Random Jottings of a Book and Opera Lover

Troy - Adele Geras

I'm on a reading roll at the moment.  Over the last month every single book I have picked up and read has been a huge treat, all for different reasons.  This doesn't happen all that often, good book, bad book, indifferent book, great book seems to be the pattern, probably because I am totally indiscriminate and ramble around picking and dipping with no plan, but it makes life interesting.

The latest in my good run is Troy by Adele Geras.  This, and the next book Ithaka, were sent to me some time ago but I had not got round to putting them at the top of the TBR mountain and now I have and, of course, wished I had done it sooner.

This is ostensibly a 'young adult' book, written for ages 12-14 or thereabouts, at a guess. I could be totally off the wall about this and no doubt Adele will let me know how wildly inaccurate I am, but no matter.  It is a book that can be easily ready by adults (perhaps it was written for adults...?? see still unsure) but the fact of the matter is that it should be read by anybody no matter what age, because it is just so good.

We all know the story of the siege of Troy, how Paris whisked Helen off and away from her husband Menelaus and then followed the start of the Trojan wars, and we all know about the Trojan horse and Hector and Achilles and all that followed, but this story takes us into the real lives of those living in Troy and how they go about their day to day lives.  Two sisters, Xanthe and Marpessa, both are trapped in the beleaguered city. Marpessa is a handmaiden and friend to Helen, Xanthe is handmaiden to Andromache, wife of the great warrior Hector, nursemaid to their child and she also nurses in the Blood Room (where the wounded are taken each day).  One day Alistor is brought in and Xanthe falls in love with him.  However, with a bit of help from Aphrodite, he falls in love with Marpessa and the eternal love story and all its problems is set up, exactly the same many years ago as it would be today.

What makes this book so endearing and delightful, even in the midst of the war and horrors that are described, is the matter of fact way the gods keep popping up.  In the midst of the battlefield, wounded Alistor sees a tall dark warrior who tells him not to worry, not his time to die yet and he knows as he is Ares, God of War.  While tending him, Xanthe looks up as sees a child standing in the corner of the room with a quiver full of arrows smiling at her.  It is Eros the bringer of love and he shoots an arrow into her breast.

Then there are three old ladies, the Gossips, who we meet chatting in the kitchen when up pops a tall handsome young man, turns out he is Hermes, messenger of the gods.  They are delighted to see him, a long time since a good looking man in a short tunic has been in their company....

"Greeks!" said Theano.... "I spit on the Greeks and all their works.  Wouldn't trust one further than I could throw a javelin"........"Odysseus, he's the worst, or the best I suppose if you look at if from the Greek's point of view...he always had a kind word for us"      "Younger then weren't we?" said Theano "And a bloody sight less wrinkled.  Even Greeks are polite when chatting up girls with breasts like melons"

Funny and down to earth these three pop up on a regular basis with their trenchant comments and views on the comings and goings and the daily battles of the siege.  All the characters in this story, all names known to us all from the Iliad and the Odyssey, are shown to us as ordinary men and women caught up in the events of history.  Though Troy is leavened with humour, it is a book to be taken seriously, the tragedy and futility of the war is made clear and because we have come to know and love everyone we meet, their ultimate fate is all the more horrible.

I remember as a child seeing a very glamorous film about Helen of Troy with Paris being played by a simply gorgeous Frenchman called Jacques Sernas.  He has remained very clear in my memory now for over 45 years so he must have been truly handsome, which of course he was, golden haired and blue eyed, just how Paris is described in Troy.  I did not know the story of the Trojan wars at that age and remember being devastated that this wonderful love story ended in such a tragic way. 

(And guess what?  Have just checked, it is available on DVD and is now in my Amazon basket...)

I took an 'O' level long ago in Greek Literature and remember studying the Iliad, the Odyssey and Herodotus and was one of the very few girls in my class who enjoyed this subject.  Reading Adele's book has reminded me how much I loved it.  Luckily I have the next one, Ithaka, on my pile and will be starting that tomorrow.  I visited Cephalonia a year or so ago and on a boat trip sailed round Ithaca, the home of Odysseus and I am now seeing this in my mind's eye while writing. 

Over the last few weeks I have been in Cornwall reading wise, so now I am off to Greece and will have to start thinking of other books with Greece and the Islands as a backdrop.  One of my favourite Enid Blyton's as a child was the Ship of Adventure in the location of a cruise ship in the Aegean Islands, a Mary Stewart, the Moonspinners (set in Corfu I believe) was one of my teen age favourites and I am pretty certain some of her others were set there too.  Oh dear, I am off.  Anybody else got any suggestions?

Silly question, of course you have.

Thanks Adele - I loved this book.  I know I have been saying that a lot recently and am glad to be doing so again on this wonderfully sunny Sunday where I have relaxed and spent the afternoon on the sofa with this story.

Sunday Ramblings

I do wish that my body clock did not wake me up at 6 am each morning, all very well when it is a work day, but at the weekend it would be rather nice to have a longer sleep.  OK I could roll over with the luxurious knowledge that I don't have to get out of bed, but by then I am usually wide awake.  However, this was no hardship this morning as it is a simply glorious day.  It is so lovely when this unexpected sunshine and warmth suddenly appears out of nowhere and the heart lifts and people in the street begin to smile a bit more.  So I am sitting here with a cup of tea, have opened all the windows in my bijou flatette, Classic FM quietly on the radio so I don't wake the neighbours, and all is gemutlich.

However, be warned I am now going to go into Grumpy Old Woman of Colchester mode, so all those of you who who are rolling their eyes up to the heavens and thinking O God here she goes again, look away NOW.

The downside to this sudden arrival of summer is the sudden mass display of flesh that I had to suffer when I went into town on Saturday.  The reason for my foray into town, I would rather have needles in my eyes than do this normally, was that I discovered that my summer wardrobe is sadly lacking in anything that is half fit to wear (have not bought any new summer clothes for some years now) and also, sadly, that I really have to shift a bit of weight and the clothes that I have were just a little too comfortable for my liking. So off I went to buy some stuff.  Before I go any further, I would like to make it quite clear that I am not exactly pin thin, I am not svelte, never have been, never will and I, too, have rolls of excess flab lurking around the waist area.  They are not things of beauty and I do not inflict them on the public at large.  Why then do others not adopt the same way of thinking?

Walking down Colchester High Street was horrific, at a guess I would say that nearly 70% of everyone I saw was overweight, some verging on the obese and yet there was a preponderance of tight shorts, skinny clinging t-shirts and of course, the obligatory baring of flesh in the midriff.  There were rolls of white flab everywhere and I cannot believe that anybody who looked in the mirror before they went out could even begin to think they looked in any way fetching.    The men were just as bad with huge beer bellies and an awful lot of them shirtless which, quite frankly, was all too much to bear.

I purchased, I fled home and here I am.  I don't have a garden, this is when I miss it, but as I said all windows are open, and I shall be spending the day in my long floating cotton caftan which has the virtue of hiding all my deficiencies in figure as well as being cool and comfortable.

I should mention that I went into the wonderful Marks & Spencer food hall while in town as I decided that before I belly ached about everyone else, I should do something about my belly, and purchased salads and fruit and healthy things to eat and this week I am starting to see if I can shift a bit of avoirdupois.  I did it for the wedding, then relaxed and it all came back, and now here we go again.  I sometimes wonder if it would jut be easier to think Oh to hell with it and not bother, but the thought of my body being somewhat on display when I go on holiday to Turkey in June is focussing my mind wonderfully.

Vanity vanity all is vanity...

More later

Photo of the Day

Santa Maria del Mar - Barcelona

Setting for The Cathedral by the Sea  by Idelfonso Falcones

It was two years ago today...

Yes the second anniversary of my blog and I cannot imagine my life without it now.  I hope that does not sound toooo sad and anal, because Random Jottings has certainly opened up my reading and social life and I now have real and cyber bookish friends all over the world which is a truly wonderful feeling.

No posting of a reviewing nature tonight, have had a busy day at work and feeling a bit tired so off to bed with a cup of tea and celebratory Hob Nob and a book (of course).  However, could not let the day pass without a picture of the crop of books which have been sent to me over the last week or so.  This is part of having a book blog that never fails to delight and amaze me, this constant stream of books wending its way to my door.  The fact that publishers feel I am worthy of their largesse and worthy of writing about their precious babies is a source of never ending wonderment to me and I take reading and writing any such books that are sent to me very seriously indeed.

My favorite publisher at the moment is Bloomsbury as they have been responsible for my reading two of the most delightful books that have come my ways for ages, namely:  The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer which I have just posted about, and The Great Western Beach by Emma Smith, also reviewed recently.  Both gems and sheer joy from start to finish.  They have sent me other goodies, one by Katie Hickman which was on my wish list, another sumptuous historical novel (hooray) and also an intriguing mystery, The Suspicions of Mr Whicher.  I have also just opened and read the first two pages of Resistance (no, not the Owen Sheers of that name), but one written by Agnes Humber which are memoirs of Occupied France and, again, in diary form which I love.  So shut that one up otherwise I will never get to bed with the tea and the Hob Nob.

Source Books have sent me some gorgeous new editions of Georgette Heyer which I shall rave about soon and I have to say the paper, production values of these paperbacks is just so superior to those reprints by Arrow Books in the UK.  On the whole, I have to say I always find the US editions better.

And then, to round off a colourful week, I have The Green Hat by Michael Arlen from Capuchin Classics and the Mystery of the Yellow Room by Gaston Leroux by Dedalus Press.  So, I am much blessed and thank you all.

Any more publishers out there who might just read this post and who wish to help me celebrate my second birthday? 

Well, you know what to do...........

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

I received a parcel of books from Bloomsbury the other week and this was on the top of the pile and caught my attention immediately as the title was slightly odd, to say the least, and I wondered what on earth it could be about.

"It is January 1946 and writer Juliet Ashton sits at her desk, vainly seeking a subject for her next book. Out of the blue she receives a letter from one Dawsey Adams of Guernsey, a farmer with a shy manner and tender heart, who has by chance acquired a secondhand book that once belonged to Juliet.......they begin a correspondence and when Dawsey reveals that he is a member of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, Juliet's curiosity is piqued and it is not long before the begins to hear from the other members"

There is gawky Isola, who makes love potions and lives alone with her claustrophobic parrot Zenobia, Eben a fisherman who loves Shakespeare; Will, creator of the famous Potato Peel Pie and Dawsey, kind reliable and loving, and a host of other characters.  I hasten to say that though you may be thinking that this is all a tad whimsical, it is not.  Underlying the wit and humour is the story of how the islanders coped during the German occupation of their island, of the horrors that they saw, the hunger and starvation, but   also the bravery and friendship.

A central character who we only read and hear about through the eyes of others, is Elizabeth, the founder of the literary group (they discuss Elizabeth von Arnim so she is a woman after my own heart) who was sent away to a concentration camp leaving her child behind her, a child with a German father, who is cared for by all the members of the Literary society.  We learn all about her steadfast courage, her love for the father of their daughter, her feistiness and care for her friends and the fate which awaits her in Germany.  Elizabeth's story provides a sombre balance to Mary Ann Shaffer's book and makes it clear that this is not just a light, frothy and witty read.

The book is entirely epistolary, and the letters fly thick and fast backwards and forwards and with each letter we read we learn something about the writer, the characters live through their own writing.  I do like books like this, no narrative telling us what to think about each of the protagonists, we are left to make up our own minds through the letters and to picture locations and settings in our own imagination.

This book reminded me in style and wit of Diary of a Provincial Lady.  Very difficult to describe the humour of E M Delafield's book, it is understated and does not bounce out at you, it is in the reading, no laughing out loud (well, perhaps occasionally) but just a general feeling of deep amusement and affection.  I felt just the same about this wonderful book by Mary Anne Shaffer , who I understand died a few months ago, though she knew her book was to be published, she never even saw the proof copy that was in my hands.  I was so sad when I heard this, no more from this writer, just a one off and yet I feel that this simply delightful book is due to be a classic and will be read for years to come.  This is what Stephanie at Bloomsbury sent to me when I said how sad I was to hear of the author's death:

"I know - it's such a shame and especially that she didn't get to see all the amazing comments that were written about her book once the proofs started going out.  We've yet to receive a bad review of this title - it seems to hit a chord with all readers". 

I am most grateful to Bloomsbury for sending me this gem as I am not sure I would have spotted it otherwise.  Mark you, if I had picked it up in a bookshop and read the opening I think I would have paid for it and taken it away.  Totally beguiled me:

"Susan Scott is a wonder.  We sold over forty copies of the book, which was very pleasant, but much more thrilling from my standpoint was the food.  Susan managed to get hold of ration coupons for icing sugar and real eggs for the meringue.  If all her literary luncheons are going to achieve these heights, I won't mind touring the country.  Do you suppose that a lavish bonus would spur her onto butter? Let's try it - you may deduct the money from my royalties"

and later, on remembering the days that she and her friend Sophie were book shop assistants:

"It was amazing to me than, and still is, that so many people who wander into bookshops don't really know what they're after, they only want to look around in the hope of seeing a book that will take their fancy.......they will ask the assistant three questions (1) What is it about? (2) Have you read it? (3) Was it any good?

Real dyed in the wool assistants, like Sophie and me, can't lie. Our faces always give us away.  A raised brow or a curled lip means that it's a poor excuse for a book, and the clever customers ask for a recommendation instead, whereupon we frog march them over to a particular volume and command them to read it.  If they read it and despise it, they'll never come back.  But if they like it, they're customers for life"

OK better stop quoting huge chunks otherwise there will be no need for you to buy this book and I SO want you to do so.  It is published in August and plenty of time to pre-order.  I shall burble on about this again then in order to remind everyone that it is now available.

I loved this book.

And no need to tell me that this is hardly a critical or analytical summing up, I know and I don't care. 

I loved loved loved this book.

Crossed Bones - Jane Johnson

Whenever I am at an airport I always make my way to the 'airport special' stand in the bookshops as quite often one can pick up a good paperback edition of a book not yet published, or just published in hardback, and I always manage to find one or two I want.  This time I picked up Crossed Bones by Jane Johnson.  The cover is a tad off putting and does the book a disservice I feel, giving the impression of it being a standard bodice-ripper, when in fact it is more than that.  OK it is romantic and contains a kidnap, shipwreck, Barbary pirates et al but it is absorbingly written and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Julia Lovat is dumped by her lover Michael, who to soften the blow, gives her a present of a book "The Needlewoman's Glorie".  Julia is an embroiderer and is intrigued  by the story of Cat Tregenna the owner of the book some 400 years earlier.  The story is set in Cornwall, I seem to be Cornish bound at the moment with Daphne by Picardie and Forster, but I am not complaining and there are mentions of Marazion, Mousehole and St Michael's Mount in this story, all areas I know well as I used to visit when my in-laws lived near Penzance.

Cat Tregenna is a servant to Lady Harris of Kenegie on the Cornish coast and is determined not to marry her cousin Rob and be immured in the life of a farmer's wife, she wishes to use her talents for embroidery and sewing and go to London and leave Cornwall behind.  She gets more than she bargained for however, when she is amongst the congregation of a church attacked by Barbary pirates raiding along the Cornish coast, and she is thrown into the hold of a corsair and must survive sea battles and the long journey to Morocco before she is sold into slavery.

The two stories of both Julia and Cat are told side by side, a two narrative device that I always enjoy as we switch from one protagonist to the other and get to know their thoughts and feelings.  The waters are muddied somewhat by Michael realising that he has given Julia the book by mistake, he had bought another for her, much less valuable and he follows her to Morocco where she has gone to find out what happened to Cat, and attempts to steal it back from her.

I loved every  word of it.  I sat in Barcelona airport waiting for my plane, started it and read it solidly through the wait and my flight and closed up the book as we came into land at Stansted and just before I had to drive home.  Perfect timing as I would not have been able to set off without knowing how it finished.

There is something about Cornwall that is so inherently wild and romantic that any book set there captures the imagination immediately. We also have the part of the story set in Morocco with its teeming bazaars and dust and heat as a contrast, a fiery heroine both past and present, a dashing ship's captain, a faithful lover who travels to Morocco to bring Cat home...... all the ingredients for a ripping yarn.

A story like this is never going to make the Booker list or win any prizes and some people may turn their noses up at it, but it is historically accurate and well researched, the story zips along keeping the reader intrigued, written with great panache and style - I found I enjoyed every minute of it and that's what it is all about, is it not?

Keep an eye out for it.

Mrs Darcy's Dilemma - free draw

Well Henry was in a bit of a sniffy mood today, in fact, he has been in a sulk ever since I got back from Barcelona.  He did not like being left on his own and, to make matters worse, I then nipped off  to London for a couple of days.  So I had to be really nice to him in order for him to agree to make the draw.  As the sun was shining he got very fussy and demanded his sunglasses as he said he wanted to look 'cool' for all the visitors to Random Jottings who would look at him.  Whether he looks 'cool' or not is up to you to decide.

Anyway, he graciously deigned to draw out four names and here they are: Sogalitno, Juxtabook, Rhonda and Sibyelle.  So can you please email me with your postal addresses and I will forward them on to nice kind Danielle at Sourcebooks and she will mail you a copy of Mrs Darcy's Dilemma.

I do like doing these draws and think I am going to make these a regular feature as I am sent a lot of books, cannot keep them all and it would be a good idea to let others read them, with the proviso of course, that you spread the word.

Happy Birthday Virago 4

"With the intention of making a suitable match, Undine Spragg and her parents move to New York where her youthful, radiant beauty and ruthless ambition prove an irresistible force.  Here Edith Wharton dissects the traditions, pretensions and prohibitions of American and European society - both the ostentatious glitter of the nouveau riche and the faded grandeur of the upper classes"

Painting is "Looking at Drawings" Adolfo Belimbau 1854.

Every single book of Edith Wharton is designated One of My Favourites and these now encompass nearly all her output, but this particular title is near the top of the list...

Hall, Hill and Wingfield

No not a firm of solicitors, three detective stories have just finished and decided to post about all three of them under one heading.

First up, The Death Pictures by Simon Hall.  This is published by Accent books who regularly send me review copies of their output (I have blogged about them earlier Here ) and out of those I have received so far, feel that this is one of the best.  I understand that there is a book before this one so will now have to get hold of it as soon as possible..  Apparently the author is a BBC Crime Correspondent so he obviously has lots of background knowledge to draw on.  A dying artists has created a series of ten paintings "The Death Pictures" each containing a clue to a unique and valuable prize.  Thousands attempt to solve it but before the final answer can be revealed, the painter is found dead and though at first sight it appears as if he has committed suicide, it becomes clear that he was murdered.

A TV reporter is covering another big story at the same time, there is a serial rapist on the loose.  He is plotting six attacks and leaves a calling card for the police to find after each attack.

Both these stories run alongside each other with Dan the TV investigative reporter becoming increasingly involved and wondering if the death of the artists is connected with the crimes.  He has a friend on the inside, a detective inspector and this relationship forms the backbone of this book and those to come.  Pacy, lots of red herrings and distractions and all very intriguing.  I enjoyed it very much though felt that two thirds through it sagged slightly, but then picked up again for the final sprint. 

Next up was The Cure for all Diseases by Reginald Hill, the latest Dalziel and Pascoe. No need to wonder what you will get when you open this book, just read with pleasure.  An autocratic land owner who has a knack of creating enemies amongst her friends, tenants and relatives hosts a hog roast and is find dead and roasting at the end of a particularly acrimonious afternoon.  Not nice.  As I am a fan of Reginald Hill, I will always read and enjoy his books, but found this one slightly irritating in parts as a large amount of the narrative takes the form of emails between two sisters complete with 'text speak'and spelling and full of exclamation marks and parentheses.  Amusing for a few pages, it then becomes tedious.  We have Dalziel talking into a tape recorder as part of his recovery from his horrendous bomb blast accident (in previous book) which forms a stream of consciousness, which I found slightly rambling and indulgent.  Best part of the book was when we were back with the straightforward narrative featuring Wieldy and Pascoe and all the other characters the readers have come to know well.    So, in my humble opinion, not up to his usual standard, but as Hill's standard is always very high, this still means a pretty good book.

A Killing Frost by Wingfield.  Most of us who know and love David Jason as Frost on the TV have to put this image to one side when reading these books.  There are similarities, of course there are, but the books have a harder edge and this one certainly has with Frost trying to find missing teenagers who have met a very nasty end and discovering the ramifications of their deaths.  This is balanced out by the determination of a new arrival, Inspector Skinner who, with Chief Inspector Mullet, is trying to get Frost transferred out of Denton and is not averse to resorting to cunning methods to achieve this end.  This thread provides some much needed light relief.

Frost, with his permanently disheveled appearance, dirty old coat, fag in one hand and bacon butty in the other is really the UK equivalent of Colombo, irritating and disarming in equal measures and, as always, I thoroughly enjoyed his mordant wit and underlying humanity.

Sadly, this will be the last Frost as the author died just before Christmas, so I tried to read this slowly as I knew it would be my last treat.  I failed of course and galloped through to the end.

The Golden Compass

Have been up in London for a couple of days with an old friend, wining and dining, and generally having fun so posting is falling behind.  I have lots of terrific reads to write about and hope to get down to it over the next two days.

Tonight my good friend Rosemary came round for supper and we watched the DVD of the Golden Compass which is the film version of Northern Lights by Phillip Pullman.  I have not read any of his books and feel no great desire to do so, but know many people who think they are truly wonderful and not to be passed by.  Both of us watched this movie with absolutely no idea of what we were going to see and no pre-conceived notions about the faithfulness to the book etc etc and I have to report that we both found the film distinctly underwhelming.  Daniel Craig phoned in his cameo role, though one assumes it will be broadened out in any future sequel, and please is there somebody out there who feels as I do, that Nicole Kidman is a distinctly over hyped actress?  I thought she was pretty dire to say the least.  The accent sported by the child star seemed to have a distinct Essex twang to it which is slightly odd as Lord Asriel, her guardian, has a cut glass accent, she lives in what would appear to be Oxford University, and surrounded by tutors and Masters with excellent speech.

I remember the reviews being less than fulsome but would like to know what others who have seen it, and who have read the books, think of this film which left me with a feeling of 'well, yes so...?"

Loved the bear though...