Six Degrees of Separation: from Life of M to Raising Hare

On the first Saturday of every month, a book is chosen as a starting point and linked to six other books to form a chain. Readers and bloggers are invited to join in by creating their own ‘chain’ leading from the selected book.

Kate:  Books are my Favourite and Best

This month’s Starter -for-Six is Rachel Cusk‘s Life of M. I haven’t read it, it’s not on the TBR, but apparently an unnamed writer proposes writing the autobiography of M, a globally famous film star who has lived in the public eye since childhood. M casually tells her to ‘just make it up’. And that, apparently, is exactly what happens.

I bet I’m not alone in making my first link RF Kuang‘s Yellowface. Here’s a book I raced through: a book which dissects the publishing world. Or that part of the world ruled by social media in any case: books likely to seize the popular imagination with a theme that chimes in with the current zeitgeist. Our heroine, June, is a young and rather unsuccessful young author, who has a sort-of friendship with another young, but wildly successful author. Who dies unexpectedly. Our heroine seizes a chance, purloins the manuscript of the deceased: spends time researching and re-working it, and then presents it as her own. It has a Chinese WWI theme, and when it’s accepted for publication, her publishers find ways of Chinese-ifying her name (Juniper Song).  Sales become stratospherically huge. Throughout, the ground keeps shifting. Juniper’s self justification for her plagiarism is often convincing, as is the sheer nastiness of some of the social media battles she faces. It’s a melodrama. It’s a thriller. It’s a window on racial diversity as seen through the eyes of a social media and publishing world totally lacking in nuance. It’s a comic novel. It’s clever, leaving you with lots to think about as you flip-flop from ‘getting’ Juniper’s take on her theft , and finding her morally indefensible. It’s entertaining too. Shall I read more by Kuang? Much as I raced through this book, eager to find how the story ends – probably not. I was exhausted.

From a yellow face to a yellow sun: Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. A richly evocative book telling the story of the creation, rise and fall of Biafra, through the eyes of three separate yet connected groups of people. There’s Ugwu, from a traditional village, houseboy to Odenigbo, an Igbo academic. There are Olanna, Odenigbo’s partner and her twin sister Kainene, and her English partner Richard. Their structured lives fall apart as Nigeria itself does, as Biafra emerges as a nation and civil war threatens to destroy them. I’m ashamed at how little I knew of this conflict, remembering it only because of the famine caused by war. Now, an interplay of characters dealing with loyalties, often conflicting, moral responsibility, colonialism and its aftermath brings this piece of history vividly to life, the more so because the author’s family lived through this devastating time. A marvellous and involving read.

Let’s stay in Nigeria and read My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite. What did I think of this book? Well, it was a quick read, an easy read, and at no point did I think of not finishing reading this story. But – and perhaps I’m not entering into the spirit of things here – a story in which the writer’s sister gets into a routine of killing her boyfriends, while the writer colludes with her deception just left me cold. The short sharp chapters, and the action which jumped hither and thither kept my interest, as did the back story of a controlling, brutal father. But in the end, it was a slightly distasteful read as far as I was concerned.

My next book is a story in which a murder of an – allegedly – loved one does not actually take place. Amy Dunne disappears on her 5th wedding anniversary, then fakes her own murder to implicate her husband Nick. She eventually returns home and … things can obviously only get worse. This is Gillian Flynn‘s Gone Girl. I’m actually not sure why I decided to read this book. After all, I’d seen, and been thoroughly disturbed by the film. Why put myself through it twice? Perhaps because I’d been assured that both book and film (Flynn wrote the screenplay) were equally well done. Early on I wondered whether I was right to bother. But then, those details which no film can really get to grips with – tiny vignettes, and thoughts from the innermost workings of those two messed-up heads – started to enrich the narrative. How could I go on willing the ending to be different when I knew perfectly well what it would be? A creepy read, with a thoroughly disturbing ending.

Another, and very different book which prompted a film, which I was disappointed to miss when it was doing the rounds: H is for Hawk by Helen MacDonald. Back in the day, I had resisted reading the book simply because it had become, according to the critics, a ‘must-read’. But …read it. It’s part nature writing – sumptuous, evocative, richly descriptive, each word carefully chosen: part autobiography of a woman overturned by grief at the death of her father; part biography of TH White, author of Sword in the Stone and The Goshawk, and so much more; part manual on learning to fly a goshawk – I now now for sure this is something way beyond my capabilities and my patience. This is a splendid book for the richness of its prose, and the chance it offers to see two wholly unknown worlds: that of the falconer, and that of TH White.

And finally, another book in which a woman becomes intimately involved in te life of a wild creature – Chloe Dalton‘s Raising Hare. Confined to her country retreat during lockdown, Dalton, a high-powered political adviser finds a small, apparently abandoned leveret.This is her story. Of how she treads a difficult path of wishing to help it survive to adulthood, while respecting its wildness. While it is her house-guest, she never treats the creature as her pet, or even names it. Against the odds, it survives to maturity, and continues to include her house, inside and out, as its territory.But the creature has a profound effect on Dalton. She is sensitive and observant, and describes beautifully its changing appearance as it matures through the seasons; their ‘language’ together. Just as the hare is not quite living a normal life, she too is changed. She re-evaluates her career. It’s still important, but no longer so all-consuming. The hare makes her infinitely more connected to and aware of the natural world where her home is situated. This book strives to restore a sense of the sacred and to meet an animal on its own terms.

Well, the chain links book-to-book I hope, but is there an over-arching theme? Not a chance. Let’s see what next month brings. Kate suggests we start things off with a novella of our choice, to celebrate the popular Novellas in November, hosted by Becky of Bookish Beck and Cathy of 746 Books.


Apples. Simply Apples

At this time of year, peak English apple harvesting season, I can’t stop lamenting the difficulty I have in buying apples from this country. And the even greater difficulty I have in buying seasonal favourites. When I was a child, I remember eagerly anticipating the very first apples of the season, and excitedly going shopping with my mother to buy the new arrivals. Beauty of Bath and Discovery apples appeared while we were still on summer holiday from school. Then it was George Cave and James Grieve, Then Worcester Pearmain, Laxton Supreme, Lord Lambourne…. Then Cox’s Orange Pippin. We still have those, but they’re not the same. We used to hold them to our ears and shake them to hear the pips rattle. They just don’t, not any more. Then Egremont Russets – still my favourites and – woo-hoo! Still available. Then finally it would be Blenheim Orange and last of all, Newton Wonder.

Apart from Discovery, Cox’s and Russets, I haven’t seen any of these for years and years. It’s all about Braeburns, Jazz and Pink Lady (which don’t even grow here) and a few others like Honeycrisp that hadn’t been developed when I was younger. All are crisp, juicy and pretty tasteless, compared to the old favourites. In my opinion.

Sally Coulthard has written just the book for me:  The Apple – a delicious history. She has been cut from the same cloth as me, and is a Real Enthusiast.

She begins her book by telling the history of the apple. I had no idea that the ancestry of every apple we eat can be traced back to an area in what is now Kazakhstan. I had no idea that the apple was spread farther afield over many centuries along what we now call the Silk Road, and indeed that it reached Britain relatively late in the game. She tells us how its popularity waxed and waned as fashion and tastes changed over the centuries, and shares recipes and tips from every period of history. 

The latter part of her book describes how old orchards, worldwide, have been grubbed up, and how we are all, worldwide, exposed to the same half dozen or so varieties, flown in from distant climes, year round, with no seasonal variation. She brings hope that growers are finally walking up to the dangers in pursuing this course, and in limiting the biodiversity espoused by all those dozens – no, hundreds – no, thousands – of varieties grown and formerly prized in every continent.

It’s fascinating stuff, and written with a light touch, guaranteeing that every page will be read and enjoyed. A book to be read by everyone who enjoys apples in whatever guise they are presented.

Hooray for the ancient orchards that do still exist. The Walled Garden near here, now a training centre for young people and adults with learning disabilities, used to be the Bishop of Ripon’s orchard. And praise be! The ancient apples and pears and plums grown in its heyday flourish still, are harvested and used still, and that’s where nearly all these photos come from. It’s having an Apple Day tomorrow, as it does every year, showcasing dozens of varieties of apple, selling its home-pressed apple juice, and generally involving the citizens of Ripon and beyond in discovering and celebrating something of our proud apple heritage. It’s good to know I’m not the only apple nerd.

A slightly uncertain entry for Anne’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: .Move your Body. She wants us to get near – or distant – from our subjects by physically getting in the right place for the shot. No zoomimg and so on allowed. Have I been gymnastic enough here? Probably not.

A Final Glance at Scarborough in Black and White

Here we are in the hidden corners of Scarborough: where fishermen keep their kit and a hopeful seagull hopes a bit of fish has been left behind. Where flats in multi-occupation have young tenants with bikes rather than cars. And where a neglected chapel is too far gone to allow anyone to get past its gates.

Multi-Occupation Crescent.

A chapel with no congregation, no visitors, unloved and falling to pieces.

And that’s Scarborough for now. We enjoyed our time there. We’ll be back.

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness.

Buying and Selling in Black and White

Buying and selling. Where to start? Well, if you’re selling, setting your wares out appetisingly is probably the traditional way to go, so my featured photo is of a front window in Betty’s, Harrogate’s well known tea room and bakery.

The soft sell continues inside. But when curiosity prompted us to stick our noses through the door of this jewellers’ in Seoul, we very promply departed, realising this was Not Our Scene. Or budget.

Of course, sometimes shop window and point-of-sale are one and the same, as with this sales van, where all the driver has to do is park up, leave the driver’s cab and pop behind his built in counter.

These days though, shopping can be all about the shopping mall. Clean, cool seductive surroundings are intended to sooth us into opening up our wallets and come prepared to spend, spend, spend. Here’s the Victoria Gate Shopping Centre in Leeds.

Life couldn’t be more different in another modern shopping centre, Mercat dels Encants, Barcelona. Crazily juxtaposed ceiling mirrors reflect the scenes below of bartering, haggling over anything from rolls of cheap fabric to flea market goods that look as if they’ve been around for decades.

My favourite shopiing experiences are often serendipitous. On our way to Scarborough last week, we paused in a small town, Kirkbymoorside, to stretch our legs and have a coffee. It turned out to be market day. And there was someone selling rather exotic mushrooms: some that he’d foraged – others that he’d grown himself. We couldn’t buy as we weren’t going to be home that night. But his enthusiasm had him talking to us for quite a while as he described his wares in detail, even though he knew he wouldn’t make a sale to us that day. He now has two loyal fans who will hunt him down very soon.

Moorside Mushrooms

So what can you tell us in monochrome photos about buying and selling? You may have seen someone shaking hands on a deal. You may have visited a trade warehouse and seen forklift trucks going about their business. You may have visited a cattle market, or an auction. Or you may just like to show us your weekly shop. When you have a post ready to publish (do join in!) please link it back to this post, and to Leanne’s Monochrome Madness page, as without Leanne, there would be no Monochrome Madness.

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness

WP Shenanigans …

Yesterday, blogging pal Elke wrote in protest against another uncalled for ‘improvement’ to our blogging and reading experience, courtesy of WordPress. That particular one hasn’t hit me yet, but another annoyance has, which I guess isn’t precisely WP’s fault. I’m now getting a dozen or more new followers a day. Allegedly. They virtually all have gmail accounts, and not one of them has ever ‘liked’ or commented on any of my posts, so I guess these individuals are utterly unaware they have subscribed to my blog. But I just thought you might like to know that as of this morning, I apparently have another new follower. None other than Elon Musk….

A Window on Scarborough

Scarborough is a town that is either on the way up, or on its way down, according to who you talk to. It has some glorious housing stock, built in the town’s heyday as a prosperous and must-visit resort in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Some of it is still glorious, and windows sparkle. Some is run down and in bad shape, and windows are grubby and laced with spiders’ webs – often on the same street.

All smart and tickety-boo at one end … less so further down the street.

Shopping streets can be quirkily full of independent traders (taxidermist, anyone?)…

A rather sad display spotted through the taxidermist’s window.

or be slightly down-at-heel examples of chain stores seen anywhere. Or even cheerful sea-front stores. And as one image below shows, quirkily independent doesn’t always make it.

It boasts the nationally renowned Stephen Joseph Theatre. It even has a university, even if that local seat of learning is actually an outpost of Coventry University, 260 km, or three and a quarter hours away. Transport links aren’t great, and all this is difficult for job seekers, who point out that the sea automatically limits the number of opportunities available. ‘Half our catchment area is fish.‘

Many of those fish end up in one of the many fish and chip restaurants in town. Here’s the view from Catch 55 (recommended). Though one customer didn’t seem to relish the scene as much we did…

Catch 55

I’ll close with a snapshot I rather like. It includes some of the more desirable housing, some of the more desirable parkland, an even, if you look hard enough, the sea. It absolutely qualifies for Monday Window, because these views were taken glancing through the window of a parked car.

For Ludwig’s Monday Window, hosted this week by PR.