I may have said this before – okay, so you’d have to be entirely new to my blogs not to know – that I really love Marian Keyes’ books. It’s the same with any author we love: we read their books to shreds, and each time, uncover new wisdoms and ideas that strengthen our own lives. Why else would we read them?
I first read “This Charming Man” soon after it was first published in 2008 – I was in the early stages of serial reading: find the latest, read it, and wait impatiently for the next book to be written and published. I’ve done that with all the authors I love. Elizabeth George, Dick Francis, James Herriot, Peanuts, Tintin…
There is a seam of real-life tragedy running through Marian’s books, often to do with alcoholism and co-dependency, and this book pulls no punches. Telling the stories of four women, Lola, Grace, Marnie and Alicia – and assorted friends, lovers and colleagues – and their entanglements with a certain Paddy de Courcy – if you google him, he will come up, though he doesn’t yet have his own Wiki entry – it’s a gripping and intricately woven story about abuse between couples and how to survive it.
Though the overall narrative has domestic abuse as its main focus, it is also, and very tellingly, about the lies that vulnerable people indulge in to keep themselves trapped: hiding from the truth by being stuck in the past, constantly rehearsing old wrongs, blaming others and refusing to see what might have changed, fielding the fear of change by swamping oneself in self-pity.
I’ve been there and done all that and more. Self-harm comes in many guises, not just the obvious physical signs but also in the shying away from life, the refusal to engage with real people, in keeping oneself isolated and alone so that “I can never be hurt again”, and in refusing to acknowledge that our refusal to engage with the world – and with all the wonderful people in it – is what hurts us most.
So read this book, please, if you want to learn from the example of a master story-teller. But once we have read the book and digested some of the lessons – it’s a big book and might take a while – we owe it to ourselves to go out and live. Not to just get by in life, by reading books.
“Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married” by Marian Keyes
I like Marian Keyes. Correction, I love Marian Keyes. Her writing, that is. And probably her too, if I was ever lucky enough to get to know her. It’s been said before… but I find her books brimming with empathy and the kind of dark humour that so often appeals to me. It’s as if, in drawing her characters, her own life, with all its ups and downs, is waiting just below the surface of the “fiction” to reveal itself, full of the hidden, twisted logic that so many of us resort to when our lives are less than stellar. There is a fairly universal appeal in the humour, the hidden compromises and the self-knowing deprecation.
I have read LSIGM before but, as is so often the case with good books I re-read, I have collected very different messages from it this time around. While ostensibly about a group of women who get their fortunes told and see them fulfilled, this is really a story about a woman’s coming of age. She is in her mid-twenties, when she realises that the role model her father offered as she was growing up was not supportive; and in order to break away from the usual, poor compromises she takes for granted, she has to see things as they are, and not as she would wish them to be.
I’m very glad I have read LSIGM now, because the deeper messages of self-worth and making the best of life, deserving to be happy and not settling for less, are what I need to hear right now. The more I read of this story, the more I gleaned of value until I was sitting totally engrossed, watching the emergence of a shy character from caterpillar-dom to full, glorious butterfly.
The psychology of this novel is gripping and very well observed. I have learned a lot from reading Ms Keyes’ novels, but this unassuming volume is my current champion for all oppressed persons everywhere. If you have issues around trying too hard, wanting to be all things to all people, addiction or co-dependence, take a gander through this funny, heart-warming story and you may find that at its heart it has more than sentiment. Highly recommended.
“The Choice” by Edith Eger was recommended to me by Elouise Reinich Fraser on her blog, Telling the Truth which I have followed for some years.
So I knew it would be worth reading and immediately ordered a copy. As soon as it arrived, I was delving into it, unwilling to get on my usual daily round: always a good sign.
“The Choice” recounts in careful detail the story of Edith’s life, from her youth until the time when, as a precocious and talented seventeen year old gymnast, she was transported to Auschwitz extermination camp along with the rest of her family – her mother, father and elder sister, her other sister having escaped to Budapest where she managed to survive until the end of the war – and faced extreme privation, forced labour and death marches before she and her sister were liberated by a soldier from a unit of the 71st Infantry of the US army. Unable to move or call attention to their survival in the midst of a scene of carnage and devastation, her elder sister held up a sardine can, the steel of which reflected the sun, calling attention to where they lay, covered in bodies on the ground.
This is not only the story of two women’s survival against enormous odds. Time and again, Edith demonstrates the importance of small acts of kindness, of social bonds, and the value of small coincidences in ensuring our survival and to give meaning to our lives. For example, if she and her sister had been able to open the sardine can – offered as emergency rations but without the tin opener that would have made it possible – they probably would not have been able to use it to signal for help. While reading this account of a life I am constantly reminded, in ways that restore my faith in the value of small things, that sometimes life hinges on the smallest unexpected details.
Edith and her elder sister survive, and, by one of many twists and turns that so surprise, are reunited with their sister at the home they shared before the war disrupted their lives. The struggles that the girls later endure to get back to some kind of normal, make a fascinating study, from which we can all learn a great deal, about fortitude, faith and the value of forgiveness.
This book is certainly worth reading and re-reading. I have read many books written by survivors of the extermination camps and have always felt myself indebted to the examples of peace, reconciliation and fortitude that these offer. There is something poignant, too, in the example of a nonagenarian mother and great grandmother who has had so many lessons to learn from, and who so willingly shares these with her readers. The ultimate lesson – and where the book gets its name – is well worth learning from too.
My mother has, at one time in her life, had every Agatha Christie book. Perhaps, like me, she feels that reading Agatha Christie is a good bet: not especially demanding, intriguing and an interesting insight into a way of life – house parties, butlers, and maids who lived up the back stair – which has disappeared from all but the most privileged households. (And recently watching episodes of ‘The Crown’, I’m not even sure I would ever want to be part of that kind of privilege.)
AC’s books also offer intriguing insights into the moral standards of the time, for example, that it was shameful for a woman of a certain class to work, to earn her way by serving others behind the counter, or in a dress shop. No young lady worth her salt would stoop to anything too grubby – she would certainly not serve as a waitress in a Lyon’s tea house – but even helping others to choose dresses was considered rather shameful. (Coincidentally, understanding this kind of social nuance also helps me to grasp why Jane Fairfax, in ‘Emma’ is so utterly appalled at the prospect of working as a governess…) How times have changed.
Social mores apart, Christie’s books are also intriguing because of the way the plots are set up, the old device of having a fixed number of characters, all congregated in the same place. “And Then There Were None” (I regret to say, my daughter’s favourite AC book) gives one of the most contrived examples of this; so contrived that I have great difficulty admiring anything else that might be considered ingenious about this particular story. If some old bam-pot wrote anonymously to me, I’d hardly be likely to turn up chez lui… but then, perhaps we are also expected to suspend our sense of reality, when reading mystery stories.
Except that, for me, one of the most compelling elements of thriller writing is realism – or at least, an integrated reality, however fanciful its premises might be.
Since Mum has left her home in France and come to live in Scotland, I am sent regular packages with AC books in them. I am reliably informed that, “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd” is considered her masterpiece, so I’m saving that for last. I’ll let you know what I think of it, when I finally read it.
I enjoy reading Jane Austen, one of the classical writers who has retained her popularity. I’m also fond of the Bronte sisters, many of whose books I read in my youth. Recently on Radio Three I heard an interviewee extolling the virtues of Dickens – whom my mum likes too – so he may be next on my reading list.
Having watched many movies and clips on Youtube, clips of ‘Emma’ and ‘Persuasion’ and ‘Sense and Sensibility’ I had to admit that, for an author who professes to like Austen, until now my actual perusal of her volumes has been sorely scanty.
Thus acknowledging, I resolved to end my ignorance forthwith, and purchased by various means the several volumes which I had not yet read, among which the foresaid ‘Emma’, ‘Persuasion’ and ‘Sense and Sensibility’ to see if the reading thereof could be in any way compared to the watching. And indeed, I find my reading to be most rewarding, notwithstanding the two centuries’ passage since these volumes were first published. Though I am as much a sucker for a handsome man as anyone may be, yet I find that my understanding of the films and series that grow out of these volumes immesurably improved by reading the original books. Quite apart from the satisfaction in being able to plug a very obvious hole in my reading, some passages I rejoice to be able to quote verbatim from having watched the films so extensively.
And though Austen’s books were published c 1812, they have, baring a certain contemporaneous verbosity, retained a remarkable freshness and humour. No wonder she is still so widely read, and deservedly so.
I read the first book in this series, ‘Forfeit’, about the adventures of Daisy and Zander, loving it entirely, so much so, that several years later, ‘Forfeit’ is still on the main page of my kindle. Why did it take me so long to get a copy of ‘Nearly Almost Somebody‘? Perhaps I was rationing myself.
Whatever I think of the characters in this series – all beautiful, interesting and apparently irresistible to the opposite sex…I’m so, like, totally jealous – the writing, detailed plotting and characterisations show a level of ability that I can only aspire to.
Such talent as Caroline Batten possesses, to write entertainingly, excitingly and with real verve and colour, is somehow unusual. Ms Batten writes a thriller which is genuinely scary, a love story that carries real poignancy, and a human interest story that makes me feel as if the characters live just in the next village and I might see them, and allow some of their glow to rub off on me.
I really, really want to read more from the pen of Ms Batten, and I do hope that she is writing lots more books. If she does not already have a fab agent and a brilliant publisher who can take her to the stratosphere of fame and fortune – which she may not want, but which she richly deserves – I suggest that she should be next on any commissioning editor’s wish list. She has a huge platform, major success on watpad and would be a sound investment and a huge talent for any publisher to support.
‘Smart as a Whip‘ by Jacky Donovan – aka ‘Instant Whips and Dream Toppings’ – is an account – a rather extraordinary account – of one woman’s discovery of … what? Her joy of sex? Her initiation into dom rom? It is so many things, and such an interesting read, for so many reasons. Not the least of which is, I seem to have led a very sheltered life.
Jacky started out on what turned out to be a life adventure, by her own admission a fairly ordinary and unexceptionable character, a talented employee, but rather dowdy perhaps, not a woman I would give a second look to. (Though, being me, I probably would.) Then she met the character Max, who very gradually altered Jacky’s expectations and behaviour, until she was running one of the premier Dom/Sub sex businesses in London. I’m pleased that Jacky found her forte, but have very conflicted feelings about Max.
This may not be the place to say this – this is a book review, after all, not a character assessment – but Max, charming urbane and very good in bed, increasingly strikes me as a psychopathic character. Not because he is obviously abusive or cold, but because he expects Jacky, in the name of experimentation, titillation, perhaps, to do things that he never has to, such as, while driving on the motorway at eighty, to remove her knickers and make herself climax behind the wheel. Undoubtedly exciting, but, from where I’m sitting, also life threatening and – let’s face it – a no-risk free kick for Max, who only has to whisper soft endearments down the phone to turn on our long-suffering narrator. High octane sex is, in many ways, unbeatable for thrills. But there is also the “agreement” between them that Max will never, and should never expect to have to, leave his wife; behaviour indicative of an insecurity that feels pathological to me.
I’m very interested in the study that Jacky’s book offers, of the men in her life: her friends and clients, and Max. I find myself wondering, long after I’ve finished reading, about the thrills of vicarious sex, and why so many of her clients get a kick out of unusual turn-ons. Perhaps they are not so unusual.
A very interesting read, eye-opening, funny and compassionate.
‘How to Breed Sheep, Geese and English Eccentrics’ – Valerie Poore
Valerie has been a follower and commentator on my blogs for a few years, and I’ve always admired her honest, cheerful style, and been so thankful for all her support here. So when one of my other friends recommended ‘How to Breed Sheep, Geese and English Eccentrics’ I quickly got a kindle copy.
I wonder why it took me so long.
‘How to Breed Sheep, Geese and English Eccentrics‘ is an enjoyable, confidently written and entertaining account of one woman’s attempts to get to grips with small-scale farming. In this account, ignorance makes for some delightfully funny stories, which had me giggling late into the night, desperate not to wake my husband by laughing too loudly.
It was lovely to relax and read of other people’s misadventures, flirtations with disaster and a whole host of characters straight out of a modern-day Thomas Hardy. A boyfriend needing love, a dangerous(?) flirtation with a dodgy other, a mother with a carefree dress sense, and enough plot twists to leave me wondering, right up to the end.
Is this a true account, or a simple story? It could be either, and it hardly matters. ‘How to Breed Sheep, Geese and English Eccentrics’ is a delightful insight into so many of the things I should have liked to try – country living, self sufficiency, flirtation with disaster… At a time, in the 1970’s when internet, mobile phones and on-line living was a distant mirage, this account reads like an affectionate tribute to simpler times, and is instantly engaging.
I first read this book a couple of years ago; so on opening the file again on my kindle, I was relieved to discover that the writing has lost none of its charm, and that the characters and situations are convincing, endearing and well drawn.
It becomes ever more challenging to me, to find writers that I can not only empathise with – being an author, I do empathise with a great many authors – but whose work has the ability to take my away from my everyday concerns. Call me an escapist fool, but there are times in my life when I need the suspension of my reality, and sometimes more than ever. Yet, in the past decade, I have morphed from a straight-forward reader to an author with ten years editing experience, so it becomes increasingly challenging to find a book I can read wholeheartedly, without feeling the dire necessity of assuming my ‘editor’ hat and itching to rewrite or rephrase…
Thankfully, ‘The Dare Club’ is such a book, and as I read it I heaved a sigh of relief for Margaret’s sympathetic writing, her careful editing and her attention to detail. I can recommend this book to all readers wanting a bit of fun, a bit of vicarious adventure and a few ‘There but for the grace of God’ moments too. It takes a rare book to both entertain and humour me, as well as reminding me of all the privileges I enjoy in my life.
To mark three years since the publication of his second detective novel, A Fistful of Seaweed, I caught up with author John Bayliss to find out about his latest writing projects.
I first met John on the HarperCollins’ writers’ on-line community Authonomy, where I achieved my first big break, securing a coveted first-place gold star and editorial review, thanks to the generosity and tireless support of John and hundreds of other readers and writers. Three years is a long time in a writer’s life…
John, you introduced us to detective Springer with your first novel, Five and a Half Tons, published in 2013 and followed by A Fistful of Seaweed published the following year. What writing projects do you have up your sleeve at the moment?
I have recently finished a brand new novel and I am wondering if I ought to seek out some trusty beta readers. This is the project that elbowed another of my other novels, Serpentine, out of the way, and I believe it does have something of the same flavour and similarly memorable characters. It’s called The Garden of Infinite Vistas and is set entirely within a very large garden. (When I say large, I mean huge.) In terms of genre, it could be classed as fantasy or magic realism, although it’s definitely not a conventional fantasy novel. It is rather long, too (120,000 words).
Do you plot closely, or do your characters guide you?
Bit of both. For the Springer novels (Five and a Half Tons and A Fistful of Seaweed) I literally made up the plot as I went along, which meant I had no more idea of what was about to happen than my hapless hero did. Then I had to do a lot of revision and re-writing to make sure that everything made (relative) sense at the end. There is a third unpublished Springer novel: my contract with my publisher was only for two novels.
In my current and future works-in-progress, I have decided to start by writing an outline of the plot first. I don’t expect to keep to it, because a story has a way of finding its own path irrespective of what you might have planned. Having an outline, however, does mean that I’ll always know where I’m aiming for, even if the story does take a few detours or shortcuts on the way. It’s a bit like a road map that I might take with me on a touring holiday: useful for navigating my way back to somewhere recognisable if I ever get lost, but it won’t stop me exploring a side road if it looks as though it might lead to somewhere interesting.
When I’m writing, lately, I find my characters coming to meet me in my dreams. Does that happen to you?
I often have weird dreams, but I don’t remember meeting any of my characters there. My dreams tend to be dominated by landscapes and unusual buildings, often large rambling houses with secret rooms. There are people in those dreams, but they have very little distinct identity of their own. Maybe they’re characters from novels I haven’t written yet who are planting ideas into my unconscious that will surface again once I get around to writing about them.
What motivates you to write?
I have been writing fiction for almost as long as I have been able to write. To write is a part of my personality, and I cannot conceive of a situation in which I did not write. If I don’t write anything for a day or two, I start to get itchy keyboard fingers.
How do you find time to write?
I was made redundant from my full time job a couple of years ago and decided that my finances were robust enough for me to take early retirement. So basically I have as much time as I need. (I don’t seem to get much more writing done, however…)
And when do you write best?
I can be thinking about writing at any time of the day or night, irrespective of what else I might be doing. Daydreaming about the characters or the situation in the current work-in-progress can be an excellent way of coming up with plot twists and interesting character quirks.
When I write the best is probably the first half of the day. There’s usually a point around four o’clock in the afternoon when my brain says: “That’s enough! I can’t do any more” and that’s when I stop.
A word about your future plans?
I need to decide what to do with The Garden of Infinite Vistas. The choice is either find an agent, find a publisher directly without an agent, or self-publish. I’m not sure at present which is the best course.
My current work in progress is a science fiction novel set on a spaceship, a story that addresses some important questions about the future of humanity. I also have a science fiction short story accepted for an anthology of stories being published by Grimbold Books—I haven’t been told when that’s due to be published, but hopefully it won’t be long. I also have plenty of ideas for more stories, including an idea for a very large ‘epic’ story that will unfold over several volumes, so I’m expecting to be busy for some time to come.
I’m very glad to know you have so many projects coming to fruition. Thanks so much for our interview, and the very best of luck with all your creative endeavours.
December 10, 2018
“This Charming Man” by Marian Keyes
Fran Macilvey Books I Have Reviewed, Women's fiction and chic lit 2 Comments
“This Charming Man” by Marian Keyes
I may have said this before – okay, so you’d have to be entirely new to my blogs not to know – that I really love Marian Keyes’ books. It’s the same with any author we love: we read their books to shreds, and each time, uncover new wisdoms and ideas that strengthen our own lives. Why else would we read them?
I first read “This Charming Man” soon after it was first published in 2008 – I was in the early stages of serial reading: find the latest, read it, and wait impatiently for the next book to be written and published. I’ve done that with all the authors I love. Elizabeth George, Dick Francis, James Herriot, Peanuts, Tintin…
There is a seam of real-life tragedy running through Marian’s books, often to do with alcoholism and co-dependency, and this book pulls no punches. Telling the stories of four women, Lola, Grace, Marnie and Alicia – and assorted friends, lovers and colleagues – and their entanglements with a certain Paddy de Courcy – if you google him, he will come up, though he doesn’t yet have his own Wiki entry – it’s a gripping and intricately woven story about abuse between couples and how to survive it.
Though the overall narrative has domestic abuse as its main focus, it is also, and very tellingly, about the lies that vulnerable people indulge in to keep themselves trapped: hiding from the truth by being stuck in the past, constantly rehearsing old wrongs, blaming others and refusing to see what might have changed, fielding the fear of change by swamping oneself in self-pity.
I’ve been there and done all that and more. Self-harm comes in many guises, not just the obvious physical signs but also in the shying away from life, the refusal to engage with real people, in keeping oneself isolated and alone so that “I can never be hurt again”, and in refusing to acknowledge that our refusal to engage with the world – and with all the wonderful people in it – is what hurts us most.
So read this book, please, if you want to learn from the example of a master story-teller. But once we have read the book and digested some of the lessons – it’s a big book and might take a while – we owe it to ourselves to go out and live. Not to just get by in life, by reading books.
Please share: