Reviews, books and battles

How I love the bank holidays. We’ve been super lazy today and not done a thing which is bliss. Here’s this morning’s poem:

Meditation 212

The river
flows into salt,
its freshness lost.

And the tongue
remembers
forgotten languages

forged in wind
and flame
for a while.

I’m really thrilled to say that the lovely Jilly has given The Bones of Summer a very good review on her website today which you can read here. Thanks so much, Jilly – glad you enjoyed the book!

Not only that, but she’s kindly put up a five-star review on Amazon UK as well, so double thanks for that also. You can read that onehere. So that’s a very big smile on my face this bank holiday for sure.

Keeping to the topic of books, I’ve read Sarah Stonich’s The Ice Chorus, which is a very powerful and poetic story about a holiday affair and the changes it brings to the heroine’s life. I’m hoping to review it for Vulpes Libris after I’ve finished tackling my current editing, so I won’t say much. But I certainly experienced the whole range of emotions in my reaction to the heroine – sometimes I wanted to slap her very very hard, and sometimes her story made me weep. Goodness me indeed.

Meanwhile I’m trucking slowly onwards with the edit to Hallsfoot’s Battle. Interesting how the changes are bringing the focus more firmly onto Annyeke. Which is a good thing, to my mind. Lots more to come however, so we’re not out of the woods yet.

This afternoon, I caught up with the latest on Ugly Betty, and tonight I’m hugely looking forward to Part Two of Wuthering Heights on TV. Part One yesterday was utterly gripping and I loved it. Funny how Heathcliff is indeed such a monster and yet I so desperately want him to win, even with knowing what happens. The actor is just so perfect in that part. Wonderful stuff.

Today’s nice things:

1. Bank holidays
2. Poetry
3. Reviews for Bones
4. Books
5. Editing Hallsfoot
6. TV.

Anne Brooke: roaming through the moors of … um … Surrey
A Dangerous Man: almost as scary as Heathcliff and probably twice as deranged …

Motes, nature and a good week for stepfathers

Another full day today, but here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 211

The picture
in your mind

is only blood
and emptiness.

You plan and legislate
for what

cannot be held
in the hand

or snatched
from the air

as it passes.

For most of the day, Lord H and I have been wandering aroundIghtham Mote in Kent, which is a totally wonderful Medieval moated manor house. Bliss. It’s the first time we’ve been too, so shame on us for not visiting it sooner. We’ll definitely be back. It’s got so many fantastic higgledy-piggledy rooms and a library layout to die for. The walks round about were pretty damn good too. As was the lunch – special mention has to be made of the banana and toffee meringue which reduced Lord H and myself to a totally worshipful silence. Mmm …

Not content with all that, we also popped into Sevenoaks Wildlife Reserve on the trail of the black-necked grebe. Sadly we didn’t actually spot said grebe, but it’s got some good hides so we’ll be back when the birds are more in abundance. Or at least more obvious.

Tonight, I am gearing myself up for the joys of Part One of the new adaptation of Wuthering Heights on TV. The scriptwriter is the sainted Peter Bowker, a Man Who Can Do No Wrong – he was responsible for the script of Desperate Romantics and the glorious Blackpool, so it’ll definitely be worth watching, I’m sure.

However, I can’t really let this week go without saying how utterly horrified I’ve been at the terrible abduction and imprisonment of poor Jaycee Lee Dugard from the ages of 11 until 29 years. I’ve been so horrified by it all and what she and her two children must have suffered that when I come to try to pray, I can’t find any meaningful words and all I can do is cry. God preserve us, maybe that’s enough. The only good thing that I can say about it all, speaking with my stepdaughter hat on, is that it’s lovely to see that stepfathers aren’t necessarily the potentially evil monsters they’re often depicted as being these days. Sometimes they can be good things too – and I’m sorry the last 18 years of veiled accusations have cost Jaycee’s stepfather his marriage, but it must be a relief for him to be so totally exonerated today. I like to think that if I’d ever been snatched from the street by an individual intent on evil (as my grandmother used to say), my own stepfather Jim would also have got on his bike, or more likely into one of his beloved tractors, and attempted to give chase, no matter how hopeless the outcome. Anyway, a tragic, long and horrific episode for all the Dugard family, and let’s hope recovery is as whole as it can be for them. What I really fear is how many other Jaycees are out there, waiting to be discovered. Or not …

Here are this week’s haikus (two today, as one popped into my head this afternoon):

In my scented bath
a cloud of stories floats by.
Possibilities.

In green-golden woods
dapple my skin with sunlight,
meld me to the earth.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Ightham Mote
3. TV
4. Stepfathers
5. Haikus.

Anne Brooke: in medieval mode
Maloney’s Law: for the children who remain

Skies, battle and song

I must say what an utterly glorious time Lord H and I had at last night’s The Great Look Up event. The range of experts and telescopes was astonishing. We managed to get brilliant views of Jupiter, its rings and three of its moons, plus a ring nebula and a veryvery close look at the moon. I loved the whole thing. It was fascinating, and I would definitely jump at the chance to do something like that again. It really made you look. In a world were that doesn’t happen often, I think.

Anyway, here’s today’s meditation poem:

Meditation 210

Redemption
lies in the struggle

to clear its path;
gaze upwards

and let your heart
rise

through a clarity
of angels.

This morning, I’ve been continuing the edit of Hallsfoot’s Battle and have now worked out the complicated piece of editing. Which, like many things in life, wasn’t actually as complicated or as fearsome once I got down to it. I’m very happy with how that section looks now. And, amazingly, I’m nearly half way through. Ye gods and little fishes indeed.

This afternoon, Lord H and I are off to our last Glyndebourne opera which is L’elisir d’Amore. One I really enjoy – it’s such fun. This time we’ve opted for the pre-performance tea, just to ring those proverbial changes, so we’ll spend the long interval sipping champagne and admiring the gardens. As you do. Ah, it’s a tough life … Though sadly it’s the last of this season’s operas so no more Glyndebourne after today until next year. The end of summer then, I fear.

Meanwhile, I’m in two minds about Ishiguro’s latest short story collection, Nocturnes, which I’ve read on my e-reader. It’s a very interesting and not a difficult read, with the stories focused on music and displacement. But it felt a bit “light” and I didn’t really enjoy the title story, which went on for far far too long. The collection as a whole didn’t really leave me with any sense of voice, and I have to say it’s not Murakami. Though not bad. Faint praise, I know, but ah well.

Today’s nice things:

1. Remembering the night sky
2. Poetry
3. Editing
4. Glyndebourne.

Anne Brooke – dusting down her posh frock and shoes
A Dangerous Man – which strange to say did once have a Glyndebourne sex scene but wisely I ditched it …

Editing, sleep and the big night skies

Well, we thoroughly enjoyed Walking with Dinosaurs last night – a magnificent show indeed and very well done. Stars of the show were the great beasts themselves of course, but the way the plant life burst out of the stage at various points was grand too. The only big down-side was the fact that we were over half an hour late due to the fact that the M25 was shut and everything in the south came to a sympathetic standstill. Which made an hour’s journey into a grand 2.5 hours and was extremely dull. Not to mention frustrating. On the way we passed no less than four accidents and were passed in turn by a very very slow-moving fire engine. One hopes it got there before the fire gave up. All of which probably made it into National Traffic Queueing Day, and the country will be celebrating its anniversary for years to come. Anyway, people were arriving late all the way through the show (which matters very little due to the nature of Wembley Arena). But the people I was really sorry for were the young family who finally crawled into their seats in front of us looking thoroughly bedraggled and traffic-beaten about 10 minutes before it actually … um … ended. Tough explaining that one to the young children in tow …

Anyway, to today. And there’s a poem, and it’s the first day of reading Acts:

Meditation 209

Sometimes
it is necessary

to advance,
pour forth

the needs
of the moment,

demand satisfaction.
At other times

there is nothing
to do

but wait
under empty skies,

trusting in a promise
you no longer see.

For most of the day I’ve been editing Hallsfoot’s Battle and am quite pleased with progress. I’ve now come to a section of more complicated editing so I’ll leave it until I feel fresher, I think. After that and worn out from all the excitement of the past few days, I’ve managed to fit in a much-needed nap. Which turned out to be a whole two hours, so Lordy but I must have needed it.

Tonight, Lord H and I are out at the University’s Great Look Up event, as he’s something of a fan of the night sky and I think it should be interesting. Mind you, I’ll try and avoid the barbecue, I think – I’m not a great fan of raw meat in the open air. If I want to eat badly-cooked food, I’d prefer to do it indoors …

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Editing progress
3. Napping
4. The night sky.

Anne Brooke: head in the clouds as usual
Thorn in the Flesh: a definitive night-time read

Walking with Dinosaurs

A brief blog today as I have to be out of the flat in half an hour and still have to brush my hair and powder my nose, my dears. So here are today’s excitements:

1. Had a fabulous Clarins massage with Alice this morning, which was hugely early so apologies for the lack of poem – I opted for the invigorating oils this time rather than the relaxing ones as usual, so am raring to go. Though I suspect not for long …

2. It was then straight into a cappuccino with Robin, and then lunch with Robin & Liz (hello, both!). We put to rights the world of books, song and politics. So everything’s perfect now. Just in case you were wondering why everything felt different.

3. Tonight, Lord H and I are up at Wembley Arena to see Walking with Dinosaurs, and I’m so very excited about it that I think I might be sick. I love dinosaurs. And I paid a small fortune for the seats so they are truly brilliant. Lord knows when we’re going to have time to eat – and indeed I may well be eaten during the evening, which would rather solve the problem. Who can say?

Today’s nice things:

See above!

Anne Brooke – wondering if I can fit a dinosaur into the flat …
Disasters and Miracles – the everyday life of Bible folk

Poetry, the reading revolution and Mr Penry-Jones

Today we’re at the end of St John’s Gospel so here’s my last poem on that:

Meditation 208

In the flesh
there are no borders

and in the blood
and spirit and memory

there are so
many words

that the whole world
cannot hold them.

Tomorrow, it’s Acts – so hang on to your hats as we dive into that action-packed drama and angst …

At work, I’m actually doing quite well on my information gathering project – I’m rootling through the undergrowth with my trusty machete, and the tigers haven’t yet torn me limb from limb. So there’s hope, Carruthers, hope … I’m also attempting to sort out some upcoming meetings, but as it’s August and most of the academic staff are therefore sunning themselves in Majorca or Barbados, my hopes there aren’t quite as high. Still, by next week, we’ll be truly into autumn and it’ll be as if the summer pause never happened at all. Though actually, it didn’t for us. And probably not for the academic staff either. Ah well.

But this morning’s great excitement was the fire alarm going off. What fun. We all left the building beautifully and it wasn’t raining, hurrah. Nice to get out of the office once in a while en masse. There wasn’t actually a fire either, which is even better. I also managed to squeeze in a quick lunch & a cappuccino (hurrah!) with Jennifer – hello, Jennifer! Great to catch up and in just over an hour (naughty me …) we managed to put the literary world to rights. Jennifer’s Great Plan is that if we find a book that’s badly written (Sasha Wagstaff’s dreadful book, Changing Grooms, springs at once to mind, alas), or with dull characters and a ridiculous plot (um, ditto), we should mark up the errors and send it back to the publisher to say that the quality of the product falls below an acceptable legal standard and we should therefore have our money back. Honestly, it’s not a bad plan at all – and if everyone did it, then maybe publishers would begin to think twice about accepting substandard work for their lists. One can but hope. The reading revolution starts here …

Tonight, I’m pondering the edit of Hallsfoot’s Battle once more, though I mustn’t miss a new version of The 39 Steps on TV tonight, with the really quite scrumptious Rupert Penry-Jones. Whom I hadn’t really cottoned on to before, never having seen Spooks, but who swept me away in the glorious crime series, Whitechapel. Mmm, can’t wait …

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Reading revolutions
3. Editing
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – hacking away in a jungle of paper
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice – the perfect summer cocktail

The Great Information Gatherer and holiday memories

On this rather grey start to the day, here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 207

East of the waters
the question

of where your heart rests
overflows the sense.

Love
is a binding power,

leading you
through unsung paths

where even now
you fear to pace:

follow it.

At work, with Clare’s help, I’ve finally got hold of some of last year’s reference sheets for Freshers’ Week so have spent most of the day attempting bravely to update them. My goodness, what a lot of information we seem to need for that week. It’s a never-ending well, my dears. Will I ever reach the bottom (as it were)?

Walked into town at lunchtime, mainly in order to get another journal. I always take one on holiday and the one I currently have doesn’t have that many pages left for any deep thoughts or inspiration that may flow my way in Italy, ho ho. I do find they come in handy – my holiday experiences in Bruges found their way into Kate’s story inThorn in the Flesh, and of course my Egypt trip found its way intoMaloney’s Law. I shall always remember that young boy, his very dirty basket of bread rolls and those Americans, Gawd help them. I hope they survived … Ooh, and I popped into Boots while I was in town and the totally lovely woman from whom I always buy my Clinique stuff (but I haven’t seen her for a while) took one look at me and told me my hair was utterly fabulous. How very kind! I didn’t think anyone in my “real life” but Lord H had noticed I’ve been growing it longer. It’s been a real boost today.

Tonight I am torn between expected joy and tears; it’s the last episode of Desperate Romantics and I’m already missing it. Please let there be another series – soon … My TV screen will be all the dimmer without it, alas.

Meanwhile, I’m getting into the edit of Hallsfoot’s Battle and can feel myself becoming quite excited about it again. I do love this part of the writing … um … battle. I’m being very drastic too about what I keep and what I add in. The snow raven is biting the dust, or possibly pecking it, and Johan’s point of view is going, as is the First Elder’s, these latter two to be subsumed into the viewpoints of my remaining four characters. Ah, the power, the power – it’s so satisfying.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Holiday journals
3. Hair compliments
4. TV
5. Editing powers.

Anne Brooke – power-crazed but beautifully coiffed writer sweeps through Surrey
Thorn in the Flesh – the dark side of the Surrey shires …

Reflexology and editing

Goodness me, here we are again at Monday. How these summer weeks just fly by. Anyway, here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 206

The whole water
is empty of life

and the air
is as silent

as the hills.
Night has folded us in

like the promise
of death

and when the morning
finally softens the sky

all I have
is nothing

and all I see is how
at the water’s edge

he waits for me.

Have spent the day continuing to sort out details for the upcoming Freshers’ Week. I really need to get together a reference book for our information points staff, but I’m not quite clear on where the information actually is. Still, that’s never stopped me in the past, so I’m almost sure I’ll be able to whip up something that looks meaningful. Famous last words, eh. I’ve also had a fun time rejigging the Health Centre website ready for the new influx of students and arranging another tranche of meetings for next year. My, how it makes me laugh when people say that because I work in education my summers must be easier. Ho ho.

So, with all that, I thoroughly enjoyed my lunchtime reflexology appointment – soooo relaxing. Plus I’ve booked some more to get me through the autumn, hurrah.

Tonight, I’m intending to look a little closer at the Hallsfoot’s Battleedit, with the reward of Would I Lie To You? on TV later. As a sop to my existential pain of course. Wonderful.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Reflexology
3. Editing
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – feeling the benefits of the foot rub
Maloney’s Law: a man who could really have done with a little reflexology to get him through …

Church, edits and books

Here’s today’s meditation:

Meditation 205

In the middle
of battle, victory

and a bargained marriage
she knows

what is needed
and for this one time

she asks
what she wants

and gets it:
the upper

and lower water.
Caleb, Othniel, Achsah.

Keeping on a religious theme, Lord H and I graced the church with our presence today, but were utterly confused by the hymns. I think it’s part of the Anglican August conspiracy that vicars choose hymns nobody knows to tunes that nobody understands. Perhaps they think it keeps us on our toes? We had a charming one by Wesley – called Author of Life Divine – but it’s only two verses long so the congregation barely had time to get to grips with the tune. After all, the Church Hymn Rule for unknown tunes is the first verse is the one where you’re working it through, the second verse is the one where you’re practising it and the third verse and beyond is the one where you can really belt it out with gusto. Today we didn’t get that chance. Ah well. We were also muddled by the fact that the last two lines of said verses are apparently sung slower and twice. Hmm, nobody told us …

Still, at least we’re back to shaking hands during the Peace and allowed to take wine at communion, so the spectre of the swine flu plague has obviously lost some of its grip. I also managed to give out a few postcards for Disasters and Miracles that Bridge House Publishing had kindly sent out. Nice to see that Disasters and Miracles at Amazon appears to be doing well. At one point late last week, its sales ranking actually only had four figures. Well, gosh, I’ve never been in those dizzy heights before.

This afternoon, I have fiddled around a little with the edits for the start of Hallsfoot’s Battle and am pleased with my minimal efforts so far. More drastic cuts and slashes are ahead however! Time to gird one’s loins for the kill.

Keeping to the subject of books, may I say that Sasha Wagstaff’sChanging Grooms is the worst novel I’ve had the horror of reading in a long long time. What I was hoping for was light but intelligent women’s fiction. What I actually got was dull, cliched, clunky and very very badly written. And the characters were so shallow it was laughable. A serious disappointment. It’s an astonishment Headline actually published it – what on earth could they have been thinking?? Point of view changes happened every few paragraphs so it was very difficult to work out where you were at any one time, the conversations were completely unrealistic – how many British men do you know who sit down and discuss their emotions and the meaning of love at great length with each other?? – the plot was very sloppy, and character development (where it existed at all) was only shown through what clothes they were wearing. This kind of book is an insult to any reader, and certainly an insult to the genre. Shameful stuff. The only slightly positive angle I can spin on it is that if crap such as this is published by a mainstream imprint, then there is surely hope for us all. It also puts the nail finally and absolutely in the coffin of the ridiculously misinformed brigade who insist that “if you write something of quality, then of course it will be published …” Um, not ifthis is the kind of book the so-called “quality press” are publishing, say I. Lord preserve us indeed.

Thank goodness then for an extremely high quality poetry collection from Peter Abbs. His Viva la Vida (though I do so hate that pretentious foreign title …) is top class poetry that manages to be human, spiritual, religious and accessible, all at the same time. Which is surely a feat in itself. I have an absolute raft of favourites from the book, but I do have to mention “Falling Like Gulls” (about memory), “Grandmother Reading at Myrtle Cottage” (a strong and poignant portrait of a woman), “Moving Statues” (about faith and expectation), “Other Gifts” (a poem about emotional inheritances), “A Raw Planting” (visiting the graves of his parents), “The Genius of Turner” (how art happens) and “Small Love Poem”. Amongst many many others. I shall definitely be looking out for more of Abbs’ work.

Finally, here’s this week’s haiku:

Each raindrop glistens
with the clarity of light
and the world is still.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Church
3. Disasters and Miracles’ Amazon rating
4. Beginning the Hallsfoot edit
5. Viva la Vida
6. Haikus.

Anne Brooke – puzzling over hymns
Disasters and Miracles: ideal Sunday reading

Reviews galore and a day in the country

Seemed to be loads of little jobs to do before the day really got started today (why are some mornings just like that??), but I managed to squeeze in a meditation poem:

Meditation 204

A faith that glistens
in the eyes

of your friends
slips through

your fingers,
does not glide

into skin:
a halfway house

between saints
and men

that gives
a promise of hope,

joins our now
with then.

I’m also very pleased to say that Book Utopia Mum has givenPainting from Life a very positive review at Book Utopia Reviews. Thank you hugely for that – it’s much appreciated.

Not only that but the lovely Clare London has uploaded three reviews on my work at the Goodreads site. Firstly there’s A Dangerous Man:

“Excellent read, though dark and very edgy. Michael is all-consuming, totally fascinating. Both victim and ambitious, though he’ll always be trapped by his background. Can’t say much more without spoilers! But it’s a treat to read. Great prose, it slides deliciously in and out of Michael’s own mind and emotions, taking you with it, no holds barred. Great UK setting and a lovely slice of the art world and the anguish/joy of art itself.”

Secondly, there’s a review of Maloney’s Law:

“Blew me away, a stunning mix of mystery and melodrama and one man’s journey through a period of his life when everything seems a struggle. It’s not heavy, though there are shocking scenes and strong adult themes. Paul’s charm and determination carries the book, he’s a great mix of strength and sensitivity and the perfect ‘eyes’ for the mature plot. Written with wit and excellently clear, entertaining prose.”

And thirdly and lastly, here’s Clare’s take on The Bones of Summer:

“Excellent combination of mystery and romance. Loved the UK setting especially and the gritty, modern feel that gave it. Paul follows on from Maloney’s Law, still the tortured, complex, fascinating man. Craig is new and a great counterpoint, lively, confused, sexy, needy, brave. The sex scenes are very fresh and hot, the dialogue realistic, and Craig’s wit enchanting!”

Triple gosh and big big hugs to you, Clare – thank you so much! I’m extremely grateful indeed.

All of which has set me up nicely for a day in the country with Mother. The Old Gal is chugging along nicely – speaking of which, she’s planning a holiday later in the year on the Manchester Ship Canal. It wouldn’t be my first choice, but hey there’s no accounting for mothers. We managed to fit in a walk in the afternoon as well so we could help her deliver the church magazines, although I was deeply traumatised by one of the people in the road exclaiming with astonishment when he saw us: “Gosh! You must be mother and daughter – you look so alike!” What can I say?? Obviously a man who needs his eyes thoroughly testing. There is NO WAY on this planet that my mother and I are alike IN ANY SENSE. At all. There. That’s that sorted then … Lord H meanwhile remains tactfully silent on the matter …

Curious things passed on the motorway queue on the way to Mother’s: a truck with Caution: Racing Pigeons emblazoned across it. Surely it would be quicker for them to fly??

Curious thoughts discussed whilst on the motorway on the way back from Mother’s: why are houses always named in such obvious fashions? Why can’t you have The Old Whorehouse or Brothel Cottage or Slaughter Manor? Ah, it’s tempting, so tempting …

Today’s nice things:

1. Four book reviews, no less!
2. Poetry
3. Surviving Mother (Gawd bless ‘er …)
4. Lazy pigeons
5. Curious housenames.

Anne Brooke – happy to be read
Painting from Life: not just a load of old brushes