april 2026 books…

Inside The Wave (Helen Dunmore): I’ve read this book countless times – poems written at the end of Dunmore’s life (many from her hospital bed). Full of life’s reflections and memories. Another one of my early morning poetry ponderings. Beautiful and moving (as always).
Sincerity (Carol Ann Duffy): Another early morning re-read. Duffy is an acknowledged ‘top poet’, but I’ve never really particularly enjoyed her writing (despite having read four books of her poetry). This one “gazes out from the autumn of life” (in the words of the book’s cover) on scenes from her childhood, adolescence and adulthood… and “taking stock of a world in turmoil”. Sadly, for me, while I acknowledge her sincerity and sentiments, I once again found that her words didn’t really resonate for me.
The Places In Between (Rory Stewart): This fascinating book (first published in 2004) tells of Stewart’s remarkable journey at the beginning of 2002 on foot across Afghanistan, from Herat to Kabul – immediately following the defeat of the Taliban. Ridiculously (to the likes of me!), he chose to do so through the ice and snow of winter and, if that wasn’t hard enough, took the harshest, most inaccessible mountainous route (following the Mogul Emperor Babur)(Stewart had spent the previous 16 months walking through Iran, Pakistan and Nepal!). The journey took him 36 days (covering in excess of 25km each day!) and he endeavoured to record events in his diary at the end of each day (as well as sketching some of the people he stayed with along the way). The dangers and difficulties of the undertaking proved quite as intimidating as one would expect – unexploded mines, mountainous terrain, extreme weather, bandits/hostile factions (and further complicated by Stewart's acquisition of a large, elderly, toothless and semi-wild dog!). Stewart’s ability to speak and understand various languages was obviously crucial but, despite the difficulties, his survival was ultimately dependent on the kindness and hospitality of strangers in the villages they passed, who were mostly desperately poor. A rather wonderful book.
Greengates (RC Sherriff): Another Persephone book. I decided to read this book (first published in 1936) after previously having read and enjoyed Sherriff’s ‘The Fortnight In September’. The novel starts in the early 1920s, on the day Tom Baldwin retires (aged 58) from his job as Chief Cashier of an insurance company in London. Tom+Edith Baldwin live what appear to be pretty boring lives and the prospect of retirement seems somewhat depressing to them both. They have no family, no real friends, and very few interests. Edith finds the prospect of having Tom at home all day particularly challenging. But then, out of the blue, while re-tracing a walk they used to take in the early years of their marriage, they find that a new small housing estate is being planned close by… and they end up deciding to take the bold decision to sell up and move into one of these new houses… and the move transforms and revitalises their lives (new friends, new interests et al). It’s a ridiculously gentle, comfortable, feel-good tale of the ‘olden days’ – somewhat over-romanticised and idyllic - but, nevertheless, a welcome relief from some of today’s current horrors.  
And When Did You Last See Your Father? (Blake Morrison): I’d previously read this book twice before (first published 1993 – I first read it in 1994), but the last time was 15 years ago. It felt somewhat strange to be reading it again. Although Morrison’s father and my dad were very different characters (middle-class doctor/working-class printer), there were odd aspects of their stories that overlapped. Morrison’s father died in 1991, my dad died in 1992 (although my dad was a little older than Morrison); and Blake Morrison is a couple of years younger than me. It’s an incredibly honest, unflinching book. Morrison’s father was something of a charismatic, yet complicated man (“a loving father, a boastful ‘sexual charmer’, a skilled doctor, and a difficult man with a penchant for reckless driving and saving money”)… but, despite the obvious differences, the book triggered all sorts of memories of my own father and, at times, our own somewhat difficult relationship (and all those things I failed to ask him about!). What it also did was to remind me of my father’s final days – a time when I wanted to ask him about his life and his memories – but a time when my dad seemed in denial about his life coming to an end. A rather special book – and a compelling memoir.