Six Degrees of Separation: from The Correspondent to A Little Trickerie

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

I have had a lot of trouble with this chain: It’s stumbled together, rather than gracefully evolved. And it begins with a book I haven’t read. The Correspondent, by Virginia Evans is a debut epistolary novel exploring the life of Sybil Van Antwerp, a prickly, 73-year-old retired Maryland lawyer navigating deteriorating eyesight and past grief.

I decided to go with a woman who writes – not letters, but a notebook. Forbidden Notebook, by Alba de Céspedes and translated by Ann Goldstein, is set in 1950s Rome, about Valeria Cossati, a 43-year-old wife and mother who starts a secret diary. Her dreams are humble: to have space in the house for herself, and just a little time. Writing in this forbidden journal causes her to question her restricted domestic life, her husband’s patriarchal authority, and her own identity, leading to a profound personal awakening. 

What about a woman – and a man too, in fact – who hadn’t even known they were dissatisfied, until …. ? This story is told in André Aciman’s Room on the Sea.  Paul and Catherine are two married professionals in their 60s who meet during a sultry New York City jury selection. Over a week, their initial connection deepens into a secret, intense, and philosophical romance, exploring themes of yearning, regret, and the temptation to act on missed opportunities. This novella charmed me as much as this man, this woman charmed each other. Their easy teasing relationship, their way with words, their openness with one another had me rooting for them.

Maybe Paul and Catherine have an affair.  Maybe they don’t.  My next book, Phil Harrison’s The First Day begins with an affair and its consequences.  It’s a book of two halves. exploring a destructive affair between Samuel Orr, a married Belfast preacher with a twelve year old son Philip, and Anna, a young Beckett scholar. Anna falls pregnant, they keep the baby … and everything falls apart.  Fast forward thirty years to New York  where that baby, Sam is now living. He’s our narrator – actually it turns out he always has been. Why is he there? Why is he choosing to stay under the radar? Eventually, horrified, we find out. This is a very readable book about faith, about power-imbalance, about desire, about long shadows cast by single events. 

In The First Day, Samuel Orr is never referred to as anything but ‘Orr’.  In James Meek’s Your Life Without Me, the main protagonist, an English teacher, is only ever known as Mr. Burnham.  The story centres on him as he navigates the death of his wife Ada, and his strained relationship with his truculent teenage daughter Leila.  And there’s Raf, ex-pupil with whom he maintains close contact.  Is Mr. Burnham going to be implicated when Raf is discovered in a major act of terrorim?  Despite the perhaps over-neat ending, this is a well-delivered book about four flawed and compromised people, building into a compassionate and involving story.

Leila is an awkward and motherless teenager.  Let’s go back twelve centuries and find another:  Agnes, in Emily Maguire’s Rapture. Brought up and educated by her father in a world of men, Agnes renders herself unsuitable marriage material in 9th century Mainz. When her father unexpectedly dies, she disguises herself as a man and enters a monastery. The book catalogues her life as a respected scholar and scribe in an austere Benedictine monastery, and her subsequent adventures which see her travel to Athens, to Rome, where her scholarship, her piety ensure she’s always noticed by those who matter. She lives always with the fear of being found out for who she is, with the discomfort of her tightly bound breasts, with her tussles with herself over her austere faith. We come to know Agnes/John as a child, a scholar, a woman, a lover, a teacher… and finally a pope. An absorbing, well researched, imagined and audacious story, transporting me to the reality of religious life in 9th century Europe.

We’ll stay in the past, but in early Tudor England, and meet a young vagrant, Tibb Ingleby, in Rosanna Pike’s A Little Trickerie.  Her mother dies, and Tibb has to make her way alone in a world where vagrancy is a crime.  Meeting a young lad, Ivo, makes a big difference and the two team up.  One day he disappears, and her next adventure sees her falling in with a band of strolling players.  And on the story goes, vivaciously told by uneducated Tibb, who nevertheless has a way with words. Who knew that being naked was ‘wearing a no-clothes outfit’? Through her we meet the often horrifying prejudices and superstitions of early 16th century England, The last section of the book  is inspired by the story of a real woman known as the Holy Maid of Leominster who, like Tibb herself, engaged in fraud and ‘trickeries’ . Fraudster or not, Tibb is an engaging character, doing what she can to get through life as best she can, never hurting those she holds dear. The ending disappointed, but till then, I found it an involving story.

So there we have it. Six books, six or more characters with tales to tell about their ordinary – or not so ordinary – lives. Next month, we’re to begin with Charlotte McConaghy‘s Wild Dark Shore, set on a remote small island housing the world’s largest seed bank. That should give scope for next month’s Six Degrees to scatter in many different directions. If you don’t already … why not join in?

Reflections on Phone Photography

I told Tina in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t be joining in her Lens-Artists Challenge: Phone Photography, as my antique bargain-basement phone and I weren’t up to the job. She wasn’t having that, so I went and had a trawl.

And discovered that reflections seemed to come up as a theme that had worked quite well on days when I hadn’t got a camera to hand.

These were the first two I came across, both from Cosmo-Caixa Science Museum in Barcelona.

Walking down to the lower galleries.
The magnificent aquarium set in a would-be South American rainforest.

Still in Spain, we’ll pop to Valencia and its ancient Gothic bridge above the Turia Gardens.

Puente de la Trinidad, Valencia

And now we’ll return to England, and the Leeds-Liverpool Canal at Gargrave, where one day, this was the scene we saw as we walked under a bridge there.

Under a canal bridge near Gargarve.

And finally, a little gallery of other watery local photos- and that includes my header image too.

Thanks Tina. I’m glad you made me dig these out. Perhaps my phone doesn’t do so badly after all …. After all, that last photo got me second place in a public vote at Masham Sheep Fair the other year (I got first place too, but that wasn’t a reflection shot).

‘I Should Point Out …’

A random sight in Strasbourg. For Debbie’s One Word Sunday. Pointed.

Not one, but four words… I’m not one for obeying the rules behind challenges if they don’t suit me. And not ‘pointed’, but explaining, I think, as in ‘ I have just pointed out….’

It’s a bit of a stretch, but … I wanted to give this image its One Minute of Fame.

Wandering Away from Woolwich

I was back on the Thames Path again last week. I’ve already had two goes at it, here and here. There’s no hope that I shall walk the length of it in an ordered sequence, but no matter…. This time, I started in Woolwich once more but walked away from London. And not very far either- just two or three miles there and back again.

Woolwich fascinates me. The elegance of the fine buildings constructed during its time as a military centre of great importance contrasts with its sometimes down-at-heel tower blocks and shopping streets, and its more recent apartments which are anything but shabby.

See what I mean?
I showed you a detail from’Assembly’ in a recent post. This group of men, sculpted by Peter Burke is intended to reflect the industrial heritage of the Royal Arsenal, which was previously a major munitions factory. 

But it was the Thames that really commanded my focus. Selections of waterbirds, like this one ….

Egyptian goose

… industrial life. Look at the weight of that sand and gravel weighing down the barge purposefully ploughing onwards.

Suggestions of the river’s industrial past and present were everywhere.

Little dramas played out before me …

And a cemetery’s worth of abandoned bicycles spoke perhaps of thefts abandoned once the reason for taking them no longer applied.

The shore itself was worth exploring …

And the views back to London …

Even the lichens on the concrete walls edging the Thames merited a look.

In fact there was wildlife a-plenty…

Who knew that only a few hundred yards or so away from the path, double decker buses, lorries, cars, trains, shops, pedestrians and all the trappings of city life were carrying on regardless of the tranquility I enjoyed as I explored the riverside path?

For Jo’s Monday Walk – When she gets back from her travels….

Oh Look! There’s Bird on the Roof

I thought of Brian on Sunday. Here’s why. Brian is the blogger charged with introducing this week’s theme for Monochrome Madness. And he’s chosen ‘On the Roof’.

I was with the family in Borough Market on Sunday. And we were having fun as we picnicked, at the expense of this poor gull try to land – time after time after time – on the roof of one of the sales kiosks.

Every time his feet touched down, he slithered and skittered, unable to find any purchase, until at the bottom, he more or less tumbled off … again. He persisted and persisted until, finally…

Here are some more herring gulls, all in either Whitby or Staithes: the seaside in fact. Perhaps they feel more at home and comfortable.

Here are birds who are definitely at home on a roof. Storks. A roof’s the perfect place for nest-building and raising a family. Let’s go to Tudela in Spain.

We could go to North Macedonia now, and stay in a hotel crowded with peacocks. One even had to escape to the roof for a bit of peace.

Back home for some more domestic shots: a crow on a nearby chimney pot, and a robin on the roof of a nearby bird house (does that count? I think so.)

We’ll finish off with a shot to complement the featured photo. Here’s a line of pigeons on some ridge tiles. They echo the ones which begin the post: a host of ceramic cockatoos (?) decorating the roof of a house in Busan, South Korea.

Thanks for a fun challenge, Brian!

The Big Plastic Count

British readers! Did you take part in The Big Plastic Count last week? We did. It involved tallying together every single bit of single-use plastic that we bought that week. The yoghourt pot. And the plastic film that covered it beneath the lid if it was a a big pot. The plastic net bag that the satsumas were in. The cellophaney-plastic that the package of pasta/rice/dried fruit/coffee/tea/you name it was packaged in. The plastic disc wedged into the lid of the (plastic) pot of kimchi. The cling film parcelling up the cheese, bought loose from the cheese counter. And so on.

Our haul for the week

So why did we do it? Well. The Big Plastic Count is a Citizen Science project aimed at collecting evidence on household plastic waste to pressure government and supermarkets to take action. It challenges the idea that solving the crisis is purely a personal responsibility, arguing for systemic change to reduce plastic production.

So we and hundreds of like-minded individuals, school students, cubs, brownies, scouts, guides, U3A groups and so on tracked our plastic waste for one week to build a realistic picture of how much plastic is thrown away and what happens to it, highlighting that much less is recycled than widely believed.

Past results showed that only 12% of UK plastic waste is recycled, while 45% is incinerated, 25% is landfilled, and 17% is exported.

Honestly, we try to be plastic free. We buy unpackaged goods where we can, use our local refill shop, never use products like clingfilm. But still we assembled 18 pieces of plastic last week.

Litter is a whole other issue. Living in the country, as we do, albeit along a main road, the quantity of plastic bottles, crisp packets and other packaging that we see on any roadside stroll is truly shocking. The same applies to a beachside walk.

Local litter

On a personal level, this audit encouraged me to redouble our efforts to cut out single-use plastic. Whether our results, gathered countrywide, have any effect on either government or supermarkets remains to be seen. And whether the world will eventually be knee-deep in plastic waste, as we ingest a daily diet of micro-plastics also remains to be seen.

A scene in America; courtesy of Documerica, via Unsplash