april 2021 books…

Wintering (Katherine May): I borrowed this book from Ru. The book’s cover has the additional sub-title of ‘the power of rest and retreat in difficult times’. It’s been on my bedside table for a little while and I thought I ought to read it before winter is fully behind us. Essentially, it’s a poignant meditation on those empty or bare periods of life, when we need to stop and ‘repair’ ourselves (easier said than done?) and to accept that we need to learn to revel in those dark, colourless, cold days. It clearly wasn’t written with a pandemic in mind but, in many ways, her observations about winter provide useful advice for coping with Covid (eg. “we may never choose to winter, but we can choose how”; resorting to ‘guaranteed’ comfort stuff, like re-watching films or re-reading books). As far as our own Covid lockdown is concerned, the book made me wonder if some of us (certainly me) have become aware of our thoughts and coping strategies, but perhaps not noticing others? It contained lots of ‘food for thought’, but I found the following particularly thought-provoking: “ancient folklore… offers us a cyclical metaphor for life, one in which the energies of spring can arrive again and again, nurtured by the deep retreat of winter. We are no longer accustomed to thinking in this way. We are instead in the habit of imagining our lives to be linear; a long march from birth to death in which we mass our powers, only to surrender them again, all the while losing our youthful beauty. This is a brutal untruth”. It’s a wise and comforting book (beautifully-written and frequently amusing) and a rather lovely reminder that winter can be ‘open season’ for new ideas and challenges; of the pleasures of cold weather; and slow days.
English Pastoral (James Rebanks): Rebanks’s book ‘The Shepherd’s Life’ was the first I read this year… and I immediately predicted that it would turn out to be my ‘book of the year’. Well, having just read Rebanks’s ‘English Pastoral’ (published in 2020), I now wish to modify my original prediction! I absolutely loved this book… it’s a story of an inheritance (his grandfather taught him to work the land ‘the old way’) and of how things have profoundly changed in his own lifetime and how so much has been lost (men+women had vanished from the fields; the old stone barns had crumbled; the skies had emptied of birds etc). This is a book about what it means to have love and pride in a place and how, against the odds, it might still be possible to salvage what might have been lost. He’s hugely critical of the pitiful price farmers get paid for their products; he despises the political attitudes of the 1980s; he despairs of how corporations are now ‘in charge’ of everything. It’s an honest, frank, frequently funny, eloquent and also a passionate ‘song of hope’. It’s a beautiful, uplifting, emotional ‘read’ (but, hey, I cry at anything!). Quite brilliant.   
We’ll Always Have Paris (Emma Beddington): Moira recommended this memoir to me. I’m a great lover of Beddington’s columns in The Guardian/Observer. She writes beautifully… and seems to have an effortless knack for words; she is highly intelligent (first class History degree at Oxford); she’s a qualified lawyer… and she IS very funny! As a teenager, she decided that when she grew up she was going to be French(!)… free and solitary; sitting at pavement cafés (surrounded by Gauloise cigarette smoke). She DID end up in Paris, but found life far from easy, following her mother’s untimely death. Eventually, her dream DID come true - she found herself with a French boyfriend and two half-French children… but it also brought its fair share of problems (I’ll resist filling in the details – I don’t want to spoil things for you). At times, Beddington is laugh-out loud hilarious, but she also has the wonderful ability of writing with utmost honesty and sadness. She’s frequently very hard on herself (but we’re all flawed) and there were also a fair few times when I found myself feeling that she was just being too selfish (it seemed to me that she ‘wanted it all’)… and yet, by the end of the book, she’d completely won me back. I loved the book… (and cake features very prominently!!).
The Authenticity Project (Clare Pooley): I think I first saw a write-up of this book in The Guardian (or maybe not?)… where it was described as something of a “wonderfully warm, feel-good novel”. So I thought it sounded like the book one should read in the midst of a depressing pandemic! The book’s cover blurb describes the ‘action’ thus: “Julian Jessop is tired of hiding the deep loneliness he feels. So he begins ‘The Authenticity Project’ – a small green notebook containing the truth about his life. Leaving the notebook on a table in his friendly neighbourhood café, Julian never expects Monica, the owner, to track him down after finding it. Or that she’ll be inspired to write down her own story…”. Well, I really enjoyed it (it’s a very easy read) – even if I didn’t really think that Julian would be the kind of person who might have set the book-thing in motion, as it were. In some ways, the novel reflects the author’s own life – apparently, she wrote a hugely popular blog called “Mummy Was A Secret Drinker”. It’s a lovely, encouraging book and well worth reading – it’ll make you feel happy.
A Still Life (Josie George): This is a pretty remarkable memoir. The 36 year-old author – a single mother with a 9 year-old son (and a mobility scooter!) - has struggled with a hugely-debilitating illness for 30-odd years. Doctors are mystified as to what’s wrong with her. There are times when she’s too weak to leave the house; there are times when she can’t even crawl across a room of her tiny, old terraced house (let alone climb the stairs on her knees to the loo). The book alternates between the story of her ‘past’ and a journal of the ‘present’ – complete with all the frustrations about coping; about the unhappiness; about all the restrictions and uncertainties; about government cuts and living on ‘next-to-nothing’… but also about the special people in her life; about learning to live with solitude and stillness; about noticing nature and beauty… and about the JOYS of her life. It’s an inspiring book (but also a book with which I struggled at times… the apparently endless stream of frustrations and problems can be difficult to take!). She’s an excellent writer. It’s a hugely frank and honest book that underlines the importance of “nurturing what we have”. There were times when I felt she was just incredibly naïve and impulsive (and frequently someone who ‘wanted it all’, irrespective of the practicalities)… but, as she acknowledges towards the end of the book, we “need to forgive our younger selves” (and also just to “keep on challenging”). Frequently (ie. for days on end), her ‘world’ is limited to just her tiny house; the community centre in the next street; and the 10-minute ‘walk’ to her son’s primary school. Much of the book was written from her bed (“I’ve spent the best part of 16 years here”) and over the course of a year (starting January 2018). The book was published early in 2021… one just wonders how difficult life must have been - and presumably continues to be - for her (as someone who is obviously ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’), and her son, during the past year of the pandemic – when the community centre has been closed and when travel restrictions have been in place. A very important, candid, intelligent account of what it’s like to struggle with an invisible, unforgiving illness at a time when those in power seem to find it easier to simply ‘turn a blind eye’ towards financially and practically. 

drinking with my dad on his 100th birthday...

Today is my Dad’s 100^th birthday. He died nearly 30 years ago, in 1992. I’m now older than he was when he died. He was a very good father – even if he and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on a whole range of things (race and politics, in particular – subjects I ended up realising were best avoided). I’ve been thinking of him a lot this week and am very conscious that some of our ‘best times’ were when he and I (just the two of us) were able to chat over a pint (or maybe two!) of beer ‘down the pub’ when we lived in Oxford and Thame.
So, today, I want to try to imagine us meeting up in the pub for a couple of beers (both of us in our 70s??) and chatting/catching up(?) about the important stuff in our lives…
 
There are so many regrets (from my side). My Dad died from lung cancer (within six months of diagnosis). In his last few months, I wanted to talk to him about his life (his memories, the joys, the regrets)… but, sadly, we didn’t get to do this (was that my fault or was it just that it was too difficult for him to actually TALK about such stuff?). We’re very fortunate to have some of his letters/notes expressing thanks to people who’d been important to him and reflections on what he saw as the important things in life (kindness, nature, beauty and a thirst for discovering new things). I had wanted to drive him to places (ideally, just him and me) that he’d loved and for which we both had particular memories (when he was still vaguely fit enough to do so) – like the regular family picnic spot by the river at Aston Cantlow, near Henley-in-Arden, or the Flagpole (or “Tadpole” as younger family members called it!) on Cannock Chase or Llanrhaeadr or Bispham… so many places. But he just wasn’t up for it.
I found the whole experience hugely frustrating and saddening… and it now all feels a bit of blur? Did I try hard enough?
(Looking back, I think I was perhaps trying to prepare MYSELF for grieving him and now feel somewhat guilty that I had tried to press him too much on such matters).
 
My Dad was born in Birmingham and came from a working class background (two older sisters and a younger brother). He was a print compositor and a lovely, kind, gentle man (but actually also quite shy). He married my Mum in March 1948 and I was born in February 1949, so they didn’t have much opportunity to ‘let their hair down’! He was quite an intelligent man who, I think, was very conscious of his working class background. As I grew older, I felt he was almost embarrassed by what he saw as his lack of education (although, of course, he would never have admitted this). Whenever he wrote a letter, they frequently ‘read’ overly-formal/flowery and regularly contained words which weren’t quite used correctly (and he wrote LOTS of letters - of complaint to the Council or of appreciation to Hollywood stars and the like!). He was a strict disciplinarian and could be pretty obstinate at times (surely not something I’ve inherited from him?) and his favourite family saying was: “If I say ‘black’s white’, black’s white”! 
 
But, hey, back to the pub…
There’s so much to talk about. I’m so proud of my family… and so, of course, I want to tell him that Moira and I will be celebrating our 50^th wedding anniversary next year – and how wonderful it’s been to be married to her. I want to tell him about my architectural practice (he knew I’d become a partner in 1979)… and he’d probably be shocked to learn that I’d retired from architecture at the age of 55 (ridiculous!)(and that I went on to work in a school for 6 years supporting and mentoring pupils). I want to tell him about how wonderful his granddaughters (who were 12, 14 and 16 when he died) have ‘turned out’. As someone with an art ‘background’, I know he’d be absolutely thrilled to know that Ru and Hannah have made illustration/design/print/graphics their careers… and, as someone who loved the use of words, he would be thrilled to learn that Alice is a published author (I remember him challenging himself to learn new words/meanings on a daily basis via the ‘Reader’s Digest’)(He was very fond of words - but hardly ever read any books, from what I remember?). I want to tell him about the six great-grandchildren he never met… and about their humour and all the ‘stuff’ in their lives (I can imagine him just smiling and gently shaking his head with pride… and with a ‘who’d have thought?’ expression on his face). I want to tell him we moved to Bristol in 2003. I want to tell how lovely my brother is… and how proud he’d be of him.
 
But, crucially, there are SO many things that I want to ask HIM about. So many questions:
I want to ask him about his relationship with his father. It seemed to me that, although it was good relationship, they weren’t particularly close (or perhaps that’s simply my perception?)(I certainly think he was closer to his mother). I want to ask about his father’s working life and what he knew of his general family background.
I want to ask him about Vittoria Junior School of Arts+Crafts, Birmingham (now Birmingham School of Jewellery). This was my Dad’s school from the age of 13 until (we think) he was apprenticed to Dams and Lock (printers) at the age of 16. The new school had been opened in the (then) factory building at 84 Vittoria Street in 1890 as a school for the jewellery and silverware industry - housing up to 460 boys from the age of twelve and a half years. We don’t really know how or why Dad (as a working class youngster) attended this school. Was it because his father had been a “jewellery worker” (according to the 1911 census)? The Birmingham Jewellery and Silversmiths Association had been keen to set up a school for the industry and so perhaps they had encouraged attendance by boys of their own workers? Presumably he walked (or cycled?) the 2-3miles to school each day?
I want to ask him about his relationship with his siblings. Clearly, his sister Olive was his favourite sibling. It always seemed to me that he was very much in her shadow – she had a much more affluent life-style – big house, car, nice holidays etc. I wanted to know how he felt about his gay brother (when did he realise… or did he?)(I don’t think the subject was ever really mentioned as far as the rest of the family was concerned?).
I want to ask him about his teenage years and adulthood. About growing up in Handsworth; about his time in India during the war; about life after the war (rationing, moving into Westbourne Road, ‘Aunty’ Ella); about his closest friends (did have any ‘close’ friends outside family or people from his RAF days?).
I want to ask him about his working life. Was he happy in his career? Would he have liked to have pursued a different career path? Did he regret leaving Dams+Lock when he did? Other job choices/decisions (eg.not moving to Norfolk in the late 1960s, I think?, when he had a job opportunity to do so). His ridiculous daily routine (when he was at Dams+Lock) of returning home on the bus from town (plus walk, 20 mins), eating his meal (20mins) and busing back into town (20mins) all within his ‘lunch hour’! 
I want to ask him about his happiest/funniest memories. Meeting Mum; family life (or not!); his Ford Anglia; places such as Llanrhaeadr, Blackpool, Llangranog, Australia… and other holidays etc etc? Supporting the Albion (and travelling to many of their away games in later years)(and having two sons who became Villa supporters!). The great times they had in their caravan at the site in Bromyard. Silly things that happened in his life. About the time when he brought home a Yugoslavian man for some lunch (Dad had found him rather lost, confused and hungry near Snow Hill Station and invited back for a meal – and me being introduced to him as a ‘German-speaker’ because German had been on my school timetable for the previous 6 months – needless to say I was of very little help!). About the time he brought home singer Danny Williams (‘Moon River’ UK number 1 record in 1961!) who he’d found outside our local ‘Plaza’ (he was due to appear there that evening, but no one had turned up to let him in!)… and how we chalked his name on the chair he’d sat on!!
I want to ask him if he had any regrets? In an ideal world, would he have delayed having a family for a year or so?
I want to ask him about his lung cancer. I want him to know how frustrated we all were… and how sad those last few months were (for us and, no doubt, for him). If he had his time over again, would he want to do anything differently in those final days (illness permitting)?
 
Oh, and of course, there are one or two ‘other matters’ I think Dad would be interested to hear…

• We have two (or three?) computers in our house.
• There’s this thing called the internet which allows you to ‘access’ information using one’s computer instantly… news, weather, sport, history, politics and lots, lots more (Dad would have absolutely loved the internet!).
• People no longer bother to have ‘land line’ telephones… virtually everyone has their own ‘mobile telephone’ (and their own individual telephone number) which enables them to receive and make calls from anywhere in the world.
• There’s some technology called GPS (Global Positioning System) which can track your location anywhere in the world… people have systems in their cars, their mobile phones and their watches. GPS helps you get where you are going, from point A to point B.
• There’s technology that enables you to get maps on your mobile phone (and in your car!) and which also provides interactive panoramas from positions along streets throughout the world.
• People are now able to speak to AND see their friends/colleagues via their computer/phone screens (anywhere in the world)… at no extra cost.
• There are now driver-less cars (although I’ve not been in one!).
• We have a Climate Crisis which threatens the future of the planet (attributed largely to the increased levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide produced by the use of fossil fuels).
• We’re currently struggling to come to terms with a pandemic virus which has killed some 130,000 people in the UK in the past year (and some 3million deaths worldwide).
• Of course, I could list a multitude of other changes and developments…
• Oh, and the Queen is still on the throne!

SO much to chat about and debate. If we’re not careful, we’d find ourselves discussing the banned subject of politics… oh, and ‘Black Lives Matter’!!
Probably best just to talk about sport… I think it’s his ‘round’!
Photos: Mom and Dad (1947?); Extract (page 15!) from one of Dad’s letters/reflections, written dated 21 February 1992 (5 months before he died); Dad and me (1949).

march-april 2021 books...

Born To Run (Christopher McDougall): This is our next “Bloke’s Books” bookgroup book. As the title suggests, it’s about running. The author, who is a runner himself, sets out to find Mexico’s Tarahumara Indians, reputed to be the “world’s greatest distance runners, who can go for hundreds of miles without rest while enjoying every minute of it” (according to the book’s blurb). The Tarahumara tribe run virtually barefoot and part of the book deals with anthropology to running shoe design - looking at running in hunter/gatherer societies right up to the “modern money-making machines of Nike” (Nike comes in for a LOT of criticism!). A small group of the world's top ultra-runners (and the author) make the treacherous journey into the canyons to try to learn the tribe's secrets and then take them on over a course 50 miles long. Once I’d finished the book, I decided to check out some of the reviews: “A bible for the barefoot running community” (Ben Fogle); “A really phenomenal book” (Jon Stewart); “Inspiring… destined to become a classic” (Sir Ranulph Fiennes). Well, while I found some aspects of the book interesting (especially some of medical insights and the running endurance of the Tarahumara), I’m afraid it was definitely NOT my kind of book! I found the writing style absolutely appalling. Much of it consists of made-up/surmised conversations, thoughts or descriptions… I could quote endless examples, but here are just two minor samples: “Dr Bramble then took a closer look at the skulls and got a jolt. ‘Holy moly!’ he thought. ‘There’s something going on here’…” or “’Whoa, whoa, hang on,’ Fisher interjected. ‘You sure you’re fast enough for these guys?’ ‘You’re not doing me any favour,’ Shaggy shrugged. ‘Who else you got lined up?’ ‘Yeah,’ Fisher said. ‘Okay, then.’ And just as he’d promised, Shaggy was hollering and waving by the aid station the next afternoon when Juan and Martimano came running into the 50-mile turnaround…”. Yes, it’s a passionate book about running… but, frankly, as far as I was concerned it was a book for ‘running geeks’ and definitely not me.
Hamnet (Maggie O’Farrell): This is an extraordinary book. It’s a fictionalised account of Shakespeare’s son Hamlet, who died when he was just 11 years of age in 1596. Four years later, Shakespeare wrote a play and gave its tragic hero a variation of his dead son’s name. The central character of the book – given the name Agnes – is Hamnet’s mother… the playwright’s wife. Shakespeare himself is never referred to by name, merely as ‘her husband’, ‘the father’ or ‘the Latin tutor’. In fact, in their small local sphere it is Agnes who is the celebrity, known in the town for being a somewhat mysterious, gifted herbalist – it took some time before Shakespeare had started to become recognised for his writing in London… and for his growing reputation to percolate ‘up’ to Stratford. It must have been a hard time for Shakespeare’s wife and his children… O’Farrell describes the playwright’s visits home to Stratford from London as occurring only perhaps two or three times a year. The heart of the story focuses on grieving for a child (especially at a time when disease was rife and childhood death common) and I found the episode of Hamnet’s illness and his mother’s and his sisters’ anguish immediately following his death incredibly moving (and quite beautifully written). I’d previously read two other novels by O’Farrell (‘Instructions For A Heatwave’ and ‘After You’d Gone’) and look forward to reading others in the future. A very impressive book.
The Land Where Lemons Grow (Helena Attlee): This is my Storysmith bookgroup’s latest book (on the general theme of ‘travel’). Attlee has been a regular visitor of Italy’s loveliest cities and landscapes for over 40 years and has written books, magazine features and led specialist tours there for many years. As the book’s title implies, this is a book fundamentally about Italy’s citrus fruit. It’s much, much more than just a travel book… it’s an evocative combination of nature, gardens, science, food, recipes, business, geography, history, places and people. Italy is perhaps my favourite country in the world and, so, at a time when none of us can travel, this gentle, fascinating, colourful book was, for me, a rather lovely substitute. Attlee is an excellent writer and her knowledge of Italy (and, in particular, its gardens and citrus fruit) is extensive and fascinating. The details are almost academic in nature and yet she’s able to mix them with a story-teller’s magic. It painted a wonderful picture of the landscapes of the Italian Riviera, Tuscany and Sicily… but they were brought to life by her accounts of the people she met en route (and their ingenuity and determination to succeed against the odds). I suspect I might be in a minority when it comes to our bookgroup, but I loved this book!
There Are Places In The World Where Rules Are Less Important Than Kindness (Carlo Rovelli): I read, and was impressed by, Rovelli’s “Seven Brief Lessons on Physics” some 4 years ago. He is a theoretical physicist with a wonderful communicator and gives explanations of the most complicated theories in simple, everyday language. This book comprises nearly 50 newspaper/magazine articles covering a wide range of subjects – from classical philosophy, the meaning of science, the role of religion, to the nature of black holes (and much, much more). Philosophy is a common theme in the book and I have to admit that the understanding of philosophy is something I struggle with consistently. So, while many of the essays were well above my ‘head’ (eg. dealing with such matters as ‘Aristocle the Scientist’, ‘Do Flying Donkeys Exist?’, ‘Dante, Einstein and the Three-Sphere’… not to mention the three articles about Black Holes), there were also many of them that I found both fascinating and thought-provoking (eg. ‘Certainty and Global Warming’, ‘Why I am an Atheist’ and ‘A day in Africa’). Compelling, thought-provoking and very readable.
Wilderness Taunts (Ian Adams): This is the book (by my great friend Ian) I’ve been using for my daily reflections during Lent. It’s the second time I’ve used it. Among other things, it deals with the challenges of trying to maintain a sense of being hopeful individuals in a demanding world. The reflections and taunts are frequently harsh and demanding… and, for me, in my own current ‘spiritual wilderness’, hugely testing. I can’t say that they have ‘renewed my faith’, but they have provided me with perspective and fresh insights and, crucially, a sense of hope. Ian is very good with words(!) and has a writing style that I find hugely effective and appealing.