Dreams and Dreaming

Photo courtesy of Flickr
Ozge Bostan Ozutok

I don’t know if you’re aware of https://www.brainpickings.org? It is run by Maria Popova, a reader and writer, whose intent is.  ‘ ….inquiry into what it means to live a decent, substantive, rewarding life.’ There was an interesting article on dreams today on social media - https://www.brainpickings.org/2019/03/18/etel-adnan-journey-to-mount-tamalpais-dreaming/ if you wish to read.  It got me thinking especially as I have been sorting through my mountain of writings and trying to find some kind of order for them. I came across a piece I had written in 1983 (!) about dreams and it has prompted me to try and crystallize my thoughts.

I dream a lot. If I sleep, that is!! But I reckon that whenever I sleep I dream. I don’t always remember the specific details and subject matter of what I dream but I know when I wake that I’ve dreamt. Sometimes it bothers me that I dream so much when so many people swear they never dream at all. But sometimes it makes me feel proud that I dream so much.

There has been much written on the subject of dreams and I freely admit that my research has been sparse because I might just discover something unpleasant about the whys and wherefores of dreaming and I don’t want to spoil my experiences.

I always dream in colour and I know there are people who dream in black and white. Sometimes I know what kind of dream I’m going to have. For example if I sleep on my back I’ll have a bad dream, a death dream where someone close to me, usually my family, dies in strange circumstances that frequently I could be instrumental in avoiding. Naturally these dreams bother me so I don’t relish them. However sleeping on my back is not really an option these days because of my spinal condition. If I eat the wrong kind of food too soon before bedtime, spicy food, cheese etc I’ll have a ‘bad situation’ dream. They’re not death dreams but things are not clear, people and places are hazy and I feel alone and vulnerable. I wake up feeling threatened and anxious. I’ve never been able to return to the same dream if I wake from it although I have heard of others who can do that. I really wish I could!! 

Some dream have a logical, progressive story line, enjoyable, easy to record on waking. Others are bizarre juxtapositions of people and locations that I clearly remember but struggle to write down.

Many dreams show my pattern of thought at the time when I dropped off to sleep and demonstrate the fears and anxieties I was experiencing. Some turn out to be a kind of catharsis for things that happen. I remember well the dream I had a few days after a beloved 21 year old cat died. In the dream I was returning home from an unspecified outing and Peter, the cat, was there on the front porch. He miaowed to come inside with me but I turned to him and said, ‘You can’t come in, you’re dead.’ On waking I was upset, reproaching myself for the insensitivity of the utterance but on reflection it may have been my subconscious accepting that he was gone.

Other dreams initially seem to bear no relation whatsoever within any frame of reference or experience. I will relate one such dream of many years ago. I was still living with my parents and I had come downstairs to eat breakfast. 

Photo courtesy Flickr
_strata_

When I entered the kitchen I found it empty except for a huge green grasshopper. He must have been about four feet high, a brilliant, translucent green, extremely attractive in conducive  circumstances but I felt nothing but fear and revulsion. I sought my mother and sister to warn them of my discovery. But they were non plussed and surprised at MY reaction! It appears he was known to them and even had a name. (I believe it was George or something similar.) We all went into the kitchen where the grasshopper greeted both of them with obvious affection and familiarity whereas I found him aggressive. At that time this seemed an illogical dream that I could determine no stimulus for. However that was before I discovered Kafka and read Metamorphosis. Was the dream somehow prophetic? Was I the grasshopper?

Another category of dreams revolve around simple tasks that must be performed.   Like rising in the morning. On may occasions I have dreamt that I have got up and dressed only to be amazed when the alarm went off and woke me from the dream to find I had to go through the whole process again! Another time I dreamt that I woke up feeling very thirsty and rapidly emptied the beaker of water I kept by my bedside. So vivid was this dream that when I did actually wake up thirsty I didn’t bother to reach for the beaker because I believed It was empty. Only later did I find the beaker still full of water!

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QT Vuo

I could not say for certain I have recurring dreams. Many times I have woken from a dream feeling familiarity. But I try to write down as many dreams as I remember and I cannot find an example of the ‘same’ dream. Recurring themes and locations, yes. As a child I believed I had a recurring dream about a kissing dragon. The house we lived in had a hatch from the dining room to the kitchen and I dreamed a multicoloured  dragon was pulling me though the hatch while my mum tried to save me and pull me back but all the dragon wanted to do was kiss me affectionately! I think I had this dream twice.

But most of the time nowadays I love dreaming! It means I’ve been asleep which is uplifting for an insomniac. And in my dreams I am me again! The physical me; I can run, swim, cycle and more ! All the things I did with ease before the menopause and old age obscured me.  I dream about my parents and they’re both fine in the dreams, just as they were when living. Some dreams, though, are unsettling and bewildering and I think indicate my lack of self belief and insecurity. Frequent dreams of being deserted in remote locations and having to find my way back alone! Some though are quite exciting! ;-)

I have no explanation as to why I dream so often. It is a paradox considering I sleep so little. But maybe that’s why? I also have a fertile imagination and an over sensitive disposition and maybe these combine to help my subconscious deal with situations? Sometimes my dream life is busier than my real life! 

Thanks for reading. 

Machines Like Me - Ian McEwan

A new novel from Ian McEwan is always something of an event so I was excited to get my greedy little hands on a copy of his latest novel, Machines Like Me, from Nudge Books.

A fusion of subliminal futuristic technology unfolds alongside an alternate 1980’s London scenario where Britain has been defeated in the Falklands war and Alan Turing is still alive. Tantalising? Rather.

As the novel opens and introduces us to Adam, an artificial human and a main character in the book, a myriad of impressions flood the mind of the innocent reader, Lars and The Real Girl, Hal from 2001, A Space Odyssey, Channel 4’s Humans and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, all that we think we know about a created individual. I hesitate to use the word robot for it conjures a machine like object and Adam is chillingly human. Or is he? Much of his logic and thought processes seem consistent with the binary brain of a fastest computer, a chatbot with reasoning, sophisticated reasoning. 

However Adam is not the only character in this story, Charlie Friend the narrator and his erstwhile neighbour, now current lover, Miranda accompany Adam. There’s something a tad feckless about Charlie who blows an inheritance on Adam, a limited edition synthetic human (female counterparts - Eve). And as it turns out, and is probably intended, Adam presents as the most interesting character by far. Miranda holds some secrets and the denouement of all offers us an absorbing story which is well written and exactingly plotted. I am loathe to say too much as I try to avoid spoilers. 

But it wouldn’t be an Ian McEwan novel if that was all. For Machines Like Me poses some intriguing questions and considerations as to the nature of A.I. and, indeed, the nature of humans, too. As Charlie ponders, ‘How deep did personality go? A perfectly formed moral system should float free of any particular disposition. But could it?’  it becomes clear that Adam possesses not only morals but emotion too. Without wishing to divulge too much of the plot there was something of the Jules et Jim about events causing a comparison between Adam and a vibrator! I’ll say no more. ;-)

An especially effective device was the character of Alan Turing. How interesting to ponder how his particulate type of genius might have developed had he lived. Here we get a flavour of how McEwan perceives that. Turing’s opinions on artificial men and women pose food for thought. ‘We create a machine with intelligence and self-awareness and push it out into our imperfect world. Devised along generally rational lines, well disposed to others, such a mind soon finds itself in a hurricane of contradictions.’

If relationships have figured prominently in McEwan’s previous works it’s a theme that is continued here. Charlie and Miranda’s relationship is by no means straightforward even without the frisson of an android. The Adam and Eves have their difficulties, poignantly expressed by Turing ‘ I think the A-and-Es were ill equipped to understand human decision-making, the way our principles are warped in  the force field of our emotions, our peculiar biases, our self delusion and all the other well-charted defects of our cognition. Soon, these Adams and Eves were in despair. They couldn’t understand us, because we couldn’t understand ourselves.’ A fascinating point that throws doubt over our ability to ever construct functioning synthetics for if we do not understand ourselves how can we ever hope to create something else with understanding?

But Adam himself sees a more positive future for his kind, ‘It will happen. With improvements over time… we’ll surpass you …and outlast you ….even as we love you.’

It’s an entertaining book; some amusing moments, for example when Charlie is confused with Adam, some thought provoking and philosophical moments and some poignant moments. It’s not a book of action or thrills and spills, it wouldn’t work if it was. McEwan is master of his craft. It’s an absorbing read. 

The Red Gene - Barbara Lamplugh

An intriguing family saga that digs a little deeper at the fabric of conflict and the sociological implications and attitudes in a Spain ravaged by Civil War and Franco’s regime.  Somehow it avoids the temptation to become overtly political and propels the reader towards a more domestically delicate dynamic. 

A novel that spans several generations The Red Gene tells the story of an idealistic and courageous young woman, Rose Tilly, who volunteers as a nurse in the Spanish Ciivl War. Hinting at a potential chick lit scenario Rose falls in love with an equally idealistic and courageous Republican rebel , Miguel, but it is only a hint and the ensuing story pivots on decisions made by Rose and the events that overtake her. A parallel history is that of Consuelo growing up in Spain, discovering that she is adopted  and finds attempts to discover her true origins unsuccessful. She follows the domestic dogma of her class and culture.

The historical research is so thorough you don’t doubt a word of it and you are completely immersed in the bleakness of a country at war with itself. The atmosphere of Spain is palpable but nothing prepares you for the denouement of what happened, and the implications intimated by the book’s dedication.  It’s one of those stories that presents as fiction but alerts the reader to an historic atrocity that has you asking why? How could I not have known? And I’m so grateful to emerge from a novel feeling better educated as well as entertained by the writing and the storyline. 

I was impressed by the way the histories of the women unfolded and the connections between the relevant parties were gradually made apparent. There were moments when I twigged what was happening but it was that delicious feeling of subtle revelation that lifts a reader. 

The characterisations were detailed and whilst it seems like the book has a cast of many it serves to highlight the almost stereotypical sizeable Spanish, Catholic families. I had to turn back several times to refresh my memory as to who was who especially as the generations unfolded! 

The concluding chapters were poignant. In fact much of the book is poignant yet not without redemptive and uplifting moments. Ultimately family and love are the keys to unlocking this jewel of a novel. To what does the 'red gene' of the title refer? Oh no, you're not gonna get me on that one! Read the book!

My thanks to Urbane Publications for a copy of the book. 

Midsummer Nights - Tales From the Opera - Ed. Jeannette Winterson

I’ve never been to the opera. I’ve listened to bits, usually the famous bits, and I’ve loved them. Going to the opera is on my bucket list. I want to go at least once. But one of the reasons I’ve never been is because I don’t want to go alone or with just anyone, I want to go with someone who is going to feel the way I do. And that’s hard because I don’t know how exactly I’m going to feel. But it might be like this - 

‘Huge, frightening spaces opening up inside her, spaces she had not even known with there. Spaces filled up with notes, with music, with sound. Sometimes she stole glances at the grandmother to see what was happening to her, inside her, was obvious. She hoped it wasn’t.’  from Julie Myers’s The Growler 

‘…. but I understood that I just heard something - ‘something different’ - that was radiantly beautiful.’

 Also I worry that you’re supposed to wear a posh frock. I don’t do posh frocks. I look like a bad drag act so I leave well alone. And I also worry that if I go once I will get so utterly and completely hooked that nothing will ever be the same or enough……… again. But….. time’s running out.

In the meantime I’ve been reading this captivating short story collection edited by the supreme Jeannette Winterson. It’s in the manner of the Hogarth Shakespeare Project where well known writers were commissioned to reimagine some of Shakespeare’s work for a more contemporary audience. (Jeannette Winterson also contributed to that project.) An impressive collection of authors, including Ms. Winterson, have written short stories reimagining some of the tales from the greatest operas. The result is a stunning and wonderfully imaginative collection that stirs your heart and your mind with words in the same way that the musical notes of the opera do. 

The salient difference between this collection and the Hogarth initiative is that there is an attempted  fusion of two art forms. Surely difficult to do? To conjure a story that exists musically and render it down to ‘mere’ words yet make it meaningful and moving is a tall order? It doesn’t seem that way from the work presented here.

Every reader will have their favourites. Mine?  I loved Ali Smith’s “Fidelio and Bess’ playing Beethoven and Gershwin alongside each other. Sublime!! Lynne Truss's String and Air which celebrates Britten’s Turn of the Screw which in turn celebrates Henry James was another. Kate Atkinson’s To Die For (La Traviata), Jeannette Winterson’s Goldfish Girl (Puccini’s La Fanciulla del West.) but wait…… I could end up listing nearly all the stories!!

Many writers were familiar to me so I found it interesting to look for hallmark aspects of their particular writing style. Some were new to me - Toby Litt’s The Ghost retelling Don Giovanni, Julie Myerson ’s The Growler and will motivate me to seek out more of their work.

I was ignorant of many of the opera stories. I’m not sure how opera lovers who are familiar with the stories will respond to this book? I found them engrossing and I had a sense that my desire to experience the operas themselves deepened. 

The short story is an underrated genre in broader, commercial respects although I understand that sales figures are showing a healthy increase. It’s a shame for it is a very satisfying genre to read, and I should imagine, quite challenging to write for everything that a novel might contain has to be condensed without losing any of the impact. 

This collection was originally compiled in 2009 to celebrate 75 years of Glyndebourne and riverrun have republished this year. Thanks to Ana McLaughlin at riverrun for a copy.

Unfinished Business - Thomas Hocknell BLOG TOUR

 I am delighted to be part of the Love Books Group Blog Tour for Thomas Hocknell's Unfinished Business. 

Tom Hocknell is from Kent and lives in London. He has been a social worker, car salesman and gardener. He attended the Faber Academy and The Life Assistance Agency was his first novel. His regular Idle Blogs of an Idle Fellow aims to embrace random topics of modern living, but mostly complains about other people’s inability to make decent tea. He also writes for Classic Pop magazine, the Good Men Project and The Line of Best Fit. The music references abound pertinently in Unfinished Business.

The Life Assistance Agency was one of those books where I had not heard of the author and had no expectations at all but it turned out to be an absolute delight to read. 

The review can be found here. https://bookphace.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-life-assistance-agency-thomas.html

Thus my anticipation for this sequel ran high so I was delighted to jump aboard the LoveReads blog tour for Unfinished Business.

It can be something of a challenge to review a sequel where characters are familiar, situations are parallel because you can end up repeating yourself or struggling to find something new to say. I’m up for the challenge!

I’m a sucker for a debut novel but I also revel in seeing how a writer sustains and develops their style. The Life Assistance Agency amused me but this had me chuckling out loud! The writing is sharp and witty with a keen awareness of rock and pop culture amongst many other keen awarenesses!! The narrative doesn’t let up for a minute. It’s almost exhausting as the reader is subjected to a barrage of wit and action. 

Our hapless duo Ben and Scott have recovered from their European ‘jaunts’ of the previous book and are determined to continue with the Life Assistance Agency. On cue the phone rings and off we go!

The original two characters are sustained and developed, it’s like you’re reacquainting yourself with a couple of old friends. The new characters are scrumptious!! Billy Fury! If you’re as old as me you’ll understand the exclamation mark. If you’re not, don’t worry! Nick is just short of the rock star caricature. Amber begins as the potential love interest but is, oh, so much more. And I loved the way this female character had a pivotal role to play in the book. One of my criticisms of the previous book was that the female characters were just functional. Not so here. I did figure out her role eventually but it was cunningly done. 

I’m never one to wittingly offer spoilers so I don’t want to say too much but themes of a spiritual nature explored in the previous book are continued here but with the absence of of any real historical sequences. Occasional, historical references, yes, in case readers may mourn the absence of of Foxe and Kelley! But a sensible move on the writer’s part to take the theme to a different dynamic. 

One thing I’m on the fence about is whether the reading of the first book is a necessity to truly appreciate the second. I certainly would say that I was very glad I’d read the Life Assistance Agency. It enhanced my enjoyment of Unfinished Business. And I’m pretty sure than anyone who reads this book will seek the first one out if they haven’t read it. I understand there are plans afoot for a third volume, a trilogy no less! This really is unfinished business then!

My thanks to Kelly at Love Books and Urbane Publications for the opportunity to read this entertaining book.

Please do check out the contributions from my amazing blogger colleagues also on the tour.

The Flatshare - Beth O’Leary Social Media Tour

Gotta say I don't normally do this, guys, add anything to an existing post. But today marks the publication of the paperback edition of this book and I thought it worthy to acknowledging what a journey it's has been. An anticipated debut novel that ultimately, I'm sure, surpassed initial expectations with the accolades and attention the book received. A best seller in every sense. But I'm really worried about the paperback. Why? Because surely EVERYONE has read this book already?! And if they haven't I suspect they'll be too embarrassed to admit it!! Anyway below follows my original post for the blog tour last year. 

So happy to be part of the Quercus Books social media tour for this already lauded debut novel.  And I'm going to begin with some blatant bragging.

I've got a signed proof of The Flatshare !! Who wants to touch me?! 😃

If we bring it all back to earth though I have to admit that I was so starstruck at meeting Beth that I barely spoke! Authors are like pop stars to me. Meeting them doesn't always bring out the best !! Thank you, Beth and sorry I didn't say more!! I was simply in awe!

This is a much heralded debut novel, with several accolades under its belt already,  celebrating the ‘new’ ‘uplit’ genre. Is it new? For it seems to me that ‘uplit’ has much in common with romance/chick lit but it’s more gender resistant. Does it matter? No, not really, I guess. A feature of the genre is that you know there will be a happy ending. You know that you're probably going to feel good after reading it. There’s a sense of inevitability and predictability about stories of this type so it’s often not what is going to happen but how it happens. 

Flatshare is a quirky tale with a unique and interesting premise. Two people sharing a flat, but not just the flat, the bed too! Plus they’ve never met! How does that work? Read the book!!! 

For me, anyway, books of this ilk have to be extremely well written to sustain my interest and my enjoyment or I end up becoming quite dismissive and derisive. Well, was it, I hear you ask? Was it extremely well written? Was my interest sustained? Oh, you bet!! Hard to believe it’s a debut for the narrative fairly bounces along pulling you along with it as if you are hanging on to the tail of a kite. It’s a dual narrative seen from the differing perspectives of our heroine, Tiffy, and our hero, Leon. Two very different people and their characters are well sustained throughout the two narratives. You never stop believing in either of them. In fact the characters are all believable. Most of them are ‘niceies’ with a couple of ‘nasties’ who will have you hissing and booing in the aisles. Rightly so. 

The plot goes that little bit beyond straightforward and ensures the reader keeps wondering. That’s another aspect of the romantic/chick lit fiction that has me yelling ‘Get on with it.” oft times because the plot is too simple and too obvious. But it isn't here at all. Although you’re fairly sure that everything is going to turn out okay in the end the plot is strong enough to sow a seed or two of doubt to keep hardened cynics like myself absorbed and desperately wondering and willing it all to be okay. 

There’s some snappy dialogue and some witty one-liners. The dynamic between Tiffy and Leon is explored through post it notes initially which is so well done. Ooops! Is that a spoiler?

‘The flat is starting to look like a scene from A Beautiful Mind.’

‘…  I like the blue and white dress on the back of the door. Looks like the sort of one the Famous Five might wear for going on adventures.'

....are just a couple....... you'll find your own favourites, I'm sure and chuckle away.

Whilst this is not intended as a work of social comment there is a subtlety in the sub text that wafts a few points and issues at you regarding justice, morality, manipulation, abusive relationships. The writer has a useful knowledge of the publishing industry which is put to good use here looking at office politics and dynamics. 

It can sometimes be a drab world out there. There are some challenging people in it who seem intent on defying human decency sometimes. Whilst this is a work of fiction it IS uplifting to read of decent people doing decent things with little or no agendas. People behaving with compassion. What Leon does for one of his patients is above and beyond and is so heartwarming and screams positivity. It’s a contemporary story that I think will resonate with many but it doesn’t place contemporary above classic storytelling. It's about love and friendship and making the world a better place. It's about good and right prevailing.  I wonder if reading books like these can make us better people? Stop people in their tracks and make them think, 'Hey, I can do something decent today.....'. 

There isn’t anything about this novel to not like. We read for many reasons. Often it is to be entertained, uplifted and ....‘uplit’! I can see this book being devoured by eager readers, the accolades will keep rolling in and I reckon it'll be the book to read this summer.

My thanks to Quercus Books for my proof copy and to Beth O’Leary for signing it!!

The bigger the book, the bigger the Social Media Tour! Check out everyone else contributing today to celebrate the publicity of The Flatshare.

OTD: 14th April 1912 Titanic Sank.

 I became fascinated by Titanic and everything surrounding the ship and the ultimate tragedy way back in the 80s when Dr Robert Ballard discovered the wreck on the ocean bed. I watched a National Geographic video  of his mission and was absolutely fascinated by what I saw initially. (Years, years later I visited Woods Hole in Massachusetts where Ballard's expedition set off and is home to the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution.)

 That led me to seeking out more information and for quite a while I was almost obsessed and I read and watched everything I could relating to the ship.  Since this is supposed to be a book blog I am including a photo of some of the many books I have about the Titanic. 

 For a while I was like a walking  encyclopaedia. I could offer dates, names of survivors, what happened, when, where........  I soaked up anything I could find about the ship, the White Star line, the Belfast shipyards, the part that Liverpool played in the fitting out of the ship,  the ports that were visited, passenger lists. I left no stones unturned.

But the icing on the cake came in 1988 when through a series of synchronistic circumstances I met a Titanic survivor! Sadly she is no longer with us. Her name was Eva Hart.  She was about eight years old when the ship sunk and whilst she admitted that her childhood memories might not have been 100% reliable the impact of that tragedy was forever etched on her memory. And what she told me will never leave me.  Some of it was her memories; for years no one believed that the ship had broken in two when it sunk. Eva said she SAW it break in two from the lifeboat she was in. She was a kid, no one believed her, told her it wasn't possible! She said that none of the books told how the children were hauled up onto the decks of the rescue ship, the Carpathia. They were too small to climb the ladders like the adults so they were put into canvas bags and pulled up the side of the ship.  She said it was terrifying, almost more frightening than the tragedy itself. She told me that for years and years after the tragedy she could not bear looking at the sea. If she were anywhere near it she turned her head aside. She would turn her seat with its back to the water. 

 She believed very strongly that the whole tragedy should never be forgotten. She devoted much of her life talking to people about it. She felt lucky to have survived because her mother had a premonition that something was going to happen to the ship. So her mother slept during the day and sat up at night in the cabin, fully dressed. That's how she was able to get herself and Eva to the lifeboat. Eva's father perished in the tragedy.  So for her that wreck on the ocean bed is her father's grave. She was firmly opposed to anybody interfering with it or bringing any of the artefacts back to the surface. 'Let the 'Titanic' rest in peace as a memorial to the arrogance of man and his presumption of God.'

 She signed one of my books for me.

There is a book - Shadow of the Titanic by Ronald C Denney who was a friend of Eva's and wrote down her story. It's well worth a read for she attempts to put everything in context. 

Thank you for reading. 

Readers and Writers, Chickens and Eggs

courtesy Flickr

I should really be writing book reviews. But I’m thinking about other stuff.  So it’s another blog post! Something that I think a lot about is the relationship between the writer and the reader, and vice versa of course. Why do readers read? What makes a reader? And why do writers write? What makes a writer? And what is the relationship between the two? 

I think the motivation readers have can vary greatly. I can only speak for myself. I’ve read since I learnt to read. And I’ve loved books for longer than that!  I read for enjoyment. I read to escape. I read to vicariously experience aspects of life hitherto denied to me, I read to compare aspects of life that I have experienced and I am keen to understand other's views, I read to be propelled into thought patterns that might elude me otherwise. I read to be uplifted. I read to have all my emotions stirred; to laugh, to cry, to love, to loathe,  and I read in search of that incredible high that it is possible to get from a truly exceptional book that makes my heart and my head almost explode. I think some readers read with their heads and some readers read with their hearts and some, I include myself here, read with their heads and their hearts. But every reader is different in their own way because all responses are subjective. 

courtesy Flickr

But nothing is possible without the writers. Reading and writing are inextricably linked. It almost doesn’t need to be said. But what makes a writer? I write. I always have done. Ever since I was a little girl. I used to spend my pocket money on notebooks and fill them with stories. I wrote diaries. I wrote teen angst poetry. I’ve started more novels that I care to remember. i write 'things'. But it’s never been a conscious choice. It’s something I simply have to do, like eating and breathing. I’ll be walking along the road when a phrase or sentence or idea will pop into my head from nowhere  and I need to, I have to, I am compelled to, write it down. I’m always jotting things down, ideas and pieces. Writing is a reflex, almost. But apart from a magazine article or two I’m not a published writer. So am I a writer? If my writing isn’t being read that vital relationship is missing. Lately I am a blogger and people read what I blog for which I am humbly grateful. Does that make me a writer then?

courtesy Flickr

As with readers it must be different for every writer. Do some writers ‘simply’ see writing as their job. They write to earn money. Can it ever be that straightforward? Do writers write with the reader in mind, and do they write with a specific target audience shaping their work as they think the reader wants it rather than how they want it? Does the reader shape or influence how and what they write? Or is it a case of ‘this is what I’m writing, this is what I have to say and I hope there are readers who will enjoy it?’. Are there writers who actually do not consider the reader at all? The readers are incidental to the process as a whole? 

courtesy Flickr

I’m throwing these questions out there because they are things I’ve been thinking and wondering about. They maybe naive and impertinent but if anyone wants to offer any answers or opinions it would be immensely interesting. 

Getting published isn’t be easy. Earning a living from writing is perilous. How many writers out there remain unpublished? What jewels of fiction are out there waiting? The other question is about the ‘right’ reader finding the ‘right’ book. I read a lot but there are only a handful books that really do what I referred to earlier and make my head and heart explode.  What is it about that handful that consume me? Is it the style? The story? The characters? The philosophies? Or an undefinable, subconscious connection between writer and reader? It starts to be about personality. 

And so I’m also interested in the writer as a person and the writer as a writer. And where they converge or diverge. It seems obvious on the face of it that they are one and the same, but I don't think it's as black-and-white as that.  And I'm curious as to whether the writers who affect me the most are because the writer and the person converge. 

As a reader primarily I read a lot of books, with enjoyment. There are some writers, I'll read all of their books but I have no further interest in them as people, just their writing. That's possibly a divergence. But of course it's by no means finite because it's my subjectivity. There are some writers, though, who motivate me to find out more. I want to know about them, about their lives, about the person they are. And it's their writing that's elicited that response. That's maybe where the convergence takes place. The writer and the work are indivisible.

But by this stage my emotions are so fully engaged that the opportunity to take it further and visit places, graves, see artefacts, belongings etc. becomes almost urgent. I've not been able to cement any thoughts as to why it is. 

And then it starts me thinking about synchronicity, even past lives, past connections.

Interestingly I have just 'discovered' Sylvia Plath. I had read the Bell Jar and the 'famous' poems but for years I could never get beyond the tragedy of Sylvia Plath the person and access Sylvia Plath the writer. But now - I understand true convergence, I think. 

Courtesy Flickr

Then I begin think about the convergence of writer and reader. I do not believe a single writer is not and has not been a reader first and foremost. Isn’t that where it starts? It’s still chicken and egg though! Something had to be written before it could be read and something had to be read to inspire the writer!

Perhaps there are no answers. Maybe there should be no questions. Every reader and  every writer is unique. And sometimes, just sometimes two 'uniquenesses' make a whole. 

Thank you for reading. Feel free to comment.

E-Books versus Real Books*

Photos courtesy Flickr

Not a new debate by any stretch of the imagination but one that has been waging a war in my head and my heart for, digitally, ages. I’m going over old ground here to a certain extent but it helps to clarify things in my head.

Let’s examine the benefits of e-books and e-readers. Space; If all my physical books were stored on an e-reader I could take in lodgers with the space that action would free up!! Travel: no more need to fill up a suitcase with enough books to keep you going for a fortnight away. Carry them all in one place. Convenience; just whip it out of your bag wherever you are and carry on reading where you left off. Immediacy; fancy a book? Get it right away and start reading, no trips to the bookshop or library, no waiting in for the postman. Physically challenged; e-readers weigh very little, no strain on wrists, arms and shoulders. Environmentally friendly; no paper harmed in the downloading of the book. 

So why do I loathe them so much? I love physical books. I love the smell, particularly of a brand new paperback. I like the feel in my hands, the weight feels substantial, worthwhile, satisfying.  I love my books arranged around my study. I feel safe and comfortable being surrounded by books. I feel rich, privileged, when I scan all the titles. I feel less alone, surrounded by ‘friends’. I love carrying a book around with me, from room to room, place to place so if there’s an opportunity to read I can. I often refer back in a book to check something, particularly if I’m reviewing, I like to find and re read an especially evocative passage, investigate maps and family trees. I like to mark the place with a book mark. When review copies arrive I still get a thrill. I never take it for granted. I feel warm and I feel affluent. I never get that frisson when I receive an ebook. 

So do I love reading? Or do I love books?  Emotionally, I want to say that it’s reading I love. But if I really, truly love reading should it matter how I read? It has become a cliche for people to say they are so passionate about reading they will read a cereal packet rather than not read. And I have done that myself. So why not an e-reader? It bothers me. Maybe I’m not a reader at all. Maybe I am only a collector of books. But I’m not happy with that. It doesn’t feel right to say it. And I don’t believe it!!

This sounds perverse but I DO read differently when I read an ebook compared to a real book. I had a book to review and I was sent the ebook. I was reading it and not especially enjoying it, it was okay but I wasn’t blown away. Then I got a print copy and the whole novel was elevated and I ended up loving the book. Rationally that does not make sense, I know. It has to be in my head? I get a sinking feeling in my stomach if I’ve agreed to review a book and I’m told there are no physical copies just electronic ones. 

The only consolation I can think of is that, conversely, there are people within my circle who will only read on an e-reader. And those same people will describe themselves as readers, loving reading. I can throw my conundrum back at them, if they were really readers and really loved reading they would read real books too.

There is no answer, I guess. And maybe there doesn’t need to be. Suffice to say that if Fahrenheit 451 became a reality I would turn to an e-reader if that was the only way I could read. That’s the bottom line. If there were no physical books I would embrace the e reader. For without reading there is nothing. And maybe that is an answer in itself?

*edited article which originally appeared on Nudge/NB's old website

Smallbone Deceased - Michael Gilbert

This novel couldn’t be more different to the last Michael Gilbert book I read - Death Has Deep Roots. And that delighted me because there’s nothing I enjoy more than some good old-fashioned diversity! There’s something so English and so dryly witty about this book that you wonder whether the writer is actually poking fun at the people he is writing about or perhaps the world of legal firms in general. 

Without giving too much away a deed box in a legal firm of some repute is found to contain a corpse!! Highly original and highly unexpected! What follows is naturally the unravelling of the crime and the pursuit of the perpetrator, with some red herrings thrust in front of us to confound and confuse. In fact it is forty odd pages in before Smallbone is even referred to! As a reader you start muttering to yourself and wondering if there's a mistake in the title or the printing then you are hit with it!

The endearing Inspector Hazelrigg hones his analytical intuition to perfection as he narrows down the potential suspects, ably abetted by Inspector Plumptree, how perfect a name is that? And Sergeant Cockerill who gets all the good jobs! The investigations are also helped by one of the law firm’s newer recruits Henry Bohun. There were moments when I thought he was a bit of a shady character but I think I suspected everyone during the course of the novel.

I found some of the accounting figures bewildering but I think I got enough of the gist to understand what had transpired but I would say it is quite complex. Ingenious! But complicated. Plus I never guessed ‘whodunit’ ! Not even when the clues were right there under my nose. In the minutest of details even. It was cleverly done. And I love it when that happens!! 

The characters are acutely observed, for example,  Mr.Birley - ‘Pedlar of words and a reduplicator of phrases.’ So apt. Even the names convey much of the character, Smallbone? He just couldn’t be called anything else! There are some pithy observations that remain pertinent even today, “With a Government like this one,” said Sergeant Cockerill,’you could expect a frost in August.”

If you’re a lover of modern crime I think it invaluable to read a Golden Age crime story such as this for it enables a reader to see how the genre has developed over the decades. 

Oh, don’t forget to read Martin Edwards’ introduction. It's a wonderful prologue to the main story. 

Heartfelt thanks to the British Library for  continuing to satiate my appetite for these wonderful examples of Golden Age crime writing. 

RETRO REVIEWING: Mend the Living - Maylis De Kerangal

I thought I had located all my past reviews and posted them firmly on my blog for posterity ( or until the internet implodes) but I came across this brief review that has somehow slipped through the net. I think I put it in the wrong folder where it has been sitting quietly, until now. I never seemed to write as expansively then. If I we reviewing this book today I know I would have written a whole lot more. The copy I received was not a physical book, it was that abomination - an ebook. So I think my thoughts of giving up on it were more to do with the format than the book. The paperback was published on 23rd June 2016 and  won the Wellcome Prize in 2017. Rightly so. 

If you told me that a novel about a heart transplant would be a compelling and beautiful experience I might have laughed at you. But this unique book, Mend The Living a.k.a. The Heart, is both of those and more besides.

Initially as I read the opening pages I was dubious. it didn’t seem as if it was my thing. I confess I had thoughts of giving up on it, not something I do frequently nor lightly. But I persevered, and thank goodness I did.

This book details the twenty four hours in the lives of all the people who play a part in a heart transplant operation. The detail is meticulous and the resulting prose within which that detail is enveloped is quite extraordinary and poetic, a credit to the writer and the translator. There are many paradoxes here between the subjective and the objective, the empathic and the clinical , a treatise on Yin and Yang. It is beautifully balanced.

There are no chapters as such in the book, it is almost one long prose poem to compassion and humanity. An acknowledgement  of grief and loss and the greater good. So forgive me if I am unable to comment on the plot and the characters etc, this book is beyond that, beyond comment. 

I feel in some ways changed by this novel and I commend it to you from the bottom of MY heart.

What is 'literature'?

I occasionally deviate from the main thrust of this blog which is to review the books I read. If I’m honest my departures from that norm haven’t met with a great deal of interest! Maybe I should learn from that. But it is my blog, and as I’ve said before I’ll do what I like!! So today I’m musing on some book related issues that have been occupying my thoughts recently.

The older you get the longer your Have Read list grows. By the time you get to my age you’ve probably read a large number of classics, best sellers and works that might be called literature amidst the majority of lesser works. (But by no means less enjoyable I do hasten to add). I should clarify that I am confining my thoughts to fiction only. 

Best sellers are best sellers because they’ve sold in significant numbers. Classics are classics because they’ve endured throughout time and people continue to read them. Best sellers are not necessarily classics nor are best sellers necessarily literature. Are classics always literature? And what makes literature? What makes books last? 

I confess that often when I read I’m ‘looking for literature’. I don’t always find it. I don’t mean that to sound deprecatory. Maybe I desire too much from a book? What makes a book literary? It is something I think about quite a lot. This is what does it for me. The literary book attempts more than mere storytelling. There is an intention behind the story going beyond just trying to entertain the reader. The characters have an inner depth that can sometimes allow them to step outside of the book and be considered by the reader almost as a real person. The prose is rich and intense, using language intelligently and expansively, poetic sometimes. The book is full of quotes! You find yourself going back and re-reading them because they offer some kind of maxim or aphorism that resonates beyond the cover of the book. The writer's intent is to inform the reader, convey something to the reader, make some kind of comment that would have little impact if just stated alone but when expanded within a fiction can demand of the reader that they think and consider outside of the fiction framework. You get a sense that this is a book that will last, that will endure, might be studied academically, will hopefully go on to become a classic in decades to come. It was suggested to me,  by an author who has written a work of literature, that to the list be added individual voice or vision, linked, though not a function of it, to style, which is appropriate for it also allows identification of the writing outside of the book and in some cases a writer ‘earns’ an adjective all of their own - ‘Kafkaesque’.

So if I’m getting all of the above from a book I’ll be likely to call it literature. However I think there can be a tendency for some writers to defy conventions of language or structure/ form believing it might, mistakenly in my opinion, elevate it to something literary.  However I don't think a writer can necessarily set out to write a work of literature. I think works of real literature are very rare in the fiction world today. (Is that because the more books you read the less likely you are to be ‘wowed’?) But there's no way of predicting, with the books we are reading right now, which will still impactful in say 50,100 years time. It's exciting!

If classics are books that last are they also literature? For the most part I think they are. But I’m basing that on current classics. I’m thinking of the Brontes, Dickens, Austen, Hardy, Eliot. I’m thinking of Woolf, Lawrence, Forster, Huxley, Orwell. (The lists are not definitive and cite only British writers.) To consider as well; is it the writer’s entire oeuvre we should consider as literature or specific titles?  Will those books that I consider as classics, as literature, now continue to be read in 50,100 years time? 

The future may yield a different dynamic. Society evolves in a sometimes unpredictable way. That can impact upon the longevity of anything, not just books. I wish I could be around to see! In the mean time I don’t doubt I shall continue to ‘look for literature’.

Thank you for reading. Pop a comment or two in the box if you feel disposed?