july-august 2024 books…

Alive, Alive Oh! (Diana Athill): I’m a great admirer of Athill’s writing and have read several of her books. In this one, written in her 97^th year (first published in 2015), she recalls the moments in her life that have sustained her… from vivid memories of her 1920s childhood; her experience of WW2 to stories of travel; her loves; the miscarriage, aged 43, that almost ended her life; and candid, often very funny, reflections of what it’s like to be old.
Doppelganger (Naomi Klein): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (theme: non-fiction female authors). Klein began writing this book (several years ago) after people were constantly mistaking her for the conspiracist, Naomi Wolf, but she ends up weaving her way (in the words of book reviewer Paula Lacey) through the world of “anti-vaxxers, wellness influencers and alt-right demagogues, attempting to make sense of the conspiratorial turn in contemporary politics”.Much of what Klein describes was entirely foreign to me (no surprises there!). So much stuff was that initially over my head… QR codes, Gettr, Rumble, Mirror World, diagonalists, Shadow Lands, personal branding?? She clearly regards Steve Bannon and Trump as major ‘concerns’ (HER descriptions are somewhat stronger as she delves into the ecosystem of Wolf, Bannon and Trump!). Things have become far more complicated than in the days of my youth. How the internet has fostered misinformation. The problem in this age of big corporations, climate crisis, Covid lockdowns, online influencers and collapsed trust in mainstream politics and media is that everybody has their suspicions that they are being lied to and manipulated (and, of course, they’re right!). It’s a long book (some 350 pages of small font) and I wonder how many of my bookgroup will have finished it in the month between our gatherings - some of us, (ie. me!) don’t have jobs to go to? It’s wide-ranging in the subjects covered; it’s insightful, academic and complex in content… and, frankly, pretty scary as far as the measures that are already ‘available’ to distort our knowledge, understanding of the world and, ultimately, our politics. Towards the end of the book, she talks about how we might find our way back from the current despair – but I wasn’t altogether convinced! It’s an impressive, compelling, disturbing book.
The Island Of Missing Trees (Elif Shafak): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup book. Published in 2021, it’s tale of love and division set between postcolonial Cyprus and London, exploring themes of generational trauma and belonging… through different timelines. The story relates to the divided island (the Turkish-controlled north of the island and the Greek-controlled south) and the conflicts of the 1950/60s (I can recall a handful of Greek Cypriot children moved to my junior school in the late 1950s), which eventually resulted in the Turkish invasion of 1974. Kostas and Defne Kazantzakis are young lovers in a painfully divided Cyprus – one Greek and Christian, the other Turkish and Muslim. They subsequently move to England, but continue to pay the emotional legacy of the past. The story continues partly through the eyes of their 16 year-old daughter Ada (who has never been to Cyprus)… and also features a fig tree as one of the book’s main narrators! It’s a love story set against the anger, divisions, hate and brutality of conflict. It’s about immigration, lost lives, memories and coping with the aftermath of history. It reminded me of the awful happenings in the ongoing, present-day Israel-Palestine – with all of its similar brutal legacies. In his review of the book, Robert Macfarlane describes the novel “that rings with… compassion for the overlooked and the under-loved, for those whom history has exiled, excluded or separated”… which I think is a far description. It’s an important, compelling book about generational trauma and I enjoyed reading it. Did I love it? Well, not quite… I found its magical-realist style somewhat off-putting and over-sentimental at times for my taste (and I’m someone who is easily ‘moved’!).
The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr): Many of my ‘religious’ friends regard Rohr as something of a champion when it comes to ‘unlocking’ faith issues. Personally, despite having read a few books of his over the years, he’s never quite ‘done it’ for me. In my ongoing spiritual wilderness (and having listened in to a recent Proost podcast), I decided to give Rohr ‘another go’ and bought this book (second-hand and full of underlined texts from a previous reader!). In it, he explores the following: “We may feel we know who Jesus was, but who was Christ?”. Rohr is a decent, wise, intelligent, articulate man and I actually found sections of the book quite helpful (and I loved that he FREQUENTLY used the words “in my opinion” when making comment - I SO often feel that I’m being preached at in the ‘spiritual’ books I read… or by things that many people say to me). Inevitably, I suppose (well, for me, in my spiritual wilderness), the book is written from the perspective of a Christian ‘believer’ and I frequently found myself shaking my head and saying: “but, hang on, that assumes X or Y…”. But, hey, I was re-reading Mary Oliver’s beautiful poetry book “Devotions” at the same time as this Rohr book… and found that they frequently seemed to be expressing similar things… which, as a huge lover of Oliver’s writing, must say something positive about my attitude towards Rohr’s work.
Call For The Dead (John Le Carré): First published in 1961, this was Le Carré’s first published novel and, obviously therefore, the first to feature secret agent George Smiley. I still find it odd that he was allowed to publish this book while he was still working in British Intelligence (but what do I know?). A Foreign Office civil servant has killed himself and Smiley realises that the powers that be will set him up to take the blame. This is a tense, clever spy novel… which gives a hint of the rather wonderful espionage thrillers Le Carré will go on to write.  

john hopkins at beacon hall…

Last night (thanks to my three lovely daughters who gave me gig vouchers for my birthday), I went along to see Jon Hopkins in concert at the Bristol Beacon (formerly Colston Hall). It was the first time I’d been there since the Beacon’s extensive renovations. I’d seen Hopkins perform several years ago when he was teamed up with King Creosote back (in 2011, I think) and again when they came to the beautiful isle of Iona in 2012, when they performed in the tiny library there (I was volunteering on the island with the Iona Community for two months at the time). The seating capacity was probably just 35 and it was a sell-out gig(!). It proved to be a memorable, entertaining concert – in part because they’d spent the afternoon at the Argyll Hotel being plied with countless triple gin-and-tonics (which continued right through the performance)!  
Last night’s concert was VERY different… 

Hopkins’ music has ‘moved on’ somewhat from those days (understatement!) – including working with Brian Eno and Coldplay – to become an acknowledged electronic artist and producer boasting an output (quoting from the Beacon’s blurb) “that flows from rugged techno to transcendent choral music, solo acoustic piano and psychedelic ambient, the Mercury Prize nominated Immunity (2013) and the Grammy-nominated Singularity (2018), two intense, ambitious albums of spiritually-minded techno and ambient tracks, were among the decade’s most lauded electronic albums”.
Firstly, I was probably the oldest person there. It was non-stop; high volume; big bass; wall of sound; massive colour (lighting engineers seem to be the new gods); enthusiastic, throbbing audience… and Hopkins on his own at the front manipulating everything on his synthesizer keyboard/drum machine (or whatever it is he uses!). I have to admit, it was the first such gig that I’d attended (Hopkins has travelled a long, long way in the last 12 years or so – without me following his journey). Being an old codger, I spent an awful of the time wondering what the high volume was doing to the eardrums of the people standing up (very) close to the amplifiers!!
Did I enjoy it? Well, yes, I absolutely did… even though the ‘music’ was not my sort of thing. I found it something of a mesmerising experience. Simon+Garfunkel it was not!!
PS: It was very good to see ‘Big Jeff’ (a Bristol music icon who regularly attends over 300 gigs a year) in the ‘front row’ of the audience… despite all his health problems after being badly burnt in a domestic fire three years ago.
PPS: It was also lovely to meet up briefly with Stu and Iris before the concert started (we’d all booked to see Hopkins, completely oblivious that we’d all be attending)… they were standing, while I was sitting(!) in a somewhat cramped seat on the ‘Lower Tier’ gallery.
Photo: Some ‘mash-up’ pics from last night.

chasing the sun…

I went along to the Watershed last night (together with great friends Sarah and Dave) to watch a film about cycling. Nothing to do with the Tour de France or professional bike racing… this was simply a documentary film about lots of cyclists endeavouring to ride 205 miles coast-to-coast (UK South event: Thames Estuary to Weston-super-Mare) in a day – the longest/summer solstice day.
It’s NOT about speed or being first across the line. It’s about how much of a land it’s possible to see, to feel, by bicycle in a single day (in 1973 an American university professor set out to discover the most energy efficient creature on earth… and he concluded that it was a human being on a bicycle!).
It’s now an annual event – and there are other similar coast-to-coast rides organised on the same day in Italy, Scotland and Ireland (with others being planned elsewhere). Ollie Moore (the person who first came up with the idea) views the event as giving people an opportunity to get away from their screens and daily clutter and creating a “space for thinking” and re-attuning the senses to being surrounded by nature and allowing individuals to see things they wouldn't normally see. Moore was inspired by Richard Long, the English sculptor/land artist – who attended last night’s film (Long would document his walks through nature by opening up his senses, drinking in the sights, sounds and sensations he was feeling on his bike or his walks). It’s also about the environment and ‘saving the planet’.
The film has interviews with people who have discovered (or re-discovered) the health and environmental benefits of cycling in their own cities, towns or villages… and many who are passionate advocates for ensuring greater provision of dedicated cycling space on our heavily-trafficked streets.
The film includes rather wonderful footage of (and conversations with) a couple of cyclists participating in the coast-to-coast ride – a woman who had never previously contemplated cycling any such sort of distance and a man who talked about how cycling had massively helped his mental health.
It’s a passionate, joyful film and I hugely enjoyed it.  

june 2024 books...

Heart of Darkness (Joseph Conrad): This our next ‘Blokes’ bookgroup book. It was first published in 1899 and tells the story of Marlow, a seaman and wanderer, who recounts his physical and psychological journey up the heart of the River Congo in search of an infamous ivory trader, Kurtz. It’s about the Victorian world of adventure, exploration, discovery… and exploitation. It’s a tough read in more ways than one – there’s a sense of the physical and mental struggle of battling through the jungle, but also of the various powers-that-be exploiting Africa for its riches and resources while leaving little or nothing to the Africans who are labouring under them. There are lots of shameful references of the native Africans as being ‘savages’ (indeed, Kurtz himself had been working on behalf of the ‘International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs’). Through Marlow, Conrad shows the horrors of colonialism and concludes that the Europeans, not the Africans, are the true savages.
Politics On The Edge (Rory Stewart): This will probably turn out to be my ‘Book of the Year’. I’ve long been an admirer of his writing (his book ‘The Marches’ is a particular favourite) and his observations (political or otherwise). You will probably recall that Stewart is a former MP and Minister who was sacked from the Conservative Party by Prime Minister Johnson (for voting against the government). It’s a compelling political autobiography – a brilliant, uncompromising, unfailingly honest portrait of the realities of life in and around Westminster. It’s well-written and hugely entertaining (and somewhat depressing) account of dysfunctional government. Again and again, one is reminded that, because of the farcical ‘first-past-the-post’ electoral system, the arrogance and self-interest of politicians (and in many cases, the dishonesty) seems to be the fundamental aim. I could quote endlessly from the book, but will limit myself to the following two extracts: “I hated how politicians used the pompous grandeur of the Palace of Westminster to pretend to a power they did not have, and to take credit for things they had not done”… and “Nine years in politics had been a shocking education in lack of seriousness. I had begun by noticing how grotesquely unqualified so many of us were for the offices we were given. I had found, working for Liz Truss, a culture that prized campaigning over careful governing, opinion polls over detailed policy debates, announcements over implementation. I felt that we had collectively failed to respond adequately to every major challenge of the past 15 years: the financial crisis, the collapse of the liberal ‘global order’, public despair, and the polarisation of Brexit”. I can’t recommend this brilliant book highly enough.
Foul+Fair (Steve Couch): Author Steve is a good friend from our old days when we lived in Thame, Oxfordshire and I was honoured (and very surprised) to be asked to give my thoughts on the book in its pre-published form (no pressure then!). Key characters are an English teacher whose career is in tatters, but who also coaches a boys’ football team and a single parent police officer who is worried about her career and her son. They both struggle with trying to balance ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘getting the right result’. As a former Sunday League player and as someone who has watched one of his grandsons play in their local side on a number of occasions (and also working as a Deputy House of Head at a comprehensive school after retiring from my architectural practice!), I really enjoyed re-reading the final form of this book (350 pages in 1.5 days gives you a sense of how readable/page-turning this book is!). The story felt entirely authentic. I ‘recognised’ many of the characters and situations… not to mention the ‘overzealous’ team managers, embarrassing loud-mouthed parents, intimidating pupils and the career-obsessed teachers! Very enjoyable.
Late Cuts (Vic Marks): These days, we regard Vic Marks as being one of cricket’s ‘elder statesmen’ but, in my first architectural job in Oxford in the mid-1970s, I recall spending many summer lunchtimes watching him (and the likes of Imran Khan) play at University Parks… and now realise that he was a mere ‘youngster’ (he’s 6 years younger than me!). It’s an entertaining, wide-ranging reflection on the game encompassing his observations on such matters as captains, partnerships, declarations, press conferences and the like - and his contention that the County Championship is the most important aspect of the English game and his despair that its conclusion is relegated to the cold, damp days of the end of September (I just MIGHT have made similar remarks over recent years!). The book (published in 2022… and written between the first and third lockdowns!) is something of a celebration of the game (despite his views of ‘The Hundred’!) in the words of the book’s cover: taking us “beyond the boundary rope, sharing the parts of the game fans don’t get to see, from the food… to the politics of the dressing room… it’s the literary equivalent of an afternoon in the sun at a county outground…”. Perfect summer reading for me!
Charleston: A Bloomsbury House+Garden (Quentin Bell+Virginia Nicholson): Moira bought this lovely book in 1999 but, although I’ve perused its beautifully-illustrated pages on a very regular basis over the years, I realised that I hadn’t actually READ much of it! Quentin Bell (younger son of Clive and Vanessa Bell) was 85 when he started writing the book but, after presenting the first draft, became too ill to continue – so his elder daughter, Virginia Nicholson, completed it. Painters Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant moved to Charleston Farmhouse, in East Sussex, in 1916… and, over the next 50 years, it became the country meeting place for the group of artists, writers and intellectuals known as Bloomsbury (with the artists decorating the walls, doors and furniture). It’s an account of an artistic, somewhat bohemian, creative collection of artists and intellectuals meeting/living together at the house (albeit rather privileged individuals who don’t necessarily have to scrape a living in order to be able to produce their art and writing). Fascinating and stimulating.

general election 2024...

I started writing this in a café yesterday (18 June) and seemed to recall that 18 June was a general election day many years ago. Having subsequently checked with Wikipedia, my vague memory proved to be correct. Funny how you remember such things – although the fact it was my first time voting in a general election might have spiked my memory (1970)! Edward Heath was PM.
Ironically, 54 years later, if the imminent election had been scheduled for this September, it would also have marked granddaughter Iris’s first time of voting. Sadly, she’s missing out.
I’m afraid that I’ve tried to avoid general election coverage this time around.
None of the parties… or their leaders… or their policies enthuse or encourage me. I cannot believe that, at a time of acute Climate Crisis, there is so few environmental issues being discussed.
Somewhat bizarrely, I’ve read three ‘political’ books since the 2024 election was announced (by Shirley Williams, Jon Snow and Rory Stewart). They’ve all been insightful in their way – particularly Rory Stewart’s. Stewart (former MP and Conservative government minister… and a member of the Labour Party as a teenager!) in his book ‘Politics on the Edge’ is quite revealing about the way we are ‘governed’. I could quote extensively from his book, but the following two extracts will illustrate the state of things:
“Cameron’s government continued to be an elective dictatorship, propped up by the quasi-secret service known as the whips. While most MPs spoke publicly and loudly, facing the opposition benches, the whips hid behind the Speaker’s Chair, and their gaze was turned not to the opposition benches but inwards to their own, whispering and scribbling down examples of loyalty and insolence, helpfulness or foolishness, to report to their chief…” and how Stewart “hated how politicians used the pompous grandeur of the Palace of Westminster to pretend to a power they did not have, and to take credit for things they had not done…”.
It may just be the ageing process(?!), but I don’t think I’ve ever been more depressed by the state of the country and the way we are governed than I am now. For so many of us, the (first past the post) system is broken… an individual’s voice goes unheard… your vote is very unlikely to matter. Politics, these days, seems to be all about power and prestige – with governments run by a relatively small group of career-focussed MPs (many of them public-school educated - in 2019, two-thirds of cabinet ministers were public school educated) with all parliamentary votes strictly controlled by the Party Whips. There are exceptions, of course, but self-interest seems to be high on the list of their priorities. Lobbying your own MP is likely to have very little effect of what policies are actually adopted.
But don’t you worry your pretty little heads because, if you’re lucky, disgraced former prime minister Johnson will write to you encouraging you to vote Tory and, of course, Mr Farage has pledged that he will “run for PM in 2029”.
Is this REALLY the best we can come up with?

may-june 2024 books…

The Love Song Of Miss Queenie Hennessy (Rachel Joyce): I first read ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’ back in 2013 (and have since re-read it and seen the film)… it tells of Fry walking the length of England to ‘save’ Queenie Hennessy before she dies. Ru passed on this companion follow-up book (published in 2014) to me – giving Queenie’s story/love song… confessing secrets hidden for 20 years. It’s set in a hospice (and I really got to love the residents… and the sister nuns who run it). It’s a beautifully-written, uplifting, profound, thought-provoking, funny and moving novel… and I really enjoyed it.
Maureen Fry And The Angel Of The North (Rachel Joyce): Ru also passed on this additional ‘Unlikely Pilgrimage’ companion book (published in 2022) and so it seemed only right to follow up Queenie’s story with Harold Fry’s wife’s tale! It’s set 10 years on from Harold’s iconic walk and, this time, it’s his wife Maureen’s turn to make a journey. Maureen hardly features in the first two books and, whenever she does, comes across as a somewhat awkward, prickly, isolated character. This book is a moving portrait of a woman who still hasn’t come to terms with grief (*no spoilers*)… it’s about pain, but also about redemption.
Wolf Pack (Will Dean): This is the fifth Will Dean book I’ve read (in other words, I’ve read all five Tuva Moodyson mysteries). The action’s set around Rose Farm, Sweden; it’s home to a group of survivalists, completely cut off from the outside world… until a young woman goes missing within the perimeter of the farm compound. There’s a heinous crime and Tuva (a reporter on a local newspaper) searches for answers and attempts to talk her way inside the tight-knit group to learn more… but finds herself in danger of the pack turning against her. I think I’d better leave it there – will she make her way back to safety so she can expose the truth? In many ways, these Tuva Mysteries are all the same – the settings are the same (isolated communities set in wild elk forests); bleak weather; strange happenings; strange people; and, of course, Tuva exposing herself to danger (again!). Another very ‘enjoyable’ Scandi Noir novel… I really like the central character; the relatively short chapters suit my reading style; and I like its pace, plot and atmosphere.
Politics Is For People (Shirley Williams): With a general election looming, I thought it would be interesting to read Williams’s political views from more than 40 years ago (the book was first published in 1981; oldies will recall that she was a former Labour minister and a founder member of the Social Democrats). I’ve always had a high regard for Williams’s political convictions/attitudes and the book proved to be a fascinating, forthright, intelligent read. There is far too much detail in the book to enable an adequate summary in this brief review. Of course, today’s is a very different world – the internet/technological advances; social effects of new technology; climate change issues weren’t really on the agenda; and the like – but it was sobering to be reminded that some things don’t change much at all… we still have wars and conflict; poverty; society’s haves and have-nots; class and segregation; huge social/welfare challenges; housing; health+social care; education; cost of living crisis. Immigration hardly had a mention – except that it was needed to boost employment in certain sectors. Ironically, she was also dismissive of marginal voices calling for the UK’s withdrawal from EC(!)… “in an interdependent world countries cannot opt out”… “there would be a virtual cessation of international investment in Britain” and “Britain’s significance to her other friends and allies would seriously diminish”. In education, she was advocating ‘apprentices for everyone’. She was saddened by ongoing conservative governments’ entirely predictable support for increases in public spending on law+order and defence, while wanting to reduce expenditure on education, health and social services etc; she was critical of the remoteness, bureaucracy, conservatism and incompetence of many aspects of government (and political institutions). She called for the devolution of power and decentralization in government, big business, and unions (in three sweeping proposals, she suggested a ten-year plan to bring the welfare state into the future, a Marshall Plan to assist the Third World, and greater disarmament after a period of successful détente (oh, the irony!). It’s a wide-ranging, stimulating book.
The Girls Of Slender Means (Muriel Spark): This novel (first published in 1963) is set in London in 1945, where the city is coming to terms with a war that is grinding to a halt, and focusses on the tightly-knit world of a Kensington hostel (the May of Teck Club) - an establishment that existed "for the Pecuniary Convenience and Social Protection of Ladies of Slender Means below the age of Thirty Years, who are obliged to reside apart from their Families in order to follow an Occupation in London". It’s a comic (and tragic), beautifully-written book, full of hilarious descriptions of the hostel’s inhabitants (and their visitors) – although it did take me a little time to ‘get into’. But, at the same time, there is a strong sense of what these young women have had to contend with during the dark days of war and now, as they start to emerge into peacetime, there is a mood of freedom and a fresh start BUT also a strong feeling of uncertainty and half-perceived notions about what their lives might become; fearless and frightened at the same time.

april-may 2024 books…

Maigret Stonewalled (Georges Simenon): I like the Maigret character – although I think this is only the fourth Maigret mystery I’ve read (first published in 1931). On the face of it, it appears to be a simple enough case… a commercial traveller killed in a hotel bedroom on the Loire and yet Maigret senses that things aren’t quite as they appear. It transpires that, for the best part of 18 years, the victim had led an elaborate double life… until a man emerges demanding money. The plot is quite complicated (I lost my way a few times!) and involves, among other things, a reversal of identity and much ingenuity. An enjoyable, entertaining read.
Big Caesars and Little Caesars (Ferdinand Mount): For two years, Mount was head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank/Number 10’s Policy Unit… so I took on this book with somewhat mixed feelings. But the preface immediately reassured me: “The world seems to be full of self-proclaimed Strong Men strutting their stuff, or waiting in the wings… How can these uncouth figures with their funny hair, their rude manners and their bad jokes take such a hold on the popular imagination?”. It’s a fascinating, intelligent, “wry field guide to autocrats” (as The Guardian’s Rachael Cooke puts it) covering a whole host of ‘Caesars’ – from Julius Caesar, Oliver Cromwell, Napoleon, Bolivar, Mussolini, Salazar, De Gaulle, Indira Gandhi to the likes of Trump and Johnson. He’s particularly damning about Trump and Johnson - although he doesn’t regard them as being so exceptional as we might imagine. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found these sections the most interesting (but also pretty alarming… especially the likely prospect of a Trump second term). Mount leaves the reader with a sense that although Johnson has gone (we think), we need to keep our eyes peeled for others just like him already waiting in the wings. It’s a sobering book from a very experienced and knowledgeable political journalist. I found it quite compelling.  
A Postillion Struck By Lightning (Dirk Bogarde): This is the first volume of Bogarde’s autography (first published in 1977). I first read this book in 1990 and went on to read volumes 2+3… I enjoyed them all enormously and thought it was about time I re-visited it (after 34 years!!). It’s a beautifully-written book, full of funny, sad anecdotes and charm… evoking his idyllic Sussex childhood, his tough and lonely initiation into the harsher realities at a Glasgow technical school and the early days as an aspiring artist (the book contains a lot of his ‘scribbles’) and then as an actor up until he goes to Hollywood. Second time around, I found it a rather lovely, funny and nostalgic read… (although I admit to getting a little bored by some his early childhood recollections). I think I need to re-read volume 2+3 again.
The State Of Us (Jon Snow): Jon Snow is something of a hero of mine (AND he and I gathered coal together from the coal cellar each morning in 1990 when we were both staying in apartments at Ardtornish in the western highlands! I KNOW!!)(somewhat ridiculously, I noticed that I’d added a note in the Bogarde book explaining that I read it while on holiday at Ardtornish!!). This is a book of his reflections on the life of the nation over the past five decades. I found it a rather wonderful, honest book. His father was a bishop and he had a public school education at a choral school (he’s somewhat embarrassed by this and highly critical of what he regards the “privileged arrogance” arising from a public school background). Remarkably, he admits to not knowing anybody who was state-educated until he went to Scarborough Tech (and from there he went on to a short-lived degree experience at Liverpool Uni – he was kicked out for demonstrating against Apartheid). He admits to being far from academic (his A-Level grades were C, D and E) and clearly had some ‘good breaks’ early in his journalistic career. He’s passionate about inequality and multi-culturalism… and these passions extend to the appalling background to the Grenfell Tower tragedy, Brexit, unfairness and injustice and the beauty of Iran. In his time, he interviewed every prime minister since Thatcher (about whom, perhaps surprisingly, he is complimentary – unlike the likes of Mr Johnson!). I found it a really compelling, encouraging and optimistic story about our society. I highly recommend it to you!
The Queen's Gambit (Walter Tevis): This book, first published in 1983, is our next Storysmith bookgroup book… based on a sporting theme (chess was selected!). We used to play chess at the end of term at school and other pupils were always keen to play me – essentially because they knew they could beat me! Essentially, it’s about an 8-year-old American girl in an orphanage who is taught to play chess by the school’s janitor and ends up (spoiler alert: with some ‘issues’ on the way!) forging a new life for herself by progressing to the top of the US chess rankings… and beyond. A novel about chess is not my ideal kind of book (although I’m now something of an expert on opening playing strategies – Albion Counter Gambit, Queen’s Gambit, Sicilian etc etc!)… and yet I found this to be something of a compelling page-turner. My only real reservations relate to the somewhat too-good-to-be-true, rags-to-riches fantasy of it all. An enjoyable read nevertheless.

that they may face the rising sun…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon to watch Pat Collins’ film “That They May Face The Rising Sun”… based on John McGahern’s final novel (which I’ve yet to read – but I HAVE read and loved four of McGahern’s other books).
The film captures a year in the life of a rural, lakeside community in late 1970s Ireland.
Joe (Barry Ward) and Kate (Anna Bederke) have returned from London to live and work in a small, close-knit community in a remote lakeside setting in rural Ireland, close to where Joe grew up. He’s a writer and she’s an artist who retains part ownership of a London gallery. Can the harsh, simple farming life (shoehorned into their writer/artist lives) sustain them?
The film rather beautifully explores their lives (and those of their neighbours) and the rituals of work, play, community bonds and the passing seasons.
The Irish scenery is stunning (of course) and I loved the accompanying simple piano music/sounds of nature. The additional characters – Lalor Roddy (Patrick), Sean McGinley (Johnny), Phillip Dolan (Jamesie), Ruth McCabe (Mary), John Olohan (The Shah) and Brandan Conroy (Bill) are all rather wonderfully played.
I very much enjoyed the film – I thought the pace was beautifully apt… and somewhat similar to my experiences of reading McGahern’s impressive books.

polling day: ID required (and other political devices)...

I’m currently reading Ferdinand Mount’s book “Big Caesars and Little Caesars” (“how they rise and fall – from Julius Caesar to Boris Johnson”). As a former editor of ‘The Spectator’ and head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank, rest assured that he’s no liberal-lefty!!
It’s a fascinating book and well worth reading if you are ‘politically inclined’(!)…
But, with local elections taking place tomorrow (2 May), I thought his comments about the need for the electorate to produce photographic ID at the polling stations in order to cast their votes were timely reminders of one of the ways we’re being manipulated by the Conservative government - just one of five measures* he highlights (apologies for quoting at such length, but I think it’s important):
“Voter suppression:  
But of course in order to exercise power in this exuberant style, the Tories have to acquire power and hang on to it. The first priority is to win the upcoming general election, and prepare for the election after that. What is the best method of improving your chances? First, to adjust the boundaries of the constituencies to maximise the impact of your votes... Then, not only to encourage your voters to turn out by every possible means, but also to discourage the potential voters for the other side, either by preventing them from registering on the electoral roll or to make it difficult for them to cast their votes – so-called ‘voter suppression’. Thirdly, most flagrantly, by stuffing the ballot boxes with votes by people who don’t exist or have already voted or are not qualified to vote…
British general elections… have been remarkably free and fair for a long time – ever since voter personation and other dodges were finally eliminated in Northern Ireland. There has been no substantial evidence of fraud at any recent general elections. Yet the Tories’ 2019 election manifesto included this pledge: ‘We will protect the integrity of our democracy by introducing voter identification to vote at polling stations, stopping postal vote harvesting and measures to prevent any foreign interference with elections’.
All this, now contained in the Elections Act, is an egregious solution to a non-existent problem. It can have one purpose only: to suppress the votes of the poorer and less organised voters who are less likely to possess photo ID. When voter ID was made mandatory in Northern Ireland in 2002, the number of voters on the new register dropped by 120,000 or 10 per cent. This suspicion is confirmed by a second pledge, to make it easier for British expats to vote in parliamentary elections, expiates being plausibly thought far more likely to vote Tory, just as the worst off are more likely to vote Labour. Thus one set of voters whose fortunes do not depend on the actions of the UK is to be encouraged, while a far larger number of voters who do depend – often desperately – on what the British government does or does not do for them is to be discouraged. It is hard to imagine a more flagrant strategy to rig the result. It may be that as holding voter ID becomes more universal over the years, the adverse effect will diminish. But what is clear is that the MOTIVE behind the Elections Bill is to secure party advantage under the cloak of fairness.”
Believe me, I COULD have quoted far more extensively on this and other related subjects (eg. Trump and Johnson don’t emerge in Mount’s book in anything like a ‘good light’!).
Be afraid. Be very afraid!
PS: * The other measures Mount refers to (arising out of the Conservative manifesto for the  2019 general election) relate to the following: ‘Dissolving Parliament’; ‘Sacking MPs’; ‘Sacking civil servants’ and ‘Taming the judges’.

cricket: our summer game…

Yesterday, I went along to watch the final day of the county championship game between Gloucestershire and Middlesex at Bristol (just a 75 bus ride away from home).
It was very good to back watching some cricket again (my first game of the season) but, in truth, it felt a somewhat dispiriting game in so many ways.
Although the odds were clearly on the game ending in a draw, I’d actually thought there was a chance of an exciting finish… say with Gloucestershire chasing 250 runs to win in the afternoon?
Sadly, both captains seemed intent on NOT LOSING rather than pressing for a victory. Gloucestershire (admittedly minus one of their bowlers due to injury) set defensive fields all morning and Middlesex batted on far too long into the afternoon (why on earth didn’t they declare at lunchtime, some 280 runs ahead?). In the end, they left Gloucestershire to score 331 runs to win in 58 overs (5.7 runs/over)… Gloucestershire opted to simply see out the game and finished on 127-3.
Clearly, the cricket authorities see the one-day, 20Twenty and The Hundred games as their main opportunities to make money… which means that the traditional county championship games are horse-shoed into the start and end of the cricket season – which essentially means playing the bulk of championship games in April, May and September – reserving most of June, July and August for the money-spinning games.
Yesterday’s game at Bristol highlighted the stark reality (and perhaps the eventual demise?) of the 4-day game… there were fewer than 100 spectators (it might even have been as little as 50!?)… all wrapped in their waterproofs, fleeces, woolly hats (and even gloves)!
Whatsmore, so far this season, the county championship (in part because it’s being played during the worst weather months) has hardly set the sporting world on fire (understatement!). Out of the 34 games played in the two Divisions, 27 of them have resulted in draws!
Unless changes are made, I can’t see the county championship surviving another 10 years (at most!?).
It might just ‘see me out’, but it’ll mark the sad end of an era… and cricket will never be the same again.
PS: But, hey, on a positive note, I was delighted that I only had to pay £10 for my ticket (I think it’s usually £18-20)… Was this because it was the final day’s play? Whatever the reason, I commend Gloucestershire for the gesture.
Photograph: Your cricket correspondent captured the moment when Gloucestershire started their second innings: Dent c Davies b Helm 0!

march-april 2024 books…

The Farmer’s Wife (Helen Rebanks): I’ve previously read James Rebanks’ brilliant two books about his family’s lives, over several generations, as sheep farmers in the fells of the Lake District. This is his wife’s ‘take’ on their farming life… about the love and pride for the land they farm; for her family (they have four young children); for their way of life and all its trials, tribulations, frustrations and joys. She writes quite beautifully and honestly about the difficulties of keeping things going despite the lack of money, but also about the endless improvisation and determination to achieve their dreams. She’s a full-time mother (with an art degree) dealing with all the day-to-day responsibilities of the school run and school liaison, caring for the domestic animals, cooking, farm administration (including all the form-filling, licences etc) and much, much more. There’s a section in the book in which she describes when the family were effectively ‘cut off’ for several days (no electricity, internet etc) during heavy snowstorms and their resourceful in staying safe/warm and nourished – whilst, at the same time, ensuring that their animals are tracked down and fed – a sobering reminder of what a hard life farming can be. Although I only briefly thumbed through them, the book also contains a whole host of recipes! A very impressive, powerful and frequently quite moving book.
Piccadily Jim (PG Wodehouse): I’m a great admirer of Wodehouse’s writing but must admit that I found this novel (first published in 1917) someone disappointing. The story combines English and American settings and characters (I never find his ‘take’ on Americans anything like as amusing as his descriptions of the English upper classes) and the plot is farcically complicated and, to my mind, unconvincing. It involves impersonations, spies, explosives and kidnapping plans that go awry. As you would imagine with Wodehouse, it’s frequently funny… but also ridiculously far-fetched. Not one of my favourites.
Not A River (Selva Almada): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book (theme: a book from this year’s International Booker Prize Longlist). This from the cover’s blurb: “Three men go out fishing, returning to a favourite spot on a river in Argentina, despite their memories of a terrible accident there years earlier. As a long, sultry day passes, they drink and cook and talk and dance, and try to overcome the ghosts of their past. But they are outsiders, and this intimate, peculiar moment also puts them at odds with the inhabitants of this watery universe, both human and otherwise. The forest presses close, and violence seems inevitable, but can another tragedy be avoided?”. In some ways the men’s pursuit of a massive ray reminded me of Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” – the book has a similar foreboding atmosphere and sense of anxiety; here, we’re slowly shown glimpses back to the previous tragedy, one that has left its disturbing scars. The novel’s pace is somewhat leisurely (it’s certainly not relaxed!), but its setting of the calm river and the ominous woods simply reinforces the tension. I found it a very impressive book.
The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle): I’m no great admirer of Sherlock Holmes’ books, and certainly haven’t read one for some 20 years or more (and actually find the character consistently annoying!), but found this on the shelf of the Oxfam bookshop… This book, first published in 1950, consists of eleven ‘exciting adventures’ (according to the book’s cover!). It’s all very dated, predictable in style and general content (and, at times, somewhat ridiculous), but it makes for easy reading.
Madness Is Better Than Defeat (Ned Beauman): This is our next Blokes’ Bookgroup book. I take an awful lot of pleasure from reading but, after completing just the first 100 pages of this book (it’s 408 pages long), I decided that I’d ‘had enough’ and gave up (over the past 10 years or so, there is just ONE book I didn’t finish… so this will be the second!). The story relates to two rival expeditions, in 1938, setting off for a lost Mayan temple in the jungles of Honduras – one intending to shoot a ‘screwball comedy’ on location there… and the other to disassemble the temple and ship it back to New York. By all accounts, Bauman is a successful and popular writer (reviewers’ quotes on the book’s cover talk about him being ‘clever’, ‘seriously funny’ and ‘almost recklessly gifted’) but, frankly, I’m not a fan. I don’t doubt that I’ve probably missed out on lots of clever storylines and colourful characters, but my spirits have been raised merely by taking the decision to stop reading the book! Due to my impending hip operation, I’ll be unable to attend our bookgroup’s review evening of the novel – which is probably just as well!

february-march 2024 books…

Religion For Atheists (Alain de Botton): This might seem a rather strange additional book to help me in my Lenten reflections, but it was actually referred to in 2012 by Rowan Williams in one his Easter sermons during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury. I’d previously read a couple of de Botton’s books and he’s clearly a clever bloke and an excellent writer and this book didn’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly don’t consider myself to be an atheist (more of a struggle Christian-cum-occasional-agnostic!?). But, in fact, I found the book far more thought-provoking and helpful than a lot of previous books I’ve used during Lents over recent years. He starts by pointing out that secular society has been “unfairly impoverished by the loss of an array and practices associated with various religions”, such as: music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illuminated manuscripts of the faiths – primarily, for the purposes of the book, Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism. I found it quite a stimulating, thought-provoking read (even the Church Times apparently found it “surprisingly illuminating”!).
Antarctica (Claire Keegan): These days, I’m a glutton for Keegan’s short stories. Quiet, unfolding, hauntingly beautiful tales (first published in 1999) set in Ireland, USA or Britain. The subject matters vary and don’t always make comfortable reading - murders, betrayals, orphaned children, madness, suicides are just some of the themes in between… with offbeat characters, convincing dialogue, rituals, secrets, seasons and a strong sense of place. I’ve bought a number of her books over recent weeks/months and this (her first collection of short stories) and this is the last one from my bedside table. I’m going to miss my regular Keegan reading sessions… and think I might need to keep dipping into to some of them on a regular basis.
Before The Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi): I’ve read a number of Japanese novels over the past couple of years and they’ve all had a certain ‘quirkiness’. This one was no exception. In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time. We meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe's time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer's, see their sister one last time, and meet the daughter they never got the chance to know. But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold… It’s a rather beautiful, moving story and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1937). Zadie Smith has described it as “one of the very greatest American novels of the twentieth century”. My book’s cover summarises the story pretty well: “When, at 16, Janie is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with 60 acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before she finally meets the man of her dreams – who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds”. It’s an impressive book, written by a remarkable writer who was born in Alabama at the end of c19th. I found the African-American Vernacular English dialect hard to read (I’m glad I persevered!), but it’s an impressive, powerful, feminist book about a young black girl finding her way into womanhood in the rural, black South. I enjoyed it.
Somewhere Towards The End (Diana Athill): I really like Athill’s writing. I think this is the fifth book of hers I’ve read (first published in 2008, she died in 2019, aged 101) and this one is ‘what it says on the tin’, as it were – a reflection, written in old age, of things she’s experienced through her lifetime. I like her wisdom, fearlessness and her humour… the same sort of feeling I get from reading Jan Morris’s books, for example. I found it a wonderfully optimistic book – marvelling, as she does, at the fact that she only became a writer in her 70s – covering a wide range of topics, including: love; sex; never having been a mother; not giving up driving (despite realising she should); religion (she had no faith); the prospect of death; discovering new enjoyments/skills in old age; non-fiction books; climate change; laziness; oversights… and much more. Rather lovely. 

continuing faith journeying…

This will be something of a rambling blogpost (understatement!)… some reflections, frustrations and acknowledgements.
Having faith. Obviously, the key is in the word ‘faith’. The trouble is I’m lacking it and I’m struggling in something of a continuing spiritual wilderness.
In theory, I remain part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but I’m struggling faith-wise (which has been the case now for several years). So much so that, for the past 18 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (apart from attending the Midnight Mass at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?).
In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer - which has effectively become my ‘church’.
What DO I believe these days?
I was confirmed in the Anglican Church over 50 years ago. I’ve been a Christian ever since but throughout this time, like so many people, my own spiritual journey has been a long and winding road - often fruitful and compelling, but frequently bumpy or feeling as if I’m in a cul-de-sac. At present, I feel as if I’ve come to yet another crossroad on the journey.
 
I still have a faith of sorts… I still believe in God (but maybe ‘my’ God is different to other people’s understanding of the word?). I believe that Jesus did live and was crucified (but I struggle with the virgin birth and even the resurrection)(I know!). I believe that the New Testament stories in the Bible are essentially true (or in part happened?), but I get very frustrated by many of the interpretations (and added details) that have accrued between when the events took place and when they were eventually written down (the same applies to the ‘actual’ words used by Jesus and his disciples etc… and, for instance, exactly what Jesus was thinking when he was in the Garden of Gethsemane or during his 40 days in the wilderness).
Because of these frustrations, I’ve almost stopped reading the Bible (for instance, a lot of Paul’s New Testament letters – or at least some of the interpretations I’ve heard given them in various sermons I’ve listened to – just make me angry!). To take just one example, I followed one of ‘our’ church services online (about a year ago). The Bible text included the following: “For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either” and “Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?” - and this message was duly endorsed/repeated in the morning’s talk/sermon. It left me shouting at my laptop screen!
These days (perhaps unfairly, I know), I find other people’s enthusiastic ‘certainties’ when it comes to faith incredibly off-putting (it leaves me feeling both annoyed and exasperated). I don’t believe in an ‘afterlife’ but, somehow, feel that we need to build a ‘heaven’ here on earth (ok, that probably sounds a bit ridiculous to most of you). I can’t really justify or rationalise this, but I do have a sense that our spirits ‘live on’ (again, you’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles).      
It’s interesting (well, for me at least!) to read some of my blogpost ‘spiritual reflections’ on faith over the years – some dating back 15 years (although my ‘doubts’ go back much further than that).
I’ve been struggling for a long, long time!
I posted the following on my blog in February 2022:
So, on this basis, can I REALLY call myself a Christian? Well, no doubt there will be many who would answer “no” but, interestingly, the BBC commissioned a survey in 2017 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39153121) and found that a quarter of people who describe themselves as Christians in Great Britain do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus.
The survey also suggested that:
·         17% of all people believe the Bible version word-for-word (not me)
·         31% of Christians believe word-for-word the Bible version (not me), rising to 57% among "active" Christians (those who go to a religious service at least once a month, as I do)(not me)
·         Exactly half of all people surveyed did not believe in the resurrection at all (not me)
·         46% of people say they believe in some form of life after death (not me) and 46% do not (me)
So, I’m not alone.
I appreciate that I could be accused (with some justification) that I ‘cherry-pick’ what I believe in. But what I find really difficult is being ‘told’ by some leaders of our church communities what my faith should consist of – with, apparently, no room for doubt. Effectively, the message seems to be: “this is what the Bible says, so it must be true (or pretty close)… and if you’re not prepared to accept this, then you can’t really call yourself a Christian”. They might not think that’s what they’re regularly telling me, but that’s message that I receive and/or perceive.
Over the course of Lent 2024, I’ve been continuing my faith exploration. I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Easter sermons from his time as Archbishop of Canterbury 2002-12 (book: ‘Choose Life’). I regard Williams as someone worth listening to/reading, but even he says things that I find difficult to accept.
He refers to the Acts of the Apostles, where we are told “God raised Jesus to life”… If it did happen, how do we know it was down to God? Williams goes on to refer to the things Peter, John and Mary Magdalene witnessed on Easter morning (which I can accept), but then continues with the words: “When the universe began, prompted by the will and act of God…”. Again, I would ask how do we know this was down to God?
In another of the sermons, Williams refers to Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where Paul says “that we shall die and that we shall be raised as Jesus was raised”.
Really? Is this based on something that was, some considerable time later, promised in the Bible?
Obviously, it all comes down to faith… but perhaps it’s just a case of “me of little faith”?
The other book I’ve been using this Lent is Alain de Botton’s book ‘Religion for Atheists’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider myself to be an atheist – but Rowan Williams did actually refer to the book in one of his Easter sermons. I duly bought myself a copy and found it surprisingly helpful, optimistic and illuminating. I won’t go into academic detail here, but the chapter headings give a sense of what is discussed: Wisdom without Doctrine; Community; Kindness; Education; Tenderness; Pessimism; Perspective; Art; Architecture and Institutions.
I’m not a mad keen follower of Rob Bell, but I have found his writing incredibly thought-provoking and relevant (for me, at least). Take this passage from his book ‘Velvet Elvis’ (which, in many ways, touches on the things included in Alain de Botton’s book):
As a Christian, I am simply trying to orient myself around living a particular kind of way, the kind of way that Jesus taught is possible. And I think that the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
This isn’t irrational or primitive or blind faith. It is merely being honest that we are living a ‘way’.
I’m convinced being generous is a better way to live.
I’m convinced forgiving people and not carrying around bitterness is a better way to live.
I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.
I’m convinced pursuing peace in every situation is a better way to live.
I’m convinced listening to the wisdom of others is a better way to live.
I’m convinced being honest with people is a better way to live.
I would say ‘Amen’ to that.
 
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Maybe this is part of the journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Who knows?… I’ll keep searching.

perfect days…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Wim Wenders’s film ‘Perfect Days’. On the face of it, the film’s subject matter is pretty uninspiring (understatement!) – it features the solitary life of a 60-something Tokyo public toilet cleaner, Hirayama (played by the rather wonderful Kōji Yakusho). Every day is the same. He lives in a frugal apartment; he puts on his overalls; he takes a can of coffee from a street vending machine; he drives to work in his modest little van; he works diligently and with a sense of pride; he exchanges words with very few people; most just don’t notice him…
It all seems pretty bleak… and yet the film proved to be entirely the opposite.
Hirayama finds quiet joy in the world around him… in the apparently insignificant things… the sunlight through the trees (and the trees themselves)… taking time to pause and take in the tiny details. His life is full of routine… he regularly takes his lunch breaks in a small landscaped square; after work, Hirayama he often bathes at a public bathhouse; he dines at a casual restaurant in a subway mall where he’s greeted as a regular; he often goes to the budget section of the local second-hand bookshop; he carefully rescues fragile Japanese maple seedlings and nurtures them in his apartment; he has an old point-and-shoot camera with which he captures the things that please him. All small, but important interactions. We all have the ability to look, but how many of us actually see?
Essentially, this achingly lovely film is an argument in favour of an alternative way of being… and I think we could all do with learning such a lesson.
I thought it was a rather wonderful, heart-warming, uplifting film and I think you should see it for yourself.
PS: And, as a bonus, Hirayama chooses to listen to 60s and 70s American and British rock songs (on cassette tapes), driving in his van, from the likes of the Velvet Underground, the Kinks, Otis Redding, Patti Smith, Nina Simone and Lou Reed.
PPS: The rather beautiful public toilets are film stars in their own right! 

february 2024 books…

So Late In The Day (Claire Keegan): Since publishing her first book in 1999, Keegan’s total work to date amounts to just five books - running to just 700 pages and some 140,000 words. In an interview for the Guardian (last September), she said: “I love to see prose being written economically… elegance is saying just enough. And I do believe that the reader completes the story.” Well, as long as you can write like Keegan, I absolutely agree. This short story follows
Cathal, a civil servant in Dublin on a summer Friday. He’s sad as he reflects on his relationship with a woman, Sabine. Gradually, we become aware that Sabine was his fiancée but that she has now left him… essentially it seems because of his attitude towards women and marriage in general. We start off feeling a little sorry for Cathal and there are occasional glimmers of awareness; his work colleagues seem worried about him and his boss encourages him to go home early. There are occasional glimmers of self-awareness, but does he fully comprehend the depth of his failure and the need to change? Keegan reveals all this in a quiet, beautifully subtle way… and, finally, the reader understands the significance of the day.
Joe Country (Mick Herron): This is the second of Herron’s ‘Slough House Thrillers’ I’ve read (it’s actually the 7^th in a series of 8, so far… I’d previously read the 1st). These novels are essentially all about British espionage; they’re clever, detailed and intriguing but, for me (and I readily acknowledge that I might be the exception), they were just TOO clever and complex. For a start, I felt there were far too many characters (and, confusingly for me, some of them were referred to by ‘other’ names or nicknames?)(would I have found things easier if I’d read books 2-6?)… I longed for a descriptive list of characters attached to the book’s inside cover – so I could keep being reminded who they all were. The novel was full of ‘spy shorthand’ (Herron trying to show off his apparent in-depth knowledge of the world of political intrigue and shadowy organisations?). It took me a long time (some 150 pages?) to get my head around stuff and, even then, I felt my level of intelligence was constantly letting me down! It’s quite a long book (nearly 350 pages) and, although I did eventually ‘get into it’ – one of the story plots involves some of the Slough House ‘crew’ being dispatched to eliminate a man responsible for killing a crew member - I really longed to finish it and start something new. Sorry!
A Room With A View (EM Forster): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1908). Strangely, although I’ve read a number of Forster’s books, I’d not previously read this one… and I really enjoyed it. It’s been described as a ‘social comedy’ – with English middle-classes holidaying in Florence… it’s about a young woman who finds her senses awakened by her experiences in Italy – her stifling Victorian propriety (personified in her pretentious fiancé) being eventually overridden by un-English passion. In Italy, she discovers life and marks her journey from adolescence to adulthood. I think all young people should experience Italy early in life! Our bookgroup is combining its discussion with a viewing of the film at 20th Century Flicks on Christmas Steps (and a visit to a local pub!).
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): The book consists of a series of Christmas and Easter sermons given during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury (2002-2012). I used the Christmas series for reflection during Advent 2023 and now for Lent 2024. Williams is someone whose wise views and reflections I’ve found helpful in the past… and, given my ongoing journey in the spiritual wilderness, hoped that these Easter sermons would prove beneficial. Well, in all honesty (and perhaps no surprises here!), I found them helpful, insightful and yet also somewhat frustrating. I frequently found myself questioning matters that Williams clearly felt were taken as read (but perhaps that’s just me in my current ‘mindset’?). I finished reading the sermons half way through Lent – on the basis that I wanted to read a second faith-related book before Easter (on which I hope to post some thoughts next month?). It’s somewhat sobering to realise that these sermons - from more than 10 years ago – frequently refer to wars, environmental concerns and financial crises. Nothing has changed… they only seem to have considerably worsened.
Walk The Blue Fields (Claire Keegan): As you will appreciate if you’ve been reading any of my recent book ‘reviews’, I’ve latterly become a huge fan of Keegan’s writing. This collection of short stories (first published in 2007) – mainly set in Ireland – represent yet more proof of her beautifully-crafted writing abilities, her use of language and her skill as a brilliant story-teller. I read each of the stories quite slowly (and often out loud to myself) and found them captivating, thought-provoking, imaginative, frequently funny and utterly mesmerising. You won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet another book of her stories on my bedside table!

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.

the zone of interest…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Jonathan Glazer’s film “The Zone of Interest”. It proved to be a tough, but very impressive watch.
The film focuses on the world of the true-life Nazi commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss (played by Christian Friedel), and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) – both brilliant performances – and their five children. They live immediately next door to the death camp (which appears in the film merely glimpsed over the walls of their well-tended garden)… so it’s only the constant smoke and the film’s scary soundscape that gives a hint of the horrors that are taking place there.
The Höss family live a wholesome, idyllic life – enjoying the beauty of nature, swimming in a nearby lake, sunbathing in the long grass - but, every now and then, you’re hit by some horrific revelation… such as Hedwig picking out an expensive fur coat once owned by one the camp inmates or one their sons counting gold teeth (pulled from inmates) in bed in the middle of the night or another of the sons locking a brother in the greenhouse and making the noise of incoming gas for fun.
When Rudolf is transferred from Auschwitz to Oranienburg, Hedwig insists on staying in her dream house… but, in due course, the Nazi hierarchy decides that the number of camp deaths needs to drastically increase and Höss is re-called back to Auschwitz. In the phonecall to his wife announcing the decision, he talks about ‘murder’ without softening the language… but his words barely register with Hedwig, she just moans that it’s the middle of the night and that she needs to get back to bed.
In a film review by blogger Robert Daniels (isn’t the internet wonderful!), he says this: “Because how we remember history, how we make note of current events—through propaganda, photography, video, and the internet—is a constant interplay between the truth as it exists and as it has been edited. The fact that ‘The Zone of Interest’ arrives now, as world powers manipulate the narrative to sanitize their crimes, makes Glazer's images all the more chilling”. Let that sink in.
I think I’ll leave things there… there’s so much more I could add, but I think it’s a film you need to see you for yourself.
It’s a bruising, painful, brilliant film… and the sense of what’s happening behind the walls never leaves you. It’s one of those films that will stay with you for some time. 

january/february 2024 books…

Two Years Indoors (TeamSP): This is a book which tracks the Covid-related government actions, restrictions and decisions over a two-year period (January 2020-February 2022). Rather like the Blurb books I produced at the time (March 2020-March 2021), this book provides a fascinating and stark reminder of what we all went through. Not exactly bedtime reading, but hey!
The Forester’s Daughter (Claire Keegan): Keegan is my new favourite author! Her novella “Small Things Like These” was one of my favourite books of 2023 and this short-story is the second book of hers I’ve read this year. It tells of an Irish farmer-cum-forester (Victor) living in the heart of the Wicklow countryside… with his wife (Martha), ‘three teenagers, the milking and the mortgage’. The marriage followed a year of persistent courting… but it’s an unhappy marriage. One day, Victor stumbles across a gun dog, which he brings home and gives to his youngest daughter for her twelfth birthday. Martha is fearful/apprehensive… “The evening is fine. In the sky a few early stars are shining of their own accord. She watches the dog licking the bowl clean. This dog will break her daughters heart, she sure of it”. Keegan is a simply wonderful, mesmerising story-teller and this is a rather wonderful, poignant tale.
Politics, But Better (Tatton Spiller): This is the third Spiller book I’ve read this year. The cover claims it as “an A-Z guide to creating a more hopeful future” (my goodness, how we need some hopeful pointers these days!). But, for me, this book really didn’t do much to make me hopeful. Yes, Spiller talked a fair amount of sense (but, frankly, so I do I quite a lot of the time!), but it was hardly ground-breaking stuff and, inevitably perhaps, there were huge areas that he didn’t cover. I found it all somewhat disappointing (and, frankly, a bit boring!).
On Photography (Susan Sontag): This book, first published in 1977, is our latest Bloke’s Books selection. It takes the form of seven essays – with LOTS of references to lots of people I’d never heard of and lots of photographs that I had no knowledge of (not all that surprising!). For me, the key and obvious criticism about the book is that it didn’t contain a SINGLE photograph!! Quite, quite ridiculous. Sontag was clearly a gifted academic and, no doubt the likes of John Berger would disagree with me(!!), but I’m afraid I felt that it read a bit like a verbose student might write in order to impress their examiners – clogged full with quotations and references (but much somewhat out of context and not particularly interesting).
I thought the most noteworthy thing that arose from reading the book was that, because it was written before digital photography, the internet and the like, it absolutely highlighted how VERY different things had become in a matter of the last 50 years – the manipulation of images, photoshop, smartphones, edited/cropped images, fake images/AI etc. I love photography but I’m afraid I found this book quite boring.
Driving Over Lemons (Chris Stewart): I first read this book 14 years’ ago (it was first published in 1999). It tells the story of the author and his wife setting up home in a remote, dilapidated, peasant farm in the mountains of Andalucia, Spain – virtually on a whim, with no farming experience and little in the way of practical know-how. The scenery is clearly stunning; making a living is pretty tough, but the local characters are hilarious and endearing (even though some are a bit scary!); there’s an amazing sense of community – with people prepared to help each other. It’s funny, optimistic, beautifully-written and has a refreshing innocence. I have absolutely no desire to emulate him, but I found it absolutely enchanting… and I loved it just as much (if not more?) the second time around.