Monday, 14 January 2013

What (who) I'm reading now

Ever since I read my first Patrick Gale novel (Little Bits of Baby, 1989) I've loved his writing, but with his latest books he just seems to get better and better. 


Most memorable for me have been Friendly Fire (2005), a funny and tragic portrayal of adolescence in an English public school (whose ending had Daughter the Elder weeping inconsolably on a summer barging holiday in France) and Notes from an Exhibition (2007), about the emotional havoc wreaked by a troubled artist on her marriage and children (which had me briefly quite seriously considering becoming a Quaker. Do you sense a familial trait of becoming over-involved with books?).


His latest novel, A Perfectly Good Man, is set in Cornwall, a landscape Gale knows well (he lives in remote Lands End with his partner, a farmer). The perfectly good man of the title is Barnaby Johnson, a parish priest for a rural community ... not exactly a fashionable choice of hero, but Barnaby turns out to be far more interesting than one might imagine, and not immune to sin.

From a riveting and unsettling opening, the narrative zig zags backward and forward in time, focusing on individual histories (Barnaby, his wife, biological daughter and adopted Vietnamese son, significant  figures amongst his parishioners), but these are so skilfully woven together that it flows beautifully, his characters' souls laid bare as the plot gradually converges like the bits of a jigsaw slowly fitting together. There's a great authenticity to his characters and although this book is above all an easy and totally engaging read, Gale had me reflecting often on the ambiguity of that title, the nature of goodness and of faith.


Another book that has had that wonderful effect of transporting me heart and soul into a different reality is Fortunate, the latest novel by writer Elizabeth Wix, who is also the author of two of my favourite blogs, About New York and My Life by Buster. 



We meet Jane, the fortunate child who is at the heart of the story, at the beginning of the book as an older woman who finds herself in an unfamiliar Polish town, as she embarks on a search for traces of her birth mother. From here on, the narrative becomes the stories of two parallel lives in wartime Europe. Gisela, a young German woman, suffers unimaginable hardships and losses as the events of the war unfold. Meanwhile Ruth, in middle class, rural Kent, England, deals with day to day wartime privations and anxieties in the relative comfort of family and home. Wix’s skill as a writer is to make both women’s experiences equally absorbing while weaving the threads together so that their paths tantalisingly converge and diverge in unexpected ways.

The fact that the story is based on real events in Elizabeth Wix’s personal history makes it even more intriguing. But it’s her fluid and effortless writing that draws one in – I read this over successive late nights, unable to put it down.



Here is the lovely Elizabeth Wix (I had the pleasure of meeting her late last year, but did not take this photo) and you can find her book here. Read the first couple of pages and I guarantee you will be hooked. And right now I'm off to search for her other titles ...

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

The year that was

In the early days of January I was still dreaming (and posting) about old world Vienna that we'd visited in the days before Christmas ...


In February there was a trip to iced-up but warm-hearted royal Copenhagen for a shot of schnapps and cool Danish design ...


March in London was weather suited only to grumpies in greatcoats ...


(though the Thames, Turner-esque, mustered a brave showing of early spring)


... and so we escaped to sunny Cape Town in April for a fix of African warmth and bounty ...


May brought a working trip to Mitteleuropa for a Prague Spring in the city of saints and angels ...


and June a jubilee weekend jaunt to Venice where high tides flooded San Marco square


Back in England the villages of the Cotswolds in June offered cowslips, roses and cream teas ...


and there was a summer opera in the rain ...



July in Paris was joyeuse around the fountains and gardens and cafés of Luxembourg and Palais Royal




de rive droite Ã  rive gauche dans tous les décors 


while in the Dordogne, a short drive away, a chateau life was all too briefly mine.



and back home, London pulled off a spectacular Olympic show ...


In August there was the creative madness of the Fringe festival in Edinburgh



and back to work, September had in store a trip to Berlin, weighed down with history.



A mild
October brought rambles in the English countryside ...



and November spectacular late autumn displays ...



Edinburgh in early December was freezing and festive with Christmas lights and colour ...



but the close of the year has been at home, which is sometimes best of all ...


celebrating out (20th birthday dinner at the top of the Heron Tower with London shining brightly far below) and in (New Year's Eve fireworks on telly) ...


There have been some big downs along with the many ups, and personally I'm hoping for a year of change and new opportunities, and of course more travel. I wish all who pass by here a peaceful and happy 2013 in which hopes become reality

Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Happy Christmas ...

... to all of you lovely people who are kind enough to follow, read and comment on my little blog. Though I don't always manage to find the time to reply to your comments I hugely appreciate and am encouraged by each one. The unexpected gift of blogging has been the making of wonderful and interesting new friends in far-flung parts of the world, and I am so grateful for your friendship and generosity.


I hope that Santa has zoomed in to each of your lives this Christmas and brought you cheer ...



A very merry Christmas to you all!

Sunday, 23 December 2012

A London Christmas

Leaving Christmas shopping to the eleventh hour is not an entirely bad idea when your hunting ground is London decked out for the season. 
Although the Siberian freeze has receded and been replaced by floods, so that we are now dreaming only of a wet Christmas, London is still majestic and enchanting at this time of year.


Regent Street, celebrating the twelve days of Christmas, was where I began, with a side trip to Liberty's ... 


showing us better than anyone how to do Christmas with flowers and greenery ...


Heading onwards via Bond Street towards Piccadilly ... What recession? declared Bond Street's jewellers and the Ritz (bottom left), though closing-down sales on Piccadilly told a different story ...


Immortal ghosts these two, heedless of the rain, FDR must have said something funny to make the curmudgeonly Winston crack a smile ...


Who would dare challenge these two burly uniformed gents watching over the entrance to the Burlington Arcade?


... where Santa was moonlighting with a little shoe-shine business.


One could take respite from the rain and shopping here in the Royal Academy, where it's business as usual ...


but I was pressing on to pick up treats for the Christmas table at Fortnum's ... whose windows this year are Dick Whittington-themed


and from here on to Hatchards for book gifts ... their windows impossible to resist.


After a pit-stop at Richoux's for tea and scones, it was properly dark outside, the Piccadilly Arcade glowing in lantern light


and to counter the scones I took a long walk northwards again via Berkeley Square, where I imagined a nightingale sang above a giant silvery Christmas tree ...


and the windows of grand homes made me want to press my nose longingly against the glass ...


and magic lanterns danced in trees ...


until I was almost full circle back in Oxford Street, where never mind the rain, there were sparkling umbrellas floating in the air in front of Selfridges' purply-illuminated grand pillars ...


... and where, after braving the store's hectic crowds and queues (though always polite and patient - how I love that about the English!), my final reward was to plop myself down, surrounded by bags, for a glass of bubbly, Christmas shopping done.

Friday, 21 December 2012

Sweet sixteen

She turned sixteen today and it felt to her like she'd waited forever for this milestone to come around. 
Once upon a time these had been her shoes ...


Today there were retro Doc Martens and lethally-spiked lace-up boots with dizzying heels to pull on just as soon as she'd blown out her candles.


There was chocolate cake for breakfast - why not when it's your birthday - and later on a trip to Kings Cross-St Pancras station to pick up her sister ...


... barely finished with exams and arriving just in time to celebrate with dinner out.


Happy birthday, Bella!


May your shoes take you to beautiful and exciting places and your year be shiny and bright. 
xxxxxxx


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