Random Jottings of a Book and Opera Lover

It's Friday

I still cannot stop feeling that lovely feeling of relief that the weekend is upon us which I used to feel when at the office, even though I am now at home, and today is no exception.  There is very little coming up on Saturday and Sunday that I won't be doing the rest of the week, but still not used to it yet though I am sure I will soon.

I was looking at my last few postings and realise that I should perhaps review a book or two as this is meant to be a book blog but have been so busy with one thing and another that I am falling a bit behind so my apologies.

I was at the opera again last night, Tosca, and Bryn was wonderful as always and Angela G was better than the last time I saw her, though I still cannot understand why everyone thinks she is so wonderful. Yes, she has a good voice but she is not a diva (except perhaps in the way she behaves), she is not in the same league as some other opera singers, for instance Joyce DiDonato, who I saw in Barber last week was so much better than Angela G, but is not so well known.  I suppose it is down to a good publicist as well as having a voice.  Still, a great evening but getting home on the late train is a bit of a pain and I am feeling really tired as I seem to have been rushing around from pillock to post for the last few days.

So this is going to be a bitty post today I am afraid but normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

One thing I do want to mention.  I reviewed Beachcombing by Maggie Danaa few months ago and had the pleasure of meeting up with her when she visited the UK.  I also had a prize draw which lots of you entered and was delighted with this.  I know a lot of you who entered are domiciled cross the Pond and Maggie's book has yet to be published there and I wanted to let you know that Beachcombing is available through the Book Depository and with free postage as well.  So, please do click onto the link HERE and order because the more sales are recorded the more likely that Maggie's second novel, which she is working on at the moment, will be published.  And I, for one, will be very disappointed if that does not happen.

Second thing I want to mention - I have a super duper prize draw coming up this weekend.  I have FIVE copies of a simply lovely delightful recently published book up for grabs.  Wonder if you can guess which one it is?  Bet you can and I will have details of this either tomorrow or Sunday.

Have a good weekend everyone.

 

A Church, a Friend, some angels and a dinner...

Had a lovely day yesterday.  Got to Cambridge and met up with Diana from LA and set off for Upwell and Outwell to be taken on a guided tour of St Peter's Church, which is widely believed to be the church featured in The Nine Tailors by DL Sayers. The route I printed from the net was useless and we got lost, though in all fairness we were nattering so much we probably took a wrong turn of our own volition. (Must say as we ventured near the Broads I did think of Noel Coward 'Very flat, Norfolk').  Anyway, the scenic route was beautiful and we arrived in good order and in good time in the end.

Two other friends of Diana were also there, from the DL Sayers group, and Alan who is the rector of St Peter's  Church, took us on a personal guided tour, after we had had a pub lunch.

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"Flinging back the light in a dusky shimmer of bright hair and gilded out spread wings, soared the ranked angels, cherubim and seraphim, choir over choir, from corbel and hammer beam floating face to face uplifted"...'My God' muttered Wimsey"

  

 "The ringers with much subuded shuffling, extricated themselves from their chairs and wound their way up the belfry stairs.....the bells gave tongue: Gaude, Sabaoth, John, Jericho, Jubilee, Dimity, Batty Thomas and Tailor Paul, rioting and exulting high up in the dark tower...."

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The drive back into Cambridge threw me into a panic as we hit the town centre in the rush hour and because of the one way system, got totally lost though I knew where we should be going.  I am a bit of a wuss when driving in packed traffic and no way of stopping and getting one's bearings. Goes without saying that the first three people I asked for directions were all visitors. Luckily a cyclist gave me very clear instructions and after calling down blessings on him, his children and his children's children, we got back safely and there was Helen waiting to greet us.

Later on in the evening Diana came round to St John's and she and I and my daughter, Helen, went into dinner at the college. The hall itself was not being used, as it was out of term time, but the room in which we dined was simply beautiful. Low ceilings, beautifully carved and decorated with panelled walls, long table set out and the entire event lit by candles all down the length of the table and in the wall sconces. It was quite lovely. There were 19 in all for dinner and lots of lively conversation as you can imagine. There was a Latin grace read out at the start and end of the meal by an extremely aged professor who looked very wise and learned. Helen informed me, as he was being helped out of the room later on, that he had done something genius with radar and had probably helped us to win the War......

The service was superb, efficient, quiet and as my plates were being whisked away and my wine glass replenished, my thoughts turned to Gaudy Night (well it was a DL Sayers day) and I remember the passage:  "So the Hall seethed and the scouts looked on impassively from the serving hatches. 'And what do they think of us all, God only knows' mused Harriet."

Managed to keep my end up in conversation as did Diana though I think we both felt slightly overwhelmed by it all - I know I did. But the highlight of the evening for me was watching my beautiful girl, dressed in her gown (they all have to wear them for dinner), chatting and talking and at ease with the dons and professors around her to the manner born. I was so proud and got quite wobbly at one stage which I hid of course as she would have been cross.

   

And then the three of us went back to my 'room' for a bit of chat. I say room but it was a small suite, with living room, bedroom and bathroom and just in case I felt like a quick snifter and a read in the middle of the night, there was a decanter of both port and sherry and also two shelves of books.

 

 

My room overlooked the Backs and earlier in the afternoon as I leaned out of the window and fed the ducks with the biscuits provided by the college for my tea, I mused on how lucky I was to be retired now and enjoying these things, and felt very happy.

Tuesday thoughts and a Photo

 

Am in Cambridge today meeting up with a friend from my on line book group, who is visiting the UK from Los Angeles.  We intend to have a day out visiting the church which features in D L Sayers, Nine Tailors, and will be dining in hall with my daughter, Helen, at St Johns.  She has also just informed me that there is a chamber concert in the Master's House which we can attend after dinner if we wish (If we wish..!)  I am also staying overnight at the college so it promises to be a wonderful day.

I will be back Wednesday in time to rest and recover before going to the opera again on Thursday,  This time it is Tosca, with the Mighty Bryn as Scarpia and boy am I looking forward to that.  However, as seems to be my lot recently, Deborah Voight who I was hugely looking forward to hearing as Tosca, now there is a woman with a voice, has cancelled and the Opera House had to email again to inform me of yet another cancellation.  However, they were sure I would be delighted to know that I would be hearing Angela Gheorgiou instead.....

Anybody whose is interested in what I think of this Diva can read my report on Tosca when I first saw it two years ago here.  Still, as long as Bryn is there I shall be a happy woman.

Oh and the photo is the River Wye taken a couple of weeks ago during my visit to Hay.

Night at the Opera

A few weeks ago I ranted on Random about the fact that Juan Diego Florez had pulled out of the performance of the Barber of Seville for which I had tickets.  I was livid and fired off a blistering email to Covent Garden and to my astonishment received a telephone call from them full of apologies and giving me tickets for another night.  I was delighted.  Then two weeks later I received another email from the Opera House saying they could not believe they were writing to me again, this time to let me know that Simon Keenlyside, who was due to sing Figaro, had been ordered to rest his voice by his doctor and was out of the run.  At this stage I contacted Covent Garden and said I would be happy if the orchestra promise to turn up.....

When I finally got there, with fingers crossed that nothing esle would go wrong, it was to find a performance of Barber of Seville which was well night perfect.  No weak link in the casting at all, in fact with all due deference to Simon Keenlyside who I love, I cannot see that he would have sung Figaro any better than his replacement, Pietro Spagnoli, who I had never heard of and who was terrific.  Made his opening entrance from the back of the stalls and walked his way through the audience.  The Rosina was sung by Joyce DiDonato, another singer of whom I knew nothing, but oh what a lovely voice, creamy and luscious and a gorgeous top range. 

The chorus were excellent, firstly as the musicians accompanying Count Almaviva's serenade to Rosina, and then later as the local Guard, dressed all in blue uniforms and clutching truncheons and looking like something out of HMS Pinafore.  The opera was set in the 1950's with wonderful colours and costumes (save for Almaviva who was attired in a dashing frock coat and breeches), and in order to emphasis Rosina's confined life and being kept indoor by her guardian, Dr Bartolo, was in a boxed set which began to sway to and fro in the climatic ensemble at the end of Act One where all the protagonists express their varied feelings.  Backwards and forwards it went, side to side with all the singers staggering and stumbling backwards and forwards and I wondered how they could possibly sing under these circumstances. 

I had noticed that Rosina had been propping herself up with a stick purloined from Dr Bartolo and it was then announced in the interval that she had sprained her ankle in all this kerfuffle, but was determined to continue. Sighs of relief all around and a huge round of applause when she appeared in Act 2 leaning on a NHS crutch decorated with a pink bow.  The British do appreciate a plucky little trouper.

So on it went, getting better and better and then, well I have yet to mention Juan Diego Florez and gosh what can I say?  He was superb.  It is not fair really.  He is tall, dark and handsome, with an elegant and slim figures and a voice surely gifted to him from the gods.  At the end of the opera, all opposition routed, all misunderstandings cleared up, and the fun and laughter comes to an end as he turns to Rosina, declares his love, reveals who he is and asks her to come and be happy with him.  This aria is the perfect finish, it stops being funny and becomes intensely moving and I sat there with a beam on my face from ear to ear, and a choked feeling in my chest and had a hard job not to burst into tears.  When you are faced with perfection, it takes the breath away and I was witnessing it.  I could feel the same feeling all around me from the enraptured audience and when he finished, the place erupted and the applause just went on and on an on.

A simply stunning evening and makes me even more determined that even if I have to give up a week's pension and live off baked beans and cheese sandwiches, nights like this are not going to go by the board.  I adore opera and this evening just showed me once again why I do.

Glorious.

And on another note, by the end of the opera Juan Diego as Almaviva was involved in a lot of heavy clinches with Rosina and lots of neck nuzzling and liplocking going on and I thought to myself, No wonder she staggered through with a crutch.  No way was she going to let her understudy cheat her out of that....

PS - have just read Joyce DiDonato's blog. Appears she spent spent four hours in casualty post performance and has broken her fibia or tibia...one of them anyway so even more kudos for carrying on

Oh and here is a review from the Independent

 

Sunday Miscellany

   

After watching the match this afternoon, just thought I would drop round the back of the Centre Court and say hello to everyone...

Left to right: Bjorn Borg, Pete Sampras, Roger Federer and Rod Laver.

I was one of the first wave feminists in the 60s who demanded equality, burnt their bras (in my case, purely metaphorically, not with my boobs), and yet I really cannot support the equal pay structure at Wimbledon.  View the lack lustre, charmless, grunting and boring Ladies Final with what we saw today. Over four hours of superb tennis and even if I now find The Fed with his silly clothes a bit irritating, there is no denying this man is a supreme champion and thoroughly deserved his win.  Poor Andy Roddick though, I was rooting for him and felt so bad for him at the end.

So that is it for another year.   The papers have said that the UK is only interested in tennis during Wimbledon fortnight, but we might like it a bit more if all the majors and any others that are interesting, were not in the sole ownership of Sky or if the BBC bucked its ideas up a bit and made sure we had a bit more coverage of British tennis as well.  Yes, that might be pretty unexciting to start off with, but would give the players more exposure and might make them try a bit harder. 

OK enough, better not start.

AND now for something completely different.  Click on this link and cop a load of this and my thanks to Julie on my reading group for sending this to us all.  Only knowing Dominic West from The Wire (which I have refrained from raving about up to now but will soon) and with an American accent, this is terrific.

I was also going to write about my opera visit last night but it was so STUPENDOUS and wonderful that I am saving it up for tomorrow.

Au reservoir.

Books to Go

This is the time of summer reading, beach books, the annual proliferation of articles by the great and the good telling us what they will be taking to the beach and this is where the Heavies and the Tabloids are split down the middle with the Guardianistas and Independentanistas trying to have us believe that yes, they really will be sitting down with the Factor 30 and Swann's Way or the latest Salman Rushdie while they dispose themselves on their sun lounger.  Those of us less pretentious and sensible know full well that there is no way we are going to do any serious reading on hols and choose books which are a Good Read.  All the book shops are full of 3 for 2 and tables of books to pack in the suitcase and, while I once used to turn up my youthful sniffy nose at this sort of thing, I don't any more as I have learned that book snobbism is a pretty pathetic thing.

So when two books arrived from HarperCollins this week, I did not take one look and curl a lip as I might have done in years gone by at two titles that fall into this genre, but sat down and read them.  I wasn't on a beach, but the sun was shining, birds were singing and the sky was blue so curled up on the sofa with cool drink to hand I read the following:

While my Sister sleeps by Barbara Delinsky has a tag line 'Fans of Jodi Picoult will love this' which nearly put me off as I have an irrational dislike of Ms Picoult's books and when I tell you that I have not read a single one, you will see just how irrational this is.  I feel a resistance to an author who has, on many occasions, blanketed Waterstones or Borders and others with hundreds of copies of her books, which we know the publicists pay for.  There are a couple of other authors who fall into this category as well so my irrationality is widely spread.

Anyway, back to the story. Robin Snow, a world class runner, collapses during a training run, suffers a heart attack and by the time she is found and taken to hospital, has suffered irreversible brain damage and is on life support.  The family is then left with this terrible choice of when to turn off the machine and cope with the fact that Robin is brain dead and is lost to them forever.  The family gather round: Kathryn, her mother, refusing to face up to reality; Chris, the brother always avoiding confrontations and making decisions; Charlie, his father whose quietness of demeanour has left his family with the impression that he is a passive observer and, finally,the younger sister Molly, quiet and taken for granted by her parents and siblings.  As we learn more about Robin and a secret within the family, it is Molly who has to step forward and take charge and emerge from her sister's shadow.

The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder by Rebecca Wells. This author also wrote the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood which I found unreadable so my initial reaction to this was, O My God, but I have learned not to give up so easily nowadays and so cleared my mind of prejudice and sat and read this straight through instead of watching Andy Murray in the semi-final of Wimbledon (and in case you are wondering why I turned the TV off, I knew Roddick would beat him and have said so all along and as soon as the match started my fears were confirmed. So why put myself through the shredder?)

This is the story of Calla Lily Ponder who was born in Louisiana. Her mother is a hairdresser and beautician who brings her daughter up to appreciate beauty and truth and who maintains that there is more to hairdressing than just a wash and dry.  M'Dear (as Calla rather whimsically calls her mother) has healing hands and can bring serenity to her stressed customers.  Calla has an idyllic childhood, exploring life and friendship with Sukey and Renee and meeting the love of her life, Tucker LeBlank, when they are both children.  Of course, this is the South so it is not all sunshine and mint juleps - racism rears its ugly head and a close friend of Calla's is beaten up by the local redneck sheriff.  When sadness and tragedy come into Calla's life, she leaves her home town, moves to the big city and starts to expand her horizons and finds maturity and happiness. 

I enjoyed both these books though I will freely admit I was not sure if I was going to.  Both of them have the central theme of coping with what life throws at you, how you can emerge stronger and wiser from adversity.  This may sound simplistic but it is the basis for many stories and while I tired slightly of the wise, homespun philosophy that was rife in the Wells book, there is no gainsaying that it was all true.  Both these books are set in America, where authors are not so reticent as us Brits in saying what they feel without any worry that they will be sneered at or dismissed as being 'cheesy'. I, therefore, put my stiff upper lip to one side when reading.

It struck me while sitting having a ponder on this post and what I was going to write, that the only difference between these two books and the two Joyce Dennys that I have read recently, is the location, time and language. OK you might say that is a lot of difference to deal with and yes, you are right, but the basic perseverance of the human spirit, the determination to cope with adversity features in the war time books as well as these contemporary novels.  Whether you weep or wail or just grit your teeth, these stories reflect how ordinary families, when faced with tragedy, just get on with it and cope.

A Good Read indeed.  Pop them both in your suitcase and enjoy.

Henrietta sees it through - thank you to all my visitors

I want to start this post today by saying a big thank you to all my visitors who drop in to read and/or leave a comment on Random Jottings.  I have just finsihed reading Henrietta sees it Through by Joyce  Dennys, the sequel to Henrietta's War which has just been reprinted by Bloomsbury (and once again,  see my review here).  The reason I am thanking you is that you have paid for my copy.

Yes you have. Honest.

On my blog you will see a little badge marked Amazon Associates.  Every time somebody orders a book from Amazon by clicking onto this or the links in my reviews, a little ting goes off in a dungeon somewhere in Schloss Amazon and a penny or two is sent to my account.  Now this does not happen too often (though I help it along by ordering my own books through this link), but over a year it does build up.  Having read and loved Henrietta's War, I tracked down Henrietta sees it Through, now out of print and rather expensive.  A few months ago when I was earning plenty of the ready I would have ordered it without a second thought, but I am now taking on the mantle of Mrs Scrooge (if he ever got a wife that is) and am counting my pennies so regretfully thought I would have to let his go.

And then what happens?  An email from Amazon telling me that they are crediting my account with £29 being my earnings for the last three months.  The Dennys book was £25 so no need to tell you what I did - this was serendipity of the highest order and this book arrived the other day, in the midst of my moaning about heat, humidity, little pink sore eyes and sneezing, and I sat up late last night with my bedroom window wide open cooling down, and read this until I finished.

Oh it is simply lovely lovely lovely.  It made me laugh and it also made me cry.

"I found the Admiral on our doorstep. As soon as I saw his face I knew that sometihng must have happened to Teddy their youngest son in France...........Mrs Admiral was quite calm but her face looked different. She sat on the kitchen chair and picked up the corner of her apron and examined it closely 'I keep thinking about him when he was a little boy' she said in a careful voice. 'We're not telling anyone because of the croquet this afternoon. We can't let anybody down''

....some visitors from the hotel wandered into the club....'My dear croquet!' said the Lady Visitor 'and bowls too, how sweet. Of course these people simply don't know there is a war on"

The Admiral dropped his pipe on the grass.  As he stooped to pick it up he laid his hand for a moment on Mrs Admiral's knee"

I welled up when reading this and welled up again just now when writing.

I do so hope that Henrietta's War does well and Bloomsbury decide to republish this one as well.  Just simply wonderful and a portrayal of the quiet indomitable English way of country life that just, well, got on with it during the war.  Sad thing is that Lady B, a simply delightful and lovable character, says that after the War is over we should all 'mix more'and not just pull apart after everyone has joined together so well in fighting the common enemy.  This immediately made me think of The Village by Marghanita Laski where, sadly, we see exactly what happens to the class divisions the minute VE Day is over.  An absorbing book and read in conjunction with Joyce Dennys makes for sobering thoughts.

But this book is going on my Book of 2009 list, as has Henrietta's War, and if you can lay your hands on a copy, it will be worth every penny.

So, once again, Dear Readers please do continue to click on my links and order your books as you are making an old mature woman very happy....

Random Thursday and a Photograph

 

Taken in Gloucestershire on a lovely summers day. Nothing to do with this post which is a bit of a moan, be warned, but just wanted to put it in for me and, hopefully you, to enjoy.

Now here we go.

A combination of Wimbledon and hay fever is causing my brain to turn to mush this week so apologies for the lack of incisive, witty and erudite book reviews and my well informed take on the world, politics and life in general........ ok, I know.

Been up for hours as total lack of sleep last night, spent most of the twilight hours coughing, sneezing and hacking and am now peering at the screen between itchy, slitty eyes and feeling very bad tempered and irritable. BUT, as I said in an earlier post this week, boy am I glad that I am not on the commute to London in this heat.  I have done it in the past and remember arriving home at 11 pm one night, after a five hour, yep five hour, journey home from London, and as I arrived at Colchester keeling over as my feet hit the platform.  Stayed at home the next day and remember well going into the office the following morning to be greeted by my then boss with the welcome  'Elaine, I know you had a long journey home and it was hot but surely you could have made it in yesterday?'......I sometimes wonder how I stood that man for as long as I did without murdering him.

Anyway, here I am and in keeping with my general well being, or lack of, I seem to be hitting an unlucky reading patch at the moment.  This sometimes happens, a book is disappointing and you wonder why and then so is the next one and you start to rummage and have a look to see what you have waiting.  In these circumstances, I generally re-read a much loved book and just bide my time and then all is well.  I have recently read The Angel with Two Faces by Nicola Upson and The Salati Case by Tobias Jones and found both to be mediocre.  I am not dissing them, I don't pitch into books on Random because as you know I believe that every book has a reader who will enjoy it and just because it ain't me, doesn't mean I should rip it apart, but I felt as I closed up the last page, yes well, so..?

Nicola Upson's first book, An Expert in Murder, was a tightly plotted thriller set in the 1930s, right up my street and I enjoyed it, though I did have reservations about using a real life (now dead) person, ie Josephine Tey as a protagonist in this story.   It seemed to work so I put my reservations to one side, but now I cannot having just read the latest which I found melodramatic and highly implausible.   Having read the book I sat back and thought 'If you take out the character called Josephine Tey and replaced it with another called Freda Bloggs would it make any difference to the story?' and it doesn't. 

The second, The Salati Case by Tobias Jones is set in Italy and I am a sucker for stories with this background, Donna Leon and Camilleri being proof of this.  I always feel that no matter how seedy the location or how dreary the author makes it sound, having an espresso or a glass of wine in a cafe on the Via Mellini or wherever, sounds so much more attractive than grabbing a cup of Nescafe in a Greasy Spoon in Blackpool.  Still, location does not make up for a rambling, muddled plot where I had to keep stopping to remind myself who did what to whom and at the end, was still not sure I knew precisely what had happened. 

Both these books came from Amazon Vine so at least I did not pay for them but I do hate being disappointed in a book.

BUT BUT BUT, on the other hand I have just started, We the Accused by Ernest Raymond, another of those wonderful reprints from the Capuchin Classics house which is going to be brilliant as I can tell straight away, and after simply loving Henrietta's War, recently republished by Bloomsbury and reviewed here, I tracked down the second volume by Joyce Dennys, Henrietta Sees it Through and am in no doubt whatsoever that this is going to cheer me up no end.

Anyway, end of Rambling  Moaning on a Thursday.  Have had shower and just going to have some breakfast and then perhaps I will stop being grumpy and feel a tad more like a human being.

Au reservoir.

Ron Morgans x Two

A couple of months ago I read the first of the Fox and Farraday mysteries by Ron Morgans, The Deadline Murders, reviewed here, and then cheekily wrote to him and asked if he fancied sending me the other two. A firm believer in the view If you don't ask You don't get, I was really pleased when The Emerald Killers and Kill Chase duly arrived.

I mentioned in my earlier review that Ron used to be a journalist and his punchy style reflects this, he is obviously used to catching the attention of his readers and making what he is saying interesting and to the point.  He succeeds again and I spent an enjoyable two days with these books before I went off to Hay and am now catching up on my reviews, tempted as I am by Wimbledon. I have just watched a great match between Haas and Djokovic and at the moment Murray is over on Centre playing Ferraro,  but I feel I am suffering from Murray fatigue so decided to do this post while watching  a mixed doubles.  OK, Jamie Murray appears to be in this one so there appears to be No Escape.

The Emerald Killers tells the story of a new beautiful movie star, Belladona Constant, cast as the Virgin Mary in a Hollywood blockbuster, who is caught in the photo lens of Henrietta Fox, doing things in the back of a stretch limo she should not be doing. It appears that Belladona is one of three daughters of a emerald mine owner, Cesar Baez, who funds a left wing guerrilla organisation.  Fox and Farraday get caught up in the cross fire between the guerrillas and a covert US operations team who are sent to assassinate Baez and survive by the skin of their teeth, despite Henrietta actually being kidnapped by the guerrillas to treat an ill hostage, as she is mistakenly taken for a nurse.

Kill Chase is, in my opinion, the better of these two, as we are on home ground and therefore, all is more familiar to the reader.  A threat to murder the Queen at the State Opening of Parliament is received and a retired member of the Royal Protection Squad at Scotland Yard is recalled as the suspect is known to him.  This is a tightly plotted story and, as with the first of this series, The Deadline Murders, struck me as being very very filmic with each chapter popping into my mind's eye.  The story goes right to the wire and though we know the day is going to be saved (after all, Her Maj is at home as I speak) this does not stop the story from being tense and a real page turner.

I would like to see if Rod would write some more of these as I think in Henrietta Fox and Cass Farraday he has created two fun and interesting characters who play off each other very well.  If he reads this, Rod how about it?

You know it makes sense..........

Hay on Wye

 

Indoor reading....

Outdoor reading