularly relevant in the light of Trump’s decision to launch air strikes on Iran in February… and which is currently ‘ongoing’). It’s a powerful, moving depiction about the futility of war and its consequences.
Salt Water (Andrew Motion): Yet another early morning read-out-loud-to-myself poetry book (sorry!). Actually, it’s only the first part of the book that contains the poetry (a mixture of musings evoked by recollections about family and friends – with the occasional historical figure thrown in) I was particularly drawn to ‘Fresh Water’ – an elegy written for a friend who drowned on the Marchioness. In the second section, Motion retraces (in a sailing boat with a broken engine) the voyage that John Keats made by sea from London to Naples in the autumn of 1820 (he died at the end of the journey) – including the perils of the Bay of Biscay. Another beautiful book.
Another World: The Oxford Years (Melvyn Bragg): I’m a great lover of Bragg’s writing and was particularly drawn to this memoir (published in 2026) because it focussed on his ‘Oxford Years’. Yes, I absolutely appreciate that his and my lives are/have been very, very different (he’s intellectually brilliant, for a start!), but we do share certain aspects of life: both from working-class backgrounds; both the first of our respective generations to go to university; and both studying at Oxford (ok, the School of Architecture is a far cry from Wadham College… and he was starting his Oxford studies 9 years before me, but…). I really rather loved this memoir – a reminder of that sense of ‘finding oneself’; taking the next steps into adulthood; making new friends; being besotted by all the beautiful, imposing buildings; making naïve errors and misjudgements; revelling in the new challenges…). The book is full of insights on class and culture, but also thoughtful, open and generous in celebrating his contemporaries’ talents (while forgiving their foibles!)… together with poignant reflections about his family, his love life and, of course, Oxford.
Despised And Rejected (Rose Allatini): A quite remarkable, brave novel, first published in 1918, which tells the story of war, conscientious objectors… and being gay (ie. almost 50 years before homosexuality was partially decriminalized in England and Wales). Indeed, in September 1918, the publisher was on trial accused of being ‘likely to prejudice the recruiting of persons to serve in His Majesty’s Forces, and their training and discipline’… and was convicted, fined, and the remaining 230 copies of the original run seized. The two main characters are Dennis (a hugely-talented composer - with a dominant father and socially ambitious mother – and who doesn’t fit in with his smugly conventional family)(…and he’s a conscientious objector and is love with a young mining engineer named Alan) and Antoinette (who comes to terms with her own sexuality, realizing her attractions lie with women rather than men, whilst also experiencing unrequited feelings for Dennis – for whom, throughout the war, she acts as a loyal and supportive friend). As you might imagine, it’s complicated(!)… but a powerful story and beautifully-written that I really enjoyed.

may 2026 books…

Muscovy (Matthew Francis): Another book of poetry (from our local £5 bookshop). I’d never come across Francis before, so it was something of a random/cheap purchase. He writes well – lots of wonderfully vivid descriptions, frequently coupled with a sense of irony – but I can’t say I was absolutely captivated by this collection of his work. Hey ho!
The New House (Lettice Cooper): Another Persephone book (first published in 1936). The author was Jilly Cooper’s husband’s aunt (JC writes the preface in this edition). The story relates to the events of one long day in the lives of a (somewhat privileged) family, when some of them move house (from an imposing family house in extensive grounds to a small one overlooking a housing estate). There’s the ageing, somewhat selfish, mother (still recovering after her husband’s death); her son (in a somewhat struggling marriage, with a young daughter and living relatively close by); a daughter (confident, ambitious, engaged and living+working in London); and a second (older) daughter (living at home under the spell of her mother – will she ever leave?). It’s written in such a way that you feel that you ‘know’ each of the characters; you might not necessarily agree with some of them, but I found myself really caring for them in their respective circumstances. There’s an awful lot crammed into a single day, but I was completely hooked by it in the end (and by the author’s talents).
Notes From An Island (Tove Jannson+Tuulikki Pietila): I’d previously read ‘Tove’ Jannson’s ‘The Summer Book’ and ‘A Winter Book’ (she was the creator of the Moomin stories, but they’re definitely NOT my ‘cup of tea’!), but had never come across this one (first published in 1996 – although her essay ‘The Island’ was written in 1961)(which I enjoyed very much). For 26 summers (they eventually had to stop in their mid-70s), she and her graphic artist+life partner, ‘Tooti’ Pietila, lived on a small, rocky island of Klovharum in the Gulf of Finland. With initial help from “maverick builder-fisherman (Brunstrom), they built a cabin. They retreated here to live, paint and write “energised by the solitude and shifting seascapes”. This small book of notes/observations/photographs is something between a diary and a memoir (plus Pietila’s rather beautiful etchings) and I found it rather beautiful (and frequently quite funny). The never-ending battle with the elements; the constant fishing for food; the wildlife (Tooti frequently had to do her art under an umbrella to avoid bombardment from seabirds!); the routines they developed (and their list-making!); and the solitude. I really enjoyed it.
Animal Farm (George Orwell): This is our next Storysmith bookclub’s book (theme; ‘animals in literature’). I first read this book (first published in 1945) more than 30 years’ ago and then re-read it three years ago… so, I’m quite ‘familiar’ with this ‘biting satire upon dictatorship’ (as my book’s cover puts it). You’re probably well aware of the story: a farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With fierce idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. This wonderful, satirical book records the evolution from revolution against tyranny and, in turn, the devastating converse. The book includes the famous words: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”. Times might have changed, but the message is still powerfully (+frighteningly) fresh – and, somehow, even more relevant with the likes of Trump ‘in charge’). Scarily brilliant.
In Secret (David Harsent): Another book of Harsent poetry. This one somewhat different to the books of his I’d previously read – based on some of the poems of the (unknown to me) Greek poet Yannis Ritsos (1909-90) he much admired (who wrote “in the face of ill health, personal tragedy and systematic persecution by successive hard-line right-wing regimes that lead to many years in prison or in island detention camps”). These feel like very compressed narratives… and yet, despite their fragmentation, they make for powerful reading.

the christophers…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, morning… AND at the weekend too!) to see Steven Soderbergh’s film 'The Christophers', starring Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel.  

In the 1960s, Julian Sklar (McKellen) was a fixture of the London art scene, but he now lives in cluttered, self-imposed seclusion – something of a forgotten man (he’d been reduced from an illustrious household name to a man who sells spiteful video messages on ‘OnlyFans’!). Meanwhile, Julian’s estranged children (concerned that their inheritance was being depleted by Julian’s extravagant tastes and lack of output over the decades) have discovered an unfinished series of portraits in their father’s attic from Julian’s most prolific and successful period – inspired by his relationship with a man he called Christopher. They would like Lori (Coel), an ‘art restorer’ and an old art school acquaintance, to restore the canvases… and by ‘restore’ they mean forge them. I think I’d better leave it at that (* no spoilers)…

In fact, although the storyline had some merit, I thought the film’s main value related to the excellence of the acting and the chemistry between them. McKellen was predictably brilliant in a role that brought out the wealth of his acting talents – self-obsession/self-pity, charm, acidly witty observations and casual cruelty. I’d never previously come across Coel, but I thought she was perfect in her calm, ‘art restorer’/potential faker role. All played out by the two of them in a lovely, gentle, entertaining way.
The other aspect of the film that I found absolutely enchanting was Julian’s chaotic bohemian townhouse… someone must have really enjoyed themselves creating a film set of such convincing (and fascinating) clutter!
All in all, a very entertaining, enjoyable and rather lovely film.
PS: Perhaps my only gripe (and Moira agreed with me) was to do with the clarity of the dialogue at times (a regular issue with films for me these days)(American movies are the worse offenders!). I know my hearing isn’t 100%, but there were times when I did yearn for sub-titles (I know!).