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ZOR. Philosophy, Sprituality and Science by J.B.

2011-06-16T17:34:00.001-07:00

John Brewster is heir to and manages the assets of the family business, Brewster Capital, a position he inherited from his father. He lives a secure, comfortable life in suburban Boston with his wife, Mary. The picture of John today is a far cry from the idealistic and energetic young university graduate who did not want to settle for suburbia but wanted to make a difference in the world.

We learn at the outset that the course of John's life was changed drastically just after he left university and could have been entirely different had he stuck with his original plan to head to Africa with the Peace Corps and his roomate, Ed. Although they had been very close during college years, attending anti-war demonstrations and planning how they could save villages from drought by building wells, after Ed left for Africa he and John never spoke again as the gap between their worlds widened.

Instead, due to a crisis at Brewster Capital, John was pursuaded to postpone his trip to Africa to help his father with the business and although it was meant to be only a temporary measure it became a permanent cancellation. It was from this moment that John began to walk the path towards becomming the character we meet at the beginning of the story when he is in his mid-fifties; the John that had settled for suburbia. It is also at this point that Zor, a Haitian dwarf, enters his life and it becomes clear that the direction of John Brewster's life journey is about to be changed again.

Zor is a fascinating book. It is a compelling and easy to read story about how a young man with high hopes and ideals to do good things in the world becomes derailed from his mission and is instead steered down a very different course. The story is told mainly through discussions and debates between Zor and John which are philosophical in nature and touch on many ideas related to the interconnectedness of nature, science, spirituality and conciousness. The story delivers messages on many levels and does not pull any punches when discussing the true nature of happiness, settling for mediocrity and failing to accomplish the ideal of bringing change for good to the world.

When I first read that Zor's character was an Haitian dwarf I began to wonder if the basis of the story was a little too corny and contrived; how many Haitian dwarf philosophers are there in the world? Then I realised that the whole point of this book is to deliver a philosophical and spiritual message in such a way that a reader of fiction may be able to relate to it and get the point. Zor is a typical character of fiction but the message of the story is real and speaks great truth about humanity and the human condition that most of us experience.

I have taken several weeks to get to this review because I wanted to put some distance between reading the book and reviewing it to see if Zor was one of those rare memorable works of fiction. It is! I clearly remember the characters, the message and the story as if I read it yesterday and I cannot say that for the last book I read which I finished at the weekend!

I would highly recommend Zor to anyone. Espcially to those who are remotely interested in the connectivity between Philosophy, Spirituality and Science and for all those "Children of the Revolution" who said they wouldn't be fooled!

The Piano Tuner - Daniel Mason

2010-05-28T22:52:00.000-07:00

This book has been on my TBR pile for a such a long time and I am so glad I finally picked up The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason and read it.

In late October, 1886, specialist piano tuner Edgar Drake receives an unusual request from the British War Office. He is asked to leave his quiet life and his wife in London and accept a mission which will lead him through the jungles of Burma to tune a rare Erard grand piano. The piano belongs to Surgeon-Major Anthony Carroll, an enigmatic British officer, whose success in making peace in the war-torn Shan States is legendary, but, whose unorthodox methods have begun to attract suspicion.

Edgar, the soft spoken lover of music and piano's heads off across Europe, the Red Sea, India and Burma until he finally reaches the Shan States. En route he meets some fascinating characters and during his journey he reads the letters written by the Doctor to the War Office and becomes intrigued by the surgeon before he meets him. He starts to wonder if his life will ever be the same again after this journey which becomes an epic adventure, not least of all when he meets Doctor Carroll in person and sets to work on the piano. As well as falling in love with the country, the piano and the people Edgar also meets a beautiful woman who is mysterious and like no other woman he knows, Khin Myo. His enchantment with Khin Myo makes him hesitate when it is time for him to return to London, after his work is done. He has become forever changed.

This was such a well written book, I felt as if I was with Edgar all the way through his journey, which in many ways only really began when he reached Burma. The descriptions of the Burmese countryside, the breathtaking views and the larger than life characters were masterfully done. I read it in only two sittings and couldn't put it down. Nothing, however, prepared me for the ending which I hadn't expected at all.

The Piano Tuner is the tale of a simple, gentle man who loves his work and who is flattered when considered by the War Office to be the necessary expert required to make this journey to fix the rare Erard piano. He sees the world with a poets vision and is enchanted by all the new and exotic things he encounters along the way. I liked Edgar instantly and didn't want the story to end.

Have you read The Piano Tuner? What did you think of it?

The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon

2010-05-08T16:36:00.000-07:00

The Shadow of the Wind is set in post war Barcelona and tells the tale of Daniel Sempere and his widowed father who owns a bookshop in the city.

It opens in 1945 with ten year old Daniel waking from a nightmare in which he has forgotten what his mother's face looks like. In order to cheer Daniel up, his father takes him for the first time to a secret place only a select few people know of, "The Cemetery of Forgotten Books" which is hidden in the back streets of the city and houses thousands and thousands of rare books which are thought to have been lost or are out of print. The Cemetery is managed by a caretaker who looks after all the works there and when new initiates are brought to the place for the first time they have to follow strict rules. They must choose one book and be it's custodian for life, keeping it safe and making sure it does not get damaged or destroyed. Daniel is drawn to The Shadow of the Wind by Julian Carax and is so enthralled by it when he reads it, that he sets off in search of other works by Carax. What he discovers over the next few years is not only that Carax's works are rare indeed but that a person called Lain Colbert is buying up all the Carax books he can find and burning them. Daniel eventually does find another of Carax's books in which he discovers that the name Lain Colbert is also that of the character of the devil in this book.

By the time Daniel is sixteen, word is out in the literary community that he is in possession of what is believed to be the only existing copy of The Shadow of the Wind. Lain Colbert hears about this and seeks him out. Colbert cuts a terrifying figure not least of all because he has no eyelids or lips having been very badly disfigured in a fire. Daniel will not part with the book in spite being offered large sums of money for it from connoisseurs and now by Colbert himself. When this does not work Colbert resorts to threats which Daniel brushes off although he is terrified.

What follows is a journey of discovery into the life of Julian Carax. As Daniel meets with old friends and acquaintances of Carax he begins to find unprecedented parallels between Julian's life and his own. It is said by many who knew the young Carax that Daniel resembles him closely and staggering connections between the two begin to unfold, although they have no family or business ties. It becomes vital that Daniel finds out the truth about Carax not least of all to save his own life. Whilst this is happening the backdrop of the story depicts post war and pre war Barcelona and Barcelona under the rule of Franco which provides a testimony to some of the horrors of that time all of which blend seemlessly into the story.

The moment I picked this book up I was enthralled and I was also in floods of tears by page six! It didn't take long for me to realise that I would be trying to get through this book in one sitting but at the same time would not want it to end. Daniel, his father, his friend Tomas, the irrepressible Fermin Romero de Torres (the once street tramp rescued by Daniel and given a job in the book shop by his father), Julian Carax and Miguel Moliner are all adorable characters, I wanted to invite them to dinner and chat with them immediately! (What lively discussions we could have had!) Male characters dominate the book and are definitely the main source of interest and amusement. Female characters play the roles of temptresses, objects of devotion and pitiful doormats devoted to scoundrels, but, I liked them all, possibly with the exception of Clara who I thought was heartless, spoilt and unworthy of the devotion showed to her. There were a couple of moments that really shocked me which I hadn't seen coming but that may have been because I was reading so fast. I will definitely read The Shadow of the Wind again, next time though with more consideration and less speed. I wolfed it down so fast this time I am sure I missed lots of things a steadier read would uncover.

If you haven't read it already, go and get a copy right now.......it is probably the best book I have read this year.

Have you read it yet?

Coming up...The Piano Tuner and The Shadow of the Wind

2010-05-05T17:53:00.000-07:00

I have been away for a little while working on a project which left me with no time to read, knit or blog. So, I am catching up on the reading and will be reviewing The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason and The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. My son said that I read too many girlie books so I thought I would put that right and I'm so glad I did.....Watch this space.....K

Angelology (The Review).........

2010-03-23T17:49:00.000-07:00

I really don't know where to begin with this review as there is so much I want to say but I don't want to put out any spoilers.......so, I'll just give a high level overview for now.

Angelology is a discipline of theology which focuses entirely on the study of Angels. There are groups of researchers throughout the world today called Angelologists and because I realised this fact from the beginning, the characters and story set out in Angelology by Danielle Trussoni became immediately more plausible and compelling to me.

As the story begins it becomes apparent that the contest between good and evil is waged not in the heavens but here on Earth between warring factions of biblical scholars, Angelologists and heavenly beings hiding in plain sight at the top of society in the most wealthy and powerful families across the world. These are a race of beings born from the union between a group of angels called The Watchers and their human mothers. The Watchers became fallen angels and were cast down into the earth to suffer for eternity for their transgressions with humans. The prodigy they leave behind, however, are known as the Niphilim and they survive to this day.

The central character in the tale is Sister Evangeline, a young nun living at St. Rose Convent in Hudson River Valley, New York City. As assistant to the librarian, during the course of her work, she stumbles across a mislaid correspondence between philanthropist Abigail Rockefeller and the convent's abbess of the time, Sister Innocenta. This letter has Evangeline intrigued as it alludes to an astonishing discovery in the mountains of Bulgaria in 1943. Simultaneously, the book introduces Percival Grigori, a critically ill member of the Niphilim and son and heir of the Grigori fortune. The Grigori family and others of their kind, have engaged in warfare for generations with the Society of Angelologists, a group that included Evangeline's parents, her grandmother, Gabriella and Sister Celestine who is now an old and sick nun also living at the Convent of St Rose. Evangeline realises that what she has been told of her past is not entirely the whole story and slowly she uncovers her heritage as an Angelologist.

This discovery draws her and Grigori into conflict over control of a powerful artifact, the lyre of the mythical Orpheus. It was said that the Angel Gabriel, so saddened by his command to commit The Watchers to their eternal prison in the earth, threw the lyre into the cave after his brothers to give them the comfort of heavenly music. He realised his mistake in an instant but it was done and the lyre was cast down, giving who ever found it a power equal to God. These are the stakes that Evangeline and Grigori are playing for.

I loved every minute of the battle and found myself staying awake late at night and getting up really early in the morning until I had finished the book......It was, for me, the most enjoyable read I have had in a long time.

There were a couple of things which really annoyed me though. Firstly, Danielle Trussoni takes, what seemed to me, an unnecessary amount of time to describe cars in the story......these descriptions have no bearing on the telling of the tale, that I can see and their inclusion made me ponder whether they had been written on days when the author wanted to complete a 1,000 words for that day. The other thing, which is really the fault of the editors, is that there are two big mistakes in the plot; one relates to the length of time Sr Celestine has been at St Rose Convent (the story says over 70 years when it should have said over 50 years) and the other comes towards the end of the story when the Angelologists set off in pairs; one of the pairings is named incorrectly half way through the telling of their situation (the story says Evangeline and Verlaine when it should have said Evangeline and Bruno). Small things, I know, which say more about me as a reader than they do about the author. It is clear to me, however, that from the outset Danielle Trussoni paid great attention to detail in the writing and she obviously did an amazing amount of research to bring the story into being, so, I felt these trivial things were careless mistakes in an otherwise well written book and should never have escaped the edits.

Having said all of that, it was an amazing book and I couldn't put it down. The storyline has all the ingredients of becomming one of the best, most popular books of the year and having looked over the author's website, it is clear that she has plans to make a series and turn Angelology into epic tale. The film rights to this story have been sold to Columbia and the sequel is currently in the making.

Good luck to her and I cannot wait for the next book to be published.

I'd love to discuss the ending of the book but will not write about it here so if you want to discuss it, then drop me an email.

Angelology (The Cover)..........

2010-03-21T04:14:00.000-07:00

Just look at the cover of this book!

I will be reviewing Angelology by Danielle Trussoni very soon as I haven't finished reading it yet, but, am enthralled and can't put it down.

Just thought I would share this lovely image with you all.

Have you read Angelology yet?

Isabel Wolff Fest! The Making of Minty Malone, Out of the Blue and Forget Me Not

2010-03-13T19:10:00.001-08:00

I've just been on an Isabel Wolff binge and read three of her books in a row. I often do this if I find a new (to me) author and like the first of their books that I read. It happened with Peter Mayle when I discovered his love affair with Provence and also with Bill Bryson when I set out with him on his journey round England - of course, I had to find the rest of their work because I enjoyed the first one so much. Paulo Coelho's another and Annie Caufield, Alexander McCall Smith and Helen Fielding are in the too.......I could go on!

So it was with Isabel Wolff. The first of her books I picked up was one of her later ones which just happened to be sitting on the shelf during one of my surreptitious visits to the local second hand book store. I'm not supposed to go in there! I made a deal with myself that I wouldn't buy any more books until my TBR pile was at least half the size it was on New Years Day, but, I just can't help myself! It is almost impossible for me to walk past the shop door without dropping in for a little look. I have even taken to walking a different route on my shopping days or waiting until the shop is closed to head back home, just so I am not tempted. Don't think I am mad when I say this, but, it is as if the books just call out to me, I really think they do and I can count on one hand the amount of times I have come out of that shop without at least one book in my mitts!!

Anyway, I digress,.........Isabel Wolff's, Forget Me Not was written in 2007 and is the story of Anna Temple who gives up a successful career in the City to start her own garden design company after she reevaluates her life following the shock of her mother's sudden death. At the very beginning of her new venture she meets and falls for a gorgeous guy, Xan, who is very dedicated to his own career. When Anna discovers she is pregnant Xan bolts through the stable door and life for Anna is forever changed, especially once her lovely daughter, Milly, arrives on the scene. All kinds of family secrets begin to come to the fore as Anna struggles to balance her new business, being a single parent and managing the grief of her mothers sudden death.

The next book I read was The Making of Minty Malone. Written by Isabel Wolff in 1999, this is the story of Minty Malone who is really a very nice person, hates conflict and finds it hard to say no to her domineering boyfriend and pushy work colleagues who constantly take advantage of her good nature. When she is jilted at the alter on her wedding day in front of 280 guests, Minty is in shock and is persuaded to go on her what was to be honeymoon with her bridesmaid instead. That fateful trip to Paris is the beginning of what is to become an epic year long journey of discovery which takes Minty on the road to find herself.

The third book I read during this Wolff fest was Out of the Blue, which was published in 2001 and is the follow on book from Minty Malone. Faith and Peter Smith have been married for 15 years. In their early thirties, they married very young and unlike most of their friends of a similar age who are just starting out having a family or just newly married, Faith and Peter have two lovely teenage children. During a surprise anniversary dinner celebration which Faith has arranged for Peter, her long time best friend of 25 years, Lily, makes a suggestive comment about Peter which sets Faith's alarm bells ringing about his fidelity. Faith's doubts set her and Peter off on a bumpy road which takes alarming twists and turns.

As you can see, I read these books out of chronological order and I soon found that it rather matters where you start to read Isabel Wolff's work as she weaves a number of common peripheral characters into all of her stories. Although her books appear not to be a series, there is a continuity to them that adds to the interest. These characters are in the background mostly, but, they do add colour to the landscape of the main story. As I started with one of her most recent books and then flipped back to only her second, I realised quickly what she had done and was surprised to find one particular character there at the beginning of her work. I liked that, it was interesting to see how she brought the background story into the fore.

There were lots of things I liked about her work and even if the outcome of the stories are fairly predictable, she does tell a good tale. The characters she draws do become likable, but, there was one thing I found really annoying; in each book she quotes words from common prayers or lyrics from a famous song several times and interweaves lines from these with the main characters thoughts....I ended up not reading the lines of the prayer or lyrics at all and just skipping straight through the narrative. For some reason this really aggravated me! Such a small thing, however, in what was a good reading experience, overall.

It became clear to me that Isabel Wolff's later work was much more thought provoking and tackled more serious issues than her earlier works did. The earlier books are definitely more frivolous and chick-litty. I found both Minty and Faith a little annoying at first and a couple of times I wanted to tell them to shut up, but, they did become likable nevertheless and grew on me as their story progressed. Anna was much more believable and I liked her instantly. It may be a while before I read any more of Isabel Wolff's work, but, her latest book, A Vintage Affair is definitely the one I would go for next.

Do you end up reading all of an authors work once you discover you like them?

Have you read any Isabel Wolff's work?

The Truth About Melody Browne

2010-02-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

Since I have been blogging my reading experience has broadened and become a much more colourful and varied journey. Perhaps I should allude to my life as "pre - and post - blogging" not least of all because I have read books I would never have picked up before, especially as I began to find fellow bloggers with similar taste to mine and started to follow their recommendations. It was by doing this that I became a fan of Lisa Jewell.

The lovely Dot's at Dot Scribbles writes some great reviews. It was because of Dot's enthusiasm for Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, that I read her work for the first time. I became so enthralled that I had to read all I could find of du Maurier's and became a huge fan. The same happened with Lisa Jewell. Following the success of finding and loving all things du Maurier, when I read Dot's comments about Lisa Jewell I began to look out for her books, too. The first one I found was Vince & Joy, which I really enjoyed and I fast became a Jewell fan reading 31 Dream Street next. Imagine then how happy I was to find The Truth About Melody Browne when I was on my last trip to the local second hand book store. I rushed home clutching the book tightly, hardly able to wait to open the cover - (my guilty truth is that I would have started to read it on my walk home had I not had so many shopping bags to carry!). I rushed like mad to put the shopping away and cook dinner and when all was done, I dashed upstairs and opened the first page. I didn't stop reading until the last page was turned, by which time it was 3.30 a.m.

I loved every word of it and although it has a fairly simple storyline, it does bring up many thought provoking questions about the attitude of society towards people with unusual lifestyles, the social service system in England, moral dilemma's relating to telling the whole truth to children, parenting methods, ownership of one's personal identity and dealing with depression - "the black dog".

Melody Browne lost everything she owned when her house burned down when she was nine years old. She also lost all memory of her life before the fire. At fifteen she became pregnant and her parents' disapproval forced her to leave home and bring up her baby alone. We meet Melody in her early thirties, living in a council flat in Covent Garden with her son who is about to turn 18. Melody has not seen her parents since the day she walked out, but, in spite of this, she is happy enough with her life until a chance meeting changes everything and sends her on an unusual journey to find out who she really is.

One day on her way home from work, she jumps onto a bus as it starts to rain and sits next to a good looking stranger. They hit it off from the start and before the journey ends the stranger asks for her mobile number. This leads Melody on her first date in years and they go to see a hypnotist show where she is selected from the audience and called up onto the stage. She is instructed to become a child of 5 years old with a runny nose and a serious wind problem. The audience think it is hilarious as she runs around the stage making lots of loud noises but it stops being quite so funny when she passes out as the hypnotists clicks his fingers to bring her round from the regression.

After her head clears a bit and she regains consciousness she feels totally different than she felt before and in the days that follow she starts to have flashes of memories from what she can only assume must be her early childhood. Small fragments of unrelated images come into her mind at first; eating ice cream, a crash helmet, images of rooms, a big house by the seaside and a mews house in London, names of people she knows nothing about but who she feels mean something to her. Melody wonders if she is losing her mind but slowly she starts to piece together her early life and when she gets the first confirmation of names and places she has recalled, she realises that she is not who she thinks she is and her past is not as she believed it to be.

This is such a lovely book. There were moments when I read on through tears and others when I smiled at the dialogue. I couldn't put it down and didn't want it to end. When I had finished reading I thought of all the questions the story raised and I know Melody and her journey of discovery will stay in my mind for a long time to come.

Having read The Truth About Melody Browne now only confirms for me that Lisa Jewell is a great writer with an easy to read style and wonderfully drawn, believable characters, who become so likable you want to cheer them on or hold them close during their times of despair and sadness. I can't wait to read more of her work.

Have you read any Lisa Jewell books?

The Secret Life of Bees

2010-02-18T21:23:00.000-08:00

Set in the American South in 1964, a year of increasing racial unrest, The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd is a powerful story of the ability of love to transform our lives, and the story pays great tribute to the feminine and the strength of sisterhood. The issues of loss, betrayal, and the scarcity of love, and the healing of those wounds are demonstrated powerfully when a group of women come together to mother each other and themselves, and to create a sanctuary of commradeship, and family.

Lily Owens is a fourteen year old girl living on an isolated South Carolina peach farm with a neglectful and harsh father. To make matters worse, her father, T. Ray, tells Lily that she accidentally killed her mother, Deborah, who died when Lily was four years old amidst mysterious circumstances. Lily has vague recollections of this time but cannot distinguish between what she really remembers and what her father has convinced her is true. What she does know is that she misses her mother dearly and longs for her mothers love.

Lily is raised by Rosaleen, who is a proud and outspoken African-American nanny. When Rosaleen attempts to exercise her newly won right to vote in the 1964 elections, she is attacked by the three worst racists in town and is thrown into jail on charges of assault. Lily, determined to save the badly wounded Rosaleen from a terrible fate and finally escape her own father, attempts free Rosaleen from jail. It works and the two set out across South Carolina in search of a new life.

Lily has only one thing to guide her on her journey, a picture which belonged to her mother and is one of the precious few possessions she has of hers. The cryptic picture is of a black Virgin Mary and has the words "Tiburon, South Carolina" written on the back of it. This becomes Lily and Rosaleen's destination. When they arrive in the small town of Tiburon, Lily sees the same Black Madonna adorning several bottles of honey jars at a diner. She and Rosaleen go to find the woman who makes it, August Boatwright, who lives with her sisters: May, who is still very traumatized about the death of her twin sister April and there is also June, who is an ardent feminist.

The three women take Lily and Rosaleen under their wing and although June has reservations at first about living with a white runaway girl under their roof, what develops between them all is a story of self discovery, coming of age, love, sisterhood, forgiveness and mothers lost and found.

This book was in my Top 3 favourites of 2009. I loved the way the characters were drawn and descriptions of the heat and blistering South Carolina summer landscapes were so convincing I could almost smell the peaches on Lily's home farm and hear the bees chatting to each other in their hives. I was very pleased to hear that there had been a film made of this book so, of course, I had to find it. It did not disappoint either, which is unusual for a film of a great book, in my experience. The film cast was excellent though with Dakota Fanning, Queen Latifah, Alicia Keys, Sophie Okenedo and Jennifer Hudson.

If you can't find the book, do look out for the film, it really is a wonderfully inspiring story and made me want to immediately set up a sisterhood of my own!!

Has a story ever made inspired you to do something you perhaps wouldn't have otherwise done?

The Little Stranger - Sarah Waters

2010-02-04T19:41:00.000-08:00

I know I've been missing for a while but I'm back and have lots of reviews to share with you.

As soon as I opened one of my Christmas presents and realised it was a book voucher, I dug out my 2009 wish list and planned a trip to the book store. I decided that whatever was available there during my visit, if it appeared on my list it could come home with me. So I brought home four lovely lovely books which I consumed in no time at all.

The first one I read was The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. I had read so many reviews of this book and was excited to find it, especially as I had not read anything by Sarah Waters before.

The story is set in 1947 Britain when the war is over and the country is still struggling to recover from the aftermath of it. This is also a time before the National Health Service and National Trust have been set up to assist with health care and rebuilding. In the story we meet a country doctor, Dr Faraday and the Ayres family who live in a once magnificent country house, Hundreds Hall. The doctor's mother at one time had been a housemaid there and he remembers the house during it's days of splendor. The first time we encounter Hundreds Hall it is many years earlier. We meet the doctor as a young child during a garden party there and he looks back on the scene fondly. Then we switch to 1947 and Dr Faraday is called back to the house for the first time since his childhood to attend to a sick maid who has taken ill. He is taken aback at the poor condition of this once splendid house. He meets the Ayres family after attending to the maid and from this moment on the lives of Dr. Faraday and the Ayres family become very closely woven indeed.

Sarah Waters is a talented storyteller and she draws the characters very clearly. With her great observations of life in post war Britain, she sets the backdrop to the tale, perfectly. She comments effortlessly on the crumbling class system and the devastation of war, all the time carefully unfolding her characters. I loved reading this book. I enjoyed the suspense and intrigue and taking a glimpse into what it must have been like to struggle through a time of terrible dereliction and uncertainty. I couldn't put it down once I had started it and even found myself sitting up late into the night to finish it.

However, there was one huge spoiler for me and it was that I guessed at the ending :( Not because it was so obvious from the story, it wasn't, but, because I had read a review beforehand which pointed to it, although I didn't realise that until I was reading the book.........so that is why I haven't told you much of the story, I would hate to spoil the end for anyone. Having said that, I still enjoyed The Little Stranger, not least of all because of Sarah Waters talent as a storyteller. I would absolutely recommend it.

Have you read The Little Stranger or anything else by Sarah Waters?

Have you ever guessed the ending to a story?

The Ship of Brides

2009-10-24T14:44:00.000-07:00

I was so impressed by The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society book that I couldn't stop talking about it, I really loved it. After one such conversation my good friend Sian said that she had a book which I might like to read as it was also set in 1946 and was about the the post war era. As it turns out she was absolutely right, I really did enjoy this book.

The Ship of Brides by Jojo Moyes is based on a true story and is about a group of women who travel on the British Navy aircraft carrier, HMS Victorious, to England from Australia to meet up with the husbands they married during the war. The story follows the journey of four of 650 'brides' on board the ship. These four share a makeshift cabin together and they make the six week long voyage away from their family and friends in Australia to an unknown and brand new life in England. But the ship has other passengers; the full navy crew of the Victorious is still on board which comprises of 1,100 men along with 19 aircraft and all the related equipment which makes an aircraft carrier work! The navy has agreed to bring the brides from all around the world back to Britain to be reunited with their husbands after the war is over. They commission the Queen Mary and other luxury liners to do the job, but, time is short and there are a lot of brides to relocate so they decide to revamp the Victorious so it can carry some of the brides from Australia.

The book begins with a rambling first part which I found a little boring, to be honest, but once we meet the four girls and get into the real story, then it becomes 'un-put-downable'! We are introduced to the ladies as they are told they have a place on a 'bride ship' which will take them on the journey to England. We accompany them as they say their goodbye's to family and friends at home in Australia. The comparison between their lifestyles is quite fascinating as they each come from different backgrounds and have differing relationships with their families and their husbands. The departure scene is very moving and I did shed a tear or two as the girls climbed the gangplank and left everything familiar to them behind.

Then the journey begins and it soon becomes clear that the shear logistics necessary to make this trip without discipline problems is a huge headache, especially as the captain of the ship is a lifetime navy man without a wife of his own. To help maintain the status quo marines are posted outside the ladies living quarters and strict rules are enforced to make sure the ladies and the servicemen are kept apart, but, six weeks is a long time to be alone at sea and a great deal happens to the brides and the men.

As the days unfold, so do the relationships between the women. The story really is about friendship, betrayal, secrecy and trust and of course, it is mainly about love. It is a fascinating tale with believable characters who show their true colours in one way or another as the journey progresses.

One of the most interesting things about this book for me was that, as unbelievable as the story may seem in parts, this really did happen to these women. I found it particularly telling of the times that some of the brides on board received telegrams or radio messages telling them "Do Not Come - Not Wanted Here" in which case they were put off the ship at the next port of call and arrangements were made to send them back to Oz, without any recourse at all! I did a bit of checking after I read this book and found out that Australia lost almost a complete generation of it's female population to foreign servicemen during the war years, mainly those from the US and the UK and both British and American authorities sanctioned that arrangements must be made to pick these women up and transport them to join their husbands in America and Britain after the was was over.

I was spellbound by the book which is a great story with lovely characters and also by the real story which is absolutely true. I would definitely read this book again at some point and recommend it wholeheartedly.

Did you know about the 'brides' story? (I had no idea!)

Does reading a story based on fact alter your enjoyment of it is any way?

The Liar - Stephen Fry

2009-10-17T17:13:00.000-07:00

Whilst I was on my break from blogging I managed finally to read some of the old timers of my TBR pile, one of them was The Liar by Stephen Fry. I wasn't sure what to make of it at first and became a little confused as the story jumped backwards and forwards through time, but, it didn't take me long to be completely absorbed in this wonderfully witty and amusing tale of people who keep secrets and tell lies.

Adrian Healey is the central character in this story and he is witty, bright, intellectual, snobbish and quite daring. The first time we meet Adrian it is clear he is not like other boys at his school:

"Adrian checked the orchid at his buttonhole, the spats at his feet, gave the lavender gloves a twitch, smoothed down his waistcoat, tucked the ebony Malacca-cane under his arm, swallowed twice and pushed open the changing room doors.

'Ah, my dears,' he cried. Congratulations! Congratulations to you all! A triumph, an absolute triumph!'

'Well, what the fucks he wearing now?' they snorted from the steamy end of the room.

'You're and idiot and an arse, Healey.'

Burkiss threw a flannel onto the shiny top hat. Adrian reached up and took it between his forefinger and thumb.

'If there is the slightest possibility, Burkiss, that this flannel has absorbed any of the juices that leak from within you, that it has mopped up a single droplet of your pubescent greases, that it has tickled and frotted even one of the hideously mired corners of your disgusting body then I shall have a spasm. I'm sorry but I shall.'

In spite of himself, Cartwright smiled............."

And so I was hooked. I had the most vivid picture of the scene and particularly of Adrian Healey in my mind from this moment, and as the story unfolds, the picture becomes more and more colourful.

Adrian proves to be a total liar and looks on the world as his play ground. The book charts Adrian's life through the latter part of public school, during a time when he becomes a runaway and through his university years. He is cool, courageous, rebellious and always in trouble of one kind or another, particularly with the police, various school masters and his parents. Nobody can see through Adrian until he meets Professor Trefusis, who is a master at St Matthew's College, Cambridge where Adrian is reading Philology under his watchful eye. The story turns into a romp of the most extraordinary kind taking in Piccadilly rent-boys, Dicken's lost pornographic novel Peter Flowerbucke and an international espionage conspiracy.

I cannot remember when I last enjoyed a book so thoroughly and laughed out loud so many times. It is an astonishing achievement of comedic writing and now I am on a quest to seek out more of Stephen Fry's books. The only thing I would caution against is that some of the language and some of the descriptions of sexual encounters contained in the story (all of which add to the landscape of the portrait being painted, by the way) might be shocking to more sensitive readers, so, if you are in this group perhaps this is not the book for you.

It was another of those books I did not want to end. It is not the kind of book I would normally choose to read but I do adore Stephen Fry and so when I saw it in the bookshop I picked it up. Then as it been sitting so long on my TBR pile, I thought I should give it a try and I'm so glad I did. Just think, I may not have read it at all, which would have been a terrible loss for me.

Have you read anything by Stephen Fry?

Have you ever picked up a book you would not normally select and loved it so much you follow it's trail?

Speaking of Hilary Mantel, let's talk about Fludd

2009-10-07T16:53:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to Hilary Mantel on winning the 2009 Man Booker Prize!

Not being one for getting involved in reading whole collections of books on long lists, short lists or any kind of lists truth be known, I was interested in the choice of the shortlist for this years Man Booker Prize simply because I noticed Hilary Mantel's latest book, Wolf Hall, was on there. I have now read two Mantel books and loved both of them, so the shortlist piqued my interest. Then I read a review Wolf Hall and that interested me even more. The book is a work of historical fiction about life at court during Henry VIII's time and particularly about Thomas Cromwell's part in it. Oooo... right up my street, history, fiction and Thomas Cromwell and his mates! So, as I haven't read it yet I am not in a position to review it here, but, it is going on my Christmas Wish list and if it arrives in my Christmas stocking I'll let you know what I think of it then!

I am going to talk about another book of Hilary Mantel's though, one that I recently read during my book reading fest whilst I was absent from blogging - Fludd. The story is set in a fictional village called Featherington which is a cotton town in the north of England and the action takes place around 1956. It is a work which looks at religion and religious mysticism and one which asks some searching questions about the Catholic Church of the time. Although the word Catholic is never mentioned in the story, parallels to the faith are clear. Mantel's disclaimer at the front of the book is obviously aimed at a higher power than any human authority. An amusing beginning to a very entertaining book.

Father Angwin is the parish priest in Featherington and is particularly old fashioned in his ministry. One day the bishop comes to call and orders Angwin to get rid of some of the decrepit statues from the church and to spruce the place up a bit. The old priest doesn't want to part with the relics and starts to devise a plan to keep them. Before the bishop leaves that day he mentions to Angwin that he will be sending a curate to "help and assist" him. The priest is dismayed by this news because of a guilty secret he has that he believes will be uncovered; for the last 20 years he has not believed in god but he does believe in the devil and what's more, he believes the devil incarnate is one of the local villagers sent there to taunt him because of his lack of faith!

Not long after the bishop's visit a young man appears on the doorstep of the priest's house wearing priests clothes and carrying what looks like a doctors bag. He is a curious priest called Fludd and seems to have a mysterious effect on everyone he meets. People seem unable to tell Fludd anything but the truth and he has the unusual ability to clear his plate of food and empty his glass of whisky without anybody ever seeing him eat or drink. As the story unfolds Fludd becomes a confidant to Sister Philomena who is one of the young nuns in the parish convent. She has been sent into the convent from Ireland after a childhood bout of psoriasis is mistaken for stigmata. Their friendship develops and Sr Philomena becomes the only person to discover the truth about Fludd.

Hilary Mantel masterfully draws the picture of life in a cotton town in Lancashire in the 1950's. Her wit is sharp and often scathing and inevitably this story becomes a commentary on the Church and a debate about good versus evil. It is also very funny and when Sr. Philomena states that in her world a priest in the family is worth three or four nuns, I was instantly transported back to my own school days attending a convent and had pictures in my mind of the nuns who always seemed to be able to float along the corridors there. It is a wonderful, thought provoking book and well worth the read. I can hear Sister Sheila Mary telling us off in assembly as we speak!

Have you read this or any other Hilary Mantel books?

Bring Back Letter Writing - The Guernsey Literary Potato Pie Peel Society

2009-09-29T14:21:00.000-07:00

Yes, its been a while since we chatted, but, I'm back and have lots to talk about.

I've been on a book feast, reading from my TBR pile and even though I have probably got through at least 20 books in the last couple of months, the TBR pile remains the same (if not bigger!) My TBR is one of the great mysteries of life to me, like the odd sock in the washing machine, so I have given up even thinking about seeing it off. It clearly has some kind of life force of it's own and could probably argue for it's own existence if asked, so I'm going to just let it be and carry on reading!

More books to come but today I'm going to talk about The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer. It is set in 1946 and follows the story of a number of people who love to read books and write letters. The majority of characters in the story are residents of Guernsey during the German occupation of WWII. One night a few of them are caught outside after curfew and whilst being questioned by German soldiers they pretend to have been to a book club meeting, when actually they have been feasting on a pig which has been surreptitiously hidden from the German authorities who commandeer all livestock on the islands for use of German troops. It is at this moment "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" is born and after hearing their excuse the soldiers let the transgressors go. To cover their tracks and in order to support their story, several of the townsfolk begin to meet regularly to talk about books and some of them actually discover they really do love to read after all.

I mentioned that the book is set in 1946 and it is although the story is predominantly about how the people of Guernsey dealt with occupation throughout the war and how life was for them after liberation. What is so unusual about this work is that the characters and the story unfold through a series of letters the reader gets to view and slowly but surely events and people come to life as the correspondence continues. This is a unique book in many ways and I loved it. Not only did I want it to go on and on, it was one of those rare books that I immediately started to read again just after I turned the last page.

Then I began to remember just how it was in those days before email and instant messaging took over; when letters or telegrams were at the centre of written communication and played such a pivotal role in many peoples lives. I began to long for those days again - the excitement of seeing an envelope with my name and address written by hand on the front of it and sometimes trying to guess by the postmark who might have written to me if the handwriting was unfamiliar. Then I thought of specific letters I have received; the times of pure pleasure I have had when a letter arrived and I recognised the writing of someone I loved and couldn't wait to rip open the envelope and greedily consume every word.....such magical memories of a time past .......

Or has it past?!! I have a plan :)

Let Us Bring Back Letter Writing!!!

I figure if everyone who reads this blog commits to send a hand written letter, card or note to at least one person they know, each week from now on (more if you are really keen on the idea), I'll bet we could start a letter writing revival, especially if we pass it forward by telling everyone we write to that we are trying to revive the art of letter writing and they can join in the effort too!

So, I'm going to start today and you can too.....I have my address book to hand and my notepad ready so look out for the Postie.

What do you think about the idea?

Reviews to come.....

2009-06-26T19:03:00.001-07:00

Forgive the silence but I have been tussling with the usual book bloggers dilemma - whether to read or review! Last week I took time off to catch up on some reading and now I am up for reviewing 31 Dream Street, Lisa Jewell, The Sound of No Hands Clapping, Toby Young, The Debt of Pleasure, John Lanchester and Living Dangerously, Katie Fforde........they are all on their way so watch this space.

Have you read any of these books?

Raising The Roof 2009 - 1 Night, 5 Groups, 140 Singers.

2009-06-19T01:29:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong Cultural Centre

On Monday night I took a break from reading and indulged myself in one of my other pleasures: music. A neighbour of mine in the village had been so impressed with the singing of some slightly inebriated members of The HKG Welsh Male Voice Choir (yes, there really is a HK Welsh Male Voice Choir), throughout the course of the recent Hong Kong Sevens Tournament, that when she saw an ad in a local magazine for a concert featuring said choir, she asked me if I fancied going along too. 'Of course, why not!' said I, always ready to do something slightly different than stay indoors on a wet Monday evening. So off we trotted to the Hong Kong Cultural Centre Concert Hall. The building itself is very impressive and the list of upcoming concerts quite amazing, everything from Swan Lake to Sing-a-long evenings, quite something.

Foyer at HKCC advertising all the upcoming events.

The concert Hall itself was a sight to behold and for two hours we were entertained by three choirs, including the boys from Wales and two a cappella groups.

The Concert Hall

My favourite group of the evening were the HKFYG Hong Kong Melody Makers. This is a youth choir established in 2004 by the Hong Kong Federation Youth Groups and sponsored by the Dragon Foundation.It's aims are to reflect Hong Kong's vivacity and give voice to the city's cosmopolitan spirit. Choir members are young people with outstanding artistic talent whose passion for music benefits the community. As well as performing live in concert the Melody Makers often take their show on the road and offer free concerts around Hong Kong. Take a look at these links here to see an example of their work.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIKkY54AM1Q Melody Makers free public concert

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu4mF-KeevQ Melody Makers singing about barbecue pork buns

As well as Melody Makers and The HK Welsh Male Voice Choir we were entertained by Kassia Women's Choir, enthralled by Soho Collective (a female a cappella group) and delighted by Kassia Children's choir - Hullaballo who sang their little hearts out. A thoroughly enjoyable evening and now I am going to look out for the next appearance of Melody Makers.

Me Meme.......

2009-06-16T02:32:00.000-07:00

Thanks again to the lovely Dot at Scribbles, (http://dot-scribbles.blogspot.com) I decided to do this meme.

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Kim
2. Mum
3. Sweets (Steve being silly usually!)

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. kim-stillreading
2. kimlette
3. kim

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My eyes
2. My hands - (when my nails are a reasonable length)
3. My neck - (when I have administered my Clarins neck cream!)

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My feet - (they are horrible)
2. My knees - (thanks dad!)
3. That I can no longer fit into a size 8 (wow, that was a long time ago, too)

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. English
2. Scottish
3. And, although I hate to admit it - French (the family were champagne makers so if I had to be French at all this is, without doubt, a good enough heritage:)

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Letting people down.(same as Dot)
2. The BNP.(Cannot believe these guys are for real)
3. Cockroaches (one of only two living things I will kill without remorse. If faced with a mosquito I may have to see that off, too)

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. A glass of wine (say no more)
2. My laptop (to stay connected with my friends and family)
3. A pen - (love to know I can jot things down as they come into my head which is very often becasue I have an over-active imagination)

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING NOW:
1. Shorts - it is very warm and humid today (another bad hair day).
2. Bright pink sleeveless top - (for the same reason)
3. Nothing else other than underwear, of course, not even flip flops, the tiles are cooler on my feet.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Coldplay - (Chris Martin rocks!)
2. Oasis - (I'm a convert since going to see them live here in Hong Kong in April)
3. Nigel Kennedy - (genius violinist of mammoth proportions)

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS RIGHT NOW:
1. Don't Panic - Coldplay (I know it is oldish but I love it)
2. True Love - Bing Crosby (because it was one of my dad's favourites and he used to sing it all the time. I can hear him now)
3. Nature Boy - Nat King Cole (I used to sing this to my boys when they were growing up and it will always remind me of singing them to sleep when they were tired or sick)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Love
2. Laughter
3. Loyalty

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1. I once ate bat
2. I once sang a duet with Ronan Keating
3. I came down a black run on my first skiing trip

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Dark Hair (shortish)
2. Broad shoulders and slim waist (as in David Beckham's or Cristiano Ronaldo's example)
3. Big eyes (Blue or green - preferably green)

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Reading and writing
2. X Stitching
3. Making jewellery (especially stringing pearls and wirework)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Make dinner
2. Go for a walk
3. Have a glass of wine (it is 8 o'clock somewhere!)

THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING/YOU’VE CONSIDERED:
1. Writer (although I have only ever written a couple of things and nothing on the scale of a book)
2. Chef (I love to cook but only when I want to so I guess that wouldn't work)
3. Airline Pilot (I've always thought I could easily fly a plane after all the flying I have done in my life)

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Provence (never been there although I have been to France a gazillion times)
2. Belize (my nephew is stationed there and I haven't seen him for 23 years)
3. Memphis Tennessee with a stop off in London so I can visit my boys.

THREE NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Nicholas (we almost called our youngest this name but my husband said that kids would call him nicker-less, so we didn't)
2. Michael
3. Gabriel
(I haven't really got a thing for arch-angels, I just love the sound of those names)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Spend more time with my kids and the family
2. Take my dads ashes to Australia (He loved it there when we took him on holiday and I promised him I would take him back again)
3. Help my boys in any way I can.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I have a major thing for cute shoes
2. I love sparkly things
3. I have a really bad day when my hair sucks

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I love watching sport
2. I understand the beauty of silence during a film
3. I know how the off-side rule works

Let me know what your answers are.

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

2009-06-13T20:44:00.000-07:00

Well, here's a first........I actually cried whilst sitting in the hairdressers chair yesterday, reading this book!! I couldn't stop reading it, though and after a brief pause whilst I rummaged for a tissue, blew my nose and wiped my eyes, I quickly opened up the book again to carry on where I had left off. I have never been good at sad, scary, violent or bloody books (or films come to that) and I usually choose not to read books of this nature. I get entirely engrossed in the story and identify so strongly with the characters that I sometimes feel as if I know them as well as any relative of mine. When my boys were small I cried for weeks after watching Bambi and The Land Before Time with them, I'm sure I would do the same if I was to see the videos again today. So imagine the scuffle I had with my conscience when I was deciding whether to read this book or not. I had seen so many glowing reviews about The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak and the title had featured on many of my fellow bloggers 'Best Book of all Time' and 'Most Memorable Book' lists. I kept seeing pictures of the front cover and I found it haunting, so, when a copy appeared in the secondhand bookshop, I had to bring it home. I stared at it on the TBR pile for a while and even put off reading it by escaping into a couple of romantic romps with Ms Jewell and Ms Fforde, but, still it beckoned and so, I took a deep breath and opened the front cover. I am so glad I did.

The book begins in 1939 and is set in pre-war Germany. Liesel Meminger and her brother are taking a train journey with their mother when the boy dies from a coughing fit, in his mothers arms. Unbeknown to Liesel, her mother and father have both been accused of being communists. Her father has been taken away by the authorities and since then Liesel's mother has been unable to find work. Ultimately she and her children are starving. and so she has decided the only way to save them is to put them into foster care. They are on their way to meet with the social worker for the hand over, when the boy dies. And that is only the beginning!!

Her foster parents are kindhearted folk and her 'papa', Hans Hubermann, is the gentlest of men. He teaches her to read and she falls in love with books. The story is about love and friendship, literature, kindness, man's inhumanity to man, the morality of theft and ultimately, death. It is thought provoking, heartbreakingly sad and un-put-downable.

And in the rhythm of the narrator here is some important information about The Book Thief:

*This novel is narrated by Death*

It is a story, about:

*A Girl*

*An Accordionist*

*Some Fanatical Germans*

*A Jewish Fist Fighter*

*Friendship*

*and Quite a Lot of Thievery*

This is one of the most remarkable books I have ever read. Markus Zusak turns conventional storytelling on it's head and yet still manages to make the book so totally compelling that on several occasions I found myself reading on through my tears. It is not all totally depressing either, there are some lovely moments in the story which capture the essence of humanity at its finest.

Here are a couple of notes which appear throughout the book from the narrator:

(

About Germany)

-SOME CRUNCHED NUMBERS -

Since 1933, ninety percent of Germans showed

unflinching support for Adolf Hilter.

That leaves ten percent who didn't.

Hans Hubermann belonged to that ten percent.

There was a reason for that.

(About Friendship)

-TWO GIANT WORDS-

I'M SORRY

(An excerpt from Death's Diary)

-A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH-

I do not carry a sickle of scythe.

I only wear a hooded black robe when it is cold.

And I don't have those skull-like

features you seem to enjoy

pinning on me from a distance. You

want to know what I truly look like?

I'll help you out. Find yourself

a mirror while I continue.

(About War)

-SMALL BUT NOTEWORTHY NOTE-

I've seen so many young men

over the years who think that they are

running at other young men.

They are not.

They are running at me.

Have you read this book? (If not, why not :)

What did you think of it?

Wedding Season , Katie Fforde

2009-06-07T23:30:00.000-07:00

I'm on a roll reading chic-lit books at the moment and have just finished my very first Katie Fforde book, Wedding Season, which I really enjoyed. The story is very simple and the outcome really predictable, but then, it is a total fairytale, so what else do you expect?

There are three girls who have formed a relationship with each other by working together on weddings. Sarah is the super organised, wedding planner who does not believe in love, Elsa is an accomplished dress designer who is painfully shy and always wears black in order to blend into the background and Bron is a multi-talented make-up artist, hairdresser and cake maker who is caught in a loveless relationship that she would prefer not to be in. So......bring on Hugo the mysterious, who is a well connected internationally renowned photographer, Laurence the Reliable, who is a non drinker and always called upon to be the Best Man at friends weddings and James the unkempt gardener, who is also a gifted art designer and floral artist. Voila! You know as well as I do what is going to happen and the pleasure of reading this book is that along the way some amusing things occur to the main characters and lots of other interesting people are introduced to the story. I particularly liked Fen and Rupert, Pat and her cooking pals and Mrs Lennox-Feathersone.

The characters are well drawn and the situations they find themselves in are on the whole, more or less, believable. There are a couple of things that I could not quite take on face value and had to put down to artistic license - one is that Elsa manages to make and enhance, in less than two weeks, the replica of a dress which had originally taken her two years to make from start to finish and somehow, Bron, who had had some previous success making and decorating train engine birthday cakes, manages to understand how to design, cook and decorate one of the most elaborate wedding cakes I have ever heard described and she had never actually seen the original cake herself. This all adds to the 'cuteness' of the book, in my opinion. It is a fairytale after all, so why not have a little bit of the impossible in there too! The only thing that did grate on my nerves a little was the number of times Ms Fforde linked the word 'professional' to Sarah's character. The picture portrayed is that as Sarah is a professional she could not possibly be in love, too, almost as if being 'a professional' and being in love with someone were mutually exclusive........I couldn't quite get my head around the thought process.

I can forgive all of these small things, though, because this is such a light hearted, easy, summer read which deserves to be consumed whilst sitting in the garden on a warm sunny afternoon, book in one hand and a glass of chilled white wine in the other. Lovely!

Have you read this or any other Katie Fforde books?

Which is your favourite Fforde book?

Romance novels - Love them or hate them ?

Skipping through the lives of Vince and Joy and Michael Parkinson, in the same week!!

2009-06-06T17:48:00.000-07:00

On my second to last book haul trip to the local secondhand book store I came away with my very first Lisa Jewell book. Dot, from http://dot-scribbles.blogspot.com/ had reviewed a recent Lisa Jewell book, 'The Truth About Melody Browne' and I remembered her saying that Lisa Jewell books always cheer her up. So when I saw Vince & Joy sitting on the shelf in front of me I decided to see for myself if Lisa Jewell is a cheery book writer or not.

She is!

Vince and Joy meet each other on a camp site where they are holidaying with their parents. Joy is 18 and Vince is almost 19 when they meet and they fall madly and completely in love with each other. Joy's parents are in their 60's and Vince's are much younger and trendier. Vince and Joy are made for each other and they spend as much time together, away from their parents, as they can. One night whilst the couple are frolicking in the woods, their parents get into an altercation which ends up in a fight between Joy's dad and Vince's step dad. When Vince and Joy return home that night, all is not well and in the early hours of the morning Joy and her family leave the camp site without saying goodbye. Although Joy leaves a letter for Vince, it is raining heavily and most of the ink on the page gets washed away. All Vince can read in the note is "I am so ashamed". They are both devastated by their loss.

Moving on seven years we pick up the story of Vince and Joy again. We meet Vince's room mate, the wonderful Cass and her spiritually inclined cat, Madeleine and Joy's friends, her landlady, Julia and the irrepressible cross dresser, Bella. Without giving too much away it seems that fate guides Vince and Joy to dance around one another but never actually pick up their relationship. Somehow their lives move on in different directions. And this is how it goes into the future until we finally meet the couple again more than 17 years after they first met and fell in love.

This was a delightful book to read and I loved the characters, even the kooky ones were well drawn and believable. The story is light hearted but also asks a couple of serious soul searching questions, too. I can thoroughly recommend this for the summer and have now secured my second Lisa Jewell book, 31 Dream Street. I'll keep you posted.

In the same week I skipped through the lives of Vince & Joy, I also read the autobiography of Michael Parkinson 'Parky'. I've always been a fan of Michael Parkinson and was very excited to have this book thrust into my hand by my dog rescuing neighbour, as repayment for my regular walks to the beach with her 'new' dog in tow (well, you always knew I would end up as chief dog walker, didn't you!)

Parkinson has had a charmed life. That becomes apparent almost immediately as we wander through his times as an only child, fuelled by his mothers ambition for her son and lead through his childhood and short-lived cricketing career by his doting father. Stories of meeting the rich and famous adorn every page and I couldn't help but marvel at how fate had been very kind to Parky, opening doors and shining lights on pathways for him to follow, all of which lead to him become one of the most famous interviewers of all time. He spoke highly of every one of his guests and even Meg Ryan, who he termed his only failure, and Emu who he loathed, were treated with kind words. The only thing I could find fault with in this book was his criticism of what he sees as 'the establishment' and some people he had worked for. This negative reflection felt out of place and smacked somewhat of ingratitude in an otherwise positively charged story of a man who made a career out of being sociable and trying to make people feel comfortable. I enjoyed the book overall, though, it is funny in parts and poignant in others. I would recommend it to anyone who is a fan of Parky or those of you who like autobiographies.

15 Books!

2009-06-04T18:48:00.000-07:00

I don't usually join in with any regular feature in the book blogging world but I could not resist this one because I thought it was a great question to ask. So here we go with the first "Booking Through Thursday" on this blog.

This can be a quick one. Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

Here are mine:

1. Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier - one of the best works of fiction I have read. I became so absorbed in the story that I found myself cheering on the bad guys!! That's what I call great writing.

2. Othello - William Shakespeare - I read this at school when I was doing English Lit. I loved Othello, Desdemona and Cassio and hated Iago with a passion. I constantly wanted to shout out "Don't trust Iago - he's lying" just like I did at pantomimes when I was small and would shout "He's behind you"

3. The Cather in the Rye - J D Salinger - This was the first real 'grown up' book I ever read, I was 14 years old at the time. I fell madly in love with Holden Caulfield and could not believe a teenager could do all the things he did. He was my hero.

4. Jude The Obscure - Thomas Hardy - I didn't read this until a couple of years ago and was so glad that I took my sons advice and read it. It was the first book I ever read where I cried whilst reading it. I hadn't expected it to be sad, but it was.

5. Gweilo - Martin Booth - This book is a memoir of Martin Booth's early childhood which he spent in Hong Kong. I loved this book because Booth paints such a vivid picture of the city during the 1950's and his love for Hong Kong, it's people and his mother comes shining off each page.

6. The BFG - Roald Dahl - This was a favourite of my boys when they were small and I remember having to read it over and over again for them because they loved it so much. We also got the video when it came out and had to watch it about ten thousand times (at least!)

7. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen - How can this not be on the list! It is one of my all time favourite books.

8. A Year in Provence - Peter Mayle - I love the way Peter Mayle paints his characters in this book and the way he describes the change of pace his life is undergoing following his move from England to Provence. This book started me off on a Peter Mayle binge and I had very soon found and read all his work. It also started me off wanting to retire to France one day!.

9. No Room for Secrets - Joanna Lumley - Joanna Lumley is a real favourite of mine and I loved the idea she worked from when she wrote this book. We follow Joanna through her house and as she talks about clothes, furniture, books and paintings in each room, her life story begins to unfold. It was a lovely book to read.

10 Macbeth - William Shakespeare - Another one of my English Lit study plays. I loved the air of tension created in Macbeth. It was one of the first books I read where a character begins to unravel in front of the reader. It started me on a lifelong love of empathising with well drawn characters.

11. Show Me the Magic - Annie Caulfield - Annie Caulfield is a great writer and a wonderful observer of people and places. I particularly liked this book because Annie slowly begins to uncover the life of her taxi driver, Isidore, as he acts as her guide around the country. It is poignant and very funny.

12. My Cousin Rachel - Daphne du Maurier - My second du Maurier read and it came in a very close second to Rebecca. I loved the character of Rachel and wondered, along with everyone else, including Daphne du Maurier herself, whether she had been responsible for her husband's death. I thought, if du Maurier doesn't know the answer then how could I? So well written, I couldn't put it down.

13. The Laws of Spirit - Dan Millman - This book is a particular favourite of mine and one which I return to often. Dan Millman is an inspiring writer and in this book he tells a story of a man who journeys through the countryside and meets a sage along the way. They take on the journey together and as they go she teaches him of several 'laws' of spirit. I am always intrigued by the Law of Balance and love the way he explains how this works.

14. Thought as a System - David Bohm - This book changed my life! Really! David Bohm was a physicist and was particularly interested in understanding the thought process we have as humans. He postulates that even though we think we are thinking about something (anything) independently, our thought process is based on past experience and unless we see this we cannot break the hold this learned thought system has on our thinking process. He calls this 'the reflex' and argues that in order to be a true independent thinker we have to break this 'reflex' to achieve it.......It is an amazing book. Read it!

15. Beyond Black - Hilary Mantel - This book is really quite dark and scared me a bit but it was one of those books that I just could not put down. When I finished reading it I had so many questions and I always consider that this is the mark of a really great story. This did it for me and I don't think I will forget it in a hurry.

These are in no particular order and I can think of at least 15 more, but, these were the first that came to mind.

So, what are yours?

My Cousin Rachel

2009-06-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

In between my travel book reviews I thought I would tell you a little bit about my second Daphne du Maurier read, My Cousin Rachel. Thanks again to Dot (http://dot-scribbles.blogspot.com/ ), I read another du Maurier classic. It was such an enjoyable book and I can honestly recommend it to anyone who loves well written fiction with a lot of social commentary, hidden meaning and controversial subject matter going on at the same time as the story. It is without doubt an attempt by du Maurier to offer a feminist perspective of a restrictive Victorian society, as it openly alludes to the topic of women's rights and male dominance in cases related to female inheritance and entitlement issues.

The story is set some time at the end of the nineteenth century, the year is not specified. Ambrose Ashley is the lord of the manor and when his nephew is orphaned as a small child, Ambrose adopts Philip and proceeds to bring him up as his own. After the dismissal by Ambrose of Philip's nurse, the Ashley men continue their lives in a completely male household. Ambrose grooms Philip to become his heir and eventually, when Philip reaches his twenties, he begins to run the estate almost entirely by himself. Philip adores Ambrose and his main ambition is to be like him. By this age it is generally agreed that Master Philip looks exactly like a young Mister Ambrose.

Now in his forties, Ambrose begins to suffer with ill health. He is advised by his doctors to travel abroad to warmer climes for the duration of the winter each year. He does this and for two years Philip successfully takes care of the estate whilst his uncle is away. During the third winter when traveling in Italy, Ambrose meets and is enchanted by a lady who happens to also be his cousin. Rachel is a widow and the daughter of an English relative of the Ashley's and an Italian woman. Ambrose loves plants and gardens and each winter on his travels he collects plant specimens to bring back to the garden at the manor. Rachel is also an expert gardener and has in depth knowledge of traditional plant medicines and herbal remedies which she learned from her mother.

After a very short courtship Ambrose marries Rachel. Philip only learns of the wedding after the fact in a letter he receives from Ambrose. He immediately becomes jealous of his cousin and looks on her as a contestant for the affection of his uncle and it is difficult for him to be happy for them. After her previous marriage, Rachel is still working to settle the complexities of her first husband's estate. As a consequence, Ambrose does not return to England in the spring that year, but instead tries to assist Rachel in her efforts to deal with accumulated debts. Another winter comes and goes and Ambrose writes less and less to Philip. At first his letters are cheerful and Ambrose seems devoted to Rachel whom he clearly adores but as time goes on the tone of the letters change and this begins to disturb to Philip. Eventually, a scribbled note arrives and Philip is so worried that he decides to set out to Italy to see his uncle who by now is very ill. When Philip arrives in Florence Ambrose is dead and Rachel has gone, taking with her every last possession of Ambrose's. Philip is determined to hate Rachel as he blames her for his uncles death, believing she may have poisoned him, but, when they finally meet, Philip finds himself as enchanted with her as his uncle was.

Without giving away too much more of the story, what follows is a tale of possession and obsession which looks into the feminine and masculine mind and delves into the world of unreasonable behaviour and reasonable doubt. It is such a cleverly written book. On another note, one thing I found fascinating about this story was when I heard that du Maurier was once asked if Rachel had actually killed Ambrose and she said "I don't know". To me, that is even scarier than if she had.

Let me know if you have read this book and what you thought of it.

Changes.....

2009-05-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot recently about change, letting go and moving on. Throughout our lives we face many changes. Some of these are happy, some sad, some easy and some difficult. No matter how we feel about change there is always one truth - Change Happens! It happens to all of us and it is the only other certainty of life.

How do we let go and move on after change happens? I have no definitive answer but I do want to tell you a story.......

Once there were two monks traveling through the countryside during the rainy season. Rounding a bend in the path they found a muddy stream blocking their way. Beside it stood a lovely young woman dressed in flowing robes.
"Here" said one of the monks to the woman. "Let me carry you across the water." And he picked her up and carried her across.
Setting her down on the further bank, he went along in silence with his fellow monk to the abbey on the hill.
Later that evening the other monk said suddenly, "I think you made a mistake picking up that woman back on our journey today. You know that we are not supposed to have anything to do with women and you held one close to you! You should not have done that."
"How strange," remarked the other. "I only carried her across the water. You are carrying her still"

Today I was compelled to write this. What a change from a book review!

UEFA Champions League Cup final trip to the bookshop

2009-05-27T20:33:00.001-07:00

Wednesday was the UEFA Champion League Cup final day and as you know, I am a BIG Manchester United fan. I have to say I was nervous as a kitten up a tree and that wouldn't be too far off the mark. The time difference between Hong Kong and Europe always means that any given day comes sooner to us here and we have to wait so much longer for a European or US event to happen, or so it seems. I had my Manchester United shirt on 10 hours before kick off and was already pacing the floor in agony. Then I had a thought, "How about a distraction?" What better way to calm the nerves than to spend hours prowling around the shelves of the village bookshop? Off I trotted!

Before you say it, I know I don't need any more books to put on my TBR pile, I really don't. I've been thinking about this a lot and to counteract any criticism in this area I have now invented an ever growing list of 'Books To Look Out For' ('BTLOF'), which is entirely different to TBR and has come about since I started visiting other peoples blogs. Before blogging I would mooch along the shelves of the bookshop without a lot of focus, alighting on books if a cover caught my eye or if I came across anything that was written by an author I liked. Now, when I go shopping for books these days it is not for additions to the TBR pile at all because I have a purpose, I have a BTLOF list which is different and makes me feel much better when handing over the cash!!

Here are my purchases from yesterday:

The Distant Land of My Father, Bo Caldwell.

This is a book about an American girl, Anna, who was born and brought up in China. When the Japanese invade Shanghai during WWII, her father sends Anna and her mother back to California, for their safety. As time passes, the father does not return to his family and Anna gives up hope of ever seeing him again. Then, years later, when she has a family of her own, her father turns up in her life again.
Can't wait to read this, to be honest. It has all the ingredients of my favourite kind of book.

Peter Ustinov, The Gift of Laughter, John Miller.

This is a biography of Peter Ustinov which was written with his absolute collaboration. Ustinov is one of my favourite entertainers and I have heard excellent things about this biography......I'm excited at the prospect of reading it.

Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud, Sun Shuyun.

'Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud' is a Buddhist saying which means 'the search for a mind clear of doubt'. This book is a memoir of Sun Shuyun who was born in China during the cultural revolution. Her family were devout Buddhists and under the communist regime were forced to give up practicing their faith. Sun Shuyun learns the way of the communists as she grows up but shares a bedroom with her grandmother. Here she learns Buddhist prayers and listens to stories of historical hero's as her grandmother remained a practicing Buddhist, in spite of being forbidden to do so. Sun's favourite hero becomes Xuanzang. When she is older she decides to retrace the footsteps of his epic journey from China to India and back again, one which he took in order to bring Buddhist scripture and teachings to the Chinese people. Sun's book tells of a spiritual discovery where she finds the faith of her ancestors as she tries to understand what drove Xuanzang on. Another can't wait to read for me!

Five Finger Discount, Helene Stapinski.

I have read this book before and loved it, but somehow it went missing from my library. I probably let somebody borrow it and it never returned. Imagine then, the delight I felt when I saw it there, sitting in the bookshop waiting for me to find it again. Helene Stapinski is a now a journalist and this book is a memoir of her childhood. Her family are a bunch of murderers, crooks, petty swindlers and mobsters and she grows up in New Jersey City. She tells of corrupt local officials and the way her father would smuggle all kinds of wonderfully exotic foods from Cold Storage, where he worked. It is a funny and poignant view of a family surviving against the odds and her struggle to escape an inevitable future. I will read it again and it can now go on my "Read and Loved" shelf.

Bangkok 8, John Burdett.

I am not one for thrillers and cop stories usually, but, the blurb on the back cover of this book had me convinced I would like it, not least of all because it is set in Bangkok, where we lived for three years. I always think that tackling a book set in familiar territory is easier to read and identify with, than one where you have to paint the scenery yourself. I am not sure how I will go on with the violent scenes, I'm usually a bit squeamish, but, I'll give it a go and let you know.

So there you have it, my haul for the day and before you tell me that I did not pick up one single thing off my BTLOF list, I already know, but, in my defense I have to say that I would have added all of them to that list had I thought about it earlier ;)

Now, if only the Manchester United team could have been bothered to turn up for the Cup final I would have had a perfect day!! (You think that comment is bad, the non-reader thinks all the team should be fined a million pounds each for playing so badly!! I wouldn't go that far, but, I see his point!). Terrible game, boo hoo!!

Have you had any bookshop hauls recently?

Travel to India - Part One

2009-05-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

OK, so I promised you a review of some of the travel books I have read and here is the first of a comparative review of three books on India. Second and third to follow......

First up, Will Randall's Indian Summer.

This is a memoir written about an adventure Will Randall had during a summer he spent in India. A secondary school teacher in London, Randall takes out his class of thirteen year olds on a field trip to a London Art Gallery, one day and by chance, bumps into a elderly retired school teacher who is a docent at the gallery. They get to chatting and she asks him if he has ever been to India. When he says no she urges him to go and offers to pay for a return ticket for him if he will accompany her on an upcoming trip she is planning. In return for the free ticket he will carry her baggage, accompany her to dinner and be available for any assistance she might require during the journey. He thinks about this for some time and decides to take the chance, so he gives up his job. They head first to Bombay for a few days then onto Pune. After they arrive in Pune she heads off to visit a long time friend and Will is free to return home or stay, as he chooses. He decides to stay for a while.

What ensues is an story of compassion and determination. Randall becomes enchanted with a local ashram which is run by the kindly Chavurat and his wife Harshada and he begins to help them and the children who live there. The ashram acts as home to several adopted orphans and a day school for all comers from the nearby slum. Amongst the children there are many notable characters which Randal describes with great clarity. The ashram and the slum becomes threatened by some local developers who use strong arm tactics to scare the residents in the hope that they will move away, after which the developers plan to clear the land and build an office complex. Eventually the children get an opportunity to showcase the work of the ashram in the hope that it will be saved from demolition. They do this by putting on a play and Randall becomes the producer, director and orchestrates the final performance.

"Learning as much as he is teaching, Will finds his life transformed by this remarkable class of orphans: Dulabesh, the head-standing joker who lost his parents on a crowded railway platform: Prakask, who learned self-sufficiency the hard way by scavenging through skips: the nutty yet charming Tanushri, fan of the singer 'Maradona'. When the slum barons threaten to level the school, Will hits upon the idea of a fund raising play to save it: the 24,000 verse Ramayana, ever so slightly condensed...."

It is a lovely story and the characters are very well drawn. I particularly like the description of an outing Randall arranged for the children as a surprise and the sense of wonder they all felt whilst taking the bus journey. I couldn't help but compare the British children's reaction to the school trip we had previously encountered in London. Of course, these two events are purposely included to draw the reader into making a comparison between 'have's and have not's' and he himself comes to conclusions that are not very flattering about the sense of entitlement the British children demonstrate in their daily life as opposed to that of gratitude in the Indian children's lives.

If there is one negative thing about this book it is that I was left with a sense that Randall (or maybe the marketers of the book) were somewhat conceited and gloated a little too much about the good work he had done with the children. It annoyed me to see the sub title "A Good Man in Asia" and the blurb on the back page which said "Will Randall thought teaching in an inner London comprehensive was a difficult job. But that was nothing compared to his next assignment: saving a slum school in the Indian city of Pune". Saving the school and putting on the play was by no means a solo effort. Even the dedication at the beginning of the book stung me a little "This is a book for anyone who thinks it might be worth adding their drop to the ocean". For me, the story was about children who have to live a challenging life each and every day and survive against all odds and was not about someone who drops into their world for a month or so, thinks that they have fixed everything, basks in glory for a while after which they dash of to another awaiting adventure. It was this lack of modesty that just took the edge off what was otherwise a lovely book.

What do you think, am I being over sensitive about this?

Travel, bearing witness and taking on life's chances.....

2009-05-22T20:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I cannot believe how blessed I have been in my life to have had so many opportunities to travel and to have witnessed some of the things I have seen.....

Along the way I have been to exotic and ordinary places; cities decimated by the poverty of the ordinary folk and the greed of a powerful government and army. I have looked into the eyes of a dying man as he tapped on the sealed car windows, begging for pennies at the roadside. Within seconds the lights had changed and my car sped off, taking me to sail on a luxury yacht where people were sipping champagne and dipping strawberries in chocolate. I had no appetite, I couldn't forget his eyes. I have seen the most elegantly bejewelled ladies dressed in brocades spun with real gold, standing next to women in rags holding an infant to their breast. I have seen breathtakingly beautiful beaches with palm trees and mountain backdrops, after having to pass by corrugated tin built slums where 12 people live in hovels which they share with cockroaches and rats. I once gave a child an apple, which I thought was better for her than money and I was immediately inundated with starving children saying "Me please, me please please!!", I had no idea where they came from and felt woefully inadequate, unable to offer them a single thing. Sadly, I have spoken to far too many people who were enthralled by the prospect of travel, but, didn't even own a passport, have never left their home state or country in their lifetime and live their dream through others.

And many times I have wondered, "Why them and not me?" It is a question which has kept me awake at night and made me cry myself to sleep. As the years go by I still have no answer, but, know that I am eternally grateful for the life I have had so far and all the chances that I have been given and taken.

One of my son's friends got me thinking about all this today (thank you, young man xx). He recently gave up his regular job after university term ended and took a very brave step by travelling to Hawaii alone, for the summer. He knew no one and did not have a job, but took the chance anyway. He wrote to his friends recently and tried to explain the reason behind the decision to make such a bold move, he did this by quoting an email he had received from his dad. He then urged all his friends to think about what he had said. Here it the note to his friends:

This is an email my Dad sent me, and I thought I'd share it as insight to the reason why I decided to take this trip. With two weeks under my belt, the gravity of the situation has hit me, but I thought about the locals I play basketball with every night, the people at my new job, and of course my amazing sister and all of her amazing friends, and I realize that I've made this place my own. So without further ado:

"Co-worker just left so I thought I might send you a quick note. Every day at work, and I mean each and every day, several people come up to me and ask me a lot of questions all about your latest island adventures. They hang on my every word and I am always the first to break it off or I would never get my work done. At first I wondered why they were so interested, as you know I do not like to talk a lot, but they were intent to squeeze every detail out of me. It finally occurred to me that you are living the dream they had, but were not bold enough to embrace. I am so proud of you as not many people have the courage to travel 4,000 miles away, to a new land, where they don't know a soul. I am finding out that many people spend the rest of their lives wishing that they had taken on the type of adventure that you are living. I guarantee you that things will not always go well in your life but remember that "Living well is the best revenge" and Hawaii living is the best.You will look back on your island adventure with relish, just like I do, and you will never have to know the misery of those poor timid souls, who approach me every day and spend the rest of their life wishing........................... "If only I had"..."

It just blew me away! Not only the letter from a father to a son, but, the fact that the son urged his friends to read it. An action, in and of itself, meant to encourage them to look carefully at life's chances and live a dream should chance come along. He is a brave and wise young man and has a great mentor in his dad. I am so glad he is a friend of my son's.

And, if there is an answer for the question "Why them and not me?" perhaps it lies somewhere in this letter.

My next post will be about some excellent travel books I have read, but, that's tomorrow.........today I'm still thinking of taking life's chances.

Rebecca and a Friend of a Friend........

2009-05-19T01:15:00.000-07:00

I think I am the only person in the world who has not read any of Daphne du Maurier's work, especially the classic novel Rebecca. It has to be admitted that I have reached this age and not looked at one line of her writing - not until now, that is! Thanks to fellow bloggers ( Dot especially:) I spent all this weekend reading Rebecca and it was every bit as good as every fan had promised it would be.

Other than the thrilling storyline, the most interesting thing about this book for me is the fact that when it was first published, in 1938, it was billed as a 'True Romance' and a kind of 1930's equivalent of today's chick-lit. Daphne du Maurier hated the book being categorised in this genre and after reading it I can understand why. Even Alfred Hitchcock's film adaptation (which I watched on YouTube after reading the book - yes, I became obsessed!!) had that true romance undertone to it and although the film painted some excellent character portraits and focused on the insecurities, insanity and broodiness of some of the main cast, I do not believe it truly captured the heart of what du Maurier was trying to say in the book.

Max de Winter is a recently widowed man whose wife, Rebecca, has been killed at sea. He takes a holiday from his stately home on the coast, Manderley, because he is on the verge of a breakdown and needs to get out of the house as it holds so many memories of Rebecca. The house is famous throughout the county for it's parties and is know for it's style and elegance, which is due mainly to the work of Rebecca, who by all accounts, was the perfect hostess, wife, mistress of the house, employer and socialiser. Max heads to Monte Carlo where he meets a young girl half his age, sweeps her off her feet and marries her, all within a few weeks. They return to Manderley and the new Mrs de Winter finds herself mistress of an enormous staff and home and caught up in a world she knows very little about, completely out of her depth. The new Mrs de Winter appears to be the absolute opposite of Rebecca in every way, shy, awkward, clumsy, timid and eager to please.

Mrs Danver's is the housekeeper and was Rebecca's maid and closest confident, Frank Crawley is Max de Winter's secretary. Both characters play key roles in Mrs de Winter's life during her first few weeks at Manderley. Needless to say, Mrs Danver's loyalty remains staunchly with Rebecca and to the past so she is not a friend of Mrs de Winter and as Frank is devoted to Max, he becomes an ally and friend of the new mistress of the house.

The story takes various twists and turns and it illustrates how inexperienced, inept at being mistress of the house and totally reliant on male affirmation, the young Mrs de Winter is. She is not given a christian name in the book and is only ever referred to as Mrs de Winter or Madame throughout, therefore, her identity is tied exclusively to her husband's name and not her own. (Not a lot of Girl-Power there, I here you say!)

*****This is where you should stop reading if you have not read the book and don't want to know any more of the plot (Scroll down to next line of bold print to continue...... and no peeking on the way!!)*****

After the shocking truth of the real events on the evening of Rebecca's disappearance are uncovered, I began to realise that the hero and heroine of the story were actually a murderer and later an accessory to the fact! Throughout the clever narrative, du Maurier's ability to bring the reader along with these two dubious characters and have said reader sympathise with their situation, was nothing short of genius. I was with them all the way, willing them on through the tribunal and the visit to London, hoping against hope for a positive outcome for them both, that is to say, I was hoping that they would get away with murder or that it was all just a horrible mistake and Rebecca hadn't been murdered at all!! I couldn't bear to think that I was on the murderer's side in this story and not the victim's. Then I stopped and said to myself "What am I thinking?"!!

I re-read the beginning of the book after I had finished the end as the first and some of the second chapters talk about Mr and Mrs de Winter's life in the present, which is set several years after Rebecca's death and the time the rest of the story focuses on. I was shocked when I realised that the biggest crime of all was actually being committed there, right there in the present at the beginning of the book and I had no idea of that when I first read it.

****You can rejoin the post now - I hope you didn't peep at the last two paragraphs****

Brilliant writing! It was no more a chick-lit book than Lord of The Rings!

Tell me what you think of Rebecca - I adored it and will be on the look out for anything du Maurier - do you have any suggestions of what I should read of hers next?

Speaking of women and Girl-Power (which I was actually, if you include Mrs de Winter, Mrs Danvers and Rebecca) I met a really nice lady on Monday who I hadn't met before. Several years ago I lived in Singapore and became friends with a lovely fellow Brit there who had three sons around the same age as mine. We met at picnics and social events, we chilled out on the beach and at outings and got together on committees to organise this and that. Over the years we became close and had a lot in common, which included the love of fine wine and laughing at life in general. Then one day she headed back to Canada whilst I remained in Singapore. Shortly afterwards we lost touch and I often wondered what had happened to her.

Then one day, a year or so ago, I got a friend request on Facebook and it was her. Since then we have shared each others family photos, commented on life's little nuances and generally continued to laugh together. A few weeks ago she dropped me a note which introduced me to another friend of hers in Canada, also a fellow Brit, who was on her way, for the first time, to holiday in Hong Kong. We two became friends on Facebook and before we knew it, we were planning to get together on Monday for a mooch around in Honkers - I am so glad we did! We had a wonderful time chatting and telling each other about our life and family. It was as if we had known each other for years and when I left her it struck me just how small this world really is.

I know we will stay in touch and now I have another friend who is a friend of a friend of mine - that really is Girl-Power at work!

Gilead ............ at last!

2009-05-14T01:04:00.000-07:00

I'm back reviewing books again as my mother-in-law has returned home safely after spending a couple of weeks with us here.

I have been reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson for the past couple of weeks and was determined to finish it today, no matter how much housework had to go undone.........;)

The Reverend John Ames is suffering with a heart condition and coming to the end of his life. Through a series of letters written to his 7 year old son, he reveals his thoughts, musing and observations, and slowly but surely, paints a colourful and unique picture of himself, his father, his grandfather, his best friend, his wife and also his young son and all the various family members connected with them throughout the late 19th and first half of the 20th century. At the same time an intriguing landscape of war-torn, small town USA rises from the stories over the years as the characters unfold. The aim of writing this account is to offer advice in matters that a father would guide a son through and to help the boy better understand his heritage and ultimately, the man John Ames was. This is particularly important as the reverend knows he will not be around for the child when he gets old enough to ask questions first hand.

Ames best friend, Boughton, has eight children and one in particular, Jack, is the son who is both his father's favourite and John Ames's godson. He is named after the reverend as John Ames Broughton and is the prodigal son in every way. His return to Gilead during the story, causes grave concerns and misgivings for Ames and great joy to Boughton Snr., who is also very elderly and in ill health himself. As the relationship between Ames and Jack unravels, the true purpose of Jack's visit becomes apparent, after all.

The reverend is very devout and there are lots of religious references and quotations as well as political and philosophical debates in the text, but, none of this detracts from the story. Nor does the content come across as closet-preaching in anyway, it is all very much part of the portrait being painted.

Gilead is a truly skillful piece of writing. The various stories, the plot and all the connections between the characters only come to light at the slow pace the reverend allows them to appear. This is so masterfully done that by the end of the book I could really feel the weight on the Reverend's shoulders as he labours through his days with a failing heart. It is a book which asks difficult questions and is filled with flawed characters who take actions and make mistakes in their lives that are difficult to forgive. It is poignant and heartbreakingly sad in parts and I loved Jack from the moment he entered the story.

The book demands patience and attention, but, is well worth the effort of giving both. Let me know if you have read it and what you think.

Stanley, Peng Chau and more HUGE desserts!!

2009-05-11T19:09:00.000-07:00

Grandma letting us see that she has changed her clothes since the last lot of photos, just in case you thought otherwise.....

And so, to Stanley (in another different outfit!).........

Lovely day, very warm...........

Stanley Main Street...........

Messing about on the South China Sea............

Stopped for prawns at The Pickled Pelican......with a view..........

View of St Stephen's beach...........

These waterlillies are real...........

And so to the Military Cemetery

Hong Kong was unexpectedly invaded from the north and Allied Forces, local troops, police and volunteers were pinned back against the sea........

691 are buried in this cemetery - all casualties of the fight against Japanese invasion or subsequently as prisoners of war........

The last stand against Japanese invasion happened in Stanley village and Allied Forces, local police, local troops and many volunteer fighters finally surrendered on Christmas Day 1941. 4,500 people lost their lives in Hong Kong either in the fight against invasion or as a result of being interned........

One of the saddest gravestones in the cemetery...........Mary Willianson died in Stanley Internment Camp in 1942 aged 75 and her grandson, Douglas Harvey Collins-Taylor was killed in action in Stanley Village on Christmas Day 1941, aged 20 years........Lest We Forget..........

And, on our way back this lovely garden cheered us up again. Could do with a sit down, it's very hot...........

Sunset at Stanley...........

Time for a Sundowner......

Another day and Peng Chau at the Golden Flower temple.......

Shrine for incense................

Turtles live at the bottom of this well.............

Lovely dragon column..........

And off to Discovery Bay for another treat............

Good bye to Peng Chau for today........

Another day and Pavlova in Kowloon......... after a lucky escape at the Jade Market........

Where has all the time gone????.........

Lazy Sunday's and off to The Peak

2009-05-04T19:03:00.000-07:00

Sunday Afternoon in Cheung Sha...

View of the beach.....

Dragon Boat practice....

Monday, off to hong Kong Island - Pok Fu Lam...

Looking at Kowloon.....

Hong Kong Tourist Bus stuck in traffic.....

One for our Shelly!

View from Mid-Levels Escalator....

Let's peep into the Mosque.....

South of Hong Kong - view from The Peak....

Competitors for the upcoming South Asia Games......

Victoria Harbour from The Peak....

Back down to earth on The Peak Tram....

Star Ferry Pier, Central Hong Kong....

Lights of the big city - Central Hong Kong.....

And back on the ferry - good bye to Hong Kong for today......

Time for Hot Chocolate!!

Discovery Bay and HUGE desserts

2009-05-02T18:01:00.001-07:00

So we ended Thursday with Quiz Night at The Bear! Quiz Night with a view!

Friday we set off for Discovery Bay and a little meander about......

First panoramic view...

And here is mum's new boat in the background....

And, of course we had to have lunch, much to the dismay of the little girl we are clearly keeping up!

This is not my dessert, I can promise you (although I did have a spoonful or two!!)

The Bounty at Discovery Bay...

On the ferry back home...

Saturday, out for another stroll and of course we came upon some lovely prawns (which I had to shell).

Lunch with a view, The China Beach Club.

Day One ..... And to the Waterfall.........

2009-04-30T21:57:00.000-07:00

So here we are with mum-in-law, taking photos of the beach on the first leg of our walk.........

And then, we are looking for villages......Which way to go??

Of course, there are always signs to point us in the right direction? Oh, hum, which way?

So, let us dally for a while in the local temple until we decide.........

Good job I knew the way, so, we made it to the waterfall.....eventually!

And then Greybeard arrived on the ferry to meet us in the evening.

See you tomorrow. Missing my reading, but, lovely to have time with the family.

It's a Family Affair - Dreams From My Father

2009-04-29T18:54:00.000-07:00

I have to say from the outset that I have been fan of Barack Obama, since he first appeared on mine and most other people’s radar during the 2004 Democratic Convention when he made his career enhancing pivotal speech. I cheered him along the 2008 election campaign trail which eventually lead him to the White House. So, when I saw this book, I thought it would be worth a read.

Dreams From My Father is an account of Obama’s search for his own identity as he struggles to understand his position in the world as a black man, coming from a white family. He lives, during his early life in the villages of Indonesia where all the kids look more or less like him, so his place in life isn’t in question at that time. Then his mother, who has ambition for her son, decides he would do much better in life with a good education and so he successfully applies for a place at a private college in Hawaii and is sent to live with his grandparents, so he can attend school. It is during this time that his questions begin to surface and he realises he belongs to a minority. Although his white grandmother and grandfather play pivotal roles in his life, he is driven by an enormous curiosity about his father and his paternal family in Kenya, wondering all the time that if he knew them he would better understand his black heritage and be able to find his place in life. He slowly develops into an angry young man, although he does not reach the heights of anger that some of his friends attain.

Eventually, after learning of his fathers death an opportunity finally arises for him to visit his family in Kenya. The contrast of life there in comparison to his earlier days in Hawaii and then at college in Los Angeles, New York City and Chicago, could not have been more distinct. Although he is adored by his mother and grandparents, his father’s family absorb him into their ranks as if by osmosis and this state of kinship is clearly described and obviously enjoyed by Obama. He paints a wonderfully bold portrait of his grandmother, aunties, uncles, half siblings and cousins.

It is an honest account of a child turning into a man who is torn between two worlds and feels that he does not belong entirely to one or the other. He talks about his anger at discrimination against him personally and as he bears witness of it against others’, he recalls smoking pot with his mates and his dabbling in under-age drinking. From a political perspective, I couldn’t help but wonder if some of the clearly racist comments he makes would come back to haunt him in the future. Then I realised that Barack, the man, had played a master stroke by owning the book and the young Obama entirely, racist comments, misspent youth and all, thus, taking any potential ammunition out of the rifles of any future opponents. Smart, smart man!

Have you read this book? What did you think?

Speaking of family - my mother-in-law is visiting and we are off to see our local waterfall today. I'll post some more photos tomorrow, but here is one from last week.

It may be quiet for a little while

2009-04-28T18:46:00.000-07:00

It may be difficult for me to write book reviews over the next two weeks as we are having a guest stay with us at Chez Kimlette for the next two weeks and it would be terribly rude of me to abandon my mother-in-law to write a blog, especially as she has come so far to visit!

Do keep your comments coming and I will post photos of our excursions as we go.

At least the weather has improved and it has stopped raining!

Let us hope it stays this way........

Are taxi's the same everywhere?

2009-04-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

What is it about taxi’s that conjures up memories in my mind of speeding around bends, vying for too small a space in traffic jams ahead and exposing white knuckles whilst holding on for dear life to the handle on the seat back in front of me? Why do taxi drivers throughout the world feel compelled to challenge and change the rules of the road in every city I have ever travelled to? I can give you some examples:

My top 5 scariest taxi rides:
1. Indonesia - Jakarta – Airport to JI. Raya Cilandak KKO (about one and half hours).
2. India – Bombay – Taj Hotel to Airport (three and a half hours)
3. China - Shanghai – Airport to Pudong (one hour )
4. USA - New York – JFK Airport to Central Park ( 50 very long minutes)
5. Malaysia - Johor Bahru – Causeway to Pasir Gudang ( 40 minutes)

Granted, the number one scariest ride on my list, took place in Indonesia and was somewhat enhanced by the fact that it happened during a local uprising against the military. Foreigners were being hijacked along the airport road, so the taxi driver felt compelled to drive along it at the speed of light and when he asked me to lie down on the back seat for the duration of the journey, so I could not be seen through the window, it dawned on me that perhaps I should have made a will. It is amazing how hearing these instructions sharpened my senses and increased the amount of adrenalin coursing through my veins, so much so, that my heart felt as if it was about to make its own way to our destination, bouncing along without me! That very day a warning was issued to travellers by the UK government, advising all UK nationals to consider postponing any travel plans to Jakarta. Why didn’t they tell me earlier?

The most surreal taxi ride I have ever taken was in India and happened one evening when I was on my way from the hotel, to the airport. I ordered the car to pick me up four hours ahead of the scheduled departure time of my flight, which should have been more than enough to make the journey and a timely check-in. What I hadn’t bargained on was that the first rain of the Monsoon had arrived in Bombay, just one hour before I was to set off! If you have been in any Indian city when the monsoon rains arrive, you will understand why this posed a potential threat to my travel plans. At the first drop of monsoon rain people dance and celebrate outside, in the rain. Everybody celebrates! There are 19.5 million people living in Bombay, it has the highest population of any Indian city and possibly the most domesticated cows, which are revered by Indian’s country-wide. The holy cows and all the people take to the streets to welcome the monsoon and they were all out that night, all 19.5 million of them, plus cows, I swear!
My driver was heroic. He swerved and stopped, spotted any opportunity to move forward and, all the time, kept his hand firmly planted on the horn of the car, which, in an odd way, added to the chaos and revelry. I was horrified at first and then realised that I was in the hands of the Gods and this taxi driver. So, I sat back, relaxed and soaked in the scene around me and I am so glad I did. I have never seen such unadulterated joy written on so many people’s faces, in one place, at one time. It was contagious and gave me such a happy feeling, which stayed with me long afterwards. When we finally arrived at the airport, my driver abandoned his car about 300 yards from the departure lounge, grabbed my suitcase out of the boot and held it above his head. He urged me to follow him as he pushed and jostled his way through the saturated crowds, as I held on to the back of his jacket. I made the flight with half an hour to spare, and couldn’t thank him enough for all the effort he had put into getting me on that plane. Then I gave him a huge tip for his trouble and I will never forget what he said to me “Please come back soon to my beautiful India, Ma’am”. Life is good!

My first trip to Shanghai happened many years ago and I was stunned by the swerving capabilities, frequent lane swapping and the uncanny ability of my taxi driver to cut up every other vehicle on the road ahead and at the side of him. A friend told me later that the lower the registration number on the licence certificate, which must be clearly displayed on the front dashboard of each taxi, the more experienced the driver is – mine, on this occasion, was licence number 212,076, not so encouraging when the licence numbers start at 100!! I am glad I didn’t know this at the time. I have since refused taxi’s with high registration numbers because the suggestion that lower numbers means a better driver, seems to hold true and I have also been known to get out of a cab when the driving has been too reckless – only in Shanghai!

In New York I felt as if I was on some horrid fairground ride which stopped and started, constantly. Why do the cabbie’s stop as if they are about to dive off a cliff and then start again as if they are in pole position on a Formula One racetrack? I recall that we hardly moved 10 yards during each of these spurts of movement and I felt horribly nauseous by the time stumbled into my hotel. And how do some taxi’s drivers judge the distance between the front fender of their car and the back of another, to within 3 millimetres? I had to close my eyes. Welcome to New York!

The first Malaysian taxi experience I had helped me understand some different driving methods and how traffic “merges” rather than flows. It became apparent very quickly that perhaps I was going to be in for a treat of unusual driving skills as I noticed that the traffic along side my taxi was five abreast on a three lane highway. Ah! Somebody later explained to me that there is an unspoken rule to driving in JB that is called “pick your spot” and this is the one and only rule; pick a spot you wish to be in on the road ahead and head for it, regardless of what any other vehicle on the road is doing. Everybody was driving this way and by some uncanny miracle, it worked, but, I quickly found that it was a completely terrifying experience to anybody not used to it. Add to this the fact that there are not only cars picking spots, but, trucks, motorbikes and bicycles of all shapes and sizes, each needing various sized spaces to fit into, but that seems not to matter at all and on this day it seemed to work. I did not see one collision during that ride. Perhaps that was an exceptional day!

So when I hear people say that they have had a terrifying taxi experience, I smile to myself and wonder “Compared to what?”

Speaking of taxi’s, my review for today is of a wonderfully funny and well written travel book I re-read recently by Annie Caulfield called Show Me the Magic – Travels Round Benin in a Taxi. Annie sets off to travel around Benin looking for magic and stories of the past. Her luggage does not arrive with her at the airport and so she checks into the hotel and can do no more than wait for news of its arrival. Whilst sitting in the hotel lobby, she is approached by Isidore the taxi driver, who convinces her that he should be her taxi driver of choice. She eventually hires him, along with his battered Peugeot, and the following day the journey and his stories begin. It soon becomes apparent who is the boss and who needs to do as they are told as they travel. The history and magic of Benin unfolds under the expert eye and guidance of Isidore and an unexpected story of Isidore’s own comes to light. Annie Caulfield does a superb job of transporting the reader around Benin with her and Isidore and she offers more than a just a commentary on Benin, its people and its past, as we accompany her to many meetings with local shaman’s and visits to festivals, shows and parties, which she describes with her trademark humour and wit. It is a lovely book and I would recommend it to everybody, whether they intend to travel to Benin or not.

So here is one of our local Taxis in Hong Kong. Can’t say I’ve had too many bad experiences with these, so far – but then I have to ask, compared to what?

Hey Jude, meet Stephen Hui

2009-04-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite books by Thomas Hardy is Jude The Obscure. This book was first published in 1895 and was Hardy’s last novel. It caused such an outrage at the time of publication that it was burned in the street by the Bishop of Wakefield only days after it came out. In Hardy’s own words in a postscript to the 1912 edition he says:

“So much for the unhappy beginning of Jude’s career as a book. After these verdicts from the press its next misfortune was to be burned by a bishop – probably in his despair at not being able to burn me.”

Hardy received much personal condemnation from several quarters following publication of Jude. Although Jude was a commercial success and very popular with the public, this outcry had such a profound effect on Hardy that he vowed never to write a novel again. He kept his word and produced only poetry and drama for the rest of his life.

Jude Fawley is a lower class stone mason who dreams of becoming an eminent scholar and of going to Christminster, (which is a city modelled on Oxford). He teaches himself Greek and Latin in order to be able to apply to the university. Through a series of misfortunes his life takes elaborate and unforeseen twists and turns and he struggles to realise his dream. Trickery, tragedy and traditional moral attitudes of the time rule his life and he is forced to travel down a different path from the one he had in mind.

I loved this book and wanted so much for Jude to succeed in fulfilling his dream. The pages flew by as I walked with him on his journey and comforted him through his disappointments. Everyone loves an underdog, I know, but, Jude is so naive that I felt like sitting him down and speaking sternly to him, on more than one occasion. "Wake up Jude, young man. Smell the roses!!"

The book also paints an excellent picture of life in England at the turn of the century and examines moral attitudes, education and class differences. It is a gem of a book and I often wonder what else Hardy would have written had he not been so disillusioned by the reception of Jude. I suppose we will never know but I am certain it would have been superb!

Speaking of educational institutions (sorry this link is so tenuous today, but, I thought the stone mason and university connection might just work!!), the Earth Science department at Hong Kong University recently opened the Stephen Hui Geological Museum which is the first and only geological museum in Hong Kong. It opened its doors to the public on January 16, 2009.

It is the most wonderful museum and one the university and Hong Kong should be proud of. One of our neighbours in the village is a lecturer there and played a significant role in preparing some of the museum displays. Of course, being a girl who loves shiny and sparkly things, I just had to go and visit to look at the collection which our neighbour had said was a stunning.

As well as the glittering displays, and informative , logical explanations, one of the things that really fascinated me about this museum was the story of man the museum was named after. Dr Stephen Hui was a philanthropist to many local organizations including the University of Hong Kong. Apart from constructing the Hui Oi Chow Science Building, which was named in honor of his father, Mr Hui Oi Chow, Dr Hui had also generously donated his extensive mineral collection, forming the core of the Geological Museum's permanent Earth Material display. After Dr Hui passed away in 1989, his wife Madam Anna Hui, and sons, Richard and William, have continued to support the advancement of Earth Sciences in Hong Kong, and have set up the Dr Stephen S F Hui Trust Fund and the establishment of the Stephen Hui Geological Museum.

When you see the collection of minerals on display you will understand why this little piece of information is so interesting - I have visited many similar museums around the world and have never seen such and extensive and unusual collection of minerals and gems - and to think, most of the exhibits came from one private collection, is truly amazing.

Anyway, the reason for me telling you about this is that I would urge you to go see it; take the kids, it is a very child friendly museum with dinosaur stories and exhibits too. Perhaps if you are visiting Hong Kong on holiday you might consider putting the museum on your itinerary - it is worth the trip. Here is some information which may help you:

Opening Hours: Mo-Fri 1-6pm (mornings are reserved for organized group visits).
Contacts: Curator: Dr. Petra Bach Museum Assistant: Ms. Angel Chan or visit http://www3.hku.hk/earthsci/index.php/site/museum/

Have fun and let me know what you think if you do manage to get there.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

2009-04-20T01:33:00.000-07:00

I love Sunday afternoons these days, living here in this lovely place. After pottering around in the morning, catching up with emails and blogs (these days) and sorting out files and photos, Greybeard usually watches the football match from Saturday night, our time, which is recorded from the live match that is usually aired too late here because of the time difference. This is my time to read, unless of course, it happens to be a Man U game and then I might watch if I can stand to.

This Sunday it was time for me to read and so I finally turned the last page of Stella Duffy’s The Room of Lost Things, which I have been mentioning for weeks now, or so it seems.
Robert Sutton runs a dry cleaning shop which he took over from his mother when she retired from the business over forty years ago. The shop is located in Loughborough Junction, London and Robert knows his customers and the neighbourhood intimately. When Robert plans to sell the business he is approached by Akeel who is a British Muslim from east London. So that Akeel can transition smoothly into the business and Robert can teach him all he needs to know, the men work together for over a year. An unlikely but solid friendship results from their time together and so much more than the tricks of the trade are revealed about both men as the story unfolds.

Stella Duffy sensitively allows her characters to develop and with a keen eye for small details, paints a clear picture of life in a bustling London community. It took me a little while to get into this book at first because I felt as if there were too many stories going on, but then, the lives of the locals begin to intertwine and as this happen the past was revealed with unforeseeable results. I loved the book by the time I had finished it and was so pleased I had read through the agitation I felt at the beginning.

Read it for yourself and let me know what you think. I am now on the lookout for more Stella Duffy books so will keep you posted.

So, after I had finished the book, and the football was over, Greybeard and I trotted off to one of our local eateries for a late lunch-with-a-view. Perched right on by the ferry pier, almost on the water’s edge we sat and ordered lunch which we ate whilst we peered out to Honk Kong Island across the South China Sea.

Now you know why we are lazy on Sunday afternoon...........we stayed a while.........

.....................And then came the rain!

And, I wished I had been as smart as this lady and remembered my umbrella!!

From Union Jack to Bauhinia Flower

2009-04-19T19:18:00.000-07:00

A great thing about living in Hong Kong is that it is easy to learn the history of the place. I have found some wonderful books, fact and fiction, that would not be so readily available elsewhere. Add to that the many various stories from local china hands and a rich tapestry of Hong Kong and its history starts to take shape.

Very briefly, Hong Kong was claimed by the British after they planted the Union Jack in what is now called Possession Street, on Hong Kong Island, in 1841. After an array of political twists and turns and wars with the Chinese, it was finally agreed with the signing of the Treaty on Nanking in 1842, that Hong Kong would be handed over to the British government in perpetuity thereafter. Thus ended the first of the Opium Wars!

By 1898 the relationship between the British rulers in Hong Kong and London and the Chinese government in Beijing was still very wobbly, mutual suspicion abounded. In that year the two nervous neighbours signed an agreement which allowed the British to lease the island of Kowloon for 99 years, up to 1997. This lease did not affect the ownership of Hong Kong Island itself. With the extra land, the strategically vital free port of Hong Kong had a buffer from the Chinese mainland. When the take-over of Kowloon was complete, the newly leased area became known as the New Territories, with Kowloon keeping its name in the southern peninsula which faced off across Victoria Harbour and looked out at Hong Kong Island itself. This is just as it is today.

Move forward 99 years and the British Crown Colony of Hong Kong was handed back to the Chinese in 1997. British rule was over after decades of controversial dialogue between the two nations which saw the Treaty of Nanking rescinded and Hong Kong (proper) handed back to China, although it had never been leased in the first place and was officially still a British colony (there was much anguish and debate about this). The flag was changed and the new one carried an image of a Bauhinia flower which could be found flapping from flagpoles everywhere.

The years between 1841 and 1997 were colourful, painful, squalid, heroic and brave. Pirates ruled over the seas and, by all accounts, in the boardrooms of banks and the hong trading giants of this now powerful nation. Many testimonies to this period in history exist and are worth reading (details in another blog). I have read several of them, all of which are as delightfully swashbuckling and tragic, as were the lives of the people themselves. Living on this group of small islands at the time meant suffering from epidemic and famine, war and destruction, occupation and liberation, overcrowding and disease, floods and landslides, poverty and abundant wealth, and all the time businessmen, politicians, triads, spies and soldiers traded goods, people and secrets. It is said that you could buy just about anything in Hong Kong in those days and perhaps that is true, somewhere in my mind’s eye I can see it all unfolding.

Today in the towns and villages on our island there are many restaurants and bars which seem to attract a mixture of newly settled residents, like us, and the old china hands who have lived here all their lives or at least most of it. Stories of the history of Hong Kong when the British ruled flow thick and fast after several gigantic scotch and soda’s and one such place is not so far away from where we live.

Every village needs an historian of some sort, and in our village there are many, but, one old china hand stands out. She is an ex- journalist who, according to her own account, was on first name terms with the last Governor and is unafraid of local triads or the Chinese mafia - and the police have been known to be her friend once or twice, at least! She was born and raised in Hong Kong. Her mother and father were British and came to the islands in the 1950’s before having children. They became so wealthy and powerful working for one of the hong companies, that they never left. Her parents belonged to the higher echelons of the business community and were very well connected, definitely on the A list of the time. As she grew her childhood was peppered with regular visits to the family home of politicians, hongs, police and pirates and she was always intrigued by a good story. Journalism seemed the obvious career and off she popped to London to get her respectable degree and she returned in the late 1970’s when talk about democracy and the 1997 handover was just taking off. Over the next decade Basic Law was hashed out and democratic politicians and those opposed to the return of Hong Kong Island to the Chinese were complaining bitterly. Bankers, smugglers, commies and spies abounded and our friend was never without something to report. Looking like an unwashed Kate Adie, without any of the blond hair, glamour or make-up, she lives here still and freelances, generally snooping around asking lots of personal questions – not that she stands out at all in the villages because everybody does that here! In those trade mark Kate Adie fatigues, she cuts a dashing figure – minus the helmet, of course. She frequents various watering holes around the town and is good friends with the team at our local where she can often be found propping up the bar with one hand, stroking one of her three dogs with the other and recounting a ripping yarn or two.

All this brings me to my book for today. Whilst our journalist friend was growing up in the streets of Hong Kong in the mid 1950’s, so too, was Martin Booth. In his wonderful memoir of a Hong Kong childhood, Gweilo, he calls to mind, with razor sharp focus the sights, smells, society and life of that time. (Gweilo is the Chinese slang word for ‘white man’, but in real terms it means white ghost or devil and is a derogatory term). There is something so endearing about this book, not least of all because it was to become Martin Booth’s epitaph, as he died a shortly after writing it. A career journalist, Booth was diagnosed with a nasty incurable brain tumor in 2002. His grown up daughters urged him to write down his life story before his memory slipped away from him. He did and the result is magnificent. The descriptions he provides are so convincing and the images so carefully crafted that I was transported into the back streets and alleyways of Kowloon in 1955, out on a fearless mission of discovery and friend making with this seven year old Luke Skywalker of the day. As we climbed the outcrops of The Peak a year later, our view of Victoria Harbour was crystal clear. The book is also a moving tribute to the memory of the love he had for his mother and a testimony to the smoldering hatred he had for his father. It is very near the top of my favourite book list.

I want to tell you a story!

2009-04-17T20:23:00.000-07:00

Recently I have been thinking a lot about telling stories, not the telling of tall stories, or fairy stories, but, the telling of our own stories. DGR in her blog got me thinking about this when she reviewed The Other Elizabeth Taylor by Nicola Beauman which is a biographical account of the novelist Elizabeth Taylor. The project had initially received the support and blessing of Elizabeth’s family, but, when the book was published, the family were outraged by some of the material that had been uncovered during research. They were especially upset about quotes from some letters which had been kept by her one time confident and lover. These letters were from a period in her life before she was married to the father of her children and husband of many years. ET herself had destroyed all the correspondence and papers that were in her possession before she died and so these early letters were the only ones handwritten by her available for the research. The book winds up to various conclusions and the family have since withdrawn their authorisation of the book.

A huge debate ensued on the blog about why so many people seem fascinated by biographical accounts of peoples’ lives; are we really voyeurs or just interested in fixing a frame around people we admire or have heard of. In the discussion we touched upon the unique responsibility and ethical challenge a biographical writer may face should they uncover something that would be perceived as negative about the subject they are researching; if that writer should withhold such information from publication in order to protect the subject and the family of the subject or if they should go ahead and tell the truth about the findings. It got me thinking about the whole issue of the responsibility one has to speak up for oneself and how we have to face the fact that if we do not tell our story then someone else may well come along and do it for us - and we may not like the outcome! This also lead me to think, which is the truer account, autobiography which is written with hindsight and very possibly a selective memory, or, biography which is based on the trail of whatever evidence is left behind? I came to the conclusion that this is not as easy a question as it at first appears.

In my last blog I reviewed Hilary Mantel’s book Beyond Black and I was struck by her comments at the end of the book when she was talking about what drove her story, she said:

“The thing that frightens me most is confiscation of history. If you don’t own the past, and can’t speak up for it, your past can be stolen and falsified, it can be changed behind you. I am interested in the way people remember, and just as interested.....in the way they won’t remember.”

Mmmmm.......so we have several very juicy and difficult things to tackle here. I'd love to know what you think.

Interesting!

Speaking of autobiographies, I recently re-read Joanna Lumley’s No Room For Secrets which is a very clever, stylish and witty account of her life. She tells her story by taking the reader on a journey around her home. From the outset she works on the premise that because of her many TV appearances over the years, she is likely to have been a visitor to your home and that it is only polite for her to invite you into hers, via the account in this book. What unfolds is a rare book of travel and discovery as she cleverly describes each room in her house and what it is used for. She talks about pieces of furniture, draws full of trinkets, old paintings hanging on walls, racks of clothes and costumes, collections of old photos and an assorted collection of eclectic possessions and what these mean to her and the part they have played in her life.

Here is a tiny excerpt just to whet your appetite:

“We bought that gorgeous place, and with astonishing speed and competence, under the dangerously demanding eye of Pat Lorimer, our architect, a road was built (only a farm road, nothing spivvy needed or wanted)”

Can’t you just hear her rich and deliciously plummy English accent resound in your head when you read those words – I can! It is a wonderful book about the life of a remarkable woman and I urge anyone who has not read it to track a copy down as soon as possible.

Here are some photos of a few rooms in my house, whilst we are on a theme!

Here is the spiral staircase in our lounge. The panel paining on the wall was a gift from my brother and sister-in-law to thank us for arranging their wedding last year which took place in Hong Kong - Cotton Tree Drive Marriage Registry - don't you just want to get married there with a name like that! The sculpture on the writing desk is one we picked up from Hamilton Island in Australia when we took a family holiday there in 1999. The dolphin is called Diana and was a local celebrity in and around the Island, loved by locals and tourists alike. She often turned up very close to shore and was responsible for raising the alarm several times when swimmers and sailors got in trouble at sea.

This is our sitting room and I am perched on the cream sofa (on the left of the picture) right now typing this blog. As you can tell, books are a big part of life in this house and the bookcase is one of three we had especially made when we first moved to the US several years ago. The painting on the wall is a hand painted batik on silk and depicts a dragon. This was from the Malay Village in Singapore and I swore I would go back for the tiger, but, I never got round to it! The jester's head is an original wood carving which we bought at a summer fair in Tennessee in 2005. We got caught in a terrible summer storm that day and I had to stuff the carving under my t-shirt to get it home undamaged.

Last, but not least, for today that is, here is my reading corner, resplendent with more books and comfy sofa's. The painting on the wall is one by the brother of a good friend of ours from Singapore days, the artist Raymond Jennings. It is a relief painting of another larger one we have which depicts a house on a street in San Francisco. The chair first appears in the large painting as a part of a table and chair set parked outside the front of the house. In this painting the chair is shown in detail.

You see, it is possible to piece together stories around rooms and possessions. Of course, Ms Lumley's attempt is much better than mine here, but, you see what I mean.

Fires are a Grave Affair.

2009-04-16T21:24:00.000-07:00

China Daily, April 7th 2009

HONG KONG - More than 70 hill fires broke out in Hong Kong on Saturday as grave sweepers, burning joss sticks and paper offerings, paid homage to their loved ones in the traditional Ching Ming festival, local media reported on Sunday.
The majority of the fires occurred in the New Territories. Government Flying Services helicopters were out tackling several of the hill fires by dropping water bombs.
One of the bigger fires occurred in Sha Liang in Man Kam To. The area affected measured about 200 meters by 300 meters. Another big fire was reported in Tai O on Lantau Island.

Apparently it happens every year, hill fires start up at an alarming rate set by people visiting the graves of ancestors for Ching Ming Festival or Grave Sweeping Day. People from all over Hong Kong descend onto the hills of the countryside where the majority of ancestral burial sites are located. I was shocked by the sheer volume of people passing in front of our gate, travelling to the cemetery which is over the hill, just behind our village. People carrying sticks of incense, bunches of flowers, bags and bags of paper money (issued by the Bank of Hell, no less!) and elaborately folded origami-type paper models of cars, motor bikes, jewellery, houses, clothes, anything, in fact, that a person may need to have a more comfortable life (or is that afterlife??). But, not a drop of water in sight! The money and paper models are burned in an offering to the ancestors because the belief is that as the smoke rises to heaven the essence of the items being burned will rise up to the spirit of the ancestor and they will have that comfort of that possession or the money being offered. The flowers are used to sweep the grave so no water is needed for a vase – hence nothing to put out the flame of the Hell notes should they blow off the grave and drop onto nearby bushland as the graves are set in the hillside amongst the trees and bushes. As in all good Chinese traditions, there is food and drink involved! The visiting family enjoy a kind of ceremonial picnic by the graveside after worshipping the ancestors – the food is offered first to the ancestors then the family get to tuck into it later. Fair enough! After all, wouldn’t it be such a waste to burn the food or leave it behind to rot!

Lovely sentiment and a cherished ceremony, but, what about them there hills?? Below is a photo of the cemetery behind our village after the fires had devastated the surrounding hillside. You can see the scorched earth compared to the green of the trees in the foreground. It was interesting to see the fire fighters armed only with fire beaters slung over their shoulders, march seven-dwarf-like and pass our gate towards the intensifying inferno. We also watched the movie style performance of the Hong Kong Government Flying Services dropping water bombs of sea water scooped from the nearby bay and we marvelled at the stamina of the helicopter pilots as they did relay after relay from the bay to the hills and back, to prevent the further spread of flames.

It is hard to say this activity should be stopped because it is so much part of local custom and culture – but what about our planet? In these days when concern is rising about the state of the earth and what affect we are having on the weather, surely we must think of the greater good and perhaps look for ways to be more considerate to the environment when sending burned offerings to the spirit of our ancestors – perhaps carrying a bottle of water or two along with all the other assorted requirements of the day might be a good way to start! Splash! Splash! Hisssss........

Speaking of spirits (which I was amongst the ranting!!), I recently read Hilary Mantel’s book Beyond Black. This is a story of two women brought together by their interest and involvement with spiritualism and clairvoyants. Alison Hart is a medium and makes a living by appearing before group audiences providing communications from dead relatives and friends. She also offers readings to individual callers by passing them messages over the phone from the other side and reading tarot cards and scrying crystal balls for them. Collette becomes Alison’s business manager and the two decide to live together for convenience. Collette helps Alison to struggle through her nightmares and thoughts of demons and Alison offers friendship to Collette in return. They are a very unlikely pair, but somehow, as a team they are ideally matched.

The book is funny in parts, especially the descriptions of other members of the 'clairyoyant entertainment' community, but, it also has a very dark side too, which gave me some nightmares of my own. For me the story became strangely compelling and I couldn’t wait to finish it. More than a story about spirits and afterlife, it is a work which explores the right of an individual to privacy in her own mind and the search for identity by recovering memories of the past and owning them, no matter how painful they may be. The driving force behind the book according to an Afterword by Hilary Mantel was the fear she had about the confiscation of history, especially personal history and the right of ownership of one’s own past so it cannot be stolen or rewritten by someone else. This brings up a whole other debate which Dove Grey Reader’s blog started off about biographies and biographical writers and got me thinking about the responsibility we have to tell our own story ...........but that’s a whole other blog by itself! Watch this space.

Kindness

2009-04-14T23:19:00.000-07:00

I've been reminded whilst reading Stella Duffy's The Room of Lost Things that even large cities like London are really made up of a collection of small villages and neighbourhood's crammed with so many characters, each with a story to tell and all needing a helping hand and a little kindness at one time or another in their lives. Even though we now live in rural Hong Kong and not in the metropolis, the village community here is alive and well just as it is in downtown Hong Kong or London itself.

One of my earliest encounters with a long time resident was when I came across an English hairdresser from Essex who had lived in the village for more than twenty years. The first time we spoke he was propping up the wall in front of the single story house in which he now squats. He used to rent the place but hard times descended upon him when he lost his super glamorous job as chief stylist at one of the most famous hair salons in Hong Kong, all for being unreliable and less than sober on the job once too often. Over the following few months he gradually donated all of his life savings to various bars and sauna houses around town which had the unfortunate consequence of rendering him unable to pay the landlord’s rent. He decided to stay in his house until he was asked to leave, not least of all because he had nowhere else to go and the fabulous “in crowd” that had previously swooned over him, dropped him like a hot potato as soon as his bank balance turned red. Many years on, he has not been disturbed in his home since (other than by a burglar who dropped by a couple of months ago, stealing his only remaining valuable possessions; his Gucci watch and two Cartier rings). It is a little inconvenient living there now though, as he has no gas, electricity or running water, but, he keeps sitting outside during dry days and chatting to people who pass by; people like me on their way to town.

The house is resplendent with its peeling pink masonry paint, flaking away in the humidity and its corrugated tin roof, massively rusted and allowing the rain to leak in. The exterior front garden of the house is decorated festively sporting the corpse of a seven month old Christmas tree, an ornate Chinese bird cage (without residents), a string of fairy lights which no longer twinkle, two large bamboo poles painted bright red, a burgundy bathroom sink which gathers water and mosquitoes, some potted orchids, large pots of lilies and a wooden frog which sits on the wall next to him.

The “patio” of the house is famous. Located opposite the front garden and on the bank of the river is a clearing which is home to three chairs nestled under the shelter of a giant fir tree and a large flowering azalea. These kind of chairs are usually to be found local Chinese restaurants - ones with metal frames and brown plastic seat cushions. Hanging over the chairs, dangling from the fir tree are two hand-made red lobster pots which at some point belonged to the local fishermen but were “acquired’ and presented as a birthday gift to him one year because the colour matched the garden bamboo exactly. At any time of the day many of the retired villagers can be found sitting on those chairs enjoying a pit stop and perhaps even cocktails before lunch, beer for breakfast, afternoon drinks, or, when money runs out towards the end of the month, cheap Chinese rice wine with a dash of grapefruit juice to take the edge off the corrosive taste of the wine. Over drinks they catch up with gossip, put the world right again and silence the memories that haunt them.

“Oh Hello! You’re new here aren’t you? Don’t mind me I’m drunk, dear!” Those were his very first words to me at ten o’clock one Tuesday morning only a week after we had arrived in the village. “What’s your name?” He asked and when I told him he went on to explain that I would have to tell him my name every time we met because he never remembered names either because he is too drunk or not drunk enough and really I should not take it personally if he forgets mine.

My second chat with him was very informative. “You wear mascara, don’t you” he said, “Not like most of the women who live here. They don’t bother wearing make-up or blow drying their hair and it only takes ten minutes. They should get up earlier! Well, I notice these things and I can tell you blow dry your hair and wear mascara.” I agreed that I do both things.
“One coat, let it dry. Two coats, let it dry and three coats is just right! It may make you look like Dusty Springfield, but what the hell at least you will be noticed”. I had to admit, I had never looked at it that way before. “Even though I am very gay, dear, I don’t wear make-up myself, but, I know how it should be applied”. Somehow I didn’t think this meant he was any happier than the average man. “What’s your name, I’ve forgotten?” He said, and so ended our second meeting.

I see my hairdresser friend very often as I have to pass his place to get into town from my house. He has introduced me to many of the passing locals, some share a drink with him and others just stop to chat and offer him their time. He confided to me one day that he has to stand outside and talk to people because sitting in his dark, damp and mercilessly hot house all day drives him mad. Several times I have noticed that if he sees me approaching from within the darkness behind the front door he rushes out to talk to me. He has mastered remembering my name at last and one day he told me that he is going to get a job. That was six months ago now.

On days when I do not see him propping up the wall or on the patio I worry in case something has happened to him. This happened a couple of weeks ago, he wasn't there as usual and I wondered if he was ill. The next thing I knew there he was in the queue at the supermarket. He was counting his pennies for a wire scrubber because he let his only pan boil dry on his recently donated camping stove whilst cooking potatoes for lunch. He had fallen asleep from too much booze and so the pan was black.

I am always impressed by the kindness of the neighbours in the village. People bring him lunch and take him out for dinner, invite him in for a cup of tea, and to family BBQ's on the beach. They leave bundles of warm clothes for him in the winter and t-shirts for him in the summer. They drop off hong bao's stuffed with dollar bills for him at Chinese New Year and beautifully wrapped presents and bulging hampers for him at Christmas. Everybody knows that when he gets the small amount of monthly cash which is his pension, he will spend it within a week on drink and visiting the sauna houses and that he cannot help himself. They know that the middle to the end of the month is the hardest and hungriest time of all for him and always offer him a hand.

My neighbour just rescued a dog!

2009-04-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

Yes, my neighbour just rescued a dog!

He was originally found by the local animal welfare group on the island, PALS (Protection of Animals, Lantau South) which is run by people who love animals and wage a constant crusade to rescue the abandoned, mistreated and abused pets and assorted wildlife in the area, of which there seems to be many. Members of PALS design photo posters to tempt would-be owners into a new pet. The photos are always super-flattering of the animal and even the one eared mongrel with a face only his mother could love produces an “Awe” when the poster is glanced by passers by. These ads also contain a little blurb about the animal which usually mentions canine characteristics or feline features as well as some logistics of this "Soon To Be Your Pet" candidate. Descriptions like “Cindy is in need of an attentive owner who would benefit greatly from a constant companion” which when translated into truth, of course, means “Cindy is a pain of a dog that cannot be left alone because she will eat the sofa” - it is so easy to read between the lines! Posters can be found all around town and in the villages on lamp posts, in vet clinics, bars, coffee shops and in some places there are collection boxes for donations to PALS. The ads are very clever and provide the required amount of guilt by osmosis to convince you that you need to take home a new pet. I am wise the their tricks though, so, whenever I feel the pang of weakness whilst looking at Maurice the Mongrel, I stick a bank note into the collection box and walk away quickly. In all fairness, the volunteers at PALS do a great job and should be commended for the concern they show for waifs and strays – if only there was an organisation like that in Lantau South to look out for the welfare of people!

So, in spite of my protestations and plea's for her to resist the temptation, my neighbour took home one of the rescue dogs. He looks like he would be three times larger if he filled up all the sagging skin he is carrying and handsome isn't a word that comes to mind at all when thinking of how to describe him, but, he is the gentlest, softest dog you could imagine and has not an ounce of aggression in his body, (which is sizable)! I will take his photo of him and post it for you soon.....And so you know who I am talking about, the poor chap has been labelled "Fugly" by his new mistress! Say no more.

Speaking of pets, I read a couple of books a while ago about dogs and their owners. One was Marley and Me by John Grogan, which has since been made into a film starring Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson and the other was A Dog Year by Jon Katz. I loved both books and even though I don't live with a dog myself, the dogs and their antics had me laughing out loud and crying at the inevitable endings. I haven't seen the Marley film and don't intend to even though the story is great, because I fear the film would spoil the image I have in my mind of Marley and the Grogan family. Jon Katz, I believe, still trains dogs and writes dog training guides too. Both worth reading, especially if you want a cheerful, easy to read escape for a few hours.

So, I'm off to continue with Stella Duffy's The Room of Lost Things. I didn't get very far with it yesterday as the picnic got in the way -- you knew we would, though, didn't you!

Easter in Hong Kong - from Justine Picardie to Stella Duffy with a blog or two and a picnic in between

2009-04-12T20:46:00.000-07:00

So now I have discovered blogging the Easter holiday has been filled with writing profiles, searching photos and travelling to visit fellow bloggers with similar interests. Poor Stella Duffy's The Room of Lost Things is moaning quietly from the top of my TBR pile just waiting to be opened - "I'm on my way" I cry, guiltily and then get waylaid once again - not least of all to write this post!!

You will be proud of me when I tell you that I did finish Justine Picardie's If The Spirit Moves You on Friday. It was a real honour to have been able to share the journey of loss with her - she is so brave to have committed to the page the agony she felt after the death of her sister (and best friend) who succumbed to breast cancer at the age of 33. For anyone who has lost someone close to them this book is an absolute must read - it is a true gem and so helpful for those who are grieving. I didn't think I would make it through to be honest having recently lost my dad but I did and it confirmed so many things for me that we just do not talk about every day. Thank you Justine for being so candid and I am so relieved that someone else did all those things and had all those thoughts too.

What a great way to spend a holiday, reading and blogging, however, I did drag myself out to the beach on Saturday for a picnic with greybeard, though. It was quite lovely and helped blow away that pale look I was sporting having been for far too long in front of a computer screen.

This young chap was just too cute for me to miss the photo op! He and his mum were our neighbours whilst we picnicked and he took forever to get into just the right pose for his mum's photo.
And so to today, the last day of the holiday, what will it be - more blogging, another picnic or Stella's book??? I'll let you know tomorrow. Kx

Hello

2009-04-11T02:31:00.000-07:00

For a few months now I have been reading other blogs and have very much enjoyed myself - somehow even feeling as if I am getting to hear the voices of people who regularly contribute to the blogs I read ( dovergreyreader, justine picardie, stella duffy, simon savidge etc amongst others). So, I decided to try this for myself. Give me time and I will be up and running and look forward to meeting people with similar interests to me (reading, stitching, collecting old photos and history ;-)